One thing Dirga remembered from the quest data:
The beast was territorial.
Highly intelligent.
And docile—as long as you didn't step inside its domain.
Now, under the gaze of the pale blue sky—the Dusk Forest's quietest hour—Dirga sat cross-legged beside the dying fire.
He considered his options.
Rush in now, half-prepared?
Or rest, and walk in at his peak?
He chose the second.
Preparation was victory's first breath.
…
Morning came.
The red eye of this world blinked open in the sky, glaring down through the canopy.
Dirga stood. Ready.
He unlatched his backpack, activated the runes, and collapsed it down.
Then he buried it beneath a mound of twisted roots and soil. No need to bring dead weight into a war zone.
This was a solo hunt.
And he'd walk in light.
With his Crimson Core humming softly around his finger, Dirga moved.
Every step was quiet, deliberate.
Every breath synced with the rhythm of the forest.
He activated his gravity sense.