It was no longer a tremor.
It was a ripple, spreading through him, uncontrollable.
Micro-control faltered in long sequences, bursts of power leaking involuntarily.
She felt it instantly.
Every pulse slammed into her chest with increasing weight.
Lungs constricted. Ribs burned. Heart hammered as though trying to escape her body.
Each micro-slip hit like invisible iron bands tightening around her.
She staggered slightly, pressing a hand to her chest.
Every flicker carried the full consequence of his internal strain.
The inversion magnified it—merciless, unyielding.
"You're… losing it," she whispered. Not fear, not accusation. Recognition.
"Not… yet," he said, voice clipped, low. But tension betrayed him.
Jaw tight. Shoulders coiled. Hands twitching uncontrollably.
The system leaned in. Invisible, subtle, precise:
Gravity shifted fractionally
Air density fluctuated
Temperature spiked unpredictably
Light bent and warped
Every detail designed to push him to the limit, test the cage's threshold, see the first full fracture.
Another pulse.
Sharper. Heavier. She felt the inversion pressing fully on her chest, ribs, lungs.
Her heartbeat raced. She staggered again, swallowing past the weight.
He hissed quietly, teeth gritted, fists curling.
Micro-losses repeated rapidly, harder to correct, internal friction building exponentially.
The cage strained, warning bells silent but deafening in the body and bond.
Her chest burned. Lungs tight. Every tremor pressed her further.
She pressed her hands against the wall to steady herself.
The first real breach… was close.
She could feel it—like ice cracking underfoot.
Every pulse from him, every slip, carried her forward into the unknown.
She swallowed hard. Determination flared.
Because when the cage finally shattered, she would survive it.
And the system…
watched patiently, ruthlessly.
Waiting for the anomaly to break.
Every micro-slip, every tremor, every pulse—
the fracture threshold had been reached.