After he left the sulfur zone, the pervasive, scorching dryness that mingled sulfur with the smell of burning quickly faded from the air. In its place came the growing dampness of the mountain forest. At first, it was only a thin mist at dawn and dusk, flowing through the woods like gauze. Later, even at noon, the light filtering through layer upon layer of canopy seemed steeped in moisture, softened and dampened.
The ground beneath his feet gradually softened. Moss and moisture-loving ferns replaced drought-resistant shrubs, carpeting every gap in the woods. Rotting leaves accumulated in a thick layer of humus. Stepping on it made no sound, but black liquid seeped out, releasing a complex smell of earth and decaying vegetation. Fine droplets hung suspended in the air, soon condensing into a thin film of dew on Loa's hair, brows, lashes, and clothes.
"It's getting more and more humid." Loa tugged at the collar of his fitted clothes, which clung to his body. The sticky sensation made him miss the sulfur zone's scorching yet refreshingly dry air. More troublesome still, patches of mist of varying density were beginning to appear frequently throughout the forest. They were not evenly distributed, but hung silently like living clumps of cotton among the enormous trees, in hollows, or directly across his path. Within the thick fog, visibility plunged to a few meters, and even sound seemed to be absorbed and distorted.
The potential danger rose sharply.
Loa pushed the perception of Listening to the Wind to its limit. His Spiritual Force extended in every direction around him like exquisitely sensitive feelers. Rather than relying on his ears alone, he meticulously caught the slightest changes in the air's movement-the spiraling path of a falling leaf, the slow billowing of mist, the distant sound of a