Round 72 Transcript

As Jeane swoops forward to scout ahead, her dark energy blasts ignite the first pressure plate, triggering a loud, piercing alarm that echoes through the tunnel. The motion sensors in the ceiling spring to life, bathing the area in a blinding flash of light. Halie's shield magic flares wildly as she stumbles back, momentarily blinded by the intense illumination. Silra's hacking continues to extend the blind spot, buying the party 30 seconds more before they're exposed. Jeane's demonic senses extend further ahead, detecting at least two entities clustered around the next pressure plate, their heat signatures growing stronger with each passing moment. The air thickens with the scent of decay and something metallic as they approach the catwalk's midpoint. The countdown timer on the control panel reads 2:45 minutes. Halie's shield magic begins to falter, her strength waning from the prolonged use. "We need to move, now!" she gasps, her voice laced with desperation. "Silra, can you—"

Jeane interrupts, her voice low and urgent, "I'm trying, Halie! Just a little longer!"

I feel it—multiple signatures converging on our position, drawn by the alarms we couldn't avoid. This is a killbox, they wanted us here. Fine. My hands burn with dark energy already coiling for release. Silra, I don't care if you have to hack every camera in this station—I need that blind spot extended another 60 seconds minimum! We're not dying on this fucking catwalk because your hack ran out of time! Halie, keep that shield up and stay behind me—I'll clear the path forward! [Jeane launches three small fireballs at different sections of the catwalk ahead, targeting likely hiding spots while keeping her energy under control. The blasts illuminate the area briefly—three figures are definitely approaching from the intersection, their shapes distorted by the magical corruption clinging to them.]

I grit my teeth against the strain of maintaining the shield magic while Jeane's fireballs illuminate the approaching figures. The corruption clinging to them makes my skin crawl—this isn't simple security gone wrong. Whatever died down there is walking among us now, and I won't let it claim Silra or Jeane because we ran out of time. "Sixty seconds?" I say through clenched jaws. "Fine. But if they breach the shield before then, I'm not holding back—whatever these things are, holy magic might be our only defense against them." The cross around my neck pulses with heat as I channel more power into it, drawing on every reserves of faith I have left. This isn't just about staying alive anymore—this is about protecting the innocent souls trapped in this corporate hell. Jeane's already moving forward with reckless abandon, and Silra's fingers are a blur across her screens trying to extend that blind spot. We're running out of options fast, but we still have one card left to play: faith against corruption. I won't let it fail us now.