The Elven Continent, once a land of serenity and beauty, had become a battleground of chaos and bloodshed.
The deeper Noire and Alice ventured, the thicker the air became, dense with the scent of death and corrupted mana.
It was no longer just monsters running rampant—the very land itself had been tainted.
And yet, they pressed forward.
Because they were the storm that would wash this filth away.
A chilling wind swept through the ruined forest as a new horror emerged from the shadows.
A swarm of grotesque creatures, their bodies bloated and covered in pulsating boils, surged forward.
Their buzzing wings created an earsplitting drone, and with each flap, a noxious green mist spread, corroding everything it touched.
Plague Demons.
Creatures that didn't just kill—they spread sickness, turning their victims into more of their kind.
Alice tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "They're adapting."
