The floor dipped under Kael's weight.
Not a collapse—just a subtle give, like the metal had been softened and never quite set again. He adjusted his stance without looking down. The chamber stretched wider than the last, ceiling lost in shadow, emergency strips scattered and uneven.
Juno slowed behind him. "This place feels wrong."
Kael nodded. The air pressed close, thick with heat and the faint tang of ozone. The Law flowed unevenly here, pooling in corners, thinning in others.
Mira stopped near the entrance. "This section was sealed before the Iron Veil push."
Kael glanced back. "Seals don't mean empty."
Something moved in the dark.
Not fast. Not loud.
Heavy.
The sound came from the far side of the chamber—a low scrape, followed by a wet drag. The emergency strip nearest it flickered, then went dark.
Juno raised her weapon. "Contact."
Kael stepped forward. The floor stuck under his boot again, tacky and uneven. He felt the heat stir under his skin, familiar now, like a tool waiting to be picked up.
Five percent.
He held it there.
The shape emerged slowly, pulling itself into the light. It was broader than the others, its body low and wide, plates fused together into a single mass. Limbs unfolded from beneath it, thick and jointed, each ending in blunt hooks that bit into the floor.
It didn't rush.
It watched.
Kael felt its attention settle on him, heavy and deliberate. The Law brushed against it and slid away, like water off oil.
"Tier three," Juno muttered.
Kael didn't answer.
The creature shifted its weight and surged forward, faster than its size suggested. The floor groaned as it closed the distance.
Kael moved to meet it.
He struck low, aiming for the joint beneath its forward plate. The blow landed clean, claws biting deep—
—and stopped.
The plate held.
The creature slammed into him, mass driving him back. Kael skidded across the floor, boots scraping, shoulder slamming into a support column hard enough to rattle his teeth.
Pain flared, sharp and immediate.
He pushed off the column and rolled clear as the creature struck again, hooks tearing gouges in the metal where he'd been a heartbeat earlier.
Five percent wasn't enough.
He felt the calculation settle in, cold and precise.
Ten would do it.
He let the heat climb.
The world sharpened again, edges snapping into focus. The creature's movements slowed, each shift of weight telegraphed. Kael stepped inside its next lunge and drove his claws into the seam between plates, twisting hard.
The creature shrieked, sound tearing through the chamber. It reared back, flailing, hooks scraping sparks from the floor.
Kael pressed the advantage, striking again, deeper this time. The plate cracked.
The creature collapsed, thrashing, its movements growing erratic.
Kael stood over it, breathing steady, claws still out.
Something tugged at the back of his mind.
A narrowing.
He didn't notice Juno shouting his name until she was right beside him, hand on his arm.
"Kael!"
He turned too fast again. His claws stopped short, closer this time.
Juno didn't move. Her jaw was set, eyes locked on his.
"Enough," she said.
The word cut through the haze.
Kael blinked. The chamber rushed back into focus—the flickering lights, the dead creature at his feet, Mira standing rigid near the door.
He pulled his hands back, claws retracting slowly this time, like they didn't want to go.
"Ten," he said, voice low.
Mira stepped closer, careful. "And?"
Kael looked down at the creature. The kill had taken longer. Cost more.
"Ten was enough," he said. "Barely."
Juno exhaled. "And five?"
Kael shook his head. "Would've dragged it out."
Mira's eyes flicked to his shoulder, where his jacket was torn, blood seeping through. "You're hurt."
Kael glanced down, surprised. The pain registered late, dull and distant.
"I know."
They stood there, the chamber humming around them, the dead weight of the creature cooling at their feet.
Juno broke the silence. "So that's the line."
Kael nodded. "For now."
He turned toward the exit, already feeling the heat fade, the world widening again. The cost lingered, a faint pressure behind his eyes, a reminder.
Ten percent.
Enough to win.
Enough to blur.
He walked on, careful not to climb higher.
Not yet.