Elsewhere.
Not in the forest.
Not yet.
It began with the dull sound of bone crushing.
A sound too fragile for the size of the creature that made it.
The dungeon boss—a behemoth with plated hide and molten veins—roared with a mixture of pain and disbelief.
Its mouth, still flickering with cursed flame, snapped shut a moment too late.
A fist struck its chest.
No flash. No explosion. No dramatic cry.
Just a single, fluid punch—so fast it didn't disturb the air.
And then the monster's core shattered.
Quietly.
As if even its death had been muted by fear.
The boss stumbled back three paces.
A strange silence followed.
Then its body gave out.
It hit the stone floor with a loud thud.
Its corpse twitched once.
Then crumbled into ash.
And in the centre of the collapse, a youth stood.
Unmoved. Unimpressed.
She was tall, lean and impossibly still.
A single black horn curled from the left side of her head.
It looked smooth and polished like obsidian.
