The difference between night and day for a shadow wolf was immense. So stark that it was almost like comparing two entirely different creatures. Night was where Fang thrived. His natural domain. Under the cloak of darkness, surrounded by deep shadows and moonless silence, the shadow wolf could perform at his absolute peak.
Veiled by the blackness of night, Fang moved with uncanny precision. Fast. Silent. Invisible. Not even a whisper marked his passage as he slipped between the trees. That was the level of potency he had already reached, even while still in Tier 3.
Just imagine what he would become when he finally ascended to Tier 4. The thought alone was staggering.
Back at the temporary camp, Tave remained seated in a focused meditative state. His breathing was slow, his posture perfectly grounded, and his presence barely there, like part of the forest itself. He was drawing in elemental particles, absorbing as much as he could with sharp efficiency.
