Some time later, Boar departed, his massive frame vanishing into the trees, with Markos and the surviving monsters trailing behind in solemn silence. No words were spoken, no questions asked. The forest swallowed their footsteps without a sound.
Time passed.
How long exactly—no one could tell. Perhaps minutes. Perhaps hours. The air was too still, the sky above too dim to mark its passage.
Soon, curious inhabitants of the forest—drawn by the earlier eruption of spiritual force and bloodshed—crept toward the clearing, only to pause at its edge.
Confusion painted their gazes.
There were no bodies. No bones. Not even the scent of lingering blood.
Only grass soaked a deep, unnatural crimson, as if the earth itself had bled and could not stop.
Then, something shifted.
