Light bled, thick, slow, alive.
Sarissa blinked. Once, twice.
She was still on the 52nd floor, and after what transpired on the 51st, everything was different.
The veins in the walls pulsed brighter now with that dark, eerie light, like the beat of a war drum. The cold had turned cruel, not just physical but personal, as if the dungeon hated her specifically. It pressed in from all sides.
And the stone… The stone was listening.
She felt it like a breath on the back of her neck.
"We're being watched." Mara touched her shoulder.
Sarissa nodded. She didn't need to say anything, because she knew it too.
Whatever that dungeon was, this was older. Deeper.
It felt like when they were at the first floor, when they found out that the entire floor was the boss.
The dungeon itself was awake.
It was almost like the dungeon was a monster in and of itself.
"I think it's always been watching." Sarissa whispered.
"Not like this." Mara's blade, [Trifle], shimmered into her hand.
