The Forest of Twin Disasters did not rest. It was always active.
Even after Garrick collapsed to his knees beside the withered corpse of the Bloodroot Tyrant, the forest remained awake—watching, listening, waiting. It felt like a living organism after Damien had read about it.
The ancient trees whispered among themselves, roots shifting beneath the soil as mana flowed like unseen veins through the land.
Damien stood quietly, gaze sweeping the surroundings. He felt it clearly now. The pressure. Not hostility, not yet—but expectation. The forest was weighing them.
Garrick followed Damien’s gaze, chest heaving. "We’re not done, are we?"
"No," Damien replied calmly. "Not even close."
Garrick forced himself to stand, wincing as muscles protested. He rolled his shoulders, testing movent. Still functional. Barely. "Then let’s keep moving. If I slow down, I die anyway."
Damien nodded. "This ti, I’ll help."
That made Garrick pause. He looked at Damien, surprised. "You weren’t before?"
"I was watching," Damien said simply. "Now the numbers are changing."
Almost on cue, the forest answered.
A low rumble rolled through the ground, subtle but unmistakable. Leaves rustled. The mana density thickened, pressing down like humidity before a storm.
Fenrir rose to his feet, ears flattening.
Luton quivered excitedly.
Garrick drew his weapon. "Grade Fours?"
"Plural," Damien confird.
They didn’t have to wait long.
The first wave ca from the undergrowth.
Two massive feline shapes burst from opposite sides of the clearing, moving with unnatural synchronization. Their bodies were sleek and muscular, fur dark with faint silver streaks, elongated fangs protruding from their jaws.
Twin Fang Stalkers.
Grade Four mana beasts known for hunting in pairs—and sotis packs.
They attacked without hesitation.
Garrick charged to et the one on the left, blade flashing as he deflected a swipe aid at his throat. The impact numbed his arms. The beast was fast—faster than anything he’d faced so far.
The second Stalker lunged from behind.
Before Garrick could react, Damien moved.
Mana rippled beneath his feet as he stepped forward and struck—not with a blade, but with his palm. A compressed burst of force slamd into the beast’s ribs mid-leap, sending it crashing into a tree with bone-shaking force.
It wasn’t lethal.
Damien didn’t intend it to be.
"Left one first," Damien said calmly.
Garrick didn’t argue.
With renewed focus, he pressed the attack. Damien remained nearby, intercepting strikes ant to flank Garrick—redirecting claws, staggering the beasts with precise, devastating blows that shattered montum without finishing them.
The Stalkers adapted quickly, changing tactics, alternating attacks, trying to overwhelm through coordination.
Damien adjusted just as quickly.
Every ti a beast overcommitted, Damien punished it—breaking limbs, cracking ribs, disrupting mana flow with surgical precision. Garrick followed through, blade sinking deep when openings appeared.
The first Stalker fell with a gurgling roar.
The second tried to flee.
Damien stepped into its path and struck its spine with a single blow.
Garrick finished it monts later.
Two Grade Four cores lay pulsing on the forest floor.
Garrick exhaled slowly. "That... was smoother."
"That’s the point," Damien replied.
They didn’t get ti to rest.
The ground shook violently as sothing massive approached. Trees bent and snapped aside as a hulking figure erged—an enormous rhinoceros-like beast covered in thick, tallic plates that glimred faintly with mana.
Ironhide Behemoth.
Grade Four mana beast with borderline Grade Three durability.
Garrick swore under his breath. "That thing’ll take hours to kill."
"It won’t," Damien said.
The Behemoth charged, its sheer mass warping the ground beneath its hooves.
Damien moved first.
He struck the creature’s front leg with a concentrated blow that sent a shockwave rippling through its armored plates. The Ironhide stumbled just slightly, but that was enough.
"Now," Damien said.
Garrick sprinted in, slashing at the exposed joint behind the knee. Sparks flew as his blade scraped tal, but the cut landed true, biting into flesh beneath the armor.
The Behemoth roared, swinging its horned head violently.
Damien intercepted again, this ti leaping and driving his heel down onto the beast’s skull. The impact cracked one of the armor plates, exposing raw flesh beneath.
Garrick didn’t miss the opening.
He climbed the beast like a madman, blade plunging again and again into the cracked section. Mana bled from the wound in shimring streams.
The Behemoth collapsed with an earth-shattering crash.
Garrick slid off its side, landing hard but upright.
"That one," he said between breaths, "would’ve killed alone."
Damien nodded. "That’s why I stepped in."
Luton absorbed the corpse with visible enthusiasm, leaving only the core behind.
