Round 79

Jeane's crimson eyes fixed on Silra, watching the translucent spread creep across her friend's arms. The corruption's progression was eerily precise—seventeen seconds of direct exposure matching her own symptoms exactly meant this thing moved systemically through respiratory contamination at a consistent one percent per minute rate. Both of them experiencing identical symptoms now confirmed it wasn't just her, wasn't just some freak personal vulnerability—this shit was airborne and efficient.

Silra's teal eyes scanned the falling walls, the synchronized breathing pattern stopping completely. Whatever intelligence owned this facility had just switched into hunting mode. That low pulsing hum growing stronger now like a predator's heartbeat counting down to pounce timing while they were trapped in its fucking lair—trap-filled passage ahead, corrupted teammates behind, and no goddamn clue how to disable whatever was powering this nightmare factory.