What Ethan did not realize was that his estimate had been low, painfully low. The descent did not merely continue, it dragged on until time itself felt distorted, until thought dulled and the body moved on habit alone.
Then came the real grind: hours of mind numbing descent that felt endless, repetitive, and cruel in its sameness. At least they were not swallowed by total darkness. That pull, that calling force, the power of summoning drawing them downward, was always there, subtle but absolute, a constant presence tugging at their bodies and minds alike, whispering that whatever waited below was inevitable.
"Boss… how long we been falling?"
Blackie's voice sounded thick and unfocused, like he was speaking through fog. His eyes were half lidded, unfixed, the strain finally catching up to him.
Ethan glanced at the watch on his wrist, the high tech model that had come from the First Universe. Even the numbers on its face felt surreal.
"Seven hours."
