Elandris's voice trailed off as the ground beneath us rumbled with a deep, ancient force. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a malevolent energy, thick and oppressive, making it harder to breathe. Whatever this presence was, it had been dormant—buried beneath the layers of dungeonification, its slumber disturbed by the violent clash of magic that had just taken place. Now, it was stirring, and its awakening carried with it the promise of unimaginable destruction.
Armandra was still on her knees, gasping for breath, her form flickering and unstable. But even in her weakened state, her lips curled into a smile—small, almost imperceptible, but enough to send a chill down my spine.
"You've only delayed the inevitable," she rasped, her voice hoarse from exertion. "The dungeon is alive… and it's about to show you what real power looks like."
