They stood on the precipice of a jagged canyon, wind howling across the crumbling rock formations. Below them stretched a black rift carved into the land, emanating a chilling miasma that carried the scent of blood and steel.
The portal shimmered with cold energy—its borders crackling with static. Unlike the smooth portals of the dungeons at the academy, this one felt ancient and feral.
Kaelen frowned as he scanned it with his mana sense.
"No ambient stabilizers. And the mana density is warped. The entire zone is saturated with corrupted leyflow," he muttered.
Derek, arms crossed behind them, nodded approvingly.
"You feel it? That's a real dungeon. Not a cage match for students. This one has taken over four hundred lives in the past decade alone. A seasoned dungeon. The kind that not just fights back but hunts."
Alira drew one of her curved daggers, twirling it once. "Let's hurry."
Neal cracked his neck. "We've been itching for this."
