After some time, they decided to get out of the underwater cave containing the crystal. They broke the surface in a burst of bubbles and dim blue light coming from the hole in the semi-spherical mountain cave, leaving the crystal’s silent presence behind. The weight of the cave and its unanswered questions slipped from John’s shoulders as he pulled himself onto the rocky shore, water streaming from his clothes. Archangela rose beside him in a smooth arc, droplets trailing from her wings like scattered diamonds. Not long after, they continued their way, the adjacent forest’s cool air wrapped around them both.
They made their way beneath the looming silhouettes of the trees, the roar of the ocean fading into a distant murmur John’s enhanced ears now could hear behind the Bluecrag Mountains. Roots twisted underfoot, ferns brushed against John’s legs, and shafts of pale light pierced the canopy in thin, wavering columns. For the first time in a while, there was no clear direction, no immediate quest marker in his mind. He needed a new plan—something that would bridge the gulf between the power he had and the ocean he still wasn’t ready to face.
A rustle broke the quiet ahead.
John froze, one hand lifting instinctively as his senses sharpened. Archangela stepped slightly in front of him, wings half-unfurled, her gaze narrowing toward the sound. Branches snapped, leaves shivered, and a figure stumbled out from between the trees.
It was a teenage girl, about his age. Shoulder-long silver hair hung in tangled strands around her face, streaked with dirt and dried blood. Her blue eyes were wide and unfocused at first, then sharpened as they locked onto him. Her clothes were in tatters—torn at the sleeves, ripped across the side, smudged with mud and stained dark where wounds had bled through. Scratches and bruises marked her arms and legs, and one side of her was pressed protectively as she moved, as if every step hurt.
She swayed, catching herself against a tree trunk, panting. In a heartbeat, John recognized her—the wounded girl thrown out of some unseen disaster deeper in the woods.
“Kana,” he breathed.
Her gaze flickered, a faint spark of relief and disbelief surfacing through the pain as she focused fully on his face.
Kana staggered closer, breath coming in sharp, ragged pulls. Her pupils were blown wide, the wild scent of blood and fear clinging to her like a second skin.
“The black tigers…” Her voice broke, rough and strained. “They attacked. The others are in danger.” She swayed, fingers clutching at empty air as if trying to catch something that wasn’t there. “The Shaman… told me to run in this direction…”
The last word dissolved into a whisper. Her knees buckled.
John lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ground. Her weight sagged into his arms, head lolling against his shoulder. Up close, he could see just how bad it was—deep gashes beneath the torn cloth, bruises already blooming dark beneath her pale skin, the faint tremor of shock in her limbs.
“Minor Healing,” he murmured, pressing his hand gently over the worst of the wounds.
Soft light flared under his palm, seeping into her skin. Some of the bleeding slowed, torn flesh knitting just enough to keep her from worsening. But the spell was weak. Especially when applied to higher beings like Kana, it would be meant for scratches and training injuries, not for whatever battle she’d escaped. Her breathing steadied a little, but her face remained pale, lips tinged with blue. It wasn’t enough.
“Tch.” He bit the inside of his cheek, mind racing. Leaving her here was impossible. Carrying her all the way to safety was too slow—and too dangerous if more black tigers prowled nearby. And he had to do something about the other weretigresses.
His thoughts snagged on one risky idea.
The shelter.
His hidden refuge in the parallel world—outside the flow of time. Nothing inside aged while the real world stood still. He had never tried bringing someone else with him, Archangela being an exception but she was his pet and native to that other world, but if it worked, he would have all the time needed to stabilize her without losing a single second out here.
“It’s worth a try,” he muttered under his breath.
Shifting his grip, he pulled Kana closer, one arm braced under her knees, the other supporting her back. He focused inward, reaching for the familiar twist in his core—the anchor point of his personal sanctuary. The world around them seemed to blur for an instant, colors smearing at the edges of his vision.
Then everything snapped into stillness.
They stood beneath the soft, protective glow of the light dome, the dim shimmer of the underwater world faintly visible beyond its curved barrier. The gentle hush of water pressing around the shelter replaced the forest’s rustle. John exhaled in relief.
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“It worked…”
He carried Kana into the house, the door swinging open at his touch. Inside, he laid her carefully on the bed, smoothing out the torn cloth as best he could so nothing pulled against her wounds. Her breathing was shallow but steady, lashes resting against her cheeks.
“Minor Healing,” he whispered again, casting the spell once more.
Warm light flowed from his hands, crawling over her injuries in thin threads. The worst cuts tightened, bruises faded from deep purple to mottled yellow. He had more than enough mana, but this alone did not help here… This was patchwork at best, not a full restoration.
Footsteps approached softly.
Archangela stepped into the room, her expression calm but intent. She moved to the other side of the bed, folding gracefully to her knees. A gentle radiance gathered around her hands—purer, brighter, and far more potent than his.
“I will take it from here,” she said softly.
