“How did you survive?” Timo Yang blurted, shock and joy flooding him in equal measure.

  He clearly remembered devouring everything in that crimson frenzy—guilt had already begun to gnaw at the edges of his relief.

  “Humph—piece of cake!” Ugly Bastard burst from the water, flinging droplets in a triumphant spray as it puffed out its finned chest. “One day I’ll evolve and become the most dashing, domineering lord of the entire Black Sea!”

  It babbled on in gurgling boasts, eyes gleaming as if its glorious future already shone before it.

  The half-wild man heard only meaningless bubbles and grunts.

  His thick brows knitted at the fouled water. A massive hand shot out, seizing Ugly Bastard by the scruff of its neck.

  He hoisted it like a naughty pup and tossed it into a shadowed corner.

  “Awooo!”

  A low growl rumbled from his throat.

  He jabbed a thick finger at the creature, then shook a clenched fist—warning unmistakable.

  Ugly Bastard huddled in the corner, muttering resentful complaints in fish-tongue, but dared not move.

  To the half-wild man, it was merely irritating noise.

  Tension thickened the chill cave air.

  “Uncle, don’t worry,” Timo said softly, pointing toward the huddled creature. “It won’t hurt us. It’s… kind of my brother.”

  The half-wild man’s eyes narrowed.

  Sand swirled fiercely under his will.

  You understand fish demon speech? Those gurgles—conversation?

  Timo nodded.

  Disbelief flared in the man’s clouded gaze.

  A calloused hand seized Timo’s arm—firm, urgent.

  The other brusquely parted the hair at his neck, inspecting the skin.

  No scales. No gills. Just the smooth flesh of a lean human boy.

  Yesterday they meant to devour you. How can you speak their tongue?

  Timo shrugged, equally puzzled—he hadn’t understood a word before.

  “I couldn’t before. But in the cavern… they forced some elixir down me. That fish mother—she called me her child.”

  The half-wild man threw back his head and laughed—a deep, hollow roar echoing off stone, laced with bitter mockery.

  A fish demon birthing a human? The greatest joke under heaven.

  His fingers danced swiftly.

  That humanoid was a low-tier sea priestess. They brew spirit-language potions to ensnare dull-witted creatures as thralls. Calling you child? She saw you as meat—and bait.

  Timo’s stomach twisted.

  “No wonder she abandoned the others…”

  Exactly.

  New words formed, deliberate and heavy.

  The true treasure of the Black Sea domain is the Ocean Heart.

  Timo frowned.

  “What does it do?”

  Curiosity stirred—but a savory scent wafted from deeper in the cave, pulling harder.

  Legend claims it communes with the deep’s will. Revives the dead. Grants godhood over spirits… Mere tales. No one has seen it. Those wrecks above? Graves of fools who chased the myth.

  Timo barely glanced at the letters—his interest lay elsewhere.

  His gaze sharpened, locking on the inner chamber’s high ledge: strips of dried meat swaying gently, their salt-sweet aroma flooding his senses.

  Hunger roared awake—ferocious, all-consuming.

  He bolted forward like a starving wolf.

  The inner cave narrowed, dry and orderly, scented with herbs.

  Corners brimmed with the half-wild man’s hoarded years: rusted yet finely wrought vessels, a tattered waterproof chart, bundles of strange dried plants.

  In any human town, treasures.

  To Timo now: irrelevant.

  Only the meat mattered.

  He leapt high, tearing down a strip.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Teeth sank in—crunch of salt-cured toughness yielding to rich, smoky depth.

  Juices burst across his tongue.

  He snatched a blue fruit from a nearby basket—skin etched in frost-like veins.

  Cold bit his palms, but he devoured it whole.

  Sweet nectar mingled with savory meat: a flavor beyond anything memory offered.

  The half-wild man watched the boy devour it all, eyes softening with complicated warmth.

  Sand rose again, slower.

  Easy, boy. Those frost-crystal fruits bloom once a decade. This forgotten land is barren—yet singular. Its spirit veins burn fierce. Everything born here carries pure essence. Eating them… is cultivation itself.

  Timo felt it already.

  Hunger ebbed. Warm threads of power wove through his veins—familiar, yet nameless.

  Back when I broke through to essence wielder… I ate far worse—or better. Flame Nation’s fire-fused lizards, lava berries…

  Nostalgia colored the grains, faint but unmistakable.

  The half-wild man had never imagined sharing these relics of glory again.

  His gaze lifted to the murals—carved in madness over endless years.

  Trapped here, the cruelest torment was silence. No one to hear. No one to answer.

  “Essence wielder…” Timo mumbled around a mouthful. “That’s strong?”

  “Strong?” The man’s expression turned grave.

  Sand swept toward his crude world map etched on the wall.

  The Spirit-Taming Continent breathes with essence. Five elements form its bones—drive all life.

  Timo chewed slower, eyes tracing the vast carvings.

  True masters shift mountains, command storms, bend time itself. Today’s realms were forged by such powers.

  The grains hesitated—heavy, reluctant.

  But…

  Timo swallowed.

  “But what?”

  Spirit veins… are dying.

  The man’s fingers trembled.

  “Why?”

  In an age where strength rules, the weak only weaken further. For the last veins—for survival… war consumed everything.

  His eyes glistened.

  Before I was trapped, flames already raged across seven cities and three capitals. Those marks on the map… more than thirty years.

  He wiped away clouded tears, breath ragged.

  The world outside must be unrecognizable now.

  I don’t even know if my wife… my children… still live.

  Grief settled over him like a shroud.

  Sand scattered, lifeless.

  Timo felt the weight press against his own chest.

  War’s cruelty lay beyond his grasp—yet the raw ache in this broken man pierced him deeply.

