The ninth floor greeted us with the cold, biting air of a desolate tundra. Snow crunched underfoot as we stepped forward, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive stillness. Jagged ice formations glittered in the dim light, their crystalline surfaces reflecting eerie blue hues across the walls. The sharp and merciless wind howled incessantly, drowning out all but the closest voices.

I tightened the straps on my gauntlets, feeling the sting of frost even through my gloves. “It feels like the dungeon itself is trying to freeze us solid,” I muttered, my breath puffing out in clouds that quickly disappeared into the swirling air.

Dominique pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her face barely visible beneath the hood. “How does this even work?” she said, half to herself, her tone laced with frustration. “We were just in a jungle two floors ago. Now this?”

“The dungeon’s environment doesn’t follow logic,” Andrew replied, his voice steady despite the chaos around us. He adjusted the scarf around his neck, his staff glowing faintly in his hand. “It’s all about wearing us down. Different conditions, different hazards.”

“And we haven’t even seen what’s waiting for us,” Nicholas grumbled. He stood nearby, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold, his greatsword resting on one shoulder. His breath emerged in steady streams of visible steam.

Sarah’s voice cut through the conversation, sharp and commanding. “Keep moving. The longer we stand here, the worse it’ll get.” She didn’t need to elaborate; the frostbite nipping at my fingers and toes was enough of a reminder.

We pressed forward, our boots crunching through the knee-deep snow. The enemies came almost immediately. Ice wraiths emerged first, their translucent forms shimmering as they glided toward us. Their movements were erratic, like leaves caught in a winter storm, and their high-pitched wails sent shivers down my spine. Frost wolves followed, their eyes glowing like pale lanterns, their bodies blending with the snow as they moved silently in packs. Finally, towering frost giants lumbered into view, their massive clubs made of solid ice, each swing capable of shattering stone.

“Here we go,” I murmured, gripping my weapon tightly. The familiar hum of its shifting form steadied my nerves as it morphed into a thin, elegant rapier. Perfect for precision strikes.

Nicholas charged ahead, his greatsword arcing through the air. Each swing sent vibrations through the ground, and I could feel the reverberations even through the snow. Dominique darted among the wolves, her twin daggers flashing like quicksilver as she struck with lethal precision. Andrew unleashed waves of fire, the orange flames cutting through the frosty blue haze and incinerating the smaller creatures. Jacob stayed toward the back, his hands glowing with healing skills as he countered the creeping frostbite that threatened to slow us all.

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As for me, I focused on the wraiths. They were elusive, their forms flickering in and out of visibility like tricks of the light. But I had learned their secret: the faintly glowing cores hidden within their ghostly forms. My rapier was the perfect weapon for this—quick, precise, and deadly. Each thrust found its mark, and each wraith dissolved into shimmering motes of light with a haunting screech.

The cold was relentless. Every breath burned in my chest, and every step felt heavier than the last. My limbs ached from the effort, and I could feel my energy draining with each swing of my weapon. Still, we pressed on. The alternative wasn’t an option.

By the time we reached the end of the floor, the tundra had taken its toll. Frost clung to our clothes and armor, and every movement was an effort. But the dark cave in the ice wall that surrounded us and led to the next floor brought a flicker of hope. We stepped through, one by one, and the biting cold quickly evaporated as if it had never been there.

The tenth floor was a labyrinth of twisting metallic corridors. The air buzzed faintly, charged with static energy, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The walls gleamed with an unnatural sheen, their smooth surfaces etched with faintly glowing runes. Every step echoed unnervingly, the sound bouncing off the walls and creating the unsettling illusion of being followed.

Andrew was the first to notice the runes. He halted abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the patterns. “This is... different,” he said, his tone cautious.

Sarah turned to him, her expression sharp. “Different, how?”

He pointed to a cluster of glowing symbols. “They’re powering the traps.” I stepped up next to him to look closer and had to forcibly stop the chuckle that threatened to escape. Yes, the runes did precisely what he said, but what had me forcing down a chuckle was the much subtler set of runes embedded in them. They didn’t actually do anything; they weren't even part of the runic language, after all, but they did spell out the message: “You break it, you bought it.” Apparently, the Dungeon Intelligence had a sense of humor.

As if on cue, the floor beneath us shifted. I barely had time to react as spears shot out from the walls, and panels in the floor dropped away, revealing bottomless pits. My heart pounded as I leaped to safety.

Dominique’s reflexes saved us more than once. Her keen eyes spotted hidden triggers, and her nimble movements allowed her to disable several traps before they could activate. Andrew’s magic disrupted others, his spells sending ripples of energy through the air that short-circuited the mechanisms. But the traps were relentless, and by the time we cleared the floor, we were battered and bruised, and Jacob’s mana reserves were nearly depleted.

Nicholas leaned heavily against a wall, his face drawn with exhaustion. He took a long swig from his water skin and muttered, “I hate this place.”

Ever the stoic leader, Sarah straightened her shoulders and replied, “No one said this would be easy. But we’re making progress. Five more floors.”

I sank to the ground, leaning against the cool metal wall. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my muscles screamed in protest. “Five more floors,” I echoed, the words heavy with fatigue. “Let’s hope they don’t get worse.”

“Sure, go ahead and jink us,” came Nicholas’s snide response.