THE GOD OF MISFORTUNE

The deeper Luis pushed into the enchanted forest, the stranger the air became.

At first, it was a breeze—cool, damp. Then it thickened. Mist. Then syrup. Then weight.

He clutched his chest, stumbling. "What... what is this? I—I can’t breathe..."

Each breath was fire. His lungs burned. The forest warped around him, trees bleeding color, leaves smearing like a watercolor left in the rain.

Zyx’s voice dropped, unusually serious. "Wait. I know this. That pressure—Luis, this is a psychic field. High-tier. Silver-class."

Luis dropped to his knees, vision swimming. "Psychic what?"

Zyx hissed, "A Spectral Demon. Run. Now."

That word cut through the fog.

Luis surged to his feet and ran.

The world twisted as he bolted through the forest, pain flaring in every limb. Vines whipped him. Branches clawed at his face.

Then—