"So fucking hot!", Milo panted out, dragging his shirt in his hand as he stumbled after Marcos.
Marcos turned, carrying his shirt in his hands and sporting his newly formed shorts. His hair was slick with sweat that dropped down his cheeks, "It doesn't make sense".
"Fucking right it doesn't", Milo barked, slumping against a wall that steamed as his sweat evaporated.
Neither of the men were sure how, but for some reason this dungeon they found themselves inside was a fire dungeon, rather than a water one. Milo had an initial assumption as to why, considering that this was a volcano. But the harsh winter conditions shouldn't have given off enough mana to even form a dungeon, never mind one as extreme as this.
