The air was wrong.
Max stood still, his eyes narrowing as the mist clung to his skin.
It wasn't ordinary fog.
It was alive, thick with intent, carrying the weight of something ancient and corrupted.
10,000 miles from the Mourning Depths' center, and already the environment was suffocating.
Here, infernal energy didn't just float—
It dripped.
Tiny, bead-like droplets shimmered faintly in the haze, drifting through the air like floating ink in water.
They were everywhere.
In front of his face.
Under his boots.
Pressing against his skin like cold breath from a sleeping beast.
And beneath that—
A deep, almost inaudible hum.
A constant, low thrum vibrating through the earth, as if the Mourning Depths itself were alive.
Max could feel it.
His own energy, his own mana and soul force, being pulled, like invisible strings were tugging at his very soul.
It wasn't violent.
It was subtle. Gentle. Almost like seduction.
But there was a darkness underneath.
