As Kisha used her telekinesis to evade the sudden attacks emerging from the mist, Duke focused intently on analyzing the mutated tree's movements.
While the tree was cunning enough to bait its victims and launch sneak attacks, Duke could sense it lacked the intelligence to outmaneuver them entirely.
He was certain its attacks followed a pattern—one he was determined to uncover.
As expected, the mutated tree's attacks were predictable—it relied solely on speed, striking from behind or below in an attempt to catch them off guard.
There was no intricate strategy, no clever plan to outmaneuver them, just brute instinct. After carefully analyzing its movements, a dark, menacing smile spread across Duke's face.
"Wifey, this dumb tree only knows how to hit from the blind spot—behind or below," Duke said with a snort, his tone dripping with disdain.
He fixed his gaze on the mutated tree, his expression taunting, as though daring it to try again.