The road to Azrak led them through the Blackwood Forest, one of the most dangerous places in the world. Towering trees stretched endlessly, their thick canopies shrouding the path in an eerie twilight. The air was dense with the scent of damp earth and unseen predators lurking beyond sight.

  The survivors walked in wary silence, the weight of their losses still fresh. The little girl clung to Chiro’s sleeve, her wide eyes darting at every rustling branch.

  A man, his face worn with age and sorrow, finally broke the silence. His voice was hoarse, as if the words were scraping their way out.

  "I watched them tear through my neighbors like they were nothing. No hesitation. No… no thought. Just death."

  An older woman tightened her shawl around her shoulders, her fingers trembling. "Why now? Why are they spreading? Springfield… Thule… they were peaceful places. We never had a chance."

  The master walked ahead, his pace unhurried but purposeful. His voice, when he spoke, was firm. "They won’t come here."

  Leon glanced at him. "Why not?"

  The master’s gaze flickered toward the towering trees. "Because they wouldn’t make it far. The creatures in this forest would tear them apart before they could take ten steps."

  The survivors exchanged uneasy glances. The idea that something worse than the shadowed figures existed was hardly reassuring.

  Chiro, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. "Springfield… Thule…" He clenched his fists. "Why there? Why was it destroyed?"

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  The moment the word Thule left his lips, something inside him twisted.

  A flash—

  Blood on the snow. A fading voice, desperate and weak. A hand, reaching for him… then falling still.

  He inhaled sharply, shaking it off before anyone could notice.

  The older man sighed heavily. "No one knows. One day, the attacks started, and before we knew it, our homes were gone."

  Chiro’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.

  The master said nothing. He had seen that look before—someone haunted by ghosts they couldn’t name. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past.

  Instead, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

  The way the girl had healed that man...

  It had been unlike any healing magic he had ever seen. Warmer, purer—almost divine. He had seen countless types of magic in his lifetime, studied the way mana shaped warriors and mages alike. But hers… hers was something different.

  Mana—the very life force of the world. It flowed through all living things, the source of strength for warriors and mages alike. Some wielded it through spells, others through the raw force of their Ren. But this girl… her magic did not simply mend flesh. It carried something else, something beyond ordinary Ren—something untouched by mortal hands.

  And different always came with a cost.

  His fingers briefly brushed the hilt of his sword, his mind flickering to old knowledge best left buried.

  Then—

  A low growl.

  The group froze.

  From the shadows between the trees, golden eyes flickered. The underbrush rustled as a pack of giant black wolves stepped forward, their fur bristling, their muscles thick with unnatural strength.

  Then—

  A rush of wind. A massive shadow passed overhead.

  A deep, guttural screech rang through the trees as a crimson-scaled wyvern landed on a twisted branch, its wings half-spread. Its piercing gaze swept over them, hunger gleaming in its slitted eyes.

  The beasts had found them.

  The survivors staggered back, instinctively huddling together. A woman clutched her child tighter, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The old man gripped his walking stick with knuckles white as bone.

  Leon exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Just fire and wind for now… Let’s see how that goes."

  Chiro smirked, stepping forward and gripping his sword. "Finally."

  The master didn’t move, his expression unreadable. He merely crossed his arms, watching them.

  "Show me what you’ve learned."

  And with that, the battle began.