This time, Morca didn't look for a grand entrance. He just found a random spot and sat down, with masked male youth standing silently behind him.
---
Soon, a group of youths burst out of the forest, their faces pale and drenched in sweat as they struggled to catch their breath.
One of them gasped out, "Mo… monster… ki… kill… ing peo… peop…le," before collapsing to the ground, dead.
The others trembled like leaves in a storm, as if they'd seen death itself. Among the group were Denis Sherman and a few other Sherman clan members. Denis, usually calm and composed, was now pale and breathless–his usual mask of cold danger replaced by raw fear.
That was when it happened.
The forest began to part unnaturally. The ground trembled violently. Everyone's hearts pounded against their ribs, the sound of their own blood rushing louder than ever. Even Morca felt it—this was no ordinary tremor. Nobody was spared from the dread that suddenly clawed at their minds.
