Return of the Black Tide

The setting sun slowly sank below the mountaintop, the color of the sky transitioning from dim red to deep purple, and the afterglow spilled through the clouds onto the edge of the valley mouth, casting long shadows from the broken wooden stakes. The air at the wind gap was more oppressive than during the day, and the mist began to gather again, slowly diffusing into the valley. The claw prints dried in the daytime reappeared in the moisture with varying shades of depth, looking like marks deliberately carved by someone.

The repair marks beside the stone bunker looked fairly solid, with no obvious cracks or damage. However, at the breach, a few wooden stakes appeared somewhat loose, as if the slightest further heavy blow would cause the entire bunker to completely collapse.

I leaned against the rock wall, utterly exhausted, pausing to catch my breath. The chirping of nocturnal insects sounded intermittently in my ears, appearing exceptionally sharp and grating in this silent night.

As time passed, the night grew heavier and heavier, and everything around was shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, a low vibration sound came from the direction of the Forest Sea. At first, this sound was still very vague, like a slight tremor coming from the distant ground, but gradually, it became clearer and clearer, and its rhythm was slow and steady.

I concentrated on listening carefully, discovering that this was not the movement of a single individual, but the effect produced by multiple sound waves overlapping each other. Accompanied by this sound, the mist began to churn, as if pushed by some invisible air current. The tree shadows swayed unsteadily in the wind, a pitch-black expanse that brought an inexplicable sense of oppression. Even the distant ridge became blurred under the shroud of this mist, as if