The ascent took longer than the descent.
Not because the path had changed, but because Arios had.
Each step upward along the spiraling platforms required conscious effort, not of strength, but of restraint. The mana density thinned gradually as he climbed, yet the pressure did not leave him. It lingered beneath his skin, a phantom weight born from proximity to something that should not have stirred, let alone resisted containment.
The shaft no longer trembled.
That absence was almost more unsettling than the instability before. Dungeons were not meant to fall silent after disruption. They were reactive systems—corrective, adaptive, endlessly compensating. Silence meant stasis, and stasis, in systems like these, was often artificial.
Arios reached the final platform and pulled himself onto solid ground.
The tunnel above the shaft had changed.
