The forest was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Not the natural quiet of dusk settling in. Not the gentle stillness that came when life slowed and shadows stretched across the ground.
This silence—
Was different.
It lingered.
Held.
As if something had passed through… and the world had not yet decided how to respond.
The battle had ended.
The distortion was gone.
The fractured air had healed. The invisible pressure that once pressed against their bodies had vanished completely. The trees stood still once more, leaves no longer trembling under unseen force.
But the feeling—
Remained.
Not danger.
Not fear.
But awareness.
A subtle shift.
Like the world itself had noticed what had happened.
Duryodhana exhaled slowly.
A long breath that carried both tension and release. His chest rose, then settled as his gaze remained fixed on the spot—
Where the creature had vanished.
"That thing…"
A pause.
His grip tightened slightly around his mace, not out of fear—but memory.
