The Forest of Twin Disasters did not rest.
Neither did Damien.
While others trained within reinforced walls and dreamed of futures still distant, Damien moved through shadow and blood, his senses stretched outward as he hunted for one thing alone—essence cores.
Luton floated beside him, its translucent body pulsing faintly, rhythmically, like a heart that wasn't quite there. The slime had grown noticeably larger since entering the forest, its surface no longer perfectly smooth. Ripples moved beneath its skin, and now and then, faint star-like specks flickered within its body.
It was close.
Very close.
Damien could feel it—not through any system prompt or notification, but through instinct and experience. Luton was on the verge of a breakthrough, and whatever lay beyond that line would not come easily. The slime needed essence. Massive amounts of it. Not diluted scraps, not low-grade leftovers.
It needed strong cores.
