Mystic Forest.
A poetic name for something that was basically a botanical slaughterhouse.
The moment I stepped through the rift, color assaulted my eyes — glowing flowers, crystalline fungi, vines shimmering with mana like liquid neon.
It was beautiful… in the way a poisonous frog is beautiful.
If people didn't die here, honestly?
Tourists would pay fortunes just to take pictures.
But this wasn't some fairy grove.
This was a demonic biome full of man–eating flora.
One wrong step and a flower could chew your face off.
I inhaled slowly — the air tasted sweet, almost sugary. That was the first sign.
The sweet smell attracts prey.
Good thing I wasn't prey.
I moved along the elevated ridge — enough to see the entrance staging area spread out below.
Dozens of hunters — an entire pioneer team — had already set up tents, crates, portable mana barriers, and supply racks.
Rough estimate?
Fifty people. Maybe more.
