A host of rodents gathered in a small, dark corner of the sewers. They seemed to be patiently waiting while surrounding a small crack in the wall.
Soon, another rodent crawled through the crack, its fur glossy black with hints of gray. Obviously, this rodent was quite the elder in terms of age.
The rodent squealed in a high-pitched voice, gesturing with its claws. 'The apocalypse outside ended, the sky is no longer falling apart!'
The host of rodents echoed a joyful sentiment, squealing and waving their tiny claws. However, the elder rodent raised a claw and squealed again.
It gestured with a grave expression in its eyes. 'A lot of the neighboring tribes fell under the apocalypse, and many of our scouts went missing! I need a few capable men to come and help me search for them!'
The rodents fell silent for a moment before clamoring erupted. None of them were scared, after all, the apocalypse was already over.
Like that, the host of rodents filed out from the crack and followed the traces left behind by their brethren tribesmen into the depths of the sewers.
Time ebbed on.
'Wait!' squealed the elderly rodent with a gesture, his nose climbing high to catch a whiff of the smell in the air. Then, he pointed in a certain direction while gesturing grandly. 'There! Move out!'
The host of young, valiant rodents charged forward fearlessly, and the elderly rodent stood on his hind e legs, small claws clasped behind his back.
His silver-gray fur glistened beautifully, and his gem-black eyes reflected the ominous darkness up ahead. Soon, the elderly rodent felt uneasy.
A sharp squealing, laced with misery and anger, echoed from the depths. His heart chilled, and he lunged on all four while rushing forward at full speed.
The elderly rodent quickly found a harrowing scene that greeted the youngsters of the tribe. They were all motionless in place, looking ahead at a sea dried of corpses.
In the center of them, all was a huge, two-legged monster lying face down, body covered in a black raincoat.
One of the young rodents crawled forward, gesturing with angry eyes. 'Master Splinter, they're dead! All of them are dead! Dead!'
The elder rodent's eyes narrowed, and he waved his claw to indicate silence. Then, he carefully crawled his way toward the two-legged monster.
The youngsters exchanged looks with one another, braced themselves, and followed in tow. However, the elder rodent quickly squealed at them not to catch up.
It was at this moment of distraction that the two-legged monster moved. His hands stretched with a graceful arc, snatched the elder rodent in a vice grip, and brought him helpless and incapacitated to the ground.
The last thing the elder rodent saw was a huge mouth, white teeth, and two fangs closing in on its body before its vitality was swiftly drawn away. The young rodents were furious, jumping the two-legged monster with wild abandon.
Alas, they were too powerless to do anything.
Minutes later, the damp sewers resumed their silent atmosphere, but the number of dried corpses almost doubled.
Time ebbed forward once more.
When Aza'zel next came to his senses, his consciousness was seated upon the throne in his inner world. The last thing he remembered was receiving a heavy blow to the back of the head, walking around aimlessly in bleak darkness, and succumbing to exhaustion.
He couldn't remember anything else.
As his mind cleared up, fragmented memories of what might have transpired surfaced in his mind. Realizing that his body acted upon instinct again in a quest for blood, Aza'zel felt a little uncomfortable.
Was he slowly turning into a monster? Was this a split personality disorder? What could possibly be the reason?
He didn't know.
Aza'zel didn't have anything to do in his inner world and so he planned to leave. However, he quickly noticed something was off.
Creasing his eyebrows, he focused on sensing the space within this inner world. This inner world felt like an extension of his being, and he could observe all the minute changes occurring within its confines despite his lack of ocular awareness.
In no time at all, Aza'zel noticed very thin, yet subtle prismatic filaments swimming through the inner world.
He was pleasantly surprised by the discovery; this was a refined source energy. Although the wisps weren't multicolored, they came in varying colors themselves.
These must be the result of his three days of practicing and drawing in source energy from the environment.
Aza'zel had a sudden thought; could he gradually increase the density of source energy in this inner world if he practiced even more? Would the prismatic filaments gradually give birth to multiple colors and evolve?
A preposterous thought; would this inner world evolve as a whole at some point in time?
As he was thinking, a piece of information suddenly appeared in his mind as a new feature was unlocked in the inner world.
"Combat Technique Refinement?" Aza'zel was a little dazed.
He curiously activated the feature with a mental command. Then, he watched as an orb of gray light descended from the sky, and an orb of crimson light ascended from the ocean of blood, and the two quickly collided in a spot densely populated with prismatic filaments.
Very quickly, a blood puppet with gray eyes took form, its body radiating the pressure of someone on the level of the first transformation.
Aza'zel felt a little dizzy because this puppet was a product of his blood vitality and a portion of his spirit, enhanced by the origin laws of this inner world.
Aside from dizziness, Aza'zel felt incredulous because according to the information in his mind, this puppet didn't only copy the thirty-six martial forms, but the level of mastery and technique it could display was frighteningly high.
This blood puppet represented the pinnacle of foundation for someone on the level of the first transformation, but that was limited to mirroring the host of techniques in Aza'zel's personal arsenal.
Boundless possibilities filled Aza'zel's mind on how he could utilize the Combat Technique Refinement blood puppet in the future, but first of all, he needed to try fighting it.
Aza'zel stepped off his throne and stood face to face with the blood puppet on the vast ocean of blood.
No one said a word, and it was apparent that the puppet wanted to provide Aza'zel the privilege of making the first move.
Aza'zel didn't mind at all, and with unprecedented tension in his muscles and buzzing source energy whipping around his body, he shot his fist full of power ahead.
The puppet's gray eyes flashed, and its body quivered too, with tension. However, not a trace of source energy could be felt around its frame, and the puppet seemed to merge into the flow of source energy.
It deftly took a step back, avoiding the maximum reach of the incoming punch. The punch's force exploded a few centimeters away from the puppet's face, but the latter didn't admire the explosive force.
Instead, it channeled the explosive momentum into its respective force field, utilized the driving momentum, and pivoted on one foot while the other swept too quickly for Aza'zel to react.
Before he realized it, his head was blasted to bits, and he was ejected from the inner world with a splitting headache.
Aza'zel woke up with such an agonizing headache that he didn't notice Caidie far in the distance, heaving a sigh of relief and quietly retreating into the darkness.
However, as Caidie turned around, an ominously ruthless swarm of coldness occupied her pitch-black eyes.