Sporemageddon

If I had known just how oppressive the seventh floor would be, then there was a real chance that I wouldn’t have come down into the dungeon at all.

Or maybe I would have come down better equipped? More lamp oil, and more lamps. Maybe one of those lamps that were set up so that they could hang from a pole fitted to my backpack? It would give me a source of light that was above my head and maybe turn the ceilings away from being dark, foreboding pits.

The [Glow Lichen] was doing its part. Sir Nibbles had a thick collar of it around his neck and a few strings trailing down his back. It created a space, maybe a metre wide, which was illuminated enough to see in. That was the best we had. The lamp I had by my side, and it did provide a wider, brighter beam of light, but it was diffuse on the edges, so I had to constantly pan it back and forth.

If I had been someone scared of the dark, then this place would have driven me mad. As It was... maybe I was developing a little bit of a new phobia.

In reality, I think the silence was what scared me most of all. The tunnels were entirely noiseless.

If there was cave darkness, then this was cave silence. It took a few rooms before it really hit, but once it did, I couldn’t not notice it. There was no trickle of water, no hum or whisper of wind. The space didn’t create or shift or make any noise.

What did make noise was us. Sir Nibble’s feet scuffed on the ground lightly. Usually I’d think of him as extremely stealthy, but that had its limits. The beating of my own heart was loud in my ears, and I found myself unconsciously holding my breath because it felt so loud.

“Pause here,” I whispered, and even though it wasn’t much more than a breath, one captured by my mask, it still felt loud.

Sir Nibbles stopped. We were at the entrance to the third room on the floor. The previous two had been entirely empty, and I felt a little annoyed at having tossed in some spore bombs to clear them out. Better safe than sorry, I supposed, but still.