The Monster That Adapts

The massive doors swung open without Rem touching them. A chill ran down his spine — not from fear, but from the unsettling stillness that awaited him beyond.

By this time he would have been attacked by a guardian or something, which told him that what lay ahead wasn't a guardian by any means.

He stepped inside.

With every Guardian he had slain, the dungeon's corruption had faded. The once-seething lava had dried, leaving behind cracked obsidian and ghostly steam that slithered along the floor.

The unstable pillars had crumbled completely, their ancient weight collapsing in on itself.

The air, once suffocating with heat and malevolent energy, had turned bitterly cold.

Yet, none of that concerned Rem.

What did concern him was the unnatural stillness.