By the end of it, they were drenched in sweat but moving in perfect rhythm.
Each failure had shaved off another layer of hesitation. Each success stitched tighter the invisible threads binding them together.
The final run-through ended with the dragon's projection collapsing into a burst of pixelated ash. The lights dimmed, leaving only the thudding sound of their heavy breathing in the silent simulation chamber.
Nioh leaned against a nearby column, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
"Three minutes and twenty seconds from entry to suppression," he said, glancing at the timer above the field. "Not bad."
"Not good enough either," Althea grunted, flexing her gauntleted fingers.
"If this was the real thing, we'd have had about ten more variables to account for. Terrain shifts. Secondary targets. Thermal surges."
Akron nodded, dropping to a crouch to catch his breath.
"And it's angry. A projection doesn't capture that—how creatures fight differently when they're cornered."
