The forest was eerily silent as Kael ventured deeper, the only sound being the soft crunch of leaves beneath his boots.
The further he walked, the thicker the canopy grew, blotting out the faint moonlight that trickled through.
Shadows seemed to writhe in his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look, there was nothing there.
He exhaled slowly, trying to focus his senses.
The faint trace of magic lingered, but it was fragmented, scattered across the forest as if deliberately masking the caster's movements.
Kael tightened his grip on Aethral Fang.
This isn't an ordinary opponent.
His mind wandered to the bigger picture, piecing together the fragments of the story.
The demons were merely the tip of the iceberg.
They were pawns of the Demon King, a figure whose power transcended worlds.
The Outerworlders—the ones responsible for incidents like this—weren't native to this realm.
