Morning in the Azure Mist Forest was never announced by the rising sun.
The canopy of ancient trees was too thick, blocking direct light and trapping the world in an eternal, mysterious purple twilight.
Elian woke not to the touch of light, but to a sharp, pungent stench assaulting his senses. It smelled of sulfur, stinging spices, and the thick, metallic tang of blood.
He sat up in bed, his body stiff. The memory of his conversation with Lunaria last night felt like a fever dream, but the crystal bow hanging on the wall was a stark reminder that this was reality.
He was no longer a Young Master of a Dukedom. He was a student—or perhaps an experiment—of an exiled Elf Queen.
"You're slow," Lunaria's cold voice echoed from the next room.
Elian forced his legs onto the cold wooden floor. He limped toward the source of the voice.
In the center of the giant hollow tree, Lunaria stood before a massive stone cauldron embedded in the floor. Beneath it, blue flames danced without wood, licking the stone base.
Inside, a thick crimson liquid boiled violently, releasing steam that stung the eyes.
"What... is this, Master?" Elian asked, his voice hoarse.
Lunaria turned. Today, she wore a simple black silk dress that contrasted sharply with her pale skin and silver hair. Her face was expressionless, like a statue of ice—beautiful but deadly.
"This is your breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next three months," Lunaria answered flatly.
She took a handful of powder from a glass jar and sprinkled it into the red liquid. The concoction hissed angrily, turning dark purple for a moment before reverting to red.
"A medicinal bath?" Elian guessed. He had taken many of those at the Duke's estate due to his weak constitution.
Lunaria let out a small laugh, devoid of humor. "Calling this a 'medicinal bath' is an insult. This is Wyvern Blood mixed with Hell Root Poison and Moonflower Essence. For a normal human, a single drop would melt their skin down to the bone."
Elian swallowed hard, his face draining of color. "And... you want me to get in there?"
"You said you wanted power." Lunaria walked closer, looking Elian up and down with a critical eye.
Her gaze made Elian feel naked and small. "Your current body is trash. Your mana channels are clogged, your muscles undeveloped, and your bones brittle as dry twigs. If I taught you Elven breathing techniques now, you would explode from the inability to contain natural energy."
Lunaria gestured to the boiling cauldron with her chin.
"The only way is to destroy your body and rebuild it. That liquid will burn off your old skin, seep into your bone marrow, and force your cells to evolve. It will feel like being flayed alive, over and over again."
The Elf woman leaned in, staring straight into Elian's black eyes.
"Do you still want to proceed? If you back out, I will let you live here as a servant. You will be safe, but you will remain weak forever."
The word 'weak' triggered something inside Elian. The image of his father fighting alone; the image of Elara crying.
That helplessness was more painful than any physical agony.
Without a word, Elian began to unwrap the blanket around his waist. He stood stark naked before Lunaria.
His body was thin, ribs clearly visible, skin flawless white but sickly. No muscle, no sign of a warrior's masculinity. He looked like a cracked porcelain doll.
Elian felt ashamed, his cheeks burning red under Lunaria's sharp gaze, but he did not cover himself. He walked toward the cauldron. The hot steam slapped his face immediately.
"Good," Lunaria murmured, a glint of appreciation in her eyes. "Get in. Do not scream. It breaks my concentration."
Elian took a deep breath and stepped in with one leg.
"ARGH!"
He failed to stifle the scream.
It didn't feel like hot water. It felt like thousands of fire needles piercing his leg simultaneously. The pain shot straight to his brain, turning his vision white.
"Continue," Lunaria commanded without mercy.
With tears already pooling in his eyes, Elian gritted his teeth until his gums bled. He forced his other leg in, then slowly submerged his entire body up to his neck.
Every inch of his skin screamed. He could feel the liquid creeping in through his pores, burning his flesh from the inside out.
"Hhh... hhh..." Elian tried to breathe, but the steam scorched his lungs.
"Focus, Elian!" Lunaria's voice was firm in his ear. "Don't fight the pain. Accept it. Let the energy flow. If you reject it, you will die."
Lunaria walked behind the cauldron. She placed both hands on Elian's trembling bare shoulders. Her hands felt cold—a shocking but welcome contrast.
"I will guide the flow," she whispered.
Silver mana flowed from Lunaria's palms into Elian's body. It acted as a guide, shepherding the violent energy of the Wyvern blood so it wouldn't destroy Elian's heart, but instead spread into his bones.
Elian felt a strange sensation. Amidst the torture of fire, there was a cool thread dancing within him.
He tried to follow Lunaria's instruction. He stopped fighting the pain. He imagined himself not as a rock battered by waves, but as the water itself.
It hurts... it hurts so much... but I have to live.
Minutes turned into hours. Time stretched endlessly. Elian's consciousness drifted in and out. He hallucinated seeing the face of the mother he never knew, smiling at him through the steam.
"Enough for today."
Lunaria's voice sounded distant. Suddenly, Elian was hauled out of the cauldron. The cold air of the room felt like paradise.
Elian collapsed on the wooden floor, drenched in red liquid that had now turned clear—all its essence had been absorbed by his body.
He coughed violently, expelling black sludge.
"Those are the impurities from your body," Lunaria explained, wiping him down with a rough towel with zero tenderness, as if cleaning a weapon. "Toxins accumulated over ten years, residues of useless human medicines... it's all out."
Elian couldn't answer. He just lay there, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling. He was alive. Somehow, he had survived.
Lunaria paused her wiping. She touched Elian's arm. The skin, previously red from the heat, had returned to white, but now there was a faint sheen beneath the surface, like pearl.
"You have terrifying willpower for a ten-year-old," Lunaria muttered, her tone shifting slightly. There was respect in it. "Most young Elves would have fainted in the first ten seconds."
Lunaria lifted Elian's limp body and laid him back on the bed.
"Rest. Tomorrow we do it again. I will increase the dosage."
Before Lunaria left, Elian's weak hand grabbed the hem of her silk robe.
"Master..." Elian whispered, eyes half-closed. "Is... is my Father still alive?"
The question hung in the air. Lunaria fell silent. As an Elf Queen, she had connections with the nature spirits spread across the continent. News traveled through the wind and tree roots.
Lunaria looked at the boy's face. She could lie to give him false hope, or she could crush him now to make him stronger.
"Duke Vane has been declared killed in action," Lunaria answered coldly, sugarcoating nothing. "The Empire has seized the entire North. Your sister, Elara, was taken by Baroness Lyra's family, but they are now fugitives."
Tears leaked from the corners of Elian's eyes, soaking the fur pillow. His heart shattered at the confirmation. The small hope he had held onto was extinguished.
"Cry today," Lunaria said, her hand unconsciously stroking Elian's head, gently caressing his damp black hair. "But tomorrow, turn those tears into fuel. If you want to save your sister, you must become a monster far more terrifying than the ones who killed your father."
Elian nodded weakly through his tears. In the darkness of the boy's heart, an empty vessel began to form.
A vessel ready to be filled with power, vengeance, and a destiny far greater than mere human squabbles.
Outside the tree, the forest whispered. The wind carried news that hunters from the Empire had begun entering the outskirts of the Azure Mist Forest.
Their time was running out.