Catacombs center region.
A distance from the Titan Bud.
The silence inside the chamber had grown comfortable.
Kale sat cross-legged on the cool stone floor, eyes closed, The Lion Slayer resting flat across his lap like a sleeping beast. The blackened blade pulsed faintly, still warm from its awakening. A thin tendril of green aura spiraled up his spine as he meditated, breath slow, steady.
He wasn't thinking about the sword. Not anymore.
He was thinking about what came next.
Then—
A breeze.
No.
Not a breeze.
A scent.
His nose twitched before his mind registered it. Sweet. Floral. Overwhelmingly pleasant. Like spring caught in a bottle and shattered across the room. It didn't float—it spread, curling around his boots, drifting in like a tide of perfume.
Kale opened one eye.
The pink mist had entered the chamber.
It hugged the floor, delicate and unassuming. The kind of thing that didn't even try to sneak up on you—because it didn't need to.
