The passage narrowed again as Arios moved forward, the stone beneath his boots changing texture from smooth to rough. The walls pressed closer, uneven this time, with shallow grooves carved into them at irregular intervals. The light dimmed until only a faint glow from embedded mana veins guided his path.
He slowed his pace.
Not because of fear, but because the dungeon had changed its rhythm.
Earlier phases had followed patterns. Combat rooms. Transition corridors. Clear signals. This stretch did none of that. It felt deliberately stretched out, as if the dungeon wanted to test how long a person could remain alert without anything happening.
Arios kept his sword in hand anyway.
His breathing stayed even. His steps were quiet, controlled. Every few meters, he paused briefly, listening, feeling for shifts in mana pressure or air movement.
Nothing.
The silence wasn't empty. It was dense.
