They continue forward, weaving through the endless maze of mist and trees. Time loses its shape—minutes stretch into hours, hours blur into a rhythm of movement, silence, and sudden death.
Every time a beast appears—a Tier 2, a Tier 3, sometimes even a Tier 4—they strike first. No hesitation, no mercy. Their blades and spells flash once, then silence follows.
The carcasses vanish into the fog, and they move again.
But something feels wrong.
It starts as a pattern too subtle to notice. Then Kyra frowns, crouching low as she studies a patch of broken undergrowth.
"…It's like they know exactly where we are," she murmurs.
Bragg looks up from dragging a corpse into the shadows, his brow furrowing. "Yeah… I've been thinking the same thing."
A quiet tension settles over the group. Even the forest seems to hold its breath.
