Dungeon's Hidden chamber..,
Ron lay sprawled on the cold ground of the hidden chamber, his breaths ragged and uneven. The upper half of his uniform was torn to shreds, soaked in blood and dust. Above him stretched a sky tinted orange, with a single red sun hanging motionless amid the haze.
His gaze drifted to the side — his black spear rested against a cracked pillar, and on the other side, the motionless body of Arin lay still, faint ashes rising from the hollow in his chest where his heart once beat.
Ron blinked slowly, his vision blurring.
"So… dungeons really are extensions of other worlds," he murmured weakly, voice hoarse. "Our world, Orimund… it has two suns. But here…"
He smiled faintly. "Only one. That's so weird… hehe…"
A wave of pain surged through his body, and he gritted his teeth.
"Ouch… damn it…"
Blood trickled from his side, but he pressed a trembling hand over it.
"I have to move… have to find the others. They're waiting for me…"
