Arya moved deeper into the forest, his footsteps slow and unhurried. The mist thickened with every step, clinging to his boots and wrapping around the trees like a living thing. The silence here felt different—heavy, oppressive, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Then—
He felt it.
A sharp killing intent surged from ahead.
From the shadows, monsters emerged.
One… two… then many.
Beasts with twisted bodies and glowing red eyes crawled out from behind trees and broken rocks. Their fangs were bared, claws scraping softly against the ground as they closed in on him from multiple directions.
"…So you came," Arya muttered quietly.
Unlike before, there was no fear in his eyes. No hesitation.
The monsters lunged.
In that instant, Arya moved.
His sword slid out of its sheath with a soft, almost gentle sound. No roar. No flashy movement. Just a single step forward.
Slash.
A silver arc flashed through the mist.
The air trembled.
