Before he could pick himself up, the adventurer was hoisted to his feet by his arm, finding that the "wall" that had broken his reckless dash was the stern mercenary.
"We're here," Claxous said to him.
"Huh…?" Bastian responded, still unsure of what had just happened before he looked past the brawny figure, "Oh."
As promised, beyond the field of erupting steam was the dungeon in question; a corridor of black steel placed behind an arch of abyssal marble.
It was unmistakably the dungeon they sought; every floor of the tower had an assortment of their own, holding countless treasures among inexplicable creatures and dangerous of their own.
"I'll wait out here," Claxous said, planting his sword in the ground firmly as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Bastian nodded, knowing this was part of the deal as he moved alone into the entrance of the enigmatic dungeon. As soon as he entered the corridor of abyssal steel, he found his footsteps echoing around him, and darkness enveloping his vision.
Even for his eyes that had well adjusted to the absence of light that was normal in dungeons, it felt too dark even for him, making it difficult to see even a single step ahead of himself.
'Nobody that's come into this dungeon has come out–I don't plan on keeping that status remaining, if I can help it,' he thought.
Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, he took out a stick made of ashen wood along with a crimson gemstone. He ground the two together, swiping the stone against one end of the stick in a swift motion.
Sparks flew before an orange flame manifested itself on the stick, instantly casting light into the previously lightless domain.
"Here's hoping for the best," he mumbled, stuffing the gemstone back in his belt.
He kept the torch held in front of him as he walked, still finding that the reach of the fire's illumination wasn't delving very far ahead. Upon looking back, it was clear he had gone distant enough within the ominous domain that he could no longer see the entrance he had come in through, only a veil of shadows behind.
"Guess there's no road left but the one ahead, eh?" He muttered to himself before facing forward.
An unnerving cold occupied the dungeon; a chilling breeze that came down the corridor like the whispers of a malignant being. That chill that ran along his body encouraged him to turn around and call it quits on the job, though it was too late; after coming this far, he knew if he abandoned the contract, he'd be leaving his own worth in the eerie dungeon.
With a quiet breath from his lips, he brought the torch in front of his mouth, expelling the flame with a sharp exhale before tucking the unburnt stick back into his belt. The darkness once more took hold of the dungeon, though he welcomed it, tightening his gloves as he knelt for a moment.
Both of his calves felt as though they had tirelessly worked for days straight, weak and sore, though nothing that was going to stop him as he rubbed his legs for a moment before beginning to silently walk forward.
The torch wasn't necessary for providing vision upon the adventurer's eyes; it was used as bait to draw out any creatures near the dungeon's entrance. At least, if anything reacted to the sudden light and came after him, he'd be able to run out and let the mercenary waiting outside handle it for him.
Fortunately, that plan didn't have to be used, instead now welcoming himself to the environment he was most natural in–darkness, silence, and mystery; he was free to tackle the ominous dungeon to his liking.
He kept walking close to the right wall, taking slow, deliberate steps that were light enough to be able to react to a false tile, keeping a keen eye on everything around him. From what he could see, he found himself in a room that was littered with abandoned steel; discarded weapons, either dull and aged with rust, or coated in old blood.
'It's still hard to see just a few steps ahead, but it's better than letting whatever is lurking in here see my light first–at least this way, we're on equal ground in the shadows,' he thought.
Investigating the odd assortment of weapons on the floor, he found his boots stepping on dried blood that stained the black steel. Further inspection led to a finding that made it clear what he was looking at: discarded bones, some with scraps of fabric still attached.
He scrunched his nose at the sight of bones and abandoned weapons, only solidifying what he knew about the dungeon before coming in: it was a graveyard for unprepared adventurers. The further he walked through the shadow-filled dungeon, the more he found: entire skeletons, decomposed, yet still dressed in armor, some still holding onto their weapons even in the afterlife.
Upon traversing the corridors and entering another room, he was hit by the distinct stench of death; a rotten fume that nearly made him gag, though he contained his instincts.
'This is bad. I'm not the first he hired–nowhere near it, probably. How many people did that pompous asshole send here to die because he was ignorant of how dangerous the Tower is? All for nothing,' he thought.
It wasn't the first time he witnessed something like this, though it never was an easy sight; those that were unable to venture into the Towers themselves paid for the services of adventurers. Often not even dungeon specialists get hired first; all too often, desperate adventurers rush into unknown dungeons, only to be slain like cattle.
'Whatever is lurking here, I don't plan on confronting it,' he thought.
Checking each path from the current room he was in, two out of the three led to dead ends, leaving him only one way to go.
The pitch-black steel that made up the dungeon was in itself peculiar; as he walked close to it, letting his hand brush against the material, small vibrations pressed against his fingers.
'It's cold—like ice. The deeper I go, the colder it's getting,' he realized.
He didn't realize it until just then, but the breaths that left his lips came out in a visible frost; it became worryingly cold as he felt the hairs on his body rise and goosebumps to come.
'...Why is it getting so cold? What's ahead?' He questioned.
There was no count of how many steps he took, finding him teeth chattering as he moved as quietly as he could. The corridor of black steel finally found itself with a semblance of light, coming from deeper down the path he went–a sublime, sapphire glow showed itself.
'That glow…the Chrono Crystal,' he thought.
As he moved forward, he brought his boot down, though stopping just shy of pressing it against what was below. The ground that led into the next chamber was different from before; the metallic flooring was coated in a thin sheet of frost, with bones decorating the entrance.
'Alright, time to get started,' he thought with a quick inhale.