The cave ended without warning.
One step—stone beneath his feet.
The next—
Soft earth.
Damian emerged into a forest.
The air was colder here.
Not naturally.
It carried something heavier than the Valley of Regret—something older, thicker… aware.
Trees towered above him, their trunks twisted unnaturally, bark split like scar tissue. The leaves were dark, almost black, and they barely moved despite the wind.
Then—
The whispers came.
Soft.
Layered.
Every direction at once.
Damian…
Come closer…
We see you…
We feel you…
He didn't stop walking.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You all can't have me at the same time," he said calmly.
His voice carried through the forest, swallowed immediately by the miasma.
"Wait your turn."
The whispers grew louder.
More eager.
More desperate.
They weren't just calling him.
They were competing for him.
Damian turned slightly—
Then walked straight toward the densest concentration of black miasma.
The deeper he went, the thicker it became.
It clung to the air like smoke but didn't disperse. It pressed against his skin, tried to seep into his senses.
This was different from before.
He kept walking.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
Time felt… distorted.
Damian's steps slowed slightly.
His eyes scanned the surroundings.
Tree.
Rock.
Broken branch.
A mark on the ground.
He passed it.
Walked forward.
Then—
He saw it again.
The same broken branch.
Same angle.
Same position.
Damian stopped.
Silence.
The whispers faded slightly, as if observing him now.
He turned.
Looked behind him.
Nothing unusual.
He walked again.
Counted his steps internally.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty—
The same mark.
Again.
He stopped.
This time—
He didn't move immediately.
His hollow eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Did I die?" he murmured.
No answer.
No memory of pain.
No transition.
No purgatory.
No river.
No Transit.
That meant—
"No."
His voice was calm.
"I didn't."
He looked around again.
Same trees.
Same spacing.
Same air density.
Same everything.
Then—
Understanding settled in.
"…An illusion."
Not the crude kind.
Not the ones he had already surpassed.
This one was layered.
Environmental.
Persistent.
It didn't reset him.
It trapped him.
Looping space.
Looping perception.
Looping direction.
Not death.
But confinement.
Damian closed his eyes.
The whispers grew louder immediately.
Trying to fill the void left by his sight.
Don't ignore us…
Stay…
You belong here…
His breathing remained steady.
Then—
"Devour."
The word slipped from his lips like a command to reality itself.
His perception spread outward.
His ability activated—not to distort others—
But to consume the distortion around him.
The illusion resisted.
It tightened.
Pressed harder.
Tried to reinforce itself.
But Damian's devour wasn't passive.
It ate.
Slowly—
Cracks formed.
The looping sensation stuttered.
The repeated path broke.
The whispers distorted—
Then snapped.
Reality returned.
For exactly five seconds.
Damian opened his eyes.
The forest looked different.
Wider.
Clearer.
But—
Too late.
A massive shadow loomed above him.
A giant serpent.
Its body coiled through the trees, scales black as void, eyes glowing faintly with something ancient and hungry.
Its mouth—
Already open.
Fangs longer than his entire body.
And it was right there.
No time to move.
No time to react.
No time to adapt.
The serpent closed its jaws.
And swallowed him whole.
Darkness.
Pressure.
Crushing.
Then—
Nothing.
Purgatory.
The river flowed.
Damian stood at its edge.
Still.
Silent.
Then—
A smile.
Wider than before.
"Good," he whispered.
Behind him—
Transit waited.
And without hesitation—
He stepped forward.
And jumped.
Five seconds before death.
The illusion was already broken.
The forest stood clear.
The serpent—
Already there.
Mouth opening.
Damian's eyes locked onto it.
No confusion.
No hesitation.
Only anticipation.
And hunger.
The hunt had begun again.