The forest seemed to breathe. The trees whispered with unseen voices, their leaves shifting without wind. The very air felt thick, charged with unseen energy—waiting, watching.

Yun Jin followed the retreating vines deeper into the dungeon, his boots sinking slightly into the soft, moss-covered ground. The eerie glow of bioluminescent fungi flickered along the bark of twisted trees, casting distorted shadows. The remains of the Treant lay behind him, its massive form now nothing but lifeless wood.

Then—a presence emerged.

She did not step into view.

She simply—became.

Her body rose from the gnarled bark of a massive tree as if she had always been a part of it, flowing like liquid wood. Her frame was lithe and elegant, her skin a smooth blend of bark and verdant green, shifting with an unnatural grace.

Golden, luminous eyes blinked open, unblinking, unhurried. Vines curled and slithered around her form like living garments, ever-moving, ever-shifting. A Dryad.

[Dryad LV.15]

Yun Jin’s grip on his sword tightened, his stance firm as his gaze locked onto the figure emerging from the ancient bark. His fingers curled around the hilt, steady but tense, prepared for whatever was to come.

"So you’re the one pulling the strings," he said, voice calm but edged with focus.

The Dryad did not answer.

She tilted her head slightly, those golden, luminescent eyes reflecting the dungeon’s dim glow. There was no rage, no fear—just a quiet amusement, the kind that sent a subtle chill down the spine.

Not a beast, not a warrior—she was something else. She watched him the way a cat watched a struggling insect, intrigued but indifferent. There was no urgency in her stance, no sign of distress. As if she already knew how this would end.

Then, she hummed.

Not a sound—something deeper. A pulse in the air, a shift in the very space around them. A vibration that settled into Yun Jin’s chest, not a direct attack, but a suggestion. A whisper of something he couldn’t quite place.

Then, beneath his feet—movement.

His gaze flicked downward.

The ground itself was changing.

Thin, near-invisible tendrils slithered outward, threading through the earth like veins beneath the skin. They were faint—so faint they could be mistaken for nothing more than the slow growth of plants. But Yun Jin wasn’t blind to danger.

His instincts flared.

It wasn’t just the Dryad. It was everything.

Not just the trees. Not just the vines.

The entire forest was an extension of her will. Every root, every blade of grass, every twisting branch. She wasn’t bound to a single form. She was the battlefield.

This isn’t just a fight.

It’s a hunt.

And yet, Yun Jin did not back down.

His grip tightened, his breath steady. The thrill of battle coiled in his chest, bright and sharp. His mind, once calculating, sharpened into something simpler.

A single thought.

Cut her down.

[Activated Mana Eyes.]

The world shifted.

The dense foliage, the towering trees—he no longer saw them as obstacles. His vision cut deeper, peeling back layers of the Dryad’s magic, revealing the intricate web of mana that pulsed beneath. A network of raw energy flowed through the forest, but at its center—there.

A flicker of golden light.

A core.

A single point where her power condensed, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Found you.

Yun Jin moved.

Light Blade Sovereign Style: First Form – Arc Lightning.

His body blurred, the world breaking into streaks of motion. Qi surged through his blade, condensing into a single, piercing thrust—

Straight for the core.

But—

Nothing.

His blade struck air.

Yun Jin’s eyes sharpened.

She hadn’t dodged.

She hadn’t even moved.

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But the core—

It was gone.

A flicker of golden light pulsed inside another tree, farther away.

Realization clicked into place.

She can move it?

Not just a shifting body. A shifting heart.

The Dryad’s true form wasn’t bound to a single place. She wasn’t a target. She was a presence, a spirit woven into the very fabric of the forest.

And Yun Jin had just wasted an attack on a decoy.

A laugh echoed through the trees. Light. Amused.

Then—the forest moved.

Vines lashed from every direction, weaving a cage around him.

Yun Jin’s body reacted before thought could form.

His stance shifted.

Light Blade Sovereign Style: Fourth Form – Gale Rend.

He twisted, pivoting mid-step, his sword carving through the air in a seamless arc.

A storm of cutting wind erupted from his blade, Qi flaring outward in a burst of raw force. The vines split apart, shredded mid-motion, their severed remains spiraling into the mist.

For a moment—just a breath—he had space.

But it came at a cost.

Yun Jin exhaled sharply, his muscles straining, his breath coming shorter than before. He could feel it now—the weight in his limbs, the slow drain of energy.

Not exhaustion.

Not yet.

But it was close.

And the Dryad had already begun her next move.

--

The golden spores spread like a blooming flower, unfurling in mesmerizing spirals. They danced unnaturally, curling toward him with deliberate purpose, as if drawn by something deeper than mere movement.

Yun Jin’s instincts screamed.

His body responded before his mind had fully processed the danger. He kicked off the nearest tree, twisting mid-air as the mist reached out. His momentum carried him backward, avoiding the densest part of the cloud—

But it wasn’t enough.

The first tendrils of golden mist curled around him, barely brushing against his exposed skin. It clung to him. Seeped in.

And then, the sensation hit.

It wasn’t the sharp, burning agony of venom eating through flesh. It was something worse.

A slow, creeping heaviness spread through his limbs, dull and relentless. The tension in his muscles began to unwind against his will, as if his own body no longer belonged to him.

