Without realizing it, Samael eventually fell asleep while talking to Terror-chan.
His words slowly faded.
His consciousness dimmed, overcome by extreme exhaustion, lingering pain, and the complete depletion of his essence.
When silence finally settled over that stretch of beach, the scene seemed to… change.
Not physically.
But in the way it could be perceived.
There, among colossal bones scattered like the ruins of a forgotten titan, slept a young woman with a delicate appearance. Her pale hair contrasted with the dull white of the monstrous remains, and her injured body rested almost fragile against the cold sand.
The beach was breathtakingly beautiful.
The sand softly reflected the moon's pale light, and the sea wind danced in silent waves, carrying salt, cold, and loneliness.
Ahead stretched the Stormsea.
A vast, dark expanse.
Violent.
Untamed.
The waves rose and collided with restrained fury, as if something colossal breathed beneath the surface, watching that small pocket of stillness with absolute indifference.
The contrast was almost cruel.
Life and death.
Fragility and monstrosity.
Calm and destruction.
The scene formed a composition as absurd as it was beautiful—a lyrical image heavy with symbolism, something any artist would dream of immortalizing on canvas.
But there were no painters there.
No spectators.
Only a sleeping girl, the bones of an ancient terror…
And the sea, waiting patiently.
As always.
Samael slept on that beach completely unprotected.
When he awoke, he had already returned to his male form.
The sun stood high in the sky.
Imposing.
Cruel.
Infernal heat poured straight onto his face, drawing a low groan from his lips as he stirred.
"Urgh…"
His body felt like it had been beaten senseless.
And unfortunately, that feeling was accurate.
His back burned even worse than before, every movement sending sharp spikes of pain through him. At least his essence had mostly recovered during the night.
He sat up with difficulty and looked around.
The leaves he had gathered were gone, carried away by the night wind.
"Good morning, Terror-chan…" he muttered, yawning as he stretched carefully.
Then he winced.
"Ow… my back…"
Moving cautiously, Samael headed to the edge of the forest to gather more leaves. In daylight, the woods looked… less threatening.
Still dangerous.
But no longer suffocating like they had been at night.
"Maybe most Nightmare Creatures are nocturnal…" he murmured. "That's good."
He collected what he needed and returned to the beach.
Using his newly recovered essence, he transformed some of the leaves into crude bandages for his back. Others he shaped into simple cloth.
The essence drained quickly.
Not completely, but enough to be concerning.
"Hey, Terror-chan…" he said, approaching the massive bones. "Time for you to wear some new clothes."
He sat beside the colossal skeleton and carefully wrapped his own back, using the bones as support.
After that, he began assembling a small, improvised camp directly atop Terror-chan.
The scene was… strange.
An injured boy, on an island of horrors, decorating gigantic bones as if preparing a temporary home.
All while softly humming old Michael Jackson songs, completely out of place.
It took him about two hours to finish his makeshift camp.
When he was done, Samael took a few steps back and examined the result.
Simple.
Improvised.
But functional.
And, strangely enough…
It was the safest place he had felt since arriving in the Dream Realm.
His stomach growled loudly.
He froze for a moment… then sighed.
"Great… now I'm hungry too." He rubbed his stomach. "So what do I do now? Any ideas, Terror-chan?"
Silence.
"…No? What a shame." He tilted his head. "I thought you'd been here longer than me."
Samael frowned briefly.
"Funny…" he murmured. "Talking to objects when you're alone… maybe it really does work."
He reflected for a moment.
"The human mind is strange…"
His next sigh was heavier.
"All right… focus." His eyes narrowed. "How do I hunt?"
He assessed his condition.
Low essence.
Little time.
Minimal knowledge of the terrain.
"For weaker prey…" he thought aloud. "A shallow study might be enough."
With that in mind, Samael once again approached the forest's edge.
He stopped before the dense trees.
Took a deep breath.
Summoned his sword.
The metal appeared in his hand with a comforting weight.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Until, little by little, his body was swallowed by the shadows of the trees…
And disappeared from Terror-chan's view.
The forest received him in silence.
And Samael knew.
This was the true beginning.
He advanced through the forest cautiously, each step measured, relying heavily on his Bestial Reflexes to detect any sign of danger.
The silence inside was different.
Heavier.
More attentive.
As he moved, an idea began to take shape in his mind.
"What if…" he thought, "…to improve my fighting style, I copy the predator traits of my opponents?"
The memory of the serpent from the night before surfaced immediately.
It had tried to be as stealthy as possible.
That wasn't random.
It was learned behavior.
An instinct shaped by survival.
"In other words…" he muttered internally, "…something hunts that serpent."
That meant that in this ecosystem, being fast and strong wasn't enough.
You had to be invisible.
Samael began moving more carefully, trying to imitate the patterns he had observed—light steps, controlled breathing, constant awareness of his surroundings.
Stealth.
Just like the serpent.
It wasn't perfect.
Far from it.
But it was working.
Little by little.
With every moment, he felt more comfortable.
More natural.
His body responded better to stimuli, gradually adjusting to the hostile environment.
"My adaptive Attribute…" he thought, surprised. "It's really useful."
But the realization came with confusion.
An uncomfortable doubt.
"Then why…" his brow furrowed, "…didn't it help me adapt to my female body?"
The question echoed in his mind.
He was about to sink deeper into thought when—
He stopped.
His senses flared instantly.
There.
Ahead.
A Nightmare Creature.
The encounter was almost too easy.
"For me to find one this quickly…" he thought, "…this island must be infested."
Samael moved forward carefully until he could see the scene more clearly.
A serpent.
Injured.
Coiled inside a small natural cave.
Sleeping.
Its body bore clear signs of a recent battle.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Is it you…?" he murmured, staring at the creature.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
"Well, look at that… fate really has a sense of humor," he whispered. "Maybe I've got some kind of Fate Attribute and don't even know it."
The smile grew darker.
Colder.
Samael was vindictive.
And his back still hurt.
A lot.
He tightened his grip on the sword.
The forest remained silent.
But for the first time since he had entered it…
Samael no longer felt like prey.
He felt like someone about to collect a debt.