The Iron Fortress tested them in ways the volcanic floor never had, three days of navigating mechanical corridors, fighting steam-powered constructs, and dodging traps that seemed designed by a mind that understood human weakness.
The party of seven had become a machine of their own, each person learning their role and executing it with growing precision, though the cracks were starting to show in ways that worried Dante more than he wanted to admit.
Leon's burns were healing slowly despite Sera's constant attention, and the tank could still hold a line but his stamina was flagging with his shield arm trembling after extended engagements. Sera herself was running low on the mana that powered her healing, her face pale and drawn from the effort of keeping everyone functional.
Seira kept finding reasons to be near Dante, which was becoming a problem he couldn't ignore much longer.
