The Serpent Abyss Forest, which was once a labyrinth of venom, rivalry, and living nightmares, had now become something else entirely.
It has turned into a kingdom that breathed in strings since the ascension of the Marionettist, and everything had changed.
Where rivers once gurgled with toxic currents, they now flowed with eerie calm, their surfaces threaded faintly with silver filaments, dancing like veins beneath the water.
Where beasts once roared from the shadows, now they crept, their wills shackled, and their instincts muted.
Where war cries once echoed between towering trees, there was only the synchronized cadence of puppeted steps.
The forest no longer felt alive, but it felt directed as if an invisible hand conducted every breeze, every movement, and every silence.
