Strax waited.
Not out of impatience—that had never been a problem for him—but out of precision. He knew Frieren well enough to know that if she came, she would come when the world around her was quiet enough not to distract her. And the forest, now, seemed to cooperate.
The minutes passed like layers of moss settling on ancient stone.
The core remained where it had been left: dark, opaque, still pulsing at long, irregular intervals. It was no longer a panicked heart. It was something… attentive. Like a wounded animal that learns to observe before moving.
Strax leaned against one of the cave walls, arms crossed, looking unhurriedly. Bodies were still scattered on the ground—the cultists, now just flesh and tissue without purpose. The forest had not yet claimed them. That would come later.
Then he felt it.
Not a mana impact. Not a distortion.
A leap.
