The moment the **Storm Lightning Sparrow** flared its wings, the lizard moved.
There was no buildup.
No caution.
No hesitation.
Only **decision**.
The air around the massive sparrow twisted—not with wind, but with **weight**.
Its divine sense surged outward, searching, locking onto the disturbance.
Too late.
Its wings beat once, lightning crackling violently as it tried to shift direction—but the space around it refused.
Gravity folded.
From above, a crushing force descended.
From below, an opposing pressure surged upward.
Mid-air, its body locked.
Not paralyzed—
**Pinned.**
Its thoughts flared, sharp and rapid.
*Where—*
*What—*
*Who—*
Lightning exploded from its wings. Wild arcs tore through the canopy as it struggled to disrupt the force, to break free. The forest erupted in blinding white-blue light. Trees split apart, leaves incinerated, the air itself screaming under the violent discharge.
But the field didn't break.
Because there was nothing to strike.
Nothing to target.
Only **space itself**, betraying it.
High above, golden eyes remained still—unblinking.
Then—
He tightened.
Not physically.
**Mentally.**
The field collapsed inward.
**CRACK.**
The sparrow's wings snapped first.
Then its body folded in on itself, bones bending at impossible angles as lightning burst outward in one final, uncontrolled surge—
Before—
**CRUSH.**
Sound vanished.
The force didn't scatter. It compressed, driving the sparrow straight down.
**BOOM.**
The ground caved inward as its body was hammered into the forest floor. Feathers burned to ash. Bones shattered beyond recognition. Lightning flickered weakly—
Then died.
Silence followed.
Heavy. Absolute.
The lizard released the field immediately—clean, precise, controlled.
The body remained where it lay, broken beyond recovery.
Dead.
Above, nothing moved.
Then the fox exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah."
A brief pause.
"You're starting to make everything else look unnecessary."
Her invisibility flickered—but held.
Her gaze lingered on the crater before drifting upward.
"Sixth layer…"
Another pause.
"Didn't matter."
Her tail swayed once.
"At this rate… we might actually run out of things worth fighting."
There was no awe in her voice. No shock.
Just confirmation.
By the time her words faded, the lizard had already moved.
He descended without a sound, landing beside the corpse. No acknowledgment, no wasted motion—only action.
The hunt continued.
As they moved deeper, the forest changed.
Not in density—but in resistance.
What once moved swiftly now felt sluggish.
What once reacted now stayed still.
Because everything that could challenge them—
Had already fallen.
Wind beasts. Lightning predators. Hybrid hunters that once ruled the upper canopy—all reduced to the same end.
Caught.
Crushed.
Collected.
Consumed.
The rhythm had become routine.
Spot. Kill. Harvest. Move.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until the forest itself seemed to hesitate around them.
As if it were learning.
As if it were avoiding.
Eventually, they turned back the way they came—silent, invisible, untouched.
The fox didn't rush. Her steps remained steady, controlled.
But her mind had shifted.
"…You sure about that thing?"
Her voice slipped into his mind, light—but edged.
"The spirit."
She stepped over a twisted root, her gaze sweeping the canopy, then the forest floor, then farther beyond.
"…Because we've covered this area twice now."
Another measured step.
"And I haven't seen anything."
Her tail flicked once.
"No disturbance. No presence. No residue."
Her tone shifted—less observational, more pointed.
"Nothing."
Silence stretched between them.
"So I'm asking…"
A slight tilt of her head.
"Did you actually see it… or are you just saying things?"
There was no outright accusation in her voice.
But it wasn't neutral either.
"Because if it *was* real…"
Her eyes narrowed faintly.
"…it should've reacted to everything we just did."
A beat passed.
"And it didn't."
The wind drifted softly through the canopy.
"Which means one of two things."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"Either it's not here anymore…"
A pause.
"…or it was never here to begin with."
Another step.
"And you just imagined it."
Silence followed.
The forest remained still.
Watching. Listening. Waiting.
Above her, the lizard didn't respond immediately.
Golden eyes half-lidded.
Thinking.
Because he remembered it.
Not clearly. Not completely.
But enough.
A presence.
A feeling.
Something that didn't move like the others. Didn't hunt. Didn't react.
It simply… existed.
The fox continued walking.
"I'm not saying you're wrong."
A small pause.
"I'm just saying… we've seen nothing."
Her tail swayed once.
"And I don't like chasing something that might not even be real."
Silence settled again.
Thick. Quiet.
But not empty.
Because somewhere—
Deep within the forest—
Something shifted.
Not wind.
Not movement.
Not sound.
Just—
**awareness.**
The forest let them go.
There was no resistance.
No pursuit.
Only silence trailing behind them like a fading echo.
Invisible and untouched, they retraced their steps, moving the same way they had come—measured, steady—until the cave came into view.
Still.
Unchanged.
Waiting.
The fox slipped inside first.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the invisibility fell away. The air settled instantly, returning to something familiar—controlled, contained.
Safe.
The lizard lifted slightly before dropping from her head, landing softly on the stone floor.
No words were exchanged.
None were needed.
The fox moved immediately. Her storage pouch opened, and one corpse after another appeared—wind beasts, lightning predators, hybrid creatures.
All laid out with precision.
Ordered.
Prepared.
"…Same as before."
Her voice was calm. Routine.
The **Ghost Banner** unfurled without delay, its runes igniting with a faint, hungry glow.
She began.
Pull.
Bind.
Seal.
One soul—then another—then another.
No resistance lasted. No struggle mattered. Every single one ended the same way.
Collected.
Stored.
Gone.