The forest was a labyrinth of shadows, the moonlight barely piercing the dense canopy overhead. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, but beneath it lingered a metallic tang, sharp and laced with demonic musk.
The forest had been dangerous for a while, but ever since the emergence of a certain dungeon, it had become even more hazardous for humans. Even strong warriors sometimes had to reconsider venturing into the forest alone.
The covered cart rumbled along the uneven path, its wheels groaning under the weight of its mysterious cargo. Kain moved like a specter, his form flickering from tree to tree, his cloak a ripple in the night. No horse carried him; his unnatural speed and the strange energy in his veins let him glide through the forest with eerie precision, his amber eyes locked on the cart below.
Was it really his power, or was it something else entirely? Only a few people in Sturgon knew the answer to this question.
