When Azril opened his eyes, he no longer felt the warmth of his mother's embrace or the scent of Remnant Village's parched earth. He collapsed onto a vast expanse of white sand that was blindingly bright, yet felt as cold as bleached bones. This was The Sanctuary—a sacred dimension that served as a prison for those forgotten by time.
The sky above was no longer blue; instead, a gargantuan nebula swirled in intimidating shades of indigo and violet. Thousands of dead planets hung like extinguished lanterns, creaking in a terrifying cosmic silence. As far as the eye could see, there was only the silent white altar, stretching infinitely into the void. Azril, the four-year-old boy, looked like a mere speck of dust stranded amidst a dead magnificence.
From beyond the warped horizon, a serpent with obsidian scales as hard as steel descended from the heavens. The creature was so colossal that its head obscured a portion of the nebula. With a slow but lethal movement, the serpent crushed a dead planet that drifted nearby, reducing it to cosmic dust in a single squeeze.
Azril stood frozen, paralyzed by a fear he had never imagined. Instinctively, his left hand reached out, perhaps seeking something for protection. But to the Obsidian Serpent, Azril's existence was less than that of an insect. It took only a careless flick from the tip of the serpent's tail as it swept across the surface of the sand.
CRACK.
The world suddenly went silent in Azril's ears. He was thrown a dozen meters, tumbling over the coarse white sand. The explosion of pain in his left shoulder was so immense that he couldn't even scream. His left arm was gone, shattered into fragments by the impact of the serpent's energy. Yet, a terrifying miracle occurred. The blood pouring from his wound was no longer red; it was a shimmering silver—star blood beginning to react aggressively with the atmosphere of The Sanctuary.
"Mother... it hurts..." he whimpered, but his voice was instantly swallowed by the void. No one answered. No one came to save him.
Long after the pain peaked and turned into a hollow coldness, Azril tried to stand. The wound on his shoulder no longer bled red; instead, it emitted a thin purple mist that danced in the cosmic wind. His tiny body began to undergo a mutation. The name 'Azril,' which meant 'Blessing,' now felt like a bitter joke in a place that knew no mercy.
His stomach began to scream with hunger. A different kind of hunger—one that scorched his very soul. For days, he crawled between jagged crystal cliffs, licking dew that tasted like liquid metal just to survive. Finally, his search led him to a giant cave hanging on the side of a star-cliff.
Inside was a nest containing a Giant Fledgling. The creature was still young, yet it stood 160 cm tall with a beak sharp enough to split stone. Its mother was away hunting, leaving the fledgling to make noisy squawks within the nest.
Azril had no weapons. He had no martial arts. He had only a feral instinct born from a desperate refusal to die. With his one remaining hand, he gathered vines filled with sharp thorns that grew along the cave walls. He hid in the darkness, waiting with bated breath.
The moment the fledgling let its guard down, Azril lunged. He coiled the thorny vines around the creature's neck with blind, frantic movements. A violent struggle ensued. The fledgling fought back, its claws tearing through Azril's small frame and ripping his flesh, but Azril did not let go. He bit his lip until it bled, drawing breath with his last ounce of strength until finally, the creature stopped moving.
For the first time in his life, Azril ate flesh. He tore into the raw meat with hands stained in silver blood, devouring it ravenously even as tears continued to stream down his filthy face. Every mouthful was fishy, bitter, and revolting, reminding him of how far he was from home.
"I... must live..." he muttered, his mouth full of blood.
As he swallowed the meat, energy from the fledgling's essence began to flow into his veins, causing the cracks in his skin to glow silver. That day, Azril realized one thing: in the face of eternity, his cries would change nothing. He had to become hungrier than the void itself. Upon this starry altar, he was no longer a helpless child. He was learning how to prey upon the universe.