Round 177 Transcript

Jeane's grip remains firm on Silra's arm, refusing to release. The succubus' eyes flash with unnatural light. 'This isn't negotiation. The contract is binding. Every second wasted increases the penalty.' The penthouse temperature spikes suddenly—10 degrees in seconds. The air thickens with ozone and pheromones. Silra grits teeth against the psychic assault, welder sparking uselessly as her hands shake. 'I can't work like this! The structural integrity is compromised—I need minutes!' The floor beneath them groans ominously, concrete cracking audibly. A support beam twists visibly.