Far from where Azhriel and Arianne clashed with their foes, the valley had grown quiet—too quiet.
Only the low rumble of power crackling in the air broke the stillness.
Serica stood alone.
Her posture was unshaken, calm like still water—but her blades gleamed with fresh blood, and her narrowed eyes never left the beast before her. The ground beneath her boots had already cracked from earlier impacts.
Across from her, the hulking gorilla-like monster snarled, its breath ragged. Black, viscous blood oozed from deep gashes across its chest and neck—wounds Serica had already dealt.
But it wasn't dying.
It was evolving.
The demonic crystal embedded in its chest pulsed violently, cracked from overload and now leaking torrents of dark energy. The creature's veins glowed a sickly black as its body writhed and twisted, trying to contain what wasn't meant to be inside it.
Its eyes, bloodshot and burning with madness, locked onto Serica. The last shreds of rationality were long gone.
