The corridor narrowed until Arios could have touched both walls with outstretched hands.
He did not.
He kept his arms close to his body, shoulders relaxed, posture precise. The band around his wrist remained cool, its presence constant, regulating his mana circulation with indifferent authority. The dungeon had not loosened its grip since the water chamber. If anything, the limiter felt heavier now—not physically, but conceptually, as if the system behind it had gained confidence in its hold over him.
The air changed.
It grew dry, stripped of moisture, carrying a faint metallic tang that caught at the back of his throat. His footsteps no longer echoed. The sound was absorbed by the walls, swallowed whole.
Arios slowed.
This was not a combat zone.
The corridor ended abruptly at a flat stone door without markings. No seams. No handles. No visible mechanisms. It was simply there, blocking the way forward.
He stopped three steps away.
The door opened on its own.
