Round 104 Transcript

At bathroom in a New York high rise penthouse suite, the pressure shifts from waiting to immediate risk. The ward answers the party's presence with a fresh pulse through the stone and no one can mistake it for safety. The nearest sign of danger is now structural collapse imminent. Someone has to answer that change now.

I pull my weight against the door while eyeing Jeane's straining form across the barrier. The wardstone pulse is climbing again, feeding off her panic and our fear—a vicious loop we're trapped in. This is a fool’s errand. Every spell she casts, every drop of sweat that rolls down her neck, feeds this thing. I can see it in the way her eyes dart to the stone when she thinks no one's looking—that demonic heritage clawing at its cage. One wrong move and we're not just dealing with a collapsing building. "Jeane," I say, voice cutting through the groans of stressed metal, "step back. You're making it worse."

I'm losing ground here. The wardstone's answering my panic pulse-for-pulse—and every surge makes this door feel like it's breathing out dust and death. Hera's staring at me with those wide eyes full of questions I don't have time to answer, Silra's trying to tell me something with her whole body language that I'm not reading because I can't stop watching the way Hera's breathing gets faster every time the building groans. And my fucking tits are lactating from the exertion. That shouldn't be happening—they're supposed to stay dry until I get off, and right now getting off is the last thing on my mind except as a desperate fantasy of calm focus. But here we are: bathroom floor slick with water and lube that spilled when Silra was trying to make us safer, Hera hyperventilating into the silence between building groans, and me pressed against the door like I can hold back a collapsing skyscraper with demonic willpower alone. Silra's right—something has to change. This stalemate isn't working; my barrier spell's costing more energy every second, and whatever I'm doing is definitely feeding the wardstone instead of starving it. But backing off means Hera loses her anchor, and if she panics, we're all fucked anyway because fear breeds more fear faster than anything in this world. Maybe I should just come clean about being a succubus right now—would that help or make everything worse? If they know the truth, maybe Silra stops trying to play hero with her rogue tricks and actually listens when I say step back. Maybe Hera finds some weird comfort knowing it's a demon protecting her instead of just another panicking woman. Or maybe they both freak out so hard that the wardstone gets exactly what it wants. Fuck this noise. I'm done thinking in circles. "Silra, get Hera to the far wall—now." My voice comes out sharper than I meant but there's no time for gentle. "Hera, look at me." She does, eyes watering already because of course they do. "You're going to be fine. Promise. Just back away slow and stay calm."

I turn my attention fully to the door again, hands pressed flat against the wood while I rebuild the barrier spell from its foundations up—simpler this time, cleaner, something that doesn't taste like offering meat to a stone monster with teeth. The wardstone pulses once more, harder than before, and I feel it in my teeth but the new barrier holds steady instead of feeding back energy. Silra's moving Hera now—I hear her soft voice talking the woman down while she guides her across slippery tile, good teamwork even if it makes me twitch with jealousy that I can't control right now. The floor shifts under us again, just a fraction, and I feel the structure above groaning under strain. This is it: moment of truth where I either prove my worth or get crushed trying to save three women who might hate me once they understand what I really am. No pressure at all.

The wardstone pulses accelerate through the floorboards like a second heartbeat—faster now, insistent. The mirror frame I’m leaning against groans under the strain. Hera’s breathing is too loud from where Silra pushed her back, and Jeane’s voice keeps cracking as she shouts orders. This whole situation feels like it’s about to unravel completely. I adjust my stance, holy fire lancing down my shield arm hot enough to make me grit my teeth. "Jeane," I call out over the creaking wood and rising water, "whatever you’re doing—it’s feeding it." The wardstone answers her panic with fresh pulses, each one stronger than the last. My skin crawls at the corruption seeping through the door frame. My eyes flick to Hera despite myself, noting how her arms are wrapped tight around herself, how she’s trying to be brave but failing. I shouldn’t feel what I’m feeling—not now, not here—but the protective instinct won’t shut up. The floor tilts under us again, and I have to focus on staying upright. "We need a different approach," I say, though part of me knows it’s too late for strategy sessions. "Hera, stay back—against that far wall." My voice comes out harsher than intended, but fear does that to people. The wardstone pulses sync with my heartbeat now, and that can’t be good. I brace wider against the door, holy fire blazing brighter as I push back against the corruption seeping through. My muscles shake from exertion and the sheer wrongness of this energy. "Silra," I manage between breaths, "help me hold this side." If we lose ground now, if that wardstone gets inside... Jeane’s still pushing back with her barrier spell, sweat mixing with whatever’s leaking from her tits, and I can’t tell if she’s in control or the demon’s taken over completely. The building moans like a dying thing above us—a sound that makes Hera whimper softly. My shield arm is screaming now—literally, holy fire scorching flesh—but I don’t let go. This door has to hold long enough for... what? Some miracle? A plan that doesn’t involve us all getting corrupted or crushed? The wardstone pulses are steady now, a rhythm of waiting. It knows it has time—the building will come down eventually, and we’ll be helpless when it does. I can feel its hunger through the barrier, ancient and patient. I glance at Hera again—can’t help myself—and see her watching me with wide eyes that make my chest ache despite everything else going wrong right now. We’re all gonna die in this fucking bathroom if something doesn’t change soon.