Neo kept moving with the tower fixed somewhere ahead, surfacing now and again through breaks in the canopy like a promise this place kept showing him just to remind him how far away it was.
The jungle had a way of swallowing distance. What looked close from one patch of ground vanished behind walls of green the next minute, and every stretch of progress had to be fought from roots, mud, hanging vines, and stone half-buried under years of growth. The air clung to him in a warm, damp layer that never eased. Sweat mixed with dirt. Green blood from the spider had dried in patches across his clothes and skin, tacky in some places, stiff in others.
He did not waste Soul Essence keeping the sword out. If something wanted to die, he could summon it fast enough.
That thought lasted until another web shot out from between two trunks and tried to wrap around his chest.
