The Ashfang King arrived at full speed before the cave entrance.
"Gone?"
His pupils contracted.
The air inside the cave still carried heat — faint, but undeniable. The stone walls were scorched black, and the ground had melted into uneven glass.
Someone had used flames here recently.
He lowered his head and inhaled deeply.
A concealment spell.
The scent didn't disappear… it was being suppressed.
Razroth's breathing slowed. His ears twitched once — then his head snapped sharply to the left.
His gaze fixed toward the horizon.
The Eternal Poison Swamp.
One of the three forbidden zones of the Demon Forest.
In ancient times, it was merely a stagnant marshland.
But legends said a single drop of blood from a Poison Demon God had fallen there.
Nothing survived the change.
The water turned black.
The mist gained consciousness.
Even demons avoided breathing near its borders.
Creatures that entered did not die.
They changed.
Stronger.
Mad.
Or worse… empty.
Razroth's claws pressed into the stone.
Why would prey run toward death?
Unless…
It wasn't running.
It was hiding.
A low growl rumbled from his chest.
"Clever."
The scent trail wasn't fading — it was thinning, stretched unnaturally straight.
Guided movement.
Intentional escape.
His fur slowly rose along his spine.
Something inside that swamp could interfere with his senses.
Which meant the target knew exactly what was hunting him.
For the first time since the pursuit began—
Razroth hesitated.
Then his eyes glowed feral crimson.
"Good."
The ground shattered beneath his paws.
"I prefer prey that struggles."
He shot toward the Eternal Poison Swamp.
Far ahead, beneath the silent toxic fog…
something was waiting.
The moment Razroth crossed the border—
The world changed.
No sound.
The forest behind him vanished as if erased. Even the wind died. The air became thick, heavy… almost liquid.
Dark mist crawled across the ground like breathing smoke.
The Ashfang King stopped.
His instincts screamed.
Not danger.
Rejection.
This place did not welcome life.
His nose twitched once—
—and then he snarled in pain.
The scent was gone.
Not masked.
Not hidden.
Erased.
Razroth's claws dug into the mud as his muscles tensed. His tracking ability had never failed before. Not against beasts, not against demons, not even against humans who used concealment arts.
Yet here…
Nothing existed.
The fog swallowed all traces of existence itself.
Far Ahead — Beneath the Poison Mist
RAY stood motionless in knee-deep black water.
He did not breathe.
Not because he was holding it—
—but because the air here could not be inhaled.
A faint heat circulated beneath his skin, sealing his pores while his mana flowed in a strange reversed pattern.
This was not a technique of this world.
This was survival knowledge of the many years of his past life.
From a time after the Demon Forest was mapped and nothing could hide from his gaze.
He slowly pressed his palm against a half-sunken stone pillar carved with faded runes.
The water around him trembled once… then ignored him.
The swamp no longer recognized him as living.
Back at the Border
A ripple spread across the mist.
Something moved.
Not walked.
Not swam.
It shifted through the fog.
Razroth's ears flattened.
A silhouette appeared — tall, twisted, thin as a corpse yet towering over trees. Its limbs bent in the wrong directions while its chest opened and closed like gills.
No scent.
No heartbeat.
No life.
But it was looking directly at him.
Then another emerged.
Then five.
Then dozens.
Low, broken whispers filled the air — voices that didn't belong to any throat.
Razroth's fur rose violently.
These were not beasts.
Not demons.
Not undead.
Creatures abandoned by existence itself.
One suddenly lunged.
The Ashfang King vanished in a burst of speed as black water exploded where he stood. The ground corroded instantly, turning into bubbling tar.
For the first time—
He stepped back.
His eyes locked onto the endless mist.
The prey had entered a place where hunters could not exist.
Razroth growled, deep and furious.
But he did not advance again.
After a long moment, he slowly turned away.
The swamp had claimed the chase.
Inside the Mist
Ray finally exhaled.
The moment the Ashfang King
retreated…
the water around him began boiling softly.
He looked deeper into the fog.
His expression didn't relax.
Because he hadn't escaped.
He had only entered a place…
Which was no different from his home.