The descent felt like climbing down the throat of a buried god.
When the Faction finally reached the bottom of the abyss, their boots didn't hit concrete or steel. They hit solid, petrified wood.
Will's knees nearly buckled as his feet touched the floorboards. The air down here was a thick, suffocating soup. Every breath was a conscious, agonizing effort. His chest heaved rapidly, and his vision swam with a relentless pale blue static. In the corner of his eye, the system UI flashed relentlessly, marking the [Fungal Colonization] ticking deep into the seventies.
They were drowning in it.
