Amon continued running deeper into the Whispering Woods.
The further he went, the denser and darker the forest became. Moonlight barely managed to pass through the thick canopy above while cold wind moved between the countless trees, carrying strange noises from deeper inside the forest.
With his current speed, he had already traveled far beyond the areas normal adventurers visited.
During his movement, Amon occasionally swung his sword while running, leaving small marks across trees along the way so he could remember the direction when returning later.
His black clothes fluttered continuously as he dashed through the forest like a shadow.
Thirty minutes passed quickly.
During this time, he was able to kill a few more monsters. They were far too weak. He had no problem dealing with them.
While going deeper, at this point even the atmosphere had changed.
The air felt heavier. It was quieter.
Almost too oppressive.
Suddenly, a cold chill ran down Amon's spine.
