The forest had grown quiet after the battle. The echoes of clashing steel and burning runes had long faded, leaving only the natural chorus of insects, rustling leaves, and the distant hoot of owls. Noah walked through the shadows, his boots pressing softly against moss and fallen leaves. He needed rest—more than he wanted to admit.
His body ached. Every muscle felt heavy, and his knuckles still stung from gripping Nemesis so tightly. Blood dried along the edges of his tunic, though most of the wounds had already closed thanks to the dungeon's strange healing properties. Still, exhaustion clung to him like chains.
At last, he found it.
A small clearing hidden between tall pines, where a gentle river snaked its way across smooth rocks. Moonlight spilled across the water, turning it silver. Fireflies drifted lazily above the surface, painting the night with soft, golden sparks.
"…Perfect," Noah murmured.
