The next vine came from above.
It dropped like a whip from the hollowed skeleton of a signpost, arcing in fast. Jin slid beneath it, feet skidding against uneven concrete, one hand bracing against the ground. He didn't stop moving. If he paused, the momentum would break, and he needed every inch of it.
The city stretched ahead in uneven blocks of cracked glass and twisted metal. The creature's steps had gone quieter behind him, and that wasn't comfort. It was calculation. It didn't need to rush. It had already learned it could send the vines hunting on their own, and something about that patience unsettled him more than any amount of raw aggression could have.
Jin ducked beneath a collapsed archway, the air thick with heat and the lingering stink of scorched spores. Green light bled faint from the alleyways around him, pulsing slow and deliberate, less like a heartbeat and more like breath.
