After several more days had passed, the group finally began to move again.
Recovery was no longer their only focus.
Survival had returned.
Growth had become necessary.
Sunny stood upright for the first time in days without feeling his body resist him. The dull, persistent ache that had once wrapped around his muscles like barbed wire had finally faded into something distant and manageable. He rolled his shoulders slowly, testing the limits of his frame. The motion felt smoother than it had any right to be after everything they had endured.
He flexed his fingers one by one.
Beneath his skin, faint currents of spirit essence moved like delicate flowing streams. They wove through his veins, muscles, and meridians in thin, controlled lines—precise and responsive.
Essence Threads.
That was what he now called them.
Not bonds.
Not chains.
Threads.
Because that was exactly what they were: delicate yet unbreakable, precise instruments entirely under his control. He could guide them with nothing more than a thought, directing them to reinforce weakened tendons, seal microscopic internal damage, and accelerate the natural healing process at a cellular level. It wasn't brute force or overwhelming power. It was control—pure, surgical control.
And because of that control, Sunny had recovered far faster than anyone could have expected.
Far faster than Mordret.
Behind him, Mordret remained seated against a broken slab of dark stone, his back slightly hunched. His breathing was slow but uneven, each inhale carrying a faint rasp. Unlike Sunny, his condition had not improved as smoothly. His spirit essence was unstable, wild, almost rebellious. Every time he attempted to gather or direct it, the energy resisted—like trying to grasp flames with bare hands.
"…Still struggling?" Sunny asked without turning around, his voice calm and even.
Mordret let out a quiet, bitter exhale.
"…It doesn't listen," he muttered. "It burns."
Sunny glanced back slightly, just enough to catch the tension in Mordret's jaw.
"I try to gather it… and it scatters like smoke," Mordret continued, frustration bleeding into his tone. "I try to contain it… and it burns through me from the inside."
Sunny nodded faintly, understanding more than he let on.
That made sense.
Some powers weren't meant to be forced or dominated. They had to be understood, coaxed, guided like a wild river finding its natural path.
"Then stop trying to control it," Sunny said calmly. "Guide it instead."
Mordret let out a dry, humorless chuckle that echoed faintly against the ruined stone.
"Easy for you to say."
Sunny didn't argue.
Because for him, it was easy.
At least now.
Ava, on the other hand, had taken a completely different path during their period of forced rest.
She hadn't focused on recovery at all.
She had focused on hunting.
Her Blood Demon Core demanded constant, relentless growth. For her, growth meant only one thing: consumption. Demon-ranked creatures. Their flesh. Their blood. Their essence. Their very power.
Each successful hunt brought her one step closer to the next evolution of her core.
But even after days—then weeks—of relentless hunting, there had been no major breakthrough.
Because what she needed now was stronger prey.
Much stronger.
The kind of prey that could push her Blood Demon Core to its absolute limit and force it to ascend.
Time passed relentlessly.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks eventually bled into a full month.
And within that month, the most significant change occurred not in Sunny, not in Mordret, but in the small, golden-eyed being they had been carrying with them.
The Dragon King.
No longer a helpless infant…
It had become a toddler.
Small in stature, unassuming at first glance.
But terrifying in presence.
Its golden eyes held an unnatural, ancient intelligence that no ordinary child could possess. Its movements were now steady and controlled, no longer the clumsy flailing of a newborn. Its voice—though still soft and forming—had begun to shape actual words with startling clarity.
"…Su… nny…"
The first time Sunny heard his own name spoken by the child, he froze mid-step.
He slowly turned his head, locking eyes with the toddler.
No.
Not a child.
A king.
A being that would one day stand above countless others, commanding flames that could swallow entire realms.
And Ava…
Was raising it.
Guiding it.
Shaping its growth with cold, calculated precision.
The Ava assigned to the Dragon King—her clone—remained close at all times. She watched every movement, corrected every mistake, and directed every aspect of its development. There was no warmth in her actions. No affection. Only purpose. Only the relentless drive to turn this small vessel into something unstoppable.
The real Ava rarely interacted directly with the child. She preferred to let her clone handle the tedious parts of nurturing while she focused on her own hunts. Yet every night, when the group gathered, she would observe the Dragon King with those cold, calculating crimson eyes, as if measuring how much stronger it had become.
Eventually, they could no longer afford to stay in the same place.
Their destination called to them with increasing urgency.
"The Crimson Flame Land," Mordret announced one morning, his voice steady despite the faint underlying strain that still lingered in his body.
Sunny glanced at him, wiping dust from his hands.
"You're sure?"
Mordret nodded once, his expression serious.
"There's a demon settlement ahead. A large one."
He paused, calculating.
"…About 1,300 kilometers from here."
Sunny raised a brow slightly.
"That's far."
"It is," Mordret replied without hesitation. "But it's our best lead. The settlement should have resources, information, and… stronger opponents."
Ava said nothing.
But the faint gleam in her eyes spoke volumes.
A demon settlement meant stronger prey.
And stronger prey meant evolution for her Blood Demon Core.
The decision was made.
They would move.
They began their long journey that same day.
The deeper they traveled into the unknown territory, the more the land itself began to change around them.
The air grew heavier, thicker, saturated with an oppressive heat that pressed down on their skin like an invisible weight. The ground darkened, cracked and scorched as though it had been burned repeatedly over countless centuries. Jagged black rocks jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Even the sky seemed permanently stained with a faint, ominous crimson hue, as if the very atmosphere had been tainted by ancient flames.
