The gate did not open immediately.
Arios stood on the platform, waiting, his breathing steady but measured. The dungeon's response time had always been deliberate, as if it needed to assess something before deciding what to do next. The faint glow of the sigils carved into the stone gate pulsed once, dimmed, then pulsed again, brighter this time.
The floor beneath Arios vibrated lightly.
He shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his grip on his sword. The fatigue in his muscles was real now. Not debilitating, but persistent. The kind that didn't go away with a few deep breaths. His uniform was scuffed, sleeves torn at the edges, boots marked with dried blood that wasn't his.
The gate finally moved.
Stone slid aside with a deep grinding sound, the two halves separating just enough to allow passage. Cold air spilled out from beyond, carrying a scent that wasn't damp stone or mana residue.
It smelled metallic.
Arios stepped through without hesitation.
