In the ongoing war between Sky Mist City and the Devil's race, Zayne and Sylvia had both advanced far beyond what anyone had anticipated. From their initial positions at the Seventh and Eighth levels of cultivation, they had now ascended to the Ninth and Tenth levels, respectively. Sylvia, in particular, had found herself on the precipice of a significant breakthrough. With only a step remaining before reaching the Perfected Level of Qi Accumulation, she could already envision herself standing at the very threshold of Foundation Establishment. The past three months had brought her closer to that goal than she ever thought possible.

At her current power—being at the Tenth level of Qi Accumulation—she had attained a level of dominance over others in the same realm. Few could stand against her, and even fewer could match her intensity in battle. Yet, despite her considerable strength, the Devil's race had proven itself far more formidable than anyone had imagined. Their rapid regenerative abilities and unnaturally resilient bodies allowed them to keep pace with even the strongest of cultivators. Despite not being at the peak levels themselves, they were capable of fighting with the strength and stamina of a being much higher in cultivation.

It was during these fierce encounters that Sylvia would rely on her most formidable technique—Dragon Eyes. She had spent the past three months cultivating this unique power, refining it to the point where it had become one of her deadliest tools. When she activated Dragon Eyes, the world around her seemed to distort, and the very fabric of reality quivered with the weight of her intent. Her eyes would glow a fierce, otherworldly silver, and a thin, serpentine silver line would trail from the corners of her gaze, marking the death of her enemies.

With Dragon Eyes, she could inflict direct harm to the other party's Spirit Sea, causing it to tremble or even rupture under the weight of her gaze. And if the enemy was unfortunate enough to not possess a Spirit Sea? Sylvia could wreak havoc on their mind, causing it to crumble under the assault of her focused power. She had become a nightmare on the battlefield—a force to be reckoned with. Every time the silver light from her eyes flashed, death was imminent. Heads would explode with a sickening pop, or blood would pour from every orifice of the unfortunate target, marking the beginning of their end. Her Comprehension of Dragon Eyes had reached an astonishing level, leaving her enemies in a state of perpetual fear whenever they saw the telltale glow in her eyes.

Yet, for all of Sylvia's immense power, Zayne was not without his own remarkable abilities. His strength, while lower than Sylvia's, was by no means any less formidable. When the battle became intense, Zayne could tap into a hidden power that transformed him into something far more terrifying. His transformation was both a blessing and a curse, one that pushed him past his normal limits but came at a great personal cost.

In these moments, Zayne's hair would grow long and unruly, dark green tattoos would appear across his body, and his entire demeanor would shift. He was no longer the calm, collected and awkward cultivator that Sylvia had come to know; in his altered state, he became something else entirely. His muscles would swell and his limbs would elongate unnaturally. His arms grew so long that they almost touched the ground, and his feet would stretch and tear through his shoes, revealing toes that curled slightly like the claws of a beast.

When Zayne transformed, the air around him would thicken with a palpable tension, a sense of impending danger that even Sylvia could not ignore. His very presence would grow darker, and there were times when his face would begin to twist, rows of jagged teeth threatening to cover his entire mouth, forming a grotesque visage that seemed to belong to something otherworldly. He would lose himself in this monstrous form, fighting against the urge to let go completely, to embrace the creature within him. And yet, despite the overwhelming power this transformation granted him, Zayne was always left drained, exhausted to the point of collapse, once he reverted to his true self.

In these rare and perilous moments, he would call himself by another name, adopting an entirely different identity—one that seemed to belong to the monster he was becoming. This split personality, though not permanent, was both a powerful asset and a terrifying burden, as Zayne struggled to maintain control over the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Thus, as the battle between Sky Mist City and the Devil's race raged on, Zayne and Sylvia stood as two of the most formidable warriors on the battlefield. Sylvia's mastery over Dragon Eyes made her an unstoppable force, while Zayne's transformations pushed the boundaries of what was possible for a cultivator to achieve. Yet, in their hearts, both knew that the path ahead was fraught with danger—an endless war that demanded more than just strength but also the endurance to keep pushing forward despite the toll it took on them both.

After several minutes of quiet rest, Sylvia's eyes snapped open. Her gaze sharpened, fixing upon a particular direction with unnerving focus. Zayne, though slower to react, also turned his head in the same direction. His response, however, was more measured—his green eyes slowly darkening as a dangerous glint flickered within them. Sylvia was already on her feet, her posture alert and composed, as if she had anticipated something was coming.

