The air around Xylos shimmered, not with heat, but with an unnerving chill. It was the cold of a predator, the cold of a being that had seen eons pass like sand grains slipping through its coils. Xylos, the demon snake, was not born with self-awareness. It had simmered within him, a dark ember in the primitive instincts of his demonic heritage. Then, like a lightning strike, it had ignited centuries ago. He had been a mere serpent then, slithering through the murky swamps, driven by hunger and instinct. Now, he was a creature of calculating intellect, his amber eyes holding the weight of ages.
He could feel the vibrant thrum of the world, the pulse of life that emanated from the human cultivators, their villages, and their sects. He observed them, these humans with their fleeting lifespans and boundless ambition, creating artifacts of power from earth and fire, channeling the Qi of the world in ways he had not yet mastered. Their flying swords, their intricate talismans, all products of their fleeting, creative minds. Xylos found it all... interesting. Not in a way that inspired emulation, but in a way that fueled his own path to power.
His core, a swirling vortex of demonic energy nestled deep within his scaled body, had solidified long ago into a nascent Core Formation. He hadn''t sought the assistance of a Master, hadn''t followed the rigid pathways set forth by human cultivators. He had found his own path, guided by the whisper of his demonic instincts and the insatiable hunger for power that burned within him. He learned through observation, through trial and error, through the slow, deliberate process of absorbing the chaotic energies of the wilderness.
Years bled into decades, decades into centuries. Unlike the short-lived humans, time was a companion to Xylos. He was a patient hunter. He learned to manipulate the demonic Qi within him, to amplify its power, to weave it into terrifying attacks. He learned to control the very cold that permeated his being, using it as both a shield and a weapon. He honed his senses, learning to perceive the subtle flows of energy in the world. He grew longer, thicker, his scales a shade darker, almost obsidian in their sheen.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He lived in the wild, unclaimed territories beyond the reach of the human sects. He stalked the dense forests, the desolate mountains and the whispering ravines. His hunting was not a mindless act of survival; it was a controlled study in power. He absorbed the essence of the beasts he hunted, their strength and their weaknesses adding to the mosaic of his own evolving power.
The whispers of his existence had become a legend in the fringes of the human realm. A dark, chilling force, a serpent of immense power that claimed no territory, respected no boundaries. But Xylos did not care for legend. He cared only for the next step, the next surge of power.
He felt it now, the subtle shift in his demonic core. The chaotic energy within him resonated stronger, coalescing with a newfound focus. The late stages of Core Formation were upon him. He could feel the tendrils of it reaching out, craving the immense power that waited just beyond the veil.
He had reached late stage Core Formation. He was stronger than he had ever been. He could feel the world reacting to the immense concentration of demonic energy within him. The trees around him shuddered, releasing a flurry of dead leaves. The air itself seemed to tremble in his presence.
He opened his eyes, the amber pools reflecting the ancient power that surged through his being. He was Xylos, the demon snake, and his journey was far from over. The world was vast, the opportunities for power limitless. He was no longer merely a beast of the wilds; he was a force of nature, a growing storm on the horizon of this fragile human realm. His next step would be to test his strength, to find a challenge worthy of his newfound power. And he knew, with a certainty as cold as his own heart, that he would find it.