After some time, Dev continued to fly endlessly through the crimson sky, wings cutting through the air in steady rhythm until he finally took out his pocket watch mid-flight and confirmed that 3 days, 00 hours (C grade or D grade )remained before the animal soul core sustaining his oxygen would be exhausted, the ticking sound grounding him as the remaining time slowly shifted to 2 days, 12 hours, reminding him that survival here was never permanent, only delayed.
As Dev flew onward, his sharpened senses caught sight of a massive group of bulls in the distance, nearly twenty of them gathered together, their bodies large and powerful, their presence oppressive, immediately making him decide to avoid them entirely, choosing to pass through the air above and between their formation instead of confronting an enemy he knew he could not handle head-on.
However, the moment he crossed into their territory, something went wrong.
Without warning, his wings suddenly stopped responding.
They vanished.
Dev felt his body lose lift instantly as gravity seized him, sending him plummeting downward at terrifying speed while he desperately tried to command his wings through his mind, forcing his will again and again, yet receiving no response as the ground rushed closer and death loomed within seconds.
At the very last moment, just before impact, Dev poured every ounce of intent he had into a single command.
The wings opened.
He avoided death by a fraction of a second, crashing lightly onto the ground instead of shattering against it, but the relief lasted only an instant before the wings closed again, leaving him standing helplessly in the middle of the bull group, completely surrounded.
Dev froze.
He did not move.
He did not breathe loudly.
He understood that even the smallest motion would trigger an immediate attack, and as his mind raced for a solution, nothing came, until faint noises reached his ears from far away human voices made clear only because his senses had grown sharper after absorbing the soul core.
A plan formed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Dev remained still, calculating, then suddenly commanded his wings again, causing them to open for a brief instant, which immediately alerted the bulls, and the moment they reacted Dev fled, his wings failing once more as he was forced to run on foot, the thunderous sound of hooves shaking the ground as the bulls charged after him in full force.
Dev ran.
Again and again.
Dodging narrowly.
Twisting his body aside as horns passed inches from him, pushing his body beyond its limits while the bulls relentlessly chased him, until he finally spotted a group of people camping ahead, relief flashing through him as he redirected his path straight toward them.
One of the campers noticed the approaching bulls and shouted a warning, alerting Henry Grio, an Eternal Bloodline bearer of the Grio family and the leader of the group, which originally consisted of 24 people, though only 20 remained, the rest having already died along the journey.
Panic spread instantly.
The bulls were closing in.
With no time to think, Henry Grio ordered everyone to flee toward the narrow mountain passage behind them, a thin path carved through stone where movement was restricted and escape difficult, the campsite abandoned as the group ran desperately while the bulls thundered closer.
Dev saw this clearly.
He increased his pace.
Reached the group.
Locked eyes with Henry Grio for a brief moment.
"All the best," Dev said calmly.
Then he jumped.
His wings opened.
He flew away.
Behind him, screams erupted sounds of pain, terror, and death echoing through the mountains as the bulls tore through the fleeing group, and while running for his life, Henry Grio burned Dev's face into his memory, cursing him through clenched teeth, swearing that he would kill him with his own hands if they ever met again.
Dev stopped only when he reached the edge of a mountain cliff.
Only then did he realize that his wings functioned again after entering the narrow passage, understanding how close he had come to death, knowing that if not for that moment of luck, he would have been crushed or left half-dead beneath the bulls.
He did not linger.
Dev flew again.
Not long after, he encountered another group six wolves and descended upon them without hesitation, short sword in hand, his movements fearless and decisive, knowing that wolves were only C and D class beasts, far weaker than bulls which were A class, and no longer a true threat to him. animals are divided by class and soul core by grade .
The battle lasted 8 minutes and 30 seconds.
When it ended, all six wolves lay dead, their bodies torn apart as Dev extracted each soul core one by one, storing them carefully in the bag he carried, his body demanding rest after the prolonged fight.
Searching for shelter, Dev found a massive hollow carved by an ancient river that no longer flowed, a dry, empty channel where water once roared, and he descended into it, positioning himself in a corner with his short sword held firmly in his hands before closing his eyes for a few minutes.
When Dev opened them again, the world had changed.
Before him was a lush green environment, a peaceful village beside a river where children, adults, mothers, and fathers laughed and danced freely, their happiness untainted, and among them a young girl wearing ancestral clothes made from animal skin danced joyfully until she suddenly looked up at the sky.
The sky shattered.
Millions of fragments poured down like rain, identical to the fragments used in awakening, striking the villagers indiscriminately as people fell and died instantly, some surviving while others vanished, until the fragments touched the ground and disappeared completely.
Dev woke up.
He was still in the dry river hollow, gripping his sword, his breathing steady, nothing around him changed.
He stared silently.
Then shook his head.
"A dream," he muttered, rubbing the coin in his hand to calm himself, grounding his thoughts until his heartbeat steadied.
Once composed, Dev resumed traveling toward his destination, flying onward until he reached a place unlike any other a structure of black marble, ancient and royal, standing bright and untouched in a world drowned in red, as if the structure itself was calling him inside.
As he approached, a crushing killing intent poured out, pressing against him heavily, and the contrast disturbed him deeply, because while everything else in this world was reddish, dull, and dead, this place shone brightly, completely different, completely wrong.
Curiosity urged him forward.
Instinct screamed danger.
Unable to decide, Dev took out the coin Helena had given him, engraved with a dragon on one side and a raven claw on the other.
"If it's a dragon," Dev said quietly, "I will go."
"If it's a raven claw," he continued, "I will not."
He tossed the coin into the air.
Far away, unseen by Dev, a man sat upon a throne surrounded by countless figures, their faces hidden behind fog, his elbow resting on the armrest, his cheek supported by his hand, and with a simple flick of his finger, a stream of air altered the coin's fall.
The coin landed in Dev's palm.
He opened his hand slowly.
A dragon....