Adam's breath came slower now, deeper, as his body adjusted. Not to comfort—but to survival. His Shinso instincts were screaming beneath his skin, and that itch in his horns had become a constant, thrumming pulse.
This was real. No dream, no training simulation. Not some juvenile dungeon run with low-tier mobs.
This was the domain of a demonic beast.
And it knew he was here.
His hand hovered near his side. No weapon. Just his body, his magic, and the horns that still hadn't told him what they wanted.
The air shifted.
It wasn't just pressure—it was intention. Something had noticed him.
He stopped walking.
Then, in the near distance, something opened its mouth.
It wasn't a roar. It was a sucking sound—like the void taking a breath. It dragged the air inward, bending trees, pulling at Adam's clothes, stirring the blood in his veins.
The Hollow Maw was awake.
Adam didn't flinch. Not outwardly.
