The forest exhaled.

  Not wind—movement.

  Aerin felt it through his boots, a low vibration rolling across the cracked stone beneath the flower. The warmth lingering in his chest pulsed in response, sharp enough to make him flinch.

  “Okay,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the shortblade. “So this is happening.”

  The Florin’s light dimmed, vines drawing inward.

  Something approaches, the voice said, clearer now. Less distant.

  Hungry.

  Aerin backed toward the treeline, eyes scanning the shadows between silver-barked trunks. Luneblossom Grove had always been too quiet—but now the silence felt deliberate.

  The undergrowth exploded.

  A shape lunged from the ferns, low and fast.

  Aerin barely raised his blade before impact. Claws raked across his shoulder, pain flashing white-hot as he hit the ground. Petals burst into the air around him.

  “Ghoulwolf,” he hissed.

  The creature circled him, body stretched unnaturally thin, fur matted with blackened sap. Its eyes burned sickly green—the mark of mana corruption.

  This wasn’t a beginner monster.

  It feeds on sleeping roots, the Florin said. It should not be here.

  “Story of my life,” Aerin muttered, forcing himself upright.

  The ghoulwolf lunged.

  Steel met bone. Aerin slashed low, driving it back. He moved on instinct—no techniques, no flourish. Just survival carved into muscle memory.

  The creature snapped again—

  —and the pressure in Aerin’s chest shifted.

  The world sharpened.

  He felt the ghoulwolf’s movement before it acted, like a ripple before a stone struck water.

  Let me help, the Florin said.

  “I don’t know how.”

  Neither do I.

  Light surged.

  Luminous threads spilled from the flower, wrapping loosely around Aerin’s arms—not restraining, but guiding. His blade felt lighter. Truer.

  Petal Art Unlocked — Verdant Thread (Incomplete)

  Effect: Minor Motion Prediction

  Withering Risk: Low

  Aerin didn’t hesitate.

  The ghoulwolf lunged. Aerin stepped aside before it even committed, blade flashing through corrupted sinew. The creature howled, staggering.

  He drove steel into its skull.

  The light vanished.

  The body collapsed into ash and blackened roots, sinking back into the soil as though reclaimed by the grove itself.

  Aerin stood there, chest heaving.

  Then his legs gave out.

  He dropped to one knee, nausea curling through him, a dull ache blooming behind his eyes.

  I’m sorry, the Florin whispered. That was too much.

  “No,” Aerin breathed. “That was… perfect.”

  A new shimmer of script appeared.

  Monster Defeated: Corrupted Ghoulwolf

  Bloom Resonance Increased

  Bond Depth: 3%

  Withering: Minimal Emotional Strain Detected

  “…Emotional strain?”

  The Florin hesitated.

  Power tied to memory always has a cost.

  A horn sounded in the distance—two short notes, one long.

  Guild patrol.

  Aerin straightened immediately.

  “Can you hide?”

  I can sleep, the Florin replied softly. Because you are here.

  The light faded. Vines stilled. The grove returned to silence.

  Armored figures emerged from the trees moments later.

  A bronze-ranked woman stopped short, eyes narrowing at the scorched clearing.

  “Iron-rank,” she said, gaze flicking to his badge.

  “Explain why a corrupted ghoulwolf died in a beginner zone.”

  Aerin met her eyes.

  Behind him, beneath root and stone, something ancient listened.