"Hah… looks like we need to blow off some steam with these fellows. Look how constipated they look, don't you think?"
Art's voice oozed with casual malice, a crooked smile stretched unnaturally across his face. There was something off about it—too calm, too collected.
I nearly flinched. He rarely wore that expression.
Shaking my head, I forced a smirk, trying to match his energy. "Kk, let's get it over with. Then we'll figure out the damn mystery behind this distorted fog. Just hope we don't bump into some entity beyond comprehension."
Art laughed. It was raw, guttural. "Hahaha… can't disagree with that."
Then, as if it were rehearsed, we both rolled our shoulders and cracked our necks in unison. Our gazes locked forward. The monsters ahead—silent, stagnant, and watching—twitched like puppets awaiting permission to move.
