It had been two weeks since Miya and Petne entered the tower.
In this time, their journey had been relentless—floor after floor of trials and battles, pushing Miya's limits and testing her resolve. The Dark Elf had grown significantly in power, showing remarkable progress under Petne's guidance.
On this day, the pair walked through the shadowy expanse of a new floor. The air here felt heavier than the previous ones, charged with something ancient and malevolent. The blackened skies above churned with ominous clouds, as though the tower itself awaited something extraordinary.
Despite the oppressive atmosphere, Miya's demeanor was carefree, and she acted spoiled, clinging to Petne's arm like a playful lover.
"Petne, my dear," Miya purred, leaning her head against his shoulder, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "You owe me a reward after this floor. I've been working so hard. I think I deserve a massage—or maybe something more exciting."
