Floor 100
The air didn't move.
It didn't need to, the weight of it was enough to drag it around.
Diego fell on his knees, the lack of light was ambient, sourceless, dark and ghostly.
There seemed to be no walls. Only a slow, rhythmic pulse beneath the floor.
One beat, then another, then another.
Each one louder than the last.
His body trembled, but not from fear. It was from something more final than that.
He couldn't tell where the pain ended and he began, his shirt was torn, soaked in blood, and one arm hung uselessly at his side.
It didn't matter how many times Diego healed himself with the [Holy Light], the stitched-eye man would beat and mangle him as many times equally.
And the Boss hadn't moved.
Behind it, the stitched-eyed man leaned against an obsidian pillar, watching Diego with a faint smile on what should've been his face.
"You're still breathing." His voice was warm. Pleased, even. "That surprises me."
