The sound of blood dripping onto the forest floor was the only noise in the deafening silence of the mountain woods. Not even the chirping of insects or the rustling of leaves—just pure, suffocating stillness. That, more than anything, was the most ominous sign. Even so, they kept moving. Blood clung to their skin, dried in places and still fresh in others. Sylvia tried to heal Damon, but he brushed her off, his expression cold and unreadable. She didn't press further. The others were treated for their injuries, yet the strangest thing was Xander—who had taken a direct hit from a war troll. By all logic, he should have been dead, or at the very least severely injured. But when Sylvia examined him, there wasn't a single bruise. No swelling. No internal bleeding. It didn't make sense. Damon staggered forward, his fingers clenched into fists, his body soaked in blood—some his, some not. Sylvia was scared. She had been for a while now. They all were. By their sides, they could hear the sounds of breathing. And whispers. The voices always seemed distant, yet they knew better. Whatever was whispering… was far closer than it sounded. This forest was a horrible place. Sylvia gritted her teeth. "Let me heal you, please. At this rate, you'll collapse from blood loss—" Her words were cut off by a loud growl. Damon's stomach. It echoed unnaturally through the trees, swallowed by the eerie silence only to return, stretched and distorted, as if the forest itself was mocking him. The others tensed, gripping their weapons tighter. They were all afraid. And tired. For the past three hours, they had been moving deeper into what felt like their inevitable deaths. Evangeline rummaged through what little remained of their rations, pulling out the last piece of preserved food she had. Quietly, she walked up to Damon, her movements cautious. She held the food out to him. "Here. You should eat." Damon's gaze lifted. For a moment, he didn't look at the food. He looked at her. Not at her face, but lower—where her heart was. Then, his eyes flickered toward Sylvia. The hair on the back of Evangeline's neck stood up. Damon's lips parted slightly, and a low whisper left them. "So hungry… I just want to eat…" Evangeline bit her lip. He didn't take the food. Instead, he turned away and kept walking, leading them forward as if nothing had happened. She forced herself to swallow the unease building in her chest. "We… we can eat something once we leave the Duhu Mountains," she said, as if saying it would make it real. "You said it yourself. We just need to reach the Whispering Forest. Then find the ruined city." She bit her lip, lowering her head. "We can survive… right?" Damon didn't answer. He just kept walking. The others exchanged uneasy glances, unsure if he was lost in despair or simply too drained to speak. Then, for the briefest moment, something changed. His eyes flickered with clarity. His jaw clenched, and his voice, low and steady, cut through the silence. "I'm not dying. And neither are you. We need to leave this forest before the sun sets." The conviction in his words sent a shiver through them. Their despair lifted, if only slightly. They nodded, pressing forward. And as they walked, the voices in the forest grew louder. More breathing. More whispers. More unseen eyes watching them from the darkness. Damon took a deep breath. He was hungry. He just wanted to eat. His shadow wanted flesh. He wanted human flesh… But he couldn't let his shadow take over. He had been using the Sacrifice skill extensively, and after sending his shadow to scout ahead, he had burned through more than 2,000 mana points just to sustain it. Now, he had no choice but to conserve every last bit of mana for what was coming. Thus, he was hungry. This hunger had its advantages—it kept his strength higher than usual. But at the same time, it chipped away at his sanity. He was already at his mental limit. His wilder side whispered to him. Turn back. Kill the war trolls. Let your shadow consume. Become ravenous. Kill everyone. You can survive on your own… alone… you always have. Damon clenched his jaw, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. They pressed on, their weary bodies trudging through the cursed woods. The creatures of the forest never outright attacked them, but they toyed with them. Once, at noon, something unseen grabbed Sylvia's hair and yanked her backward. When they turned to look, they found nothing but a dismembered, floating leg, swaying unnaturally in the air before vanishing. Another time, something had joined their group. It had taken on the exact likeness of one of them and walked alongside them for miles. No one said a word. No one acknowledged it. And after a while… it simply disappeared. Their faces had been pale ever since. Now, with the sun inching closer to the horizon, they could finally see the path ahead—their way out of the forest. They only needed to leave the woods. Just a few more steps. Then— "Jekejejekekrk… Jejejejjr… Hehehhekekekk…" A chorus of laughter. Sick. Twisted. Mocking. The creatures of the woods had no intention of letting them leave. No one who entered the forest ever left alive. Damon sighed, a bitter taste of despair on his tongue. They had been so close… He thought they could escape before nightfall. His lips curled into a self-deprecating smile. What horrible creatures will come to end our pathetic lives? From the trees, something began to fall. Black fur, drifting gently to the ground. As it fell, the dim sunlight in the forest seemed to fade, as if the very presence of this entity darkened the world around it. Then the fur birthed flesh. Bones twisted, sinew snapped into place, and grotesque bodies began to form. Not just one. Many. They were beasts—covered in black fur, but with human hands. Their grotesque figures resembled oversized baboons, their long fingers curling unnaturally, their breath wheezing in the silence. The ground was littered with them. Lifeless. Unmoving. Damon and the others stood frozen, their faces drained of all color, their legs heavy with paralyzing fear. Then, from the trees, something else fell. Ethereal forms—spirits, ghastly and weightless, descending from the canopy above. Ghostly monkey-like souls. Each spirit sank into one of the lifeless bodies on the ground. And then— The paralyzing fear vanished. But before they could move— The corpses twitched. Then convulsed. Then stood up. The air was filled with noises—jeering, cackling, shrieking. The beasts grinned, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth. Some stood on all fours, others hunched over on two legs. Their elongated snouts curled in unsettling smiles. Their fingers—long, human-like, unnatural—twitched in excitement. Damon exhaled slowly. His head lowered. He had read about these creatures in the old travel journal. Devil Monkeys. They had long hands, sharper fangs, and a sickening, near-human intelligence. He lifted his gaze toward the sun. It was sinking behind the trees, its light dying. And with it, his hope. Is this the end…?