His vision blurred. The edges of the world flickered like heat distortion. His movements, once fluid and precise, felt sluggish.

It’s not just poison.

It was sleep.

A sedative, pulling at his awareness, numbing his reflexes, slowing him with each passing second.

Yun Jin exhaled sharply. No. Focus. Control.

Forcing his Qi into motion, he activated Qi Breathing, pushing the foreign toxin out like squeezing water from drenched cloth.

The fog in his mind lifted slightly. The creeping drowsiness receded, but not completely. His limbs still felt slow, like wading through knee-deep water.

Not enough.

The vines struck.

They came from every angle, weaving through the forest like hunting serpents. The attack wasn’t reckless—it was precise. Calculated. Each strike aimed not just at him, but at where he would move next.

He twisted mid-air, blade flashing—[Aura Blade]. A clean, precise slash severed the first vine before it could wrap around his leg. But for every tendril he cut, two more took its place.

She wasn’t giving him room to breathe.

Yun Jin's boots hit the ground, but the moment he landed—he knew something was wrong.

The earth was soft. Too soft.

The damp soil gripped at his boots, shifting unnaturally beneath him like a living thing.

Damn it.

She had changed the terrain.

A single misstep could cost him everything.

And she was already moving to take advantage of it.

From behind, a vine lashed toward his back—a precise strike aimed to coil around his torso. Yun Jin barely managed to pivot, his sword intercepting at the last second. He deflected the blow, but the force sent a vibrating sting up his arm.

Then, another.

And another.

He was dodging, cutting, evading—but the weight in his limbs made it harder with every passing moment. The Dryad’s vines weren’t just weapons; they were a web tightening around him.

A whispering laugh rippled through the trees—soft, mocking, threaded with amusement. The forest itself seemed to shudder in response, vines slithering like living serpents, creeping from the canopy, unfurling from the ground, tightening from behind.

Light Blade Sovereign Style: Fourth Form – Gale Rend.

Yun Jin twisted mid-motion, his body pivoting with the precision of a storm breaking upon the earth.

His blade arced around him in a perfect, sweeping slash—Qi flaring outward like a cascading whirlwind. The force of the strike severed everything in its path.

Branches snapped, torn apart by the raw pressure that followed in the wake of his blade. Even the air itself trembled, the sheer force of his movement distorting the space around him.Qi burned in his veins, his strikes moving faster, faster—until the vines stopped coming.

The air stilled.

The clearing around him was littered with severed tendrils, their lifeless remains curling inward, twitching as they withered.

Yun Jin stumbled. His breath hitched.

A sharp burn ran through his muscles, exhaustion clawing at his limbs. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the adrenaline barely holding his body together.

But his smile—

His smile was wide—bright, unshaken.

Even at his weakest, he grinned like a man stepping into his wedding night, heart pounding with exhilaration, eyes alight with reckless joy.

His fingers tightened around his sword.

[Aura Blade.]

The weapon thrummed in response, the edge alight with razor-thin Qi.

The Dryad’s vines shivered, twisting as if sensing his intent.

She knew.

She wouldn’t let him reach it.

Lightning surged beneath Yun Jin’s skin. His stance shifted. The world narrowed to a single path—his blade, the core, the strike that would end this.

Light Blade Sovereign Style: First Form – Arc Lightning!

The air cracked as he shot forward, faster than before, faster than his exhausted body should have allowed.

Roots and vines lashed at his path, but he wove between them, twisting, slipping through the smallest of gaps.

A vine snapped toward his leg—he cut through it mid-step, never slowing. Another curled toward his chest—he dodged, just a breath away from being caught.

Then—he leapt.

The Dryad’s core glowed before him.

The sword gleamed, a flash of silver lined with pure, cutting Qi—

SNAP.

Something wrenched his wrist backward.

A vine.

No—dozens.

They constricted around his arms, his waist, his legs, like snakes coiling around their prey. His momentum shattered. The ground rushed up to meet him as the vines yanked him down.

His blade—mere inches from the core.

The vines snapped tight.

A shudder ran through his body as the first tendrils wrapped around his skin, leeching something from him. It was slow, insidious, like water slipping through his fingers. His Qi.

She was taking it from him.

His sword trembled in his grasp, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like an iron shackle. Every second, his strength bled away, siphoned into the hungry vines that coiled tighter with each passing breath.

So this is my limit against you, huh?

A quiet chuckle rasped from his lips, barely more than a whisper. His fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword, weak yet unwilling to let go.

Good to know.

Through the blur of fatigue, something flickered at the edge of his fading vision.

Not from the Dryad.

Behind her.

The creature loomed over him, golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. She reveled in his struggle, watching as his body withered, feeding off his stolen energy to summon more writhing minions into the forest’s embrace.

But something made her pause.

His lips moved.

No voice escaped them. No sound carried through the still air.

Yet, the words weren’t meant for her.

They had already reached their destination.

The faintest shimmer of light. A reflection against her bark.

Then—heat.

The air itself seemed to shift, growing thick, dry, burning against his skin.

A sound rumbled in the distance. Not a war cry. Not an attack. Something deeper, more primal.

A spell.

Merlin’s voice rang through the clearing.

"FIREBALL!!"