The ninth floor was a cavernous expanse, its ceiling lost in the darkness above. The ground was riddled with countless ant holes, a disturbingly organic pattern marring the otherwise smooth stone floor. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, and an eerie silence hung heavy in the air.
Adonis felt a chill run down his spine as he stepped into the cavern. Something about this place was profoundly unsettling. His senses were on high alert as he scanned the darkness, his eyes straining to pierce the gloom.
The cavern was a maelstrom of chaos. Goblins poured forth from the ant holes like an endless tide, their crude weapons glinting in the dim light. Adonis, a solitary figure amidst the horde, was a beacon of defiance. His ice magic, a dazzling display of power, transformed the cavern into a frozen battlefield.
