Roland gently stroked the trembling Qiao, carefully pushing it back into its pouch before smoothly dismounting.
Holding his breath, he walked forward slowly.
The moment he set foot on the forest's edge, a scent that was both familiar and strange washed over him.
Roland frowned unconsciously, his fingers instinctively touching the bone on his wrist.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, carefully sensing this strange Energy.
Although he had only drawn the Fire Element through the bone when casting Flaming Arrow, he had also sensed the presence of other Magic Elements in the process.
The gentle water, the heavy earth, the wild wind...
But this Withering Power before him, while bearing a subtle resemblance to those Elements, was completely different.
It was a bone-chilling, malicious power, carrying the suffocating stench of death.
Just standing at the edge of the forest made Roland's chest feel tight, his breathing unconsciously quickening.
