The light in the boss chamber on the sixtieth floor had paled a forced dusk in a room with no sky. Stone sconces along the walls still burned, but their flames wavered, throwing jagged shadows across cracked pillars. The air smelled like hot forged iron, mixed with damp dust and the tang of magical ozone the bitterness clung to the tongue. Every breath sounded loud, as if the chamber itself were relearning how to breathe.
At its center, the Ancient Titan roared.
It wasn't pure fury; a rasp of pain frayed the edges of the sound. The roar bounced, rolled, and layered itself, like slabs of stone shifting somewhere deep underground. The floor trembled with each wave, the vibration creeping up from the soles to the shins, over the knees, and resonating in the chest.
