Chapter 112 - Dungeon - XX
**
Ten meters... and nothing.
Aeloria was pale. But not from fear—he was straining. His skin looked like cracked porcelain from within, glowing blue lines pulsing along his veins. Dália wasn't any better. The girl, usually so sweet-faced, now looked like a war goddess bathed in blue and pain.
Twenty meters... and still nothing.
The mire fought back with resistance. The red, viscous water twisted as if it had a will of its own. It wasn't just density—it was something alive, trying to close every centimeter they forced open.
Thirty meters... the shockwaves.
The crocodile's body thrashed furiously on the other side, and each twist of its torso generated acidic ripples that broke the two mages' progress. Aeloria gritted his teeth. The cold he unleashed was so intense that tiny crystals formed on his eyebrows.
Forty meters... nothing but that damned sludge.
Dália was panting. Her prana leaked in spasms, dancing around her arms in desperate choreography. Water magic shimmered unsteadily in the air.
Fifty meters...
And then the roar.