New Abilities. Guests?

He sat down cross-legged and started the process of absorbing the crystal.

Drawing upon the stillness of the tundra, he closed his eyes, entering a meditative state. The world faded, replaced by the emerald glow of the crystal, a beacon guiding him into the swirling vortex of its power. At first, it was a whisper, a tingling sensation that danced across his nerves. Then, it became a torrent, an icy tidal wave crashing through his veins, threatening to rip him apart.

He wrestled with the power, channeling it, bending it to his will. Each breath was a battle, each heartbeat a pulse of defiance. Days blurred into nights, measured only by the deepening frost around him and the growing intensity of the energy within. He could feel the ice itself responding, whispering secrets of forgotten magic, urging him to become more, to push beyond the boundaries of his own limitations.

As he absorbed more and more of the crystal's power, Shimo's ice skills began to increase at an alarming rate. The ice shield he had formed around himself crackled with power as it was infused with the energy of the crystal.

Finally, after six days of intense concentration, the crystal was fully absorbed. He opened his eyes, a glacial lord reborn. The world, once familiar, seemed sharper, clearer. Each sound, each scent, a symphony resonating in his heightened senses. His gaze, previously glacial blue, now shimmered with threads of jade, a reflection of the power he had absorbed. His body, honed by trials, pulsed with newfound strength, his muscles etched with icy powers.

He stretched his limbs, feeling a new sense of strength and vigor. His raw, muscle strength increased by 3 times.

He could hear even the slightest sounds from afar, smell the scent of the nearby flowers more vividly, and see every detail of his surroundings with enhanced crystal-clear vision.

He flexed his hand, watching frost dance across his fingertips, a testament to the power coursing through him. He felt it everywhere, in the bite of the wind, the whisper of the snow, the very heartbeat of the earth. He was one with the ice, an unstoppable force sculpted by hardships.

Yet, amidst the intoxicating power, a pang of loneliness echoed in his soul. He looked around, the familiar surroundings strangely devoid of her presence. Her warmth, her laughter, the echo of her words – they were gone, leaving behind a hollow ache in his chest. He missed her companionship, the spark of understanding that had ignited in their shared solitude.

But even as the pain gnawed at him, Shimo, the Ice Demon, knew this was his path; they weren't meant to be together.

He noticed that his two small horns had grown slightly longer, about 3 centimeters in length.

His wings, which were barely visible before, had grown a bit too. They were now large enough to be seen peeking out from under his clothes when he moved his arms.

He could feel the strength coursing through his veins, and he couldn't wait to test out his newfound power. He decided to take a walk around his camp, feeling invigorated and alive. He knew that with his new skills, he could face any challenge that came his way.Shimo smiled, feeling more powerful than ever before.

Surge of new power pulsed through Shimo's veins, electrifying his senses. The desolate expanse of the tundra, once familiar ground, transformed into a symphony of detail. Frigid air whispered secrets at his skin, the crunch of distant snowfall echoed like thunderclaps in his newly enhanced hearing, and the scent of pine needles, frozen-solid yet vibrant, filled his lungs.

His 'Subzero Perception,' a new skill gained from the emerald crystal, painted the world in shades beyond sight, granting him a three-kilometer radius of awareness, which would only get better with time and practice.

His wings, mere fledglings compared to the majestic spans of elder Ice Demons, weren't yet able bear his weight on the wind. This wasn't weakness, not entirely. His wings, unlike others who only saw them sprout around the age of forty, had begun their hesitant emergence when he was just a mere sixteen – a testament to his unusual potential.

Now, a few years after that, they grew even more thanks to the crystal.

The lifespan of an Ice demon was around 360+ years.

A tremor, more instinct than physical, snaked through him. His enhanced perception locked onto a chilling truth – intruders. Not one, not two, but a swarm of over twenty beings, their intentions veiled but their approach relentless. Fear, a long-dormant ember, flickered in his chest, but Shimo, the Ice Demon, wouldn't cower. He adopted a fighting stance, ice crackling around his fists, a frigid barrier against the unknown threat.

He was heading straight to his camp, and with his perception skill he detected that the group was also moving towards his camp.

His camp drew closer, each step laced with mounting tension. Would they reach it before him? What did they want? The questions hammered at his mind, unanswered and unsettling. He could choose confrontation, unleash the full fury of his newfound power upon them. But something held him back, a sliver of caution amidst the swirling storm of emotions. Perhaps they weren't enemies, merely lost souls seeking shelter from the unforgiving north.

His voice, deep and resonating, boomed across the frozen expanse, "Who approaches my domain? State your purpose or face the frost's embrace!" The words hung heavy in the frigid air, a challenge and a plea rolled into one.

"Forget it, let's just run away. I don't want any trouble." So he headed in a different direction from his camp. Just as he managed to increase the distance between him and the people, he sensed a familiar presence - it was Lyra.