Ominously…
The last few days had been utterly peaceful.
Suspiciously peaceful.
I don't want to jinx it. I really don't. But everyone had been busy leveling up. Grinding. Sweating. Complaining. Living their best violent lives inside dungeons.
We received the commissioned armors from Dwargen. Finally. Shiny. Heavy. Smelled like molten ore and sleepless blacksmiths.
Dark Mines Dungeon had been busy too.
Busy giving out trauma.
Adventurers rotated in and out like it was a factory of emotional damage. Some came out stronger. Some came out quieter. All of them came out changed.
My party and I were grinding levels as well. Hell Mode, repeatedly. Even if it didn't give much anymore.
Steady.
Slow.
Tragic.
Climbing after level 950 felt like dragging a mountain with your bare hands.
No matter how many runs we cleared, the EXP bar only crawled forward by microscopic amounts. A pixel. Maybe two.
It was insulting.
We were in a pickle about it. Not panicking. Not yet. But aware.
