The rest of the dungeon fell in sequence—clean, sharp, and precise.
The split-wave pattern tried to throw them off: packs of leech-hounds and blade-backed beasts rushing from two fronts, some even climbing walls to approach from above. But the formation absorbed everything. No cracks. No hesitation.
Sylvie's support spells wove through the group like threads of gold, her enchantments tightening armor responses and weaving shield layers with perfect timing. Her combat spells—limited, but precise—picked off weakened enemies without disrupting her rhythm.
Layla didn't buckle once. Her stance had changed since earlier simulations—less reactive, more assertive. When she blocked, she countered. When she was hit, she recovered instantly. Her breathing stayed even, even as the last brute slammed into her shield before collapsing.
