The muddy swamp, soaked in blood, made creepy gurgling sounds as the team moved deeper into the dungeon. Each step sank ankle-deep into heavy, iron-smelling muck. Reddish mist slithered along the ground like snakes, curling around their boots and gear—almost like the dungeon was trying to pull them down.
The group came to a sudden halt as they spotted something… oddly familiar.
"Wait," Marcus whispered, raising a clenched fist.
Just ahead, the terrain sloped downward into a basin of rotting vines and stagnant blood pools.
Severed limbs jutted from the murk—an arm still gripping a melted sword, a leg pierced with thorns.
One head floated face-down in the mud, its helmet rusted, the Red Phoenix Guild's emblem barely showing under all the dirt.
Jarek gagged. "Shit... that's—"
Arden stepped up. He looked down at the bodies, his jaw tight behind his mask.
"That was Team Leader Reiss's team. I recognize that sigil on the gauntlet."
