Round 238

The fusion experiments moved with unnatural coordination, their energy signatures leaving faint blue trails in the air as they advanced down the corridor toward Jeane's collapsed form. Their approach was methodical, calculated—predatory in a way that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with purpose. Silra positioned herself between them and her fallen partner, daggers held at ready, teal eyes tracking every subtle shift in their formation. Twelve seconds until they reached Jeane. Eight until they could touch her.

"Eight fucking seconds?" Silra's voice cut through the corridor, sharp with disbelief and something that might have been contempt. "You said twelve before complete magical blackout—what the actual FUCK did you do, burn reserves early just to prove some point about sacrifice?" Her words hung in the air for a moment before she was already moving, daggers becoming extensions of her hands as she calculated exactly how much damage she could inflict before those things got past her.