Zayne, too, rose, but his movements were deliberate, his usual calm replaced by a coldness that seemed to permeate the very air around him. Without a word, he sheathed his greatsword, his fingers brushing lightly against the hilt, as though preparing for something far more threatening than a simple skirmish. As his body began to undergo its transformation, his green hair grew longer, flowing freely despite the lack of wind. His skin—already marked by strange, intricate tattoos—began to glow faintly as more markings appeared, creeping across his limbs and torso. His arms stretched and elongated unnaturally, the tips of his fingers almost scraping the ground as he crouched lower. His feet grew larger, pressing against the earth, but to his fortune, he hadn't been wearing shoes, so there was no risk of them tearing apart as his body adjusted to its new form.

The awkward, almost human confusion in his eyes faded away, replaced by an intense, calculating coldness. It was as if the very essence of his being had shifted into something far more focused, more dangerous. This new form of Zayne—this other side of him—was a creature of absolute precision, a being who saw only the target and the path that led to its destruction.

When the transformation had completed, Zayne slowly turned his head to look at Sylvia. His gaze was sharp, but in a brief moment of understanding, he gave her a curt nod, acknowledging her as both an ally and a force in her own right.

Sylvia, already aware of his transformation, nodded in return. There was no need for words between them; they understood each other perfectly in this moment. Their bond, forged through countless battles and shared victories, was something unspoken but deeply felt.

Then, both of them turned their attention back to the distant horizon, where a dark, looming threat was steadily approaching—the Devil's race.

***

Meanwhile, aboard a slender, magical ship, the captain stood at the bow, her figure silhouetted against the vast expanse of the sea. Her face was lit by the glow of the setting sun, but there was a sharpness in her expression that suggested a mind constantly calculating, always anticipating the next move.

"Finally," the captain declared with a satisfied grin, "we've crossed the Berserk Sea. We're now on a direct course to Sky Mist City!" She said it with the kind of enthusiasm one might expect from someone completing a difficult journey, though there was a distinct undertone of excitement in her voice—as though the journey was only half the fun.

Grey, standing next to her with an air of quiet reserve, gave a single, curt nod. His attention was fixed on the sea before them, but his thoughts were elsewhere, his mind whirling with the complexities of the situation. The captain had taken great pains to ensure their disguises were flawless. She had donned the appearance of a regular girl, blending in seamlessly with her surroundings. As for Grey, his features had been altered to the point where it was impossible to discern his true appearance. To anyone who looked upon him, it was as though his very form had been blurred, lost to the magic that surrounded him.

The captain seemed to sense his unease. "We've entered foreign waters now," she continued, her voice almost lighthearted, "Well, the sea itself was always foreign, but what I really mean is that we've reached the territory where we might meet other cultivators. Pirates, traders, anyone looking to gain something on the open sea."

Grey's lips tightened, though he said nothing. The captain's words, though framed as a warning, were filled with an unmistakable anticipation. It was clear to him that she was hoping—praying, even—that their ship would be attacked. To her, the chaos of battle was an opportunity, not a danger. She thrived on the risk, drawn to the possibility of profit that came with every skirmish and every confrontation.

Grey sighed heavily, his mind briefly drifting to the state of the ship. If the vessel wasn't wrecked by the time this journey ended, he would count himself fortunate. In truth, he wasn't sure if he'd ever agree to travel with her again. The captain was too daring, too reckless, and far too unpredictable. She approached every situation with an eye for the gain, regardless of the risks. It was this tendency that had led them into more than one dangerous and ill-advised encounter in the past.

As if reading his thoughts, the captain flashed him a grin, one full of confidence and perhaps a hint of mischief. "What's wrong, Little Grey?" she teased. "You seem a bit quiet today. Not excited for our next adventure?"

Grey's eyebrow twitched incessantly, but ultimately chose to ignore her for the time being. Instead, his hand slipped to his storage bag, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of an artifact. He hoped that, should things escalate, he'd be ready for whatever dangers the sea—or the captain—threw his way. He didn't trust the captain's judgment, nor her motivations, but he was here because he had little choice. The path ahead would be dangerous, yes, but Grey was no stranger to danger. He had fought in countless battles, faced far worse odds than those he could imagine on the open sea.

But the captain's lust for danger and trouble had lead to them encountering many stupid and dangerous scenarios.

If it weren't for the fact that his magic ship was lying in his storage bag wrecked, he doubted he would be on the ship with the captain.

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