As soon as the first island was reduced to nothingness, Strax was not satisfied. The colossal void he had left behind seemed only a harbinger, a tiny spark of all he could still do. His colossal body glowed with black flames again, and with a powerful flap of his wings that split the air like blades, he rose and launched himself toward the next island.
His crimson eyes did not blink. The wind did not move him; he moved the wind. With each flap of his wings, black clouds tore into red lightning, and the horizon seemed to open in scars that betrayed his passage.
When he finally spotted the second island, he immediately realized it was different from the first.
It was larger in size, but strangely deserted. The forest was reduced to sparse patches of vegetation, smothered by great swathes of gray sand that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a barren land, a piece of a forgotten world, as if drained of life.
But Strax didn't hesitate.
