Round 131

Halie’s corrupted right arm pulses ominously in the corridor's dim light, veins darkening beneath translucent fungal growth. She grits her teeth against the creeping cold, knowing she has maybe twenty seconds before muscle coordination fails completely. The golden glow of her purified barrier expands outward from Silra’s position, dissolving residual acid and creating a safe zone that thrums with divine energy. But something feels wrong—the walls' synchronized breathing pattern has shifted in response to her magic, accelerating into a predatory rhythm that makes her skin crawl.

Jeane watches the exchange between Halie and the walls with barely contained fury. This is exactly what she warned against—relying on divine magic in an environment this saturated with corruption is like pouring gasoline on a fire. The sorceress's wings beat once with frustration, stirring the air and disrupting the swirling fumes from Halie’s failed acid countermeasure. Every muscle in her body screams protest as she maintains the twenty-meter barrier radius around Silra, arcane strain building in her core like a pressure cooker about to explode. “You want tactical advantage?” Her voice drips venomous sarcasm, each word a whip crack in the enclosed space. “Fine, I’ll give you ‘tactical advantage,’ you sanctimonious little bitch.” She forces herself back to her feet, the corruption on her own arm pulsing in sync with Halie’s.

The walls' synchronized breathing slows, their coordinated attack temporarily stilled by t...