The dungeon floor was a treacherous mix of cracked obsidian and pooling, viscous shadow-ichor.
The oppressive air tasted stale and metallic, echoing with the shrieks and guttural clicks of the remaining Eclipse Beasts.
Grey was in the thick of it, moving through the chaotic melee like a dark, unstoppable storm.
He was currently engaged with a pack of five creatures.
Three were the relatively smaller, yet numerous, Scourge Class beasts, swift, clawed horrors that relied on sheer numbers.
The other two were the far more dangerous Shadowheart Class beasts, hulking, six-limbed monstrosities whose hides were like thick, shadowy leather and whose attacks carried enough residual Gloom energy to cause internal hemorrhaging.
Grey was fighting on pure, exhausted instinct, the training and the memory of Flint's betrayal fueling his every move.
