Amid the chaos, Ethan kept moving.
He had felt the shift long before the first beast appeared, not in sound or sight but in pressure—the kind that settled under your skin and made your breath slow without asking. The wind had stopped just moments before.
The ground had gone still, not quiet but waiting. A cold hum ran through his boots, too faint to describe but impossible to ignore.
So when the first beast lunged out of the underbrush, he didn't flinch.
He was already in motion.
One step forward. Blade in hand. A single clean arc that passed through flesh before the creature could even lock eyes with him.
Its weight hit the ground behind him as he kept moving forward without looking back.
He didn't need to look.
It was just the first of many.
The sounds around him no longer came from any one direction. The forest had become a maze of crashing footsteps, distant metal-on-bone clashes, and the occasional sharp cry that cut through the thick air like a wire pulled too tight.
