The F-rank portal in the north-central district churned with a sluggish, pale light. The B-rank guard working the perimeter, a veteran who had checked Bruce's token back when he was a desperate, freshly-awakened novice, took one look at Kael and Theron's new D-rank density and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"You're slumming it today."
"Just a calibration run," Bruce said. "We want to feel the floor beneath us without fighting for our lives. We won't break the local ecology."
"See that you don't," she said, waving them past.
Stepping into the stone dungeon felt like walking into a childhood home and suddenly realizing how low the ceilings were. It was exactly as Bruce remembered: the claustrophobic corridors, the smell of wet dust, the soft, suffocating grey light. During his first week, every shadow in this place had felt lethal. Every decision had carried the crushing weight of immediate mortality.
Now, it just felt incredibly small.
