The cavernous containment silo of Sub-Level 5 was completely consumed by the deafening, aggressive hiss of boiling stomach acid.
Ren stood perfectly still in the epicenter of the carnage, a towering silhouette of pale, iron-hardened flesh completely saturated in glowing blue fungal blood and highly corrosive green fluid. The ambient temperature hovered near a suffocating hundred degrees, the humid air thick with the putrid, choking stench of vaporized chitin, melting calcium, and the sharp, metallic tang of unrefined mana. At his feet, the massive, sixty-ton carcass of the Abyssal Glutton was rapidly dissolving into the concrete, its ruptured underbelly actively flooding the feeding trough with a toxic, bubbling grey slurry.
In his calloused, clawed hands, he held the prize.
