And the moment it did—
the mist flooded deeper.
Into throat.
Into chest.
Into everything.
Screams followed.
Short.
Choked.
Cut off.
Because strength meant nothing here.
Not against something they didn't understand.
Not against something they couldn't even touch.
At the edge of the clearing, far from the spreading mist, the fox slowed.
She turned slightly.
Watched.
Her turquoise eyes gleamed faintly.
No surprise.
No concern.
Just quiet satisfaction.
"…Ten seconds might've been generous."
Her tail flicked once.
Behind her, the forest swallowed the sounds of collapsing bodies and the last desperate struggles of those who had believed themselves hunters.
And at the center of it all—
the small lizard hovered.
Unchallenged.
Untouched.
As the clearing fell still.
It should have ended there.
It didn't.
A violent gust tore through the trees.
Wind exploded outward, ripping through the purple mist, tearing it apart and flinging it in all directions.
For a moment—
the clearing cleared.
The pressure remained—heavy, crushing—
but now three of them were still moving.
Barely.
But moving.
Their bodies had shifted fully now—fur bristling, scales thickening, instinct overriding form.
One coughed violently, forcing breath out and locking his lungs, spiritual energy compressing inward to suppress the poison.
Another dragged himself forward, claws carving through the earth inch by inch, muscles trembling under the weight.
The third—the scarred one—forced himself halfway upright, snarling, eyes bloodshot.
"…Not… done…!"
Their resistance wasn't clean.
It wasn't strong.
But it was desperate.
And desperate beasts were dangerous.
From the edge, the fox's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Persistent."
Above the clearing, Little White remained still.
Until—
the wind shifted.
The scattered mist paused.
Then flowed back.
As if called.
As if it belonged.
It twisted mid-air, coiling, tightening—
then surged inward again.
Denser.
Thicker.
Heavier than before.
The beasts felt it instantly.
"…No—!"
Too late.
The mist swallowed them again.
But this time, it didn't spread.
It pressed.
Condensed.
Forced its way inward.
Inevitable.
The one closest to breaking snapped.
Power erupted from his body. Veins bulged. Bones cracked. A body-strengthening art ignited.
Flesh hardened.
Muscles swelled.
Force surged outward, pushing against the crushing gravity.
For a moment—
it worked.
He moved.
A step.
Then another.
Fast.
Straight for the edge.
*Range.*
That was the thought.
*This pressure has a range—just get out—*
His body blurred forward, hope igniting—
then the mist followed.
Not drifting.
Not chasing.
Obeying.
It surged after him, wrapping around his form again, cutting him off mid-motion.
His eyes widened.
"…What—?!"
Above, Little White lowered his claw again.
The gravity tightened.
With a thunderous impact, the beast slammed face-first into the ground, earth cracking beneath him. His strengthening art flickered, then strained.
The poison surged deeper.
Past resistance.
Past control.
Another beast reacted.
Panic broke through.
An illusion technique flared.
His body split into many—five, then ten—clones bursting outward in all directions.
Real mixed with false.
Intent masked.
Kill through confusion.
At the edge, the fox's brow lifted slightly.
"…Not bad."
The clones struck all at once.
Then—
they stopped.
Mid-air.
Frozen.
Because the space around the lizard was no longer space.
It was pressure.
Absolute.
Unforgiving.
Every clone—real or false—collapsed inward, crushed flat, disintegrating instantly.
The real body was revealed among them—
and slammed down with the rest.
A scream tore free, then cut off as the mist poured into him unopposed.
The third—the last one still thinking—didn't attack.
Didn't rush.
Instead, his claw snapped into his pouch.
A talisman.
Dense. Intricately etched.
He crushed it without hesitation.
Light erupted.
A barrier flared around him—thick, layered, stabilizing—pushing the mist back.
For a moment—
it held.
The pressure resisted.
The poison slowed.
Hope.
Fragile.
Desperate.
Real.
"…I can—"
He never finished.
Because Little White finally moved.
Not much.
Just… looked at him.
Golden eyes, steady and unblinking.
And then—
the mist changed.
It didn't push.
Didn't crash.
It slipped through cracks.
As if it had always been inside.
The beast froze.
"…No…"
The barrier flickered—
then shattered.
Not from force.
From irrelevance.
The poison flooded in.
The gravity crushed down.
And just like that—
the last resistance broke.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Final.
At the edge of the clearing, the fox watched for a moment longer.
Then turned.
"…That's enough."
Behind her, the forest swallowed the aftermath.
The silence should have held.
It didn't.
Because desperation doesn't die quietly.
From within the crushed clearing, a pulse rose.
Faint at first.
Then violent.
One of them.
Not fully gone.
Not willing to be.
His body convulsed, veins darkening, eyes burning with something beyond reason.
"…If I'm dying—"
Power surged.
Wild.
Unstable.
His blood ignited.
Essence burned.
Lifespan fed into strength.
A forbidden art.
The kind used when nothing remained to lose.
The air screamed.
Spiritual energy twisted violently around him, spiking, breaking past its limits.
From the edge, the fox's ears flicked once.
"…Still trying."
But before the surge could stabilize—
before the technique could take form—
something opened beside him.
A maw.
Massive.
Sudden.
Not summoned.
Not formed.
Just… there.
Dark.
Endless.
And it closed.
A single, brutal crunch echoed.
Teeth met flesh, bone, soul—
all at once.
The beast didn't scream.
He didn't have time.
His body jerked once—
then went limp.
Gone.
The maw vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving behind nothing but absence.
The clearing froze.
The last two—barely clinging to motion—felt it.
Not death.
Worse.
Erasure.
Little White was already moving.
No transition.
One moment hovering—
the next, he was there.
Beside the second.
Close enough for the beast's eyes to widen—
too late.
The lizard's tail flicked.
Sharp.
Clean.
A single motion.
It pierced straight through the beast's skull.
No resistance.
No struggle.
The body stiffened—
then dropped.
Empty.
The last one didn't run.
Couldn't.
His body trembled under the crushing gravity, poison deep within him, control already gone.
His eyes lifted slowly, meeting the small figure before him.
And in that moment—
he understood.
Not everything.
But enough.
"…Monster…"
A broken whisper.
Little White didn't respond.
Didn't acknowledge it.
He simply lowered his claw again.
Just slightly.
The gravity collapsed inward.
The impact was final.
The beast's head crushed instantly, driven into the earth.
Silence fell.