The underground was pure darkness.
Not the comforting kind that flickers gently with the hum of old wires and the occasional sputter of malfunctioning holograms — no, this was oppressive. Suffocating. A void so absolute it made the air feel heavier in your lungs.
The floor beneath our feet wasn't metal or tile — it was jagged, uneven, like the carved-out belly of a long-forgotten cave. It felt… wrong. Like we had stepped into something not meant to be found.
Art's voice broke the silence, his usual theatrical tone lowered but still laced with that familiar dramatic flair. "Isn't this too dark? Like—what kind of psychological torment was going on here? Is this some twisted jail cell or the waiting room of hell?"
I muttered, my voice flat, but my words stumbled like my mind was still clawing through repressed memories. "I don't know… I don't want to know. This place… it's reminding me of the cellar at Everhart Valley…"