The third engagent ca as dusk deepened.
A chorus of distorted howls echoed through the trees—layered, overlapping, filled with malice.
Dreadhowlers.
Canine mana beasts warped by prolonged exposure to unstable mana. Grade Four individually, but deadly in numbers.
Six of them erged from the shadows.
Garrick’s jaw tightened. "That’s too many."
Damien stepped forward. "I’ll thin them out. You finish."
Fenrir surged ahead, white fur gleaming in the dim light as it barreled into the pack with a feral snarl. Claws tore through flesh, fangs crushing bone.
Damien moved like a shadow alongside his summon, striking with brutal efficiency—breaking jaws, shattering legs, leaving the beasts crippled but alive.
Garrick followed behind, executing each wounded Howler with grim precision.
One Howler lunged toward Garrick from behind.
Damien didn’t look. He just snapped his fingers.
A burst of force crushed the beast mid-air.
Garrick didn’t slow.
When the last Howler fell, the forest went silent once more.
Garrick leaned on his blade, chest heaving. "I don’t think I could’ve survived that pack alone."
"You weren’t ant to," Damien said quietly. "You just needed to land the final blows."
Six more Grade Four cores joined the growing pile.
Garrick stared at them, awe creeping into his expression. "This... this is enough to save them. All of them."
Damien t his gaze. "Then don’t waste it."
They should have stopped.
They didn’t.
The last fight found them near a broken ravine where mana surged erratically. From within rose a massive serpent-like creature, scales cracked and glowing with unstable energy.
Ruin Serpent.
Grade Four—but volatile.
It attacked indiscriminately, its body coiling and uncoiling with terrifying speed.
This ti, Damien didn’t hold back as much.
He struck the serpent’s head, forcing it downward. Fenrir clamped onto its tail, anchoring it. Luton wrapped around sections of its body, slowing its movents.
"Now!" Damien shouted.
Garrick leapt, channeling everything he had left into a single, decisive strike.
His blade pierced the serpent’s skull.
The creature convulsed violently, then went still.
Silence followed.
Garrick collapsed to his knees, laughing weakly. "I... I did it."
Damien stood over the fallen beast, eyes unreadable. "You did."
The forest seed to recede slightly, as if acknowledging the carnage.
Luton absorbed the remains slowly, savoring the feast.
Garrick looked up at Damien. "You didn’t need to do this."
Damien turned away, gaze drifting deeper into the forest. "I know."
But he did it anyway.
Because strength was the only currency that mattered here.
And Twin Disasters demanded paynt in blood as it did not grow quieter with familiarity.
If anything, it grew louder.
Not in sound—but in intent.
Damien felt it as they moved deeper, the air thick with mana, every breath carrying weight. The trees were taller here, older, their bark scarred by claws and burns that had never fully healed. Roots coiled across the ground like sleeping serpents, and the light filtering from above felt dimr despite the open canopy.
Garrick walked beside him, noticeably more alert now. His earlier exhaustion had been replaced by a sharp, almost desperate focus. The pouch at his waist—already heavier with Grade Four essence cores—felt like salvation with every step.
Luton bounced along near Damien’s shoulder, quivering faintly, its surface shimring as if barely containing itself.
"Today," Damien said calmly, "we change the pace."
Garrick glanced at him. "How so?"
Damien’s eyes flicked toward the undergrowth ahead. "You’ll still land the killing blows. But Luton will do the heavy lifting."
At the sound of its na, Luton vibrated excitedly.
Garrick hesitated. "Your... sli.—It can control itself?"
"Yes," Damien replied flatly. "And it can spit out essence cores intact."
That earned a long look. "That’s... not normal."
"Neither is this forest."
They didn’t have to wait long for the first test.
A thunderous crack echoed through the forest as a massive figure burst from between two ancient trees.
A Stoneback Ursine.
The creature stood on two legs, towering over them, its back covered in layered stone-like plates infused with mana veins that pulsed faintly blue. Each step it took crushed the earth beneath it.
Grade Four. Defensive type. High endurance.
Garrick tightened his grip on his weapon. "That thing’s hide will—"
"Luton," Damien said calmly.
The sli shot forward like a cannonball.
The Ursine roared and swung a massive arm, expecting resistance.
Instead, its arm sank into Luton’s body.
The beast froze.
Luton expanded instantly, engulfing the Ursine’s forearm and shoulder, its surface rippling as it began to devour—not flesh, but mana first. The mana veins along the creature’s stone back flickered erratically.
The Ursine roared again, stumbling backward, panic replacing rage.
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