The skies above the Deadroot Forest shimmered with the restless breath of mana winds. For days now, silence and focus had reigned within the Hollow—no more sparring, no more trials. Only preparations. Internal. Spiritual. Tactical.
And now… it was time to leave.
Kaelen stood at the edge of the Hollow's open terrace, his eyes locked onto the distant horizon, where the mist danced like ghostly waves over the thick canopy. Behind him stood Kelvin, arms crossed and expression grim, and Ethan, adjusting the strap of his sheathed twin blades. Morris, now cloaked in a mantle stitched with the ambient mana of his Elemental Matrix, stood like a silent wall of pressure. Guinevere, adorned with her scorched crimson armor and the terrifying calm of the Amaterasu, watched Kaelen with a quiet intensity.
"You sure about this?" Morris asked, voice low. "Once we step out, there's no pause. No safe ground."
