"You… persist," came the low rumble from within the helm. His voice was like grinding stone, layered with ages of authority.
What the fu*k!
It spoke.
Until now, I've been in two dungeons, including this one. But I assumed that these monsters are just that... monsters in the end. Like a muted NPC, already programmed to do what must be done. Silently doing their duty, which is protecting the dungeon or outright attacking any outsiders.
That's why this is such a shock for me, that a supposed muted NPC has broken the cycle by speaking.
For a long, suffocating moment, silence followed. Only the echo of Paimon's distorted voice lingered, heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs.
That voice wasn't mechanical, nor the hollow mimicry of some cursed AI—it was alive. Ancient. A sound carved out of time itself, older than this dungeon, older than the concept of sin.
