The forest falls silent. Not a bird sings, not a beast stirs. A whisper of movement glides through the treetops, swift and silent. Then—two piercing red eyes open in the dark. A shadow drops from the canopy, its wings unfurling in silence as its barbed tail lashes with lethal promise. The air thickens with dread as it crouches low, fangs bared, muscles coiled to strike. From the darkness itself comes the hunter of hunters—Nargacuga has found you, the wyvern makes a guttural growl builds into a piercing screech that slices through the forest silence, the sound echoing like a predator’s battle cry.