We ran.
No— scratch that. We bolted.
Weaving between enormous trees, leaping over thick roots, crashing through overgrown ferns and bushes like a bunch of panicked deer getting chased by an eldritch horror.
We didn't look back. We didn't need to.
We knew we were being hunted.
The tsunami of dense white mist surged after us — and we heard that same deep, gurgling, hungry roar roll from it.
That animalistic roar was the only sound audible in the forest anymore — everything else had been drowned by that endless, churning fog.
"What even is that thing?!" Vince shouted, sprinting beside me… and somehow still managing to trip every three seconds.
"Does it matter?!" I yelled back. "Just run!"
If I had to guess, this Mist Monster — yes, I named it — was probably a low-level Greater-grade Spirit Beast. That would put it on the same rank as the Solbraith Cyclops we'd slain back at the Night Sanctuary.
