Round 213

Silra's teal eyes narrow as she approaches the pulsing archway, her fingers tracing symbols that send cold dread through her despite hypothermia already numbing them. "These binding sigils...I've seen similar constructions in forbidden texts, but never this complex or ancient," she says, voice tight with controlled concern. She glances back at Jeane, noting the sorcerer's labored breathing and barely functional shield magic with professional assessment mixed with reluctant worry. This isn't corporate magic—they don't have the resources to create something like this.

Jeane stumbles forward, her 4% shield magic efficiency barely keeping her upright. The air inside the chamber shimmering with residual energy, and the sound of distant sirens growing louder. She leans against the stone archway for support, staring into its pulsing blue depths with crimson eyes narrowed. This feels like walking into a demonic contract negotiation, not corporate espionage. She growls, her wings twitching involuntarily from the effort of maintaining such low magic output. You want us 'chosen'? For...