The chamber throbbed with life.
The pit's grotesque heart beat faster, its pulse echoing through the walls like the rumble of war drums. Each thud sent shockwaves through the floor, cracks racing outward in jagged lines. The stench of ichor was suffocating, heavy with rot and heat.
Then, the heart moved.
Tendril after tendril erupted upward, slick with black-red slime. Some were as thick as tree trunks, others whip-thin, slicing through the air with razor speed. They lashed across the chamber, smashing into stone, tearing grooves into the floor, and showering fragments of bone-like debris.
Keller reacted first. He dropped to one knee, rifle braced against his shoulder, and let loose a hail of bullets. His gunfire tore chunks from the tendrils, spraying ichor across the chamber. But each time one was severed, another grew in its place, writhing like a hydra that refused to die.
"Damn it—it's regenerating!" Keller snarled, slamming a new magazine into his rifle.
