Inside the Roaring Stone Mountain.
At its base, not too deep in where the concentration of Mana was high but not yet dangerous for those who had just begun to cultivate, Damian and Uncle Adam moved through the forest of glowing trees and Spirit Stones like two predators engaged in a dance older than memory.
Their spear and axe clashed with rhythms that echoed off the purple-veined stones surrounding them, each strike sending ripples of force through the Mana-saturated air. Uncle Adam's movements were precise and powerful, the technique of a soldier who had spent decades refining every angle of attack and every method of defense. Damian's movements were faster, more fluid, guided by systems that worked in harmony.
And around them, the phenomenon that should only appear when higher circle Warriors or above engaged in combat manifested once more.
The Ancestral Veil.
