The deeper I went, the worse the smell became.
Blood, piss, and something else—something rotting.
I pressed forward, my boots clicking against the cold stone steps.
The passage was narrow and claustrophobic. Not that I had much problem with it, if anything; all this just made the little devil in my mind more chirpy.
Shadows stretched long and jagged, making the stairway feel like an endless maw, swallowing me whole.
"Ah, yes. Now this is what I call true villain ambiance!" Damien cooed in my ear as he seemed to be rating the green flames that occasionally flickered through the torches.
"The oppressive darkness, the reek of death, the eerie silence! This, my dear Noah, is how a villain's lair should be!"
"You were just complaining about underground hideouts five minutes ago-" I pointed out, but it seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.
"Yes, well, I have changed my refined tastes. I am, after all, a flexible System."
I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond.
