The air thickened the deeper they went. Even without words, Lin could feel the weight pressing down on them, as though the tunnel itself resented their intrusion. The chains of the door behind them lay in twisted ruin, the echoes of their battle with the distorted hunter still clinging to the stone walls like phantom cries. The creature's blood had dried black on Lin's boots, but it wasn't the gore that unsettled him. It was the memory of its face—recognizably human, distorted by experiments Jin had orchestrated.
Every step into the next passage felt heavier.
Min-joon walked stiffly, his jaw clenched tight, a rhythm of tension betraying his struggle to maintain control. Keller limped slightly, pressing against the wound on his side, still raw from the earlier fight. Lin stayed in the lead, his senses sharpened. He couldn't afford distraction.
