Just like that, Sol kept running.
He became a glowing, blazing comet of gold and silver light tearing through the perpetual twilight of the Great Orrath. He backtracked the exact path he had carved earlier that day, his transmigrator-enhanced spatial memory guiding his boots over slick, petrified roots, through dense clusters of bioluminescent fungi, and around the snapping jaws of hidden, carnivorous flora.
Behind him, the jungle was being thrashed wildly.
The horde was truly unrelenting. The sheer, apocalyptic noise of hundreds of enraged Omen-Blood beasts stampeding through the dense brush sounded like a localized tectonic collapse. Massive, skyscraper-sized purple trees groaned and splintered as the Layer 2 Great Badgers violently bulldozed their way through the trunks, too furious to pathfind around them.
