The wind was still screaming across the mountain.
It wasn't as wild as before, but it was definitely colder. The kind of cold that seeped under clothes, dug into your skin, and sank into your bones like poison.
At this point, even his warm clothes weren't enough to hold his body heat. Every step he took, the snow swallowed his feet like a bottomless pit, draining the feeling from his legs until they were almost numb.
But he didn't stop.
Compared to what he had suffered through before… this was nothing.
From the very beginning, he had been trained to be perfect. Broken bones, sleepless nights, punishments that would've killed a weaker person—he hated every second of it. But deep down, he couldn't deny it… that harsh training was the only reason he was still alive now.
"It should be here somewhere," Damiond muttered under his breath, scanning the endless white for the cave where the Phoenix waited.
He closed his eyes for a moment and focused his mind, slipping into the Phoenix's senses. His vision shifted—the mountain from the bird's eyes, his own small figure trudging through the snow like a dot in the storm.
A shiver crawled down his spine.
The Phoenix… its killing skill, its precision, its intelligence… it was terrifying. More terrifying than he had expected. He was grateful—truly grateful—that he was its master, not its prey.
Because if this thing ever turned on him? He wasn't sure even he could survive it.
After steadying his breathing, Damiond turned west. It looked empty, just more mountain… but as he approached, he noticed it. A small opening in the rocks, almost invisible if you didn't know where to look.
A cave.
As he stepped inside, the smell hit him like a fist to the face. Rotten flesh. Burnt fur. Blood soaking into the stone floor.
He grimaced and quickly wrapped his aura around his face, dulling his senses.
After a few seconds, the burning in his nose eased, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The sight in front of him made his chest tighten.
A mountain of bodies—humans and monsters—piled in the center of the cave like garbage. Blood pooled beneath them, staining the stone floor. Some of the corpses still smoked faintly from the heat.
The Phoenix sat atop the pile, its dark-red feathers glowing faintly like molten metal. It didn't move, didn't even blink—but Damiond could feel it through their connection.
Pride.
It was proud of its work… and it wanted his approval.
For a moment, his mind wandered. What if he disappointed it? What if one day… he lost control?
He pushed the thought away, swallowing hard.
Damiond approached the pile, inspecting the bodies.
At least a hundred normal humans… maybe ten low-level aura masters… around fifty monsters. Wolves mostly. Some Zephyraunt, which he had ordered the Phoenix to target. But one corpse stood out.
A Snow Bear.
Damiond froze.
A Snow Bear… How? That thing was a walking tank of muscle and fur. Even with the Phoenix's power, hunting it alone without heavy injuries should've been impossible.
His eyes trailed over the Phoenix again.
He hadn't tested its full limits… but it was clear now. This thing wasn't just powerful—it was beyond what he expected. And intelligent too. Alien, unsettling, but intelligent.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay focused.
He still had work to do.
With practiced movements, he started creating wombs—two dead humans for each one. For the Snow Bear? Five bodies. For the wolf that looked like a pack leader? Four.
There weren't many aura masters among the dead, but the few stronger creatures? He granted them sparkles of light.
He still didn't fully understand what those sparkles did… but his instincts told him they mattered. Maybe they determined the monster's rank… maybe they gave them intelligence, like the Phoenix.
The thought made his skin crawl.
As night fell, the mountains disappeared beneath the snow and shadows. Damiond left the cave, the stench still clinging to his clothes.
The Phoenix remained inside, guarding the wombs.
Meanwhile, the Ant Monster, following his orders, kept watch at the original cave, ensuring nothing happened in his absence.
The temperature plummeted even further.
It had been bad before—but now? The cold bit into his skin like knives. His aura and warm clothes barely kept him standing.
Staying outside wasn't an option.
But staying inside that stinking cave was worse.
Luckily, he'd noticed another cave earlier—a small one, barely big enough for one person, but it would have to do.
He forced his freezing legs to move, stumbling through the snow. His body felt sluggish. Even breathing hurt. But he didn't stop until he reached it.
The cave was tiny, the entrance so small he had to crouch to squeeze inside. But right now, it felt like a blessing.
He pulled out his sword, stepping toward a nearby tree. With one clean strike, the trunk split into pieces.
For normal people, chopping that much wood would take hours—but for an aura master? It was effortless.
He gathered as much as he could carry and ducked into the cave, his shoulders brushing the walls.
It was cramped, cold, and dark—but at least it wasn't the storm.
He focused his aura, his vision clearing slightly. He arranged the wood, struck a spark, and within moments, flames licked upward.
The warmth wrapped around him like a blanket.
He lay beside the fire, his muscles aching, his body stiff—but for now, at least… he could rest.
Sleep came quickly, dragging him into darkness.
When Damiond opened his eyes, the fire had burned low, but it still filled the cave with faint warmth.
His body was sluggish, but his mind was sharp.
He focused on the Phoenix.
What he saw made his pulse quicken.
A new army of monsters—his army—stood in the cave, waiting for his command.
And this was only the beginning.