As they rode, the party fell into their usual rhythm, the shared trauma of the desert pocket dimension fading into casual banter.
Cresty was intensely studying a weathered map, her brow furrowed. "According to the local intelligence, the tower isn't registered on any standard kingdom registry. They call it the Spire of the Unbroken. Rumor has it that it doesn't just house high-tier beasts—it dynamically shifts its layout based on the raw power of the entities entering it." She paused, shooting a sideways glare at Lexel. "Which means, with him leading us, the system is going to actively try to murder us from floor one."
Flinn shivered despite the pleasant afternoon breeze. "Great. Fantastic. A tower that scales to a guy who uses prehistoric sand worms as skipping ropes. Can we perhaps disguise Lexel as a harmless merchant? Put a funny hat on him?"
