Round 117

The walls' fungal growths began pulsing in perfect synchronization with Jeane’s heartbeat, their translucent substance spreading across the stone floor like a living carpet. Every expansion of the growths caused Silra's arm to quiver more violently, her teal eyes tracking the advancing edge with barely controlled panic. "They're matching my pulse now," Jeane growled, her crimson gaze locked onto the walls' surface. "Psychological pressure tactics—trying to break coordination through fear." The strain of maintaining a twenty-meter barrier radius was evident in every taut muscle of her succubus frame, arcane energy crackling around her fingertips as she fought against both physical exhaustion and the corruption's insidious effects on her flame magic resistance. Silra grit her teeth against the cold spreading into her shoulder—12 minutes remaining before total loss of function if this pace continued. "Walls learning patterns faster than projected timeline—every 4 seconds they accelerate adaptation protocols," she reported through clenched jaw. "Maintaining separation distance requires constant recalculation."*