Just as Mike was lost in thought, a lazy, boyish voice chimed in beside him.
Mike's lips twitched as he turned to look.
A small turtle stood on a rock, mimicking his posture with its tiny claws clasped behind its back.
The little turtle squinted solemnly at the land below, as if surveying its own kingdom.
Amused by its antics, Mike couldn't help but laugh and scold,
"Xiao Ba, if you don't know how to comfort people, just stay quiet. 'Outlive me'…"
He trailed off mid-sentence.
This little turtle had indeed survived until the Fifth Chapter.
Now, Mike had reached the third tier of transcendence: the Heroic Tier.
Over the past twenty years,
his class had evolved from the second-tier "Thunderwing" to the third-tier "Saintwing Voyager."
After bathing in the Radiant Titaness's blood, the potential of his Light Force had surpassed that of his Thunder Force.
In these two decades, he had seamlessly integrated both transcendent powers into his class system.
The third tier of transcendence was the strongest rank below Legendary.
Those who reached this stage were often hailed as heroes—hence the name "Heroic Tier"—and their lifespans extended to five hundred years!
Of course, this applied only to ordinary intelligent races. For extraordinary beings like the little turtle before him, lifespans defied common sense.
This ancient creature had lived until the Fifth Chapter; who knew what extraordinary bloodline it might possess?
Perhaps Mike's gaze was too intense, because the little turtle shuddered.
"Boss, why are you staring at me like that? It's creepy!"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Mike patted its head and smiled.
"You're right, Xiao Ba. Thank goodness I have you."
In the long march of time, at least he wouldn't be lonely.
As the sun rose and the sea breeze swept over the mountain peaks,
a winged figure brimming with Light Force descended from the sky and landed before Mike.
"Chieftain, a tribe of trolls is approaching from ten thousand miles to the west."
"A troll tribe?"
Mike was taken aback.
"Why would a troll tribe come here?"
This was coastal territory. Had the legends of the seafolk faded from the mainland already?
After a moment's thought, he ordered,
"Roar, gather the Skywing Squadron and come with me to investigate!"
The Skywing Squadron consisted of the dozen or so clansmen who had awakened transcendent powers over the past twenty years.
Thanks to the Titan's blood, most of them wielded Light Force.
Their evolutionary progress had also far surpassed that of their kin.
Apart from their hands and feet, which hadn't fully transformed, their faces had shed all feathers, making them the closest in appearance to Mike.
After instructing Roar, Mike turned to the little turtle.
"Xiao Ba, stay here and guard the tribe in case of emergencies!"
Despite its adorable appearance, the turtle was a bona fide Master-tier powerhouse.
"Boss, I want to go with you!"
The turtle's beady eyes sparkled with eagerness.
Mike chuckled. "Xiao Ba, I don't mind, but you don't have wings!"
The little turtle deflated instantly.
Without wings—and with no mages in this era—only Legendary beings could fly.
"Alright, Roar, go rally the team. We leave at once!"
"Yes!"
Half an hour later,
Roar returned with a group of transcendent Eaglekin.
"Move out!"
With Mike's command, they took to the skies, bronze swords in hand, heading westward.
Hours later,
as the sun dipped below the horizon and twilight draped the land,
Mike finally arrived above the troll tribe.
Below, he saw a large tribe of nearly ten thousand trolls, their appearance ragged, as if driven from their homeland.
As he observed, a booming voice rose from the tribe:
"Above us, friends of the Eaglekin King's Court—we are the Giantwood Clan under the banner of the Nature Titan! We invite you to descend and speak!"
"The Nature Titan? The Giantwood Clan?"
The name stirred a faint sense of familiarity in Mike.
From his earlier assessment, the speaker was the tribe's strongest—a Heroic-tier troll.
This eased Mike's concerns slightly.
Since they'd extended an invitation, he decided to land and learn why this tribe had come to the eastern coast.
Were they planning to settle here as neighbors?
He turned to Roar and the others.
"Roar, come with me. The rest, stay on watch."
"Yes, Chieftain!"
With that, Mike and Roar descended into the troll encampment.
His first words were:
"Trolls, we are not Eaglekin. We are the Winged Ones, who have dwelled on these shores for generations!"
The trolls marveled at their appearance.
The chieftain who had spoken earlier nodded in admiration.
"My mistake. Your Titan-like beauty is beyond any Eaglekin's."
He introduced himself:
"I am Ronsent Giantwood, chieftain of the Giantwood Clan."
Not one to rebuff courtesy, Mike replied in kind:
"Greetings, Ronsent. I am Mike, chieftain of the Winged Ones."
Then he cut to the chase:
"Why has the Giantwood Clan come to the eastern coast? Do you plan to settle here?"
Sensing Mike's wariness, Ronsent sighed.
"We seek not to settle, but to cross the sea to another continent."
"Cross the sea?!"
Mike was stunned.
In this era, such a journey was no small feat!
"Indeed. We will brave the ocean to reach a new land," Ronsent affirmed.
"Why? That's hardly a wise choice," Mike pressed.
"I agree. But it is the final decree of Her Majesty, the Nature Titan Tyelanel!"
"Final decree? Has Tyelanel fallen?"
"Yes, Chieftain Mike. But before her demise, she shared a prophecy and bade us cross the sea to escape the war!"
Ronsent explained.
In truth, they carried a greater secret—the key to Tyelanel's resurrection—which necessitated their voyage.
But that was not for Mike's ears.
Their goal was simply to allay his suspicions and ensure safe passage.
After losing so many on their journey, Ronsent couldn't afford further obstacles.
True to his word,
Mike, though puzzled by their decision, didn't press further.
"I understand, Chieftain Ronsent. The Winged Ones will not hinder your crossing."
"Thank you."
Mike inquired further about the war between the Titans and the Ancient Dragons.
Ronsent described a conflict of escalating ferocity, with casualties beyond count—a true scourge upon the land.
The troll chieftain shuddered at the memory.
Even if they stayed, their tribe would be decimated.
Mike nodded.
He knew the war would end in mutual ruin but not when.
From the trolls' account, it seemed far from over.
With that, Mike and his men departed.
In the days that followed,
he kept a watchful eye on the troll tribe.
As they had claimed,
the Giantwood Clan tirelessly felled trees and built ships along the coast.
A year later,
the ten-thousand-strong Giantwood Clan set sail, vanishing into the horizon.
On the eastern shore,
where the wind danced and waves blossomed,
Mike stood on the beach, gazing at the empty sea.
Before their departure, the trolls had sought to "borrow" some of Mike's clansmen as scouts for their voyage.
But without the main fleet, returning would be impossible.
Still, Mike sought volunteers among the tribe's adventurous youth.
Fifty agreed to embark on the journey.
To ensure they remembered their roots, Mike bestowed upon them a surname and the legacy of their people.
Thus, the fifty became the "Winged Ones of the Wind," a distant branch of the tribe.
In the years that followed,
Mike led his people in thriving along the coast.
With time, the Titan's blood continued its work, shaping the clan ever closer to his vision, their transcendent potential steadily growing.