The deeper forest of Twin Disasters was different. Not quieter or darker.
Just… heavier.
The air carried an old pressure, the kind that clung to the lungs when breathing too deeply. Ancient trees towered overhead like pillars of a forgotten temple, their roots twisting across the ground like petrified serpents.
Damien moved through it calmly.
Fenrir padded beside him, silent despite its size. Cerbe followed on the opposite side, three heads scanning different directions.
Aquila glided above the canopy occasionally before circling back, while Luton rolled along the forest floor like a drifting silver shadow.
They had already traveled several kilometers since killing the armored beast.
And Damien could feel it.
The forest's density of power was increasing.
More essence.
Stronger creatures.
Exactly what he needed.
