After what felt like hours of trudging through the desolate wasteland, the group had passed through jagged ravines strewn with the bones of long-dead beasts. Now, their boots crunched against shattered stone as they stepped into the heart of a vast ruined castle.
The air here was thick with mana, a suffocating weight that pressed against their skin.
The magical signature they'd been tracking pulsed strongest here.
Ahead loomed massive double doors, their blackened surfaces etched with spiraling glyphs that seemed to shift and writhe under the flickering torchlight.
This was the threshold—the entrance to the boss room, where the dungeon core awaited.
Arden raised a hand, halting the group a few paces from the doors. They spread out slightly, catching their breath after dispatching the last wave of Aberrants in the corridor behind them.
Pools of dark red blood steamed on the floor, the remnants of their foes.
