The sign hanging on the heavy iron doors of the dungeon entrance was simple. It was written in Maira's elegant, terrifying calligraphy, and it read:
[CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. DO NOT ENTER. VIOLATORS WILL BE COMPOSTED.]
For the first time in days, the Twilight Estate was silent. The slot machines were powered down. The gauntlet traps were locked in the safety position. The "Grind" had stopped.
Reed floated.
He was currently neck-deep in the "Grand Prismatic Pool," the largest and hottest bath in the Abyssal Spa on Floor 2. The water, heated by Terra's subterranean veins and filtered through Luma's slime-infused bedrock, was a milky, glowing turquoise. It smelled of sulfur, lavender, and expensive victory.
Around him, the entire staff was decompressing. And for a Dungeon Lord with a "Thirsty Author" flag in his system, it was a lot of visual information to process.
