The faint hum of the dungeon returned as Arios descended the spiral staircase that appeared after the Dire Alpha's collapse. The steps were carved unevenly, rough, as if they had formed naturally rather than by design. The deeper he went, the more he realized how silent everything was. No wind. No dripping water. Just the rhythmic sound of his boots against stone and the distant echo of his breath.
He glanced back once. The passage above had already sealed itself, leaving him no option but forward.
"So, that's how it's going to be," he muttered. "No retreat."
The air changed gradually, becoming heavier with every meter. His body started to feel resistance—not from gravity, but from mana density. The dungeon's atmosphere was thick, almost tangible. Each inhale felt like breathing through syrup.
