Beyond the village’s outskirts, where the forest presses in with twisted silhouettes, the corruption thickens into clusters of swollen, red egg-like growths scattered across the ground. Their surfaces pulse faintly, as though something within stirs at the sound of approaching footsteps. The trees around them lean inward with warped branches, and the creeping fog pools low, as if guarding the brood of whatever horrors the corruption has begun to spawn.