Percival's greaves sunk deep into layers of ancient, damp mulch. A unique kind of air filled his lungs. It was shockingly crisp, tasting of pine resin, sweet sap, and a dense, underlying currents of old magic.
He looked left and right. This didn't look like the Human Kingdom at all. Heck, it barely resembled the Elf Kingdom.
In his past life, he never stepped foot into Hollowcreek. Which brought up the question that had been bugging him since yesterday.
Why didn't he ever hear of Demons in his last timeline?
Forcefully, he ignored the thought again, choosing to focus on the cathedral of nature before him.
The trees of Hollowcreek were titans, their trunks were slim and pale as bone, stretching hundreds of feet into a twilight sky that was obscured by a canopy of leaves.
Some were a deep, verdant green, but others—the older ones—bore leaves of pure, spectral white that shimmered with their own faint luminescence.
