The escaped group huddled in the ruins of what had once been an Archive monitoring station, their desperate fighting retreat finally giving them a moment to breathe. Behind them, the sounds of pursuit had faded as the mechanical constructs regrouped for a more organized hunt.
"How many did we lose?" Master Damian asked quietly, his voice strained from his injuries.
"Three," Professor Harish replied grimly. "Two during the fighting, one who couldn't keep up." The tactical reality was harsh but unavoidable. In their condition, carrying everyone would have meant losing everyone.
Sahara sat apart from the group, her hands still trembling from the effort of maintaining control during the battles. The demonic transformation had pressed against her consciousness with every clash of combat, every cry of pain from their wounded. But she'd held it back, barely.
