Back amid the mystic echoes of the ninth floor, the forest had shifted into a realm of subdued tension. The vibrant, sun-dappled glades now lay interspersed with shadows of threat—a reminder that danger lurked even in moments of relative calm. It was here that Arthur and Ilya arrived, a striking duo determined to stake their claim on this perilous domain.
Arthur strode into the clearing, his broad shoulders set beneath the gleam of a radiant shield and a sword that shimmered with the pure power of the Light element. Every step he took radiated confidence; his armor seemed to capture the very essence of the sun, reflecting brilliance onto the undergrowth. Beside him, Ilya—a graceful yet formidable priestess shaman with eyes that held both wisdom and unyielding resolve—moved with silent purpose. Her lithe form belied a lethal strength, and as she walked, she murmured incantations under her breath, ready to unleash curses that would weaken any foe daring to cross their path.
