Chapter 320 — The Second Descent
The great doors of the dungeon groaned open once more. The raiding party stood ready, weapons gleaming faintly in the torchlight, their breath clouding in the cool morning air. Kael was at their head, his black cloak dragging against the stone, eyes sharp with focus.
Behind him marched Varik, steady as the mountain. Rogan, eager as ever, rolled his shoulders, his axe strapped across his back. Lyria's bow glimmered faintly with mana threads she'd woven into it, while Azhara carried her staff, its crystal tip glowing softly like a heartbeat. Zerathis strode last, armor still scarred from the last campaign, a grin of anticipation tugging at his face.
The descent began.
The first floor greeted them with its familiar damp chill. Stalactites dripped in slow rhythm, and the faint glow of scattered mushrooms lit their way. But Kael slowed, frowning.
"Look," he muttered, crouching by the cavern wall. His gauntlet brushed over a patch of glowcaps—new growth, small and fresh, sprouting where they'd harvested only days ago.
Azhara knelt beside him, her eyes wide. "They've regenerated already… faster than I expected."
"Not just the mushrooms." Lyria's voice carried from across the chamber. She stood near the crystalline vein they had mined before. Fresh shards protruded, faint but unmistakable. "The mana crystals too. Slowly. But they're returning."
Kael's brows furrowed. "The dungeon is alive. Feeding itself. The deeper we go, the faster it may replenish."
Zerathis chuckled darkly. "An endless well. A curse to some. A gift to us—if we're willing to bleed for it."
They pressed onward, the monsters of the first floor offering little resistance this time. Shadows of wolves slunk between stalagmites, but Kael's blade, wreathed in black flame, cut them down with surgical ease. Varik's hammer broke bones like brittle wood, while Rogan laughed as he cleaved through packs with brutal swings.
Azhara's magic flowed steadier now, less frantic than in the chaos of war. Each wound was sealed before it became critical, each burst of flame or radiant ward precisely measured. Kael noticed the way she carried herself—stronger than before, surer of her own place.
When the last wolf fell, they regrouped at the entrance to the stairway leading down to the second floor.
Kael turned, gaze sweeping over the team. "The dungeon's rules are clearer now. Each floor replenishes what is taken, though at a slow pace. That means we can sustain ourselves here… but it also means something is feeding it. Something below."
Lyria's tone was quiet, edged with unease. "And if it can birth mana crystals and healing herbs, it can birth worse things, too."
Varik rested his hammer on his shoulder, expression grim but steady. "Then we'll carve through them, floor by floor. The Hollow grows stronger with every descent."
Azhara's eyes lingered on Kael as she spoke, softly but firmly. "And so do we."
Zerathis smirked, rolling his shoulders, his claws sparking faintly with shadowed flame. "Good. Because I tire of easy prey."
Kael drew his sword, the blade whispering as it slid free. He turned toward the yawning stairway into darkness.
"Then let's see what waits for us below."
The party descended, the stone swallowing them whole.