Chapter 121 - Dungeon - XXIX
You know what no one tells you about being caught in the middle of a magical bombardment inside a living mountain, surrounded by pulsing eggs, invisible snakes, and a wingless flying serpent that shoots homing lasers?
That there's no time to think.
No time to be afraid.
No time to crap your pants with dignity.
Every thought is replaced by reflex.
Every attempt to reason is cut off by a purple explosion flashing across your vision. Every two seconds, a new serpent appears out of nowhere and for some damned reason, they always pop up behind my neck, like they studied advanced military tactics.
While I protect the ice dome with Dália inside, all I can do is dodge, cast, and shout insults I didn't even know I knew. Not because it helps. But because screaming keeps me from going insane.
The mountain vibrates, roars, bleeds beneath us.
Seraphine kills like she's dancing.
Dórian has turned into a punching bag for homing lightning.
Aeloria is in "nuclear winter" mode.