The scorpion let out one last, bone-chilling scream that made the stone breathe and the air shiver.
Alex felt it lance through his nerves; a reflexive shudder rippled down his arms.
For a heartbeat he thought the creature was charging something catastrophic—a final surge, a suicide blast, a queen's vengeance.
But the pitch cracked, guttered, and died.
This wasn't power. It was a bell tolling the end.
Ding
[You have defeated the scorpion queen]
[You have received vile poison blood]
[You have received armor Chitinous Armor]
[Apocalypse Baby Kicking In]
[You have received vile Acid Blood]
[You have received blade Chitinous Blade]
He didn't get to read the descriptions.
Chittering rushed toward him, multiplied in the tunnels like rain on tin.
Alex turned, body angling, chin low.
He waited, listening.
The echoes differentiated into dozens—no, scores—of little claws skittering fast.
