Arios moved through the dense mist. His steps were steady, though the ache in his legs and arms had become familiar by now, a dull, constant companion. He wasn't weak, but he wasn't unaffected either. The dungeon clearly wanted to grind him down, to turn his disciplined energy into raw exhaustion.
The sound came first again. A heavy thud against dirt, followed by a dry, raspy growl.
Wolves.
But when they stepped into view, Arios immediately noticed the difference. Their fur wasn't just dark this time; it was thick, matted, and their bodies were slightly larger, more compact. Their eyes burned faintly red, a subtle escalation from the crimson, and their movements were more coordinated, less wild, exhibiting a new level of intelligence. The dungeon had introduced a **new wolf type**: the coordinated pack hunter.
He adjusted his stance, the wooden sword angled forward, ready to meet the new threat.
