The tunnel smelled like copper and old darkness, the kind of stale air that had been trapped underground since before the fracture event turned the world into a RPG gone wrong.
Rin walked in front, his right arm still wrapped in the tatters of his sleeve, the skin underneath glowing with a faint, rhythmic gray light that matched the buzzing in his ears. It wasn't painful anymore, just annoying, like a notification LED he couldn't turn off.
"So," Joy broke the silence, her voice echoing too loudly off the wet stone, "we just beat a dungeon made of your childhood trauma."
"We beat a glitch construct that used my memory as a texture map," Rin corrected, stepping over a rusted mine cart. "It wasn't deep, it was just procedural generation."
"It was a house made of tentacles, Rin," Tayo said from the back, tapping his splinted arm against his chest to test the pain. "That's pretty deep."
