Follow your guides.

Fortunately for you, insectrin also need to sleep. You rest not far from where they do, which is just at a random point along the tunnel. They likely don't care about rest points as much as others may--bandits, cultists, what have you. These girls are ants. Of course they can just sleep in the dirt. It's difficult to tell when morning actually is, but you're stirred awake by them getting ready to leave. While you can't see anymore, you can easily follow the sound of their walking--no longer racing one another, but keeping a brisk pace. You're glad to have some good fortune come your way.

This continues until the fourth day in the tunnel.

You're impressed with yourself. Most people would probably go insane underground in pitch-black darkness for days. There are rest points, but this wing of the tunnel has no sources of light or any comforts to be found. The places for rest are no more than wider parts of the tunnel with some old food and stagnant water, but thankfully you have your own supplies. By the feeling of your elixir bottle when you give it a shake, you still have quite a bit more. The downside is that as long as you're following these ant-girls, you can't drop your invisibility for even a moment. If it goes on too much farther, you might need to let them proceed on their own so that you can move visibly to ration out the magic.

It is becoming easier. You miss your friends, but your determination drives you, and it isn't all that bad down here. You're slowly being able to move even more easily in the darkness the more time you spend in it. It must be a combination of survival through necessity as well as your Kitty Sense being **** to work overtime.

At the next resting spot, however, the ant-girls clamber up the wall. The ceiling is much higher here than in other spots. As they reach the top, they disappear through the solid stone as if it wasn't even there.

Interesting. A secret entrance? You approach the same wall and place your hand against it. There are small, subtle spots to grab, though it still requires some strength and skill to make your way up to the top. When you reach it, you slowly push your hand up through the ceiling, and just as what happened with the ants, it passes through. You continue up, poking your head through to see a light ahead! Carefully, you proceed up the rest of the wall until you emerge.

You're in a cellar. There are racks of wine bottles and large casks along the wall. The two formica insectrin you've been following are cheerfully greeted by about seven others, most of which are sitting on the ground with blushing smiles and either half-emptied bottles in their hands or dripping mugs. It seems you've found the party dungeon. You creep around the hiccupping, the giggling, and the occasional screaming, as you make your way towards a staircase leading up.

Though the magic does its best to mask your footfalls, the steps are so creaky that subtle noises still echo out every time you try to further ascend. You clench your teeth and clean up against the handrail, maneuvering carefully as not to make any noise loud enough to rouse suspicion. The elixir may hide any noise you make, but if you start interacting with objects, it won't suddenly remove all sound in the area.

Your hair stands on end. In the second to have to react, you leap onto the rail and press up against the wall right before the door opens.

You stare down at someone you'd rather not be so dangerously close by. At first, you think it may be a very elderly man, but there is no flesh on his body. His skill is worn, and bandages cover much of his forehead. Perhaps to make up for such a skinny body, his robe is thick--black and pink, with a hefty steel pendant of a skull hanging from chains around his neck, though it's moreso around his upper spine given his lack of all but bone. He moves a few steps down and grasps the handrail not far from your boot.

"Quiet down!" His voice is decrepit and mostly air, even if he has no lungs. It's a little difficult to understand him when he speaks. "I said you could sample my vintage drinks if you did so with respect. At the very least, cease your screaming."

One of the ant-girls stumbles up to the bottom of the stairs with a big smile on her face. She can hardly stand. "Don't wooorrryyy," she slurs. "We'll be good!" Then with a cackle, she grabs her skimpy top and yanks it down, popping her breasts out for all to see.

"... Gross. Put those away," the skeleton hisses.

"My boobs aren't gross!" she cries.

As they argue, you slip right past him and into the room he came from.

"Can you unlock the super special cask for us to sample?" one asks.

"No!" he barks. "I keep telling you. That one is off limits. It isn't even alcoholic, so stop asking."

"Aah. We don't want it then."

"Good." He grumbles under his breath.