Round 154

The walls' synchronized breathing pattern accelerates into a frantic rhythm, like hungry things sensing prey indecision. Jeane maintains her twelve-meter barrier radius despite visible arcane strain—her wings trembling under the effort, flame magic resistance dropping dangerously low from prolonged exposure to whatever's downstairs. The fungal tendrils creeping along every surface seem to writhe with renewed purpose, their living nature made disturbingly clear by the suggestively writhing growth patterns.

Halie stumbles back instinctively but stops herself mid-step—every second counts for documentation even as her right arm continues its horrifying transformation. The corruption spreads visibly beneath her skin now, pulsing green tendrils mapping across tissue in real-time according to patterns she's only ever studied academically until now. She has maybe thirty seconds before complete transmission at current acceleration—enough time to record the spread pattern but not nearly enough for treatment or containment without compromising the entire party.

The grinding noise from downstairs intensifies, walls beginning to close together visibly now. Somewhere between them lies Silra, still desperately maintaining her position on those pressure plates while Jeane struggles to maintain a safe distance barrier. The tactical situation deteriorates by the second—split the party here and they'll be picked off individually, but maintaining proximity increases corruption risk exponentially through physical contact transmission.