The Floor 12 gate opened into a wall of humidity so thick it made breathing feel like work.
Dante stepped through first, his boots sinking into soft, mossy ground that squelched under his weight, and immediately his clothes started sticking to his skin while the air coated his lungs with every breath. The transition from Floor 11's crystalline beauty to this was jarring, like jumping from a jewelry store into a swamp.
"Oh gods," Astrid groaned behind him, already pulling at her armor straps. "This is disgusting. Why is the air wet? Air shouldn't be wet."
"Welcome to the Whispering Jungle," Dante said, scanning the tree line with eyes that remembered this place from another life. "Get used to it. We'll be here for at least three days."
