The air on the seventh floor hung heavy with the scent of damp stone and faint mana residue. Elis sat cross-legged on the cold floor, her back against a jagged wall etched with ancient runes. Her eyes were closed, her artificial breathing slow and deliberate, as she was drawing mana from the dungeon itself.
The silence was absolute, until it wasn't.
*Click-Click-Click.*
The sound sliced through the stillness like a blade, sharp and unmistakable. The dungeon's main gates were opening. Elis's lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.
"Master…" she whispered, her voice barely a breath. In an instant, her blue form dissolved into shadow.
….
First floor...
Leon stepped through the gates, snowflakes clinging to his dark cloak like frost on midnight steel. The chill of the outside world still clung to him, but the dungeon's warmth began to melt it away.
*Swish.*