Sunny took the lead, but not on foot.
He moved in his Bird Form.
His body did not transform into shadow or anything intangible. Instead, it underwent a fluid, controlled restructuring using condensed spirit essence. His form became streamlined, lightweight, and incredibly fast—every part of him refined for maximum efficiency in flight. His wings cut through the air with surgical precision as he soared high above the group, scanning the terrain below for threats, resources, or suitable shelter.
This was not traditional shapeshifting.
It was refinement.
A deliberate, conscious reshaping of his physical vessel through perfect mastery of Essence Threads.
Behind him, Ava's clones spread out across the desolate land like silent predators.
They hunted without mercy.
They killed without hesitation.
They devoured without waste.
Every creature that crossed their path—be it demonic beast, mutated flora, or wandering monster—fell quickly to cold frost and razor-sharp precision. There was no wasted movement. No unnecessary cruelty. Only cold, terrifying efficiency.
While Ava's clones fed her growing power, Sunny focused on one critical task:
Finding shelter.
Because night in this scorched land was not merely dangerous.
It was death.
Hours turned into a full day of travel.
The terrain grew increasingly desolate.
More ancient.
More… wrong.
Twisted rock formations rose like the spines of buried giants. The air carried the faint metallic scent of old blood and charred bone. Even the wind seemed to whisper warnings as it howled through the canyons.
Then—
Sunny slowed mid-flight.
Something was below.
Something massive.
He descended slowly, his wings folding inward as his body smoothly returned to human form. His boots touched the cracked ground with barely a sound.
And then—
He saw it.
A skeleton.
No.
A dragon.
Its colossal remains stretched across the barren land like the ruins of a fallen mountain range. The ribs arched high into the air, forming a massive natural cathedral large enough to shelter hundreds of beings. The spine alone looked like a shattered highway of bone stretching into the distance. Sun-bleached yet still radiating an indescribable aura of ancient power.
Sunny's breath slowed.
"…What kind of monster were you…"
He stepped closer, each footfall feeling heavier than the last.
The closer he approached, the more he felt it.
A lingering presence.
Not alive.
But not entirely gone either.
It was as if something still watched from beyond the veil of death—patient, ancient, and judging.
He reached the towering ribcage.
Up close, the scale was overwhelming.
Each individual rib was a massive curved pillar, easily wide enough for thirty adult humans to stand side by side within its arc. The bone surface was smooth in some places, deeply pitted and scarred in others, telling stories of battles long forgotten by time.
Sunny placed his palm against the cool, ancient bone.
It was colder than expected.
Then—
He noticed something.
An engraving.
Deep, precise, and deliberately carved into the massive rib with what must have been immense power.
He leaned in closer, tracing the characters with his eyes.
"Hail Dragon King…"
"Veil of Flames…"
"Leader of the Eastern Flame Realm…"
"Karl the Dragon…"
"Father of the Unstoppable Sons…"
"…Now King of Dying Flames."
A heavy silence fell over the area.
The words carried more than power.
They carried loss.
A fallen ruler.
A broken legend.
A once-mighty sovereign reduced to bones and memory.
Sunny exhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"…So even you fell…"
The moment the words left his lips—
Pain.
Sudden.
Violent.
Unimaginable.
His head throbbed as though something had pierced straight through his skull and into his mind. A white-hot spike of agony exploded behind his eyes.
"—!"
Sunny staggered violently, clutching his head with both hands. His vision blurred. The dragon bones, the scorched land, the crimson sky—everything shattered into fragments.
The world dissolved around him.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Sunny opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the ruined land.
He stood in a vast, endless expanse.
This—
Was his Spirit Sea.
The ground beneath his feet shimmered like a perfectly reflective mirror, stretching infinitely in every direction. The sky above glowed with a soft, neutral light—neither bright nor dim, simply… present. It was utterly quiet.
Too quiet.
Sunny's breathing slowed as he tried to orient himself.
"…How did I get here…"
The last thing he remembered was touching the dragon bone and reading the engraving. Then the pain. Then nothing.
Before he could process further—
He felt it.
A presence.
Strong.
Overwhelming.
Directly behind him.
Slowly, every instinct screaming in warning, Sunny turned.
And froze.
Because standing there—
Was someone who looked exactly like him.
But… not him.
This version stood noticeably taller, broader, radiating raw power. He was clad in radiant silver armor that seemed to pulse with living energy, each plate shifting subtly as if breathing. Massive silver wings extended from his back, every feather glowing with an otherworldly, ethereal light. The wings alone seemed capable of blotting out the sky.
His presence was suffocating.
Sunny's instincts screamed at him with primal urgency.
Danger.
Not normal danger.
Not something he could fight with skill, essence, or even his Essence Threads.
This was absolute.
His heart hammered violently against his ribs. His body refused to move, as though locked in place by an invisible force far beyond his current realm.
"…What…"
He couldn't even finish the thought.
The pressure emanating from the silver-winged figure was overwhelming—like standing at the edge of an abyss that stared back with calm, indifferent judgment. This wasn't just another powerful being.
This was something else entirely.
A higher existence.
A reflection.
A possibility.
Or—
Something far worse.
Sunny took one slow, trembling step backward.
The silver-winged figure did not move.
Did not speak.
Did not react in any visible way.
It simply stood there—
Watching him.
Silently.
Endlessly.
And in that profound, crushing silence—
Sunny felt it clearly.
Judgment.