That night, Logan walked quietly through the camp.
He could feel it—Kryst was weakened. The ambient dark mana that clung to the land was affecting her. Like Lisa, she was light-blessed, and prolonged exposure to this much darkness-aligned energy was taking its toll.
And yet, she endured.
Kryst sat near one of the crystalline trees she had begun cultivating, using her own magic to synthesize darkness elemental crystals. These strange formations not only absorbed some of the miasma in the air but also refined it into high-quality darkness crystals—perfect fuel for the strange egg Logan had been nurturing.
"Thank you, Kryst," Logan said softly, placing a hand on her now surprisingly lifelike surface. The slime had learned to mimic the feel of human skin and hair. None of her texture stuck to him like it once did.
"You've always helped me. You've shaped this kingdom into what it is today."
