The forest didn't rustle; it hissed.
Every movement of the magnetic tape leaves was a whisper of white noise, a sound that grated against the teeth like sandpaper. The cable-vines that slithered across the black glass floor writhed with a wet, rubbery slap, their tips glowing with the hungry red light of active power indicators.
"Watch your feet," Akemi murmured, her voice tight. She held the upgraded bokken in a low guard, the wood humming with a faint, silver resonance that seemed to push back the encroaching shadows.
"It's loud," Liza whimpered, her hands pressed over her ears. "Sam, it's so loud. Can't you hear them?"
"I hear them," I said, my own voice sounding distorted, as if I were speaking through a bad connection.
My [Danger Sense] wasn't just spiking; it was a constant, blinding migraine. The entire dungeon was a threat. Every pixel of this instanced reality wanted us dead.
