Round 61

The platform groaned under the rising water, ancient stone and concrete complaining as the subterranean lake claimed more territory. Silra stood dry but her boots remained soaked from previous exposure, fingers never pausing on her interface despite the cold seepage around her knees. "You want me to plant a—" she began, then shook her head sharply. "I'm not planting anything. Screenshot this shit and send it to my contacts if you don't back off and let me work!" Her teal eyes remained fixed on floating screens displaying corporate security systems under stress, occasionally flicking toward the entity's digital form visible through the murky floodwaters. "This isn't about speed versus power," she muttered professionally, lines of code scrolling past faster than any normal viewer could track. "It's about not triggering every protocol in this corporate hellhole." The groaning platform shifted again as more water poured in from unseen cracks and channels.

Jeane watched the elf work with grudging admiration mixed with growing impatience, her own magic ready beneath the skin but held back for now. The cold water swirled around her thighs, a constant reminder of their precarious position. She respected Silra's skill—had to respect it—but fuck, sometimes precision took too long when survival demanded speed. Yet she held her tongue, knowing that pushing too hard might break the rogue's concentration or trigger exactly the kind of security response they needed to avoid.

The water rose another inch, and Jeane felt her resolve waver slightly. How much longer could they afford to stand here? What if the entity recovered faster than expected? What if Silra's hacking drew more attention instead of deflecting it?