Zevran lands lightly on Alix's shoulder, his tail flicking with a proud twitch. "Little lizard?" he scoffs. "You mean majestic dragon," he corrects, lifting his chin.
From there, clearing the rest of the swamp barely takes any time. Every undead, every rotting creature, every lurking shadow—none lasts longer than a breath. Zevran sweeps through hordes like a cutting wind, and Mero ensures no mana lingers behind to summon more.
The deeper they go, the darker the swamp becomes. The ground turns to tar, the air thicker and colder. But the moment a larger mana presence stirs—a hulking swamp wraith rising from the murk—Alix ends it with a single flick of his wrist. The being dissolves without so much as a scream.
Mero lets out a soft sigh. "Alright, I'm calling it—this dungeon is very easy."
"Too easy," Zevran mutters. His wings shift, uneasy. "There's no real challenge at all."
"It's because we are too strong for this dungeon," Alix replies calmly.
