Round 114

The walls' fungal growths pulsed excitedly as the two women separated, their quivering movements becoming more pronounced. Silra released Jeane's wrist despite every instinct screaming to maintain contact—the walls' reaction was immediate and obvious, their collective breathing pattern quickening in anticipation. Her teal eyes tracked the spreading corruption across her own arm, the black tendrils creeping up past her elbow now. The pressure plates stopped grinding but the low pulsing hum had intensified, filling the passageway with a rhythmic thrum that seemed to vibrate through both women's bones. She backed away slowly, maintaining exactly six meters between herself and Jeane at all times. "Reporting our status accomplishes nothing—the walls are learning our patterns too quickly," she growled, her voice strained but controlled. "They'll simply adapt to whatever containment strategy we try based on that information." The fungal growths on the walls seemed to ripple in response to her words, their movements syncing up into a coordinated wave that traveled across the surface from one end of the corridor to the other. Jeane maintained her distance despite the obvious strain it caused her—her flame magic flickered at barely 15% effectiveness, sparks dancing along her fingertips as she fought against the corruption's influence. "I look at Silra's corrupted arm, then back to her face," she said coolly, her crimson eyes reflecting the pulsing bioluminescence from the walls. "Reporting now accomplishes nothing—they're already learning our patterns too quickly." The air between them seemed to shimmer with arcane energy resisting the corruption's spread. Silra nodded once, sharply. "Maintaining separation is our only viable strategy until we reach safe space," she hissed through clenched teeth. "The further apart we are during close quarters movement, the less data they can absorb from our combined signatures." The walls' fungal growths pulsed faster in response to her words—clearly agitated by this particular tactical assessment. Jeane's flame magic flickered dangerously low as she fought against the arcane strain of maintaining distance while resisting corruption influence. "I'll maintain this radius around both of us," she said, her voice tight with effort. "But you need to understand—they're not just learning our patterns anymore. They're actively adapting their structure to counter whatever we try." The walls seemed to quiver in anticipation—something about Jeane's words had clearly pleased them. Silra's corrupted arm twitched involuntarily, more black tendrils spreading across her shoulder blade as she watched. "I understand," she replied grimly. "But maintaining separation is our only viable strategy until we reach safe space." The pressure plates ground together again, closing another few centimeters with an ominous groan of stone on stone.*