The Sixteenth Floor, Where Steel Trembled
Victor's group had reached the Sixteenth Floor.
From the moment they entered the Dungeon until now, Victor had never needed to lift a finger.
Not once.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became—thick with ancient mana, humming against the skin like a low chant. The walls glowed faintly with that pale, unnatural light, but here on the Sixteenth Floor, the radiance was colder. Sharper. Like steel under moonlight.
Clara had begun assisting Lane from the Twelfth Floor onward.
At first, she had restrained herself. She was here to observe. To evaluate. To grade.
But as the monsters grew fiercer, as Lane's breathing grew heavier and small tears began appearing across her armor, Clara could no longer remain still.
Even if this was a test—
She wouldn't stand by and watch Lane get hurt.
