The moment we stepped into the Wingless Wyvern dungeon, the atmosphere shifted. The silence inside was oppressive, pressing against my ears like a physical weight. The dungeon was far quieter than I expected, which made my skin prickle with unease.
The air inside was thick and musty, smelling faintly of stone and old decay, and I couldn't shake the sensation that something was off. But I said nothing yet. I didn't want to appear like the young, inexperienced magician I was often assumed to be.
Garth, our tank, took the lead as usual, his large shield raised, ready to block any sudden attack. Rissa's sharp eyes darted from corner to corner, her bow half-drawn, every sense on alert.
Darnell walked with a cocky ease, his sword hanging at his side, while Lila stayed toward the back, her hands softly glowing with a readiness to heal.