Arden stood still in the middle of the battlefield, the sounds of clashing, roaring, and Valtor screaming in the background fading from his mind.
His brows furrowed. He rubbed his chin slowly, deep in thought.
"Hold on…" he whispered. "Last year, they never awakened. So they're not seasonal beasts."
He took a step forward, staring at the forest.
"That means… what? Every three years? Four years?"
He shook his head. "No… this pattern makes no sense. Just what the hell is this island hiding?"
He crouched again, touching the ground.
"And because of the demonic mana, nobody investigates… Everyone avoids this place," Arden muttered.
"But for us… the mana helps our bodies. It strengthens us instead of poisoning us."
He stood up slowly.
"I think… I need to check this deeper."
A voice popped up right beside him.
"Hey, Brother Arden."
Arden flinched and turned his head sharply.
