In the Demonic Abyssal Continent.
A land of eternal darkness, where the sky was a vast, suffocating expanse of swirling black clouds, thick as ink, pulsing like a living entity.
No sun.
No moon.
Only the dim glow of violet and crimson energies that slithered through the air like ghostly veins, pulsing in eerie synchrony.
Deep within the continent—
A forest.
A vast, sprawling forest of twisted, gnarled trees.
Each tree was ancient, monstrous, alive.
Their bark was charcoal-black, cracked with glowing red fissures, as if molten lava coursed beneath their surface.
Their leaves—if they could even be called that—were more like spikes, sharp and jagged, humming with dark energy.
And yet—
The forest was not silent.
It lived.
It breathed.
It sang.
A chorus of inhuman voices echoed through the abyssal trees.
Beasts.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
They lurked between the shadows, nestled within the thick undergrowth, perched atop massive, twisting branches.
They were not normal.
