Sage didn't rush to his feet. He remained on the cold stone floor, his back pressed against it, as he caught his breath. His chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, the last echoes of battle slowly fading from his weary muscles.
The cavern felt different now that the Dungeon Core had been claimed; the oppressive weight that once bore down like invisible hands had lifted into something almost breathable.
Steam curled lazily above the glowing mana river where the boss's corpse had disintegrated into shimmering fragments, rising like pale spirits freed from confinement.
The torchlight flickering along the cavern walls burned steadier than before, as if acknowledging a new master and no longer feeling threatened.
Pain was a constant companion. His ribs throbbed with each breath, his leg burned from a claw wound, and dried blood made his forearm feel stiff. Yet beneath this exhaustion and injury, something else stirred, something warm, sharp, and quietly intoxicating.
Greed.
