Round 196

Silra yanked Jeane away from the group, her grip firm despite the elf's slim build. The air around the succubus was thick with dark energy, visible as faint wisps of shadow that seemed to cling to her skin. "Enough," Silra said sharply, her teal eyes hard. "You're a liability right now—can't you feel what this place is doing to you? Go cool down in the bathroom before you hurt someone." She pushed Jeane toward the hallway, her own panic barely contained beneath a veneer of professional efficiency. Forty minutes had passed—the building was going to collapse in two minutes unless she reinforced something, and fast.

Halie stepped forward immediately, placing herself between Silra and the retreating Jeane. "Sil, wait—" The cleric's voice was gentle but insistent. "We can't just send her away like that. She needs help, not isolation."

Silra didn't slow down. "Help? Right now she needs to be away from us." Her hands were already moving, pulling out the blueprints and her tools. "Every second we waste arguing is another second this building comes down around our ears. I don't give a fuck about feelings right now—I need to reinforce something before we all die."

The penthouse groaned again, louder this time, walls flexing inward with an audible creak that sent a fresh wave of terror through Hera. The young woman stumbled backward, nearly falling as her eyes wide with panic. "We're going to die," she whimpered, voice high and thready.

Abby moved to steady Hera, one arm wrapping around the smaller woman's shoulders. Her own face was flushed, pupils dilated—she was clearly struggling with the building's influence, arousal warring with concern for their safety. "It's okay," she murmured to Hera, even as her free hand clenched into a fist. "We're not going to die."

Silra barely acknowledged the exchange, already crouched over the blueprints and running calculations in her head. The bathroom door slammed shut behind Jeane, cutting off whatever was happening in there. Forty-six minutes—she had maybe ninety seconds left before structural failure began in earnest.

"Halie," she snapped, not looking up from the schematics. "I need you to start praying for strength—I don't care which god, just pray loud enough that I can hear it. We're going to need every ounce of magical energy you've got if this works." Her hands were already moving, pulling out the welder and metal fittings.

The cleric nodded, immediately falling into a rhythmic chant of supplication. Power began to build in the air around her, visible as a soft golden glow that seemed to pulse with each word.

Silra ignored it, focusing instead on the complex calculations required to reinforce the building's core structural elements. She had maybe seven minutes worth of materials—she needed to calculate exactly where to apply them for maximum effect.

Forty-seven minutes. The walls creaked again, louder this time, and a fine crack appeared in the ceiling near the kitchen. Dust began to rain down from above.

"Fuck," Silra hissed under her breath, already moving toward the main support column. She couldn't reinforce everything—she had to choose one spot and hope it was enough. Forty-eight minutes. Time was up.

She started welding.