The air grew colder and more oppressive as James and his crew descended into the deepest level of the dungeon. Their bodies ached from the grueling battles, but their determination drove them forward. They had faced the dark goblins, the giant bats, the minotaur, and even their own reflections. Yet, something even darker awaited them below. Each step seemed to carry the weight of ancient evil, pressing down on them with an invisible force.
The walls of the dungeon became rougher, more primitive, as though this part had been carved from the very bones of the earth long before the rest. Strange carvings, etched in a language none of them could understand, covered the walls. The air was thick with a magical tension that made their hearts race. The dungeon was old, older than they could imagine, and with each step, they felt like they were intruding on something long forgotten.
