The name Eye of the Return-to-Void formed on his tongue—half whisper, half curse.

“Looks like the only path runs straight through that crooked stretch,” he said after tracing the vortex’s trembling edges with his focus.

A growl rolled over his shoulder.

“Then what?” the Vermilion Demon Lord pressed. “Do we just smash our way in?”

The fiend glared at the twisting light ahead.
“If I hadn’t gutted those two scouts, maybe they’d know a trick,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Jared kept his voice steady, though sweat already salted his lips.

“Too late for regrets. Besides, even with their strength, they’d never cross that fold. The paradise we saw was a mirage spell—follow it, and we’d still be wandering inside it.”