The bond between the team had grown stronger with every passing day inside the Rift. The friction and distrust that once lingered in their early days had all but vanished. There were no more accusations, no blame tossed around during tense moments. Through battles and near-death encounters, they'd learned to trust one another.
They now understood the behavior of the mountain monsters intimately. Each new encounter wasn't chaos. It was an execution. Smooth, calculated, efficient.
Their formation remained steady on this leg of the journey: Tave at the very front, Panpan guarding the rear, and Fang always ahead, scouting the terrain and sniffing out danger before it could catch them off guard.
Even when ambushed, they didn't flinch. Monsters came, and were swiftly eliminated. Tave moved with assurance, Fang vanished and reappeared like a living shadow, and the others filled in with precise synergy.
But that night…
Something changed.
