The unified zone no longer resembled anything that could be called terrain.
It had become a pressure field.
What remained of the basin had compressed even further, its boundaries jagged and uneven, as though the dungeon itself were undecided on how much space it was still willing to allow them. The air vibrated constantly now—not with sound, but with tension—an invisible strain that pressed against the senses and refused to ease. Mana flowed openly through the chamber, no longer subtle or restrained, visible as faint distortions that bent the light itself and caused distant figures to blur and waver at the edges, as if reality were struggling to hold its shape.