Her palms hovered just above Kana’s body, and a soft, pearly light poured down like liquid moonlight. The healing energy spread in smooth waves, seeping into skin, bone, and muscle alike. Torn flesh closed seamlessly, bruises melted away, dried blood flaked into harmless dust. Even the tension in Kana’s brow softened, the deep strain easing from her features.
Bit by bit, the battered young weretigress was restored. Her body became clean and whole again, the ravages of the black tigers’ attack erased as if they had never been. Only the tatters of her clothes remained as a reminder.
When the last glimmer of light faded from Archangela’s hands, Kana lay there breathing evenly, her color returned, but her eyes still closed.
“She will need time,” Archangela murmured. “The body is healed. The spirit… has not yet caught up.”
John nodded, tension draining from his shoulders as he watched Kana sleep peacefully on the bed, whole but still unconscious—safe, for the moment, in the stillness of his hidden world.
John stepped outside the house and sat in front of the small campfire with Archangela, in silence. Its warm glow flickering against the inside of the dome. Outside, the dim blue of the surrounding water cradled the shelter in a quiet, endless dusk. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The crackle of the flames and the soft hum of the barrier were the only sounds.
John stared into the fire, thoughts tangling in his chest. A sealed Azure Astral Fangborn form. An ocean he still could not conquer. A girl from a tribe that had once accepted him now lying unconscious in his bed, fleeing from enemies that should have feared his very existence. He clenched his hands slowly, then relaxed them, unsure which direction to pull his future toward.
A faint sound broke the stillness behind them. A shift of weight. Wood creaking.
John was on his feet in an instant, heart lurching. He hurried back into the house, Archangela following close behind, her steps light.
Kana was sitting up on the bed, one hand pressed to her chest as she took in the unfamiliar room with wide, confused eyes. When she saw him, some of the panic eased—but not enough.
“Kana,” John said, moving closer, careful not to startle her. “How are you feeling? What happened?”
At his question, the thin calm she’d managed shattered. Panic surged back into her gaze, and her hands balled in the bedsheets.
“There is no time,” she blurted, voice breaking. “We need to help them!”
Her breathing hitched, chest rising and falling too fast. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as the memories pushed to the surface.
John raised both hands in a calming gesture. “We will,” he said firmly. “But time does not pass while we are here. Outside, nothing is moving. No one is getting closer to death, or worse, because we’re talking right now.”
She blinked, thrown for a moment by the statement.
“So even if it’s hard,” he continued, voice steady, “let us speak calmly. The more information we exchange and the better we prepare, the better it will be when we go back.”
Kana swallowed, shoulders trembling, but she nodded slowly. Her fingers loosened their grip on the sheets, just a little.
“The black tigers…” she began, voice rough. “They were getting suspicious because of your absence. They had only left the encampment alone because they respected your Azure Astral Fangborn form. Because they believed you were their true long lost patriarch.”
Her throat worked, tears finally spilling over. “But somehow… they started to suspect it was a ruse. That you weren’t their true sovereign. That the Azure Astral Fangborn was just… a trick. A mask.”
She dragged in a shaky breath. “One day, they attacked.”
The last word came out as a sob. Her shoulders shook, and she bowed her head, silver hair falling forward to hide her face as the dam finally broke. John’s chest tightened. He had known it could happen, somewhere at the back of his mind, but hearing it from her like this made the vague fear solid and sharp.
He knew his own limits all too well.
He could transform into a blue tiger, borrowing the grace and ferocity of the white weretigresses who had trained and hosted him. He could become a golden dragon, a young echo of the might that ruled the skies. But the monumental form of the Azure Astral Fangborn—the towering blue tiger that had once cowed even black tigers—was sealed away, locked behind system constraints he could not yet break.
Was he strong enough to face black tigers now?
Probably not.
The power hierarchy of this world rose in steep, merciless steps. Ascended humans stood above normal or merely awakened humans. Elves surpassed ascended humans, their grace and magic placing them on a higher rung. White weretigresses stood above elves, apex hunters of the living forests. And black tigers… black tigers stood above even the white weretigresses, predators among predators, embodiments of lethal supremacy.
Dragons would likely rank above black tigers—but John was not an adult dragon. His golden form was impressive, deadly even, but still incomplete compared to the ancients that ruled storms and shattered mountains. And it was not just one black tiger he would need to face. If the encampment had drawn their ire, there would be a pride—multiple adults, perhaps even elders and what if the alpha tiger joined?
He had powerful dragons as friends, beings whose presence could change the outcome of entire wars. But they were very far away, tied to their own domains and distances that time simply did not allow him to cross. There was no time to seek their aid.
His gaze slid to Archangela, standing quietly near the foot of the bed. Her aura was calm, but underneath it lay an intensity he could feel in his bones. She was stronger than him—he knew that much. A being shaped by higher rules, with healing that eclipsed his and power that still hid behind veils.
But would that be enough against black tigers?
He didn’t know.
And yet, Kana’s tears, the tremor in her voice, and the encampment’s unspoken trust pressed on him harder than any uncertainty. Whatever the odds, he would have to find a way.
