The dungeon did not give Arios time to rest.
The moment his gold marker stabilized, the corridor ahead shifted again. Stone slid over stone with a low grinding sound, walls folding inward and then stretching out, reshaping the passage into something narrower and longer. The air cooled slightly, carrying a dampness that hadn't been present before.
This wasn't a combat arena anymore.
This was a stretch meant to wear people down.
Arios adjusted his grip on his sword and moved forward at a steady walking pace. Running would be pointless. The dungeon tracked exertion, heart rate, mana flow. Overextending early only meant being punished later.
The floor beneath his boots changed texture after a few dozen steps. Smooth stone gave way to something rougher, uneven, with shallow grooves etched into it at irregular intervals. He slowed, eyes lowering to examine the ground more closely.
Trap markings.
