The Gugwe-mok shifted, its long limbs scraping against the ground, leaving deep grooves in the concrete. With each step, the vines slithered forward, sharper than before, some now laced with bark-like thorns that shimmered faintly under the fractured light. It no longer moved like a mindless thing. There was calculation in the way it advanced now, purpose behind every inch of its towering form.
Jin didn't wait.
He surged forward, blade low, cutting clean through the first set of vines lunging toward him. They moved with a new speed, but he was faster. Not just in motion, his body knew the rhythm now. He moved in the same stance he'd seen Muramasa use. One cut. Pivot. Two cuts. Step. His feet moved with deliberate grace, a brutal mimicry of ancient swordplay.
"Left!" Echo's voice snapped behind him.
