High-Level Threat

 Augustus lay his back on the ground, staring off into the night sky. He panted, short on breath with puffy eyes, the familiar metallic scent filling his nose. He sighed and groaned.

 Around him, in a far radius, were piles upon piles of dead Ryuk. He had invaded their nests, slaughtering each and every one of them—thinning the herd before it blew up later.

 Unlike the rot clan, the Ryuk had no leader to defend them. They could put up no more of a fight than a pack of cubs to a dragon, helpless as Augustus attacked, killing them all.

 Once he had enough rest after slaughtering all of the Ryuk, Augustus stood to his feet, walking deeper into the Oelae, "It's evolved over the years, twisting into something new."

 He stared at the arching rot infested tress that lined up the path leading farthing into the area, frowning as he glanced from left to right, "Everything has been deformed here."