Clavor Dmond walked with heavy steps along the trail leading to Forest Village.

The afternoon sun still shone high in the sky, but a sense of urgency weighed on his broad chest, like a cold stone that refused to move.

With every step, his leather boots sank slightly into the soft earth, raising small clouds of dust that danced beneath the golden light.

The giant rat Lukas had brought back was proof enough that the problem had escalated.

These were no longer ordinary pests. They were something corrupted, something dangerous. The image of the dead creature was still fresh in his mind, the dull red eyes, the hypertrophied muscles, the teeth as long as daggers. None of it was natural.

His dark brown eyes scanned the landscape with the attention of a veteran. The trees around him were far too quiet. The birds did not sing. Even the insects seemed to have disappeared, as if the forest itself were on alert, holding its breath.

When he arrived at the village, the residents greeted him with respect mixed with relief. Tired faces, deep dark circles, clothes stained by work and worry.

A group of farmers approached, some carrying tools as if they were preparing for battle, hoes, sickles, and thick wooden clubs.

Harlan, still bandaged by the healer, limped forward. His right arm was immobilized, and a bandage covered part of his face, where a deep scratch had yet to heal. Even so, he bowed awkwardly.

"Lord Clavor... your son saved my life. Those rats... they came from the deep forest. I’ve never seen anything like them. They seemed... intelligent. As if they were waiting for us."

Clavor merely nodded, serious.

"Stay indoors after sunset. Reinforce your doors. Don’t go out alone. I’ll see what’s happening."

He entered the forest alone, but he carried his great sword at his waist and a bag of supplies, water, dried bread, a rope, and several medicinal herbs for treating wounds.

Tilbo and Prata had stayed behind with Lukas; the boy needed rest. The ant’s carapace was marked, and the spider was exhausted. Better that way.

Sunlight filtered through the treetops, creating golden patterns on the ground covered with leaves and moss.

The air was damp, heavy, filled with the scent of earth and decaying vegetation. Clavor followed the traces Lukas had left the day before, small dragging footprints and the trail of the giant rat he had dragged with his web.

The first traps he found confirmed his son’s account. Torn silver webs, strands chewed through as if they were mere twigs.

Small but sharp bite marks covered the remains. Clavor knelt, running his thick fingers over a broken strand. Residual mana still pulsed faintly within it, a remnant of Prata’s web.

Ordinary rats should not have been capable of that.

"This..." he murmured, frowning.

He continued deeper. The trees became denser, the branches lower, and the light scarcer. The silence was absolute. Even the wind seemed unwilling to blow through that part of the forest.

He found the first giant rat corpse. The size of a large dog, with dull red eyes and hypertrophied muscles.

There were signs of a recent battle, probably one of those that Tilbo and Prata had killed.

Clavor nudged the carcass with the tip of his boot. The smell of decay was faint but present, mixed with something more sour, like corrupted mana.

He knelt to examine it more closely. The fur was thick, and coarse, covered with old scars. The claws, black and sharp, curved slightly inward, adapted for digging and tearing.

The teeth, long as daggers, had small grooves along their sides, as if they had been designed to channel something, poison, perhaps, or mana.

"What is happening to this forest?" he muttered.

The farther he advanced, the more signs he found.

Tunnels dug into the hillsides, some wide enough for a grown man, others small and narrow. The entrances were irregular, hidden among roots and stones, as if something had dug them in a hurry, as if urgency lay behind every claw mark in the earth.

Trampled plants, traces of recent passage, broken branches, and crushed leaves, as if a small avalanche of bodies had passed through.

Claw marks on the trees, deep scratches, some so high that Clavor had to raise his eyes to see the top. The marks were uneven, some older, others so fresh that resin still dripped from the cuts.

Remains of smaller animals, rabbits, squirrels, and birds. Devoured down to the bones, leaving only fragments of fur and feathers. Some bones were broken, as if they had been chewed with great force.

He stopped before a clearing where the ground had been churned up, as if a horde had passed through. The earth was marked by hundreds of footprints, some small, others the size of his hand. A strong smell of urine and feces hung in the air, mixed with the metallic scent of dried blood.

Another cave. Smaller than the one Lukas had entered, but still abnormal. Clavor lit an improvised torch, a dry branch wrapped in rags, and entered a few meters.

The air was damp, cold, stagnant. Bones littered the ground, rabbit skulls, deer ribs, and something larger, something he could not immediately identify.

Fresh droppings, still recent, indicated that the cave was being actively used. And the smell... the same odor of decomposition present in the other caves.

He exited quickly, his frown deepening with every passing minute. Something was very wrong. Rats did not behave like this. They did not grow this large. They did not withstand mana-reinforced materials.

Afternoon gave way to twilight. The golden light of the setting sun painted the forest in shades of orange and red, and the shadows stretched between the trees like the fingers of giants.

Clavor did not stop. He found two more giant rats, one of them alive, which attacked with blind fury, its red eyes burning with irrational hatred.

Clavor’s sword descended in a precise arc, cutting through the creature’s neck in a single strike. Dark blood sprayed out, splattering onto the earth with a wet sound. The rat still thrashed for several seconds, even with its head nearly separated from its body, as if death alone was not enough to extinguish its rage.

"What is feeding you?" Clavor growled, wiping the blade clean on the creature’s fur.