John did not rush.
That alone felt like progress.
From a high branch woven thick with vines, he watched the Abyssal Verdant Colossus pass beneath him. The monster's bulk moved with a slow certainty that made the forest feel fragile by comparison. Each step crushed roots that had taken centuries to grow. Stone cracked. Mana warped. And yet—despite all that raw power—there were moments where its movement lagged, where its weight shifted just a fraction too slowly.
Those moments were what John was looking for.
He stayed still, barely breathing, wings folded tight to his sides. Predator's Instinct hummed quietly in the back of his mind, not screaming danger, but whispering details. Timing. Rhythm. Patterns.
The Colossus paused near a shallow ravine, its massive arm—more like a knotted pillar of bark and abyssal stone—reaching down to tear free a cluster of glowing roots. When it did, the mana flow around its torso dipped. Just slightly. Barely noticeable.
John's eyes narrowed.