  It stirred echoes of those faces from the trial.

  If they were truly his own blood…

  Were they safe?

  Silence settled over the cave, thick and heavy.

  In the corner, Ugly Bastard snored—sharp, quivering whistles that rose and snapped.

  Its stubby fins slapped idly at a puddle. Lips parted around protruding teeth in a slack, drooling grin—half-smile, half-snarl.

  The half-wild man exhaled, slow and weary.

  He raked tangled hair from his face, casting a sidelong glance at the creature.

  Sand stirred once more beneath his will.

  These truths are too heavy. If we ever escape, you’ll understand in time.

  His gaze shifted to Timo’s leather pouch.

  That red gem you used yesterday… show it to me.

  Timo hesitated, then drew out the blood-red stone—palm-sized, pulsing faintly.

  The half-wild man’s eyes narrowed.

  Its aura reminds me of the Sacred Domain’s Holy Lord—and the Spirit-Taming Cult. The war ignited because of them.

  Timo stared at the gem, palm open but unmoving.

  This was his lifeline.

  The half-wild man noted the refusal—approval flickering in his eyes.

  He extended a rough forefinger, cautious, inching toward the surface.

  Half an inch away—pain lanced through him.

  Sharp. Cold. Ravenous.

  He jerked back with a hiss.

  His fingertip blackened faintly. A thread of essence—vanished, devoured.

  As legend claims: the Spirit-Taming Cult’s leader wielded a Devouring Spirit Heart. It feeds on all essence, returning it amplified to its host. Deadly. One misstep—and the bearer becomes a mindless devourer.

  The words struck Timo like lightning.

  The gem slipped from numb fingers, clattering to stone.

  He stood frozen, breath shallow.

  The Cult’s dominion rose on that power. The leader sought every spirit vein. War… began with her.

  But how is it yours?

  Doubt and gravity deepened in the man’s stare.

  Timo shook his head, throat tight.

  He dared not touch it again—yet longing tugged at him, fierce and instinctive.

  The moment it fell, emptiness yawned inside his chest.

  Keep it hidden. Only we know. It has chosen you—its former master gone. My days are few. If the fish demons claim it… humanity falls to slavery.

  Timo glanced at the sleeping Ugly Bastard—relief, then urgency.

  He snatched the gem, clutching it close.

  “What if… we destroy it?”

  His voice cracked, jaw set.

  The half-wild man’s expression softened—pride warming the weary lines.

  He clapped a heavy hand on Timo’s shoulder.

  If it could be shattered easily, it would not endure. Some forces lie beyond mortal grasp.

  Besides—without it, you’d be spirit food in a demon’s belly long ago.

  Timo slipped the gem away.

  Only then did he notice his leather armor—scorched, pitted by acid.

  Yet the pouch endured.

  Curious, he rummaged.

  Gold-patterned snakeskin. Shattered glass. Warped metal.

  A patterned dagger slid free.

  Hidden seams yielded silver-white threads and eagle feathers.

  A cough drew his eyes upward.

  New words waited.

  Your origins—Sacred Domain orphan or ancient legion heir—matter little now.

  Our only goal: while I still breathe, escape this cursed place together.

  Hope kindled in the man’s gaze—bright, resolute.

  He was ready to wager everything.

  “How?” Timo asked, urgency sharpening his voice.

  The Black Sea Lord’s power cages this domain. To tear free demands envoy-level strength—a rift forced open.

  Only beyond lies life.

  But it’s guesswork. Look at my murals…

  He gestured to a shadowed corner, fire essence flaring at his fingertip.

  Distorted carvings emerged in the glow.

  The endless mists above the sea are illusion. I boarded wrecks twice—sailed perhaps a hundred kilometers.

  There… the boundary.

  His finger trembled over a western sun mark.

  The Lord rose on waves.

  First time, I fled.

  Second—I was caged in bone.

  Watched comrades devoured alive…

  My legs—gnawed away then.

  When they learned I planned escape, they took my tongue.

  He touched the gleaming beast-hide wrapping his stumps.

  Earth essence peaked high-tier once. Wind mid. Fire low.

  Since the maiming—veins damaged. Cultivation stalled, even regressed.

  I cling to early envoy threshold by threads.

  Hope, newly sparked in Timo, guttered.

  Thunderstruck, he glanced back at Ugly Bastard.

  His grip tightened on the pouch—understanding dawning.

  Why the fish demons feared him.

  If even you failed…

  Then his eyes lit.

  “Why not climb straight up?”

  The half-wild man’s reply came swift.

  Others tried.

  Sky beasts swarm. Weather turns savage.

  Exposure brings slaughter.

  Even victory drains essence—death by exhaustion.

  Timo’s flicker of light dimmed again, candle in wind.

  The man wrote faster, urgent.

  Don’t despair.

  Together—our odds rise.

  You must reach envoy realm swiftly.

  Only united do we stand a chance.

  Timo seized the spark.

  “How long?”

  The man raised his broad, scarred left hand—five fingers splayed.

  This land is wild, but veins burn bright.

  With your awakened foundation—and my guidance…

  Quickest: twenty years.

  Slowest: fifty.

  “Fifty?”

  Timo’s voice broke.

  The fruit pit slipped from his fingers, rolling away.

  “I’d be an old man. Or… dead here.”

  Despair crept across his young face—raw, consuming.

  He burned to find those faces from the trial.

  The half-wild man watched, gaze piercing.

  Afraid?

  In younger days, he had seen this fracture—bright spirits buckling.

  Timo glanced toward the chaos beyond the stone.

  Fear tightened his chest.

  Helplessness washed over him.

  He nodded, small and lost.

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