The descent through the next few floors of the dungeon was agonizingly tense, but not because of the monsters.
It was because of the eyes burning into the back of my head.
As we walked, I could feel Rolf constantly glancing at me.
Every time I shifted my weight or paused to adjust my boots, his eyes would dart in my direction.
When I casually looked back over my shoulder, he would immediately flash that nervous, sheepish smile and look away.
But the slight furrow in his brow gave him away.
He's wondering why the poison isn't working, I thought, suppressing a grim smirk.
He's probably waiting for me to suddenly clutch my chest and drop dead.
But the neurotoxin had long since been neutralized, and I simply kept walking, keeping my breathing even and my posture relaxed.
Let the bastard sweat.
But what was far more concerning than Rolf's creeping panic was the absolute emptiness of the dungeon.
