Growing Crisis

The smell of blood had not yet dissipated, but the wind had already whipped up the dust, leaving the shattered valley entrance in dead silence. Corpses lay strewn about, scorch marks and acid residue intertwining as if silently telling the tale of the fierce and brutal battle.

Ryan slowly left the battlefield with three reinforcements. Every step was unbearably heavy; the muddy ground beneath their feet had grown viscous from coagulated blood, emitting a faint squelching sound with each descent. Blood was still seeping from his shoulder, his sleeve long since soaked through, swaying back and forth with his pace as though he might collapse at any moment.

Lead Hunter barely propped himself up with his snapped spear as he walked beside him, his face pale and forehead covered in cold sweat. Greatsword Hunter bit down hard on his teeth, the wound on his shoulder bound tightly by a strip of cloth as blood seeped out in patches. Archer Hunter kept his head down, his arms trembling from overexertion while the bow with its broken string swayed slightly behind his back.

The four of them walked for a long time, not stopping until the sight of the valley entrance completely vanished from view beneath a cliff face.

Lead Hunter leaned against the rock, breathing heavily for a long time before speaking in a low voice, "That thing... wasn't an ordinary Ant-Man."

Ryan did not answer, merely gazing ahead toward the Forest Sea. Sunlight filtered down through the branches, casting mottled light and shadow, but the forest remained deeply dark, as if hiding countless pairs of eyes.

Greatsword Hunter looked up at Ryan. "You said before that those symbols were communication. Are you sure?"

Ryan's gaze darkened as he walked up to a flat rock, carving the traces from his memory