Beyond the thick fog, the true contamination had begun.0

“Grow.”0

The Apostle of Paradise moved leisurely through the mist, scattering seeds with no concern for where they landed. As they sank into the earth, the once-pure forests of Yangpyeong began to change.0

“Prosper.”0

The clean soil darkened, shifting into an unnatural purple hue, its texture warping into something sticky and flesh-like. Above it, the roots of the Elvenwood spread out like blood vessels. They burst through the ground, enveloping everything around them. Branches shot upward, twisting and writhing unnaturally.0

This Elvenwood no longer resembled a tree. It moved and grew on its own as if it were a living organism.0

“This place shall become my new paradise.”0

A grotesque mass of fungal tendrils spread through the forest. Like a vast spider’s web, they slithered outward, infecting everything they touched—the trees, the grass, the rocks, even the air itself. All of it was slowly warping, morphing into something that was quite familiar to the Apostle of Paradise.0

“I offer all these things to my great deities, the Itarim.”0

As...0