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... ss like a gentle but unstoppable tide. A cool breeze brushed against the damp leaves, carrying the scent of wet wood—tainted by the acrid, nauseating stench of hobgoblin corpses piled up from the previous day's carnage.

And Dylan... hadn't closed his eyes all night.

Not just because of the bodies around him. But because of the meditation. His mind on high alert, his body in constant tension, he'd spent hours purging himself, filament by filament, of every trace of negative energy ...

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“I am special…”

“Why can you bring the girl home!” The traverser B roared unwillingly.

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