The forest held its breath.
There was no wind to stir the leaves, no distant cry of birds, no rustle of hidden creatures.
Even the faint hum of life that usually lingered in such places had vanished completely.
Only the low, rumbling growls remained.
They came from all directions.
Slowly closing in.
The beasts did not rush forward like wild predators driven by hunger.
They advanced with patience, each step deliberate, each movement measured.
There was no chaos in them now—only control.
That was what made it worse.
Duryodhana stepped slightly ahead of the group, positioning himself as the first line of defense.
His grip tightened around his mace, the familiar weight grounding him.
His breathing was steady, disciplined—but his focus had sharpened beyond anything training had demanded of him before.
Behind him, the other students formed a loose defensive circle.
Not perfect.
Not practiced.
But instinctive.
