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CHAPTER 94: Wasteland King

A lone figure sat within the shade of a solitary tree, an island of life in the middle of a vast wasteland. Before him, a large pond—an oasis—glistened under the oppressive midday sun. Dressed in tattered animal hide, scars adorned his rugged skin. Beside him lay the white thigh bone of some colossal beast, cracked but intact.

A large festering scar marred his chest, no doubt a source of immense pain, yet he showed no sign of discomfort, lying motionless as if too weak to move. Suddenly, the ground beneath him rumbled. From the sands emerged a gigantic serpentine shape, blotting out the sun with its titanic form.

The figure twitched, stirred back to life. He dipped his hand into the sparkling water, bringing it to his lips and swallowing, releasing an audible sigh.

“It takes much Ethra and flames to transform into your base form, does it not?” he spoke to the towering creature, a Sandshard, looming above him.