Nighttime, around the hours of ten PM.
Back in the ruins—where the pale white weapon spirit had fallen, a sphere-like object that was the size of a human head, floats above the water's surface.
If one examines this object closely, they might be able to catch a glimpse of a face-like surface on its body.
*Sha! Sha! Sha!* as this object continues to be thrown about by the shifting waters, it eventually comes across a fully Apotheosized weapon spirit of the first stage.
This weapon spirit looked no different from a shark, but it had red mist spewing out from its gills and maw.
And as the shark formed weapon spirit approaches the black object—
*Pah!* the object expands in volume like a balloon, and swallows the weapon spirit whole.
As moving bulges appear throughout the enlarged spherical object's body, demonstrating the weapon spirit's struggle to break free from the inside—
...…
All abruptly turns quiet in the very next instance.
…
Momentarily, the object expands and contract, as it gradually molds itself into the form of the devoured weapon spirit, which was a shark.
"…"
Blinking its red eyes, the object dives deeper into the seas, and for every weapon spirit it comes across, it would mercilessly chase after them until it devours them.
The hunting and feasting lasts throughout the entire night, and upon the sun's rise in the distant horizon of this ruin—
"…"
A figure with red eyes, black hair, and pale white skin walks out of the seas, and steps onto the shores of the first island.
The individual is dressed in an all-white attire, which consists of a hooded trench coat with its hems divided into eight tails, along with a pair of trousers and long boots.
Facial appearance wise, this individual possesses the exact same face as Long Hua.
"…"
Looking down at his pale white hand, the figure recalls the pain he had felt when a trident had pierced through its one eye.
In that instance, he had realized that death was all but inevitable.
But before death could have arrived, he had thought back to that individual that he had fought against in the chambers of the third mountain.
His instincts told him that—that individual hadn't been fighting him with their full strength at the time.
And although that individual may not have been as powerful as his killer, that individual would surely rise far above his killer—for their instincts deemed that individual to be better equipped to survive in this dog-eat-dog world.
"Fi… Fig… Figh… Fight… Ki… Kill… Dev… Devo… Devour…"
The powerful desire to continue to fight, to kill, and to devour had pushed the pale white weapon spirit to split off a portion of his body and soul, and cast them out of sight—prior to what should have been his inevitable death.
"…"
As the figure clenches his right hand into a fist, the eight tails of his trench coat sway like the tails of a beast.
*Aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnn!!!!!* raising a roar, the figure takes one step forward, and charges out of the rift that leads into the outside world.
With how fast this figure is moving, not a single individual—who was left to keep an eye on the rift, managed to catch the former in their sights, all they felt was a strong gust of wind blowing pass them.