The next gate was forty metres down the corridor.
Rean looked at it the way a person looks at something they have already decided to do but haven't fully committed to the physical reality of yet. His forearm cut had clotted cleanly. His breathing was back to baseline. His reserves were still low from the A rank clearing but C rank didn't demand much in that department — or it shouldn't.
He checked his blade.
Still good.
He went in.
---
This dungeon smelled different from the last one. Less copper, more mineral — the dry, chalky scent of deep rock that hadn't seen surface air in a long time. The corridor was wider too, which he noted without assigning it meaning yet. Width in a dungeon opening corridor usually indicated the inhabitants were sized accordingly. Nothing alarming at C rank.
