Zennor's smile vanished. The cards in his hand felt like cold lead. “Two days. Forty-eight hours. A tight schedule for ‘The Grand Prestige,’ even for me.” He tossed the deck onto the holographic console with a sharp *clack*. “The central node, Karys. Where is it?” “Not the node,” she corrected, already pulling up new schematics. “That’s the control point. The gas flow originates from the primary kinetic-harvesting plants. Massive subterranean conduits, pressure-fed directly from the city's power core. If we can sabotage the main valve, shut down the flow, we buy ourselves time.” A single, pulsing red dot appeared on the map, far below the gleaming spire of the Vexillion Citadel. “The Core Nexus. Heavily guarded, probably automated to hell, but it's our only shot." "The Core Nexus," Zennor mused, lifting his chin. “A fitting stage for a quick, if unscheduled, interlude. Lead the way, my dear assistant. Time for us to descend into the abyss.” The portal shimmered, an archway manifesting beside an abandoned maintenance shaft in the Under-Grid's rusted industrial sector. Ozone bit their lungs as they descended alongside the distant rumble of dynamos. The subterranean hub sprawled beneath Vintara, where colossal plasma turbines hummed with bone-shaking force. Ribbons of static arced between conduits, drenching iron pillars in pale blue glare. At its heart, a monolithic valve, the size of a small airship, pulsed ominously, its pressure gauges ticking steadily upwards. “That’s it,” Karys yelled over the roar of the turbines, pointing to the gargantuan valve. “The primary flow regulator. We need to override it manually, then disable the pressure pumps.” She unslung her rifle, its dark casing catching the glare. "I'll cover you. Reach the control console on the catwalk." Zennor nodded, his `Infinite Top-Hat` already expanded, swallowing the ambient light into its inky depths. He moved with a dancer’s grace, weaving through the maze of humming machinery, a phantom in the blue glow. He was halfway across a precarious gantry, his fingers already tracing the outlines of the archaic override panel, when the cavern’s industrial symphony was abruptly punctuated by a sharp, guttural growl. Four mechanical beasts, their skeletal frames reinforced with chrome, surged from behind coolant tanks. Crimson optics flickered above chittering jaws that rattled against the grated floor. Behind them stepped Praxus Vull, his grafted arm haloed in violent static, teeth bared. “Well, well. The phantom of the Under-Grid. We meet again, Zennor Fent. Cutting it rather close, aren’t we?” Karys fired immediately, her weapon spitting tracers that punched into the lead machine, throwing sparks across sheared plating. The quadruped staggered, but the pack surged forward, pistons driving their jaws. Caught between Praxus and the constructs, Zennor wheeled, flicking three razor-edged slips from his coat. They sheared the air in whistling arcs. Two severed optical cables in twin bursts of copper wire; the third bounced harmlessly off a reinforced skull plate with a ringing clang. Praxus lunged, extending an electrified blade. Zennor ducked as the edge sheared cleanly through the gantry rail, trailing molten slag. He retaliated with a flurry of cards, forcing Praxus to bat them away with an armored bracer in a clatter of deflected steel. Every twist was measured for spectacle, drawing the strike inches short of his collar. One of the chrome beasts slipped past Karys, leaping onto the gantry and sinking its steel incisors into Zennor's calf. Iron teeth bit into muscle, tearing through his trousers. He smashed his heel into its snout until metal cracked free, but the stumble left him open. Praxus drove his edge forward. Zennor wrenched backward, yet the static fringe scorched his ribs, leaving smoking wool and blistered flesh. Karys emptied her magazine in a desperate staccato, but the remaining beasts closed the gap. Her firing pin struck dry with a hollow click. She reached for a fresh drum, but a chrome flank slammed into her ribs, pinning her against a copper conduit and knocking her weapon skittering over the catwalk. Praxus shifted his target, swinging the flat of his blade in a brutal downstroke. The impact shattered bone just above Karys's knee with a dull crack. Her scream broke against the grinding turbines as dark crimson soaked through her trousers. She clawed at the grating, but her limb buckled beneath her. Seeing her crumple, Zennor lost the beat. No stagecraft, no audience cue, no calculated timing remained. "KARYS!" The cry ripped unpolished from his chest. He abandoned the override panel, abandoning the duel with Praxus. He vaulted the railing, slamming boots-first onto the lower platform beside her, his props forgotten. Ignoring his bleeding ribs and the closing constructs, he hauled her upward by the shoulder. "Get up! Come on!" [ERROR: Theatrical immersion broken. Character exposed.] [Act V: Stage Fright Initiated.] [Debuff: Vocal Paralysis. Blindness.] Silence. Utter, complete silence. The roar of the floor, the metal scraping, Praxus's voice—everything dropped out into total dead air. Absolute blackness swallowed his vision. Zennor stumbled, his hands flailing, the world dissolving into nothingness. His carefully constructed reality, his reality-bending props, his senses – all ripped away in an instant. The `Razor Deck` in his hand felt like useless scraps of metal, his `Infinite Top-Hat` just a felt ornament. He could not see his own hands. His vocal cords refused to draw tension. “Zennor? What… what happened?” Karys’s voice was a strained whisper, closer now. She gripped his coat, hauling her broken leg forward along the plates. "I can't see! I can't... talk." He tried to answer, but his throat produced only dry air. He reached out, blindly searching, and his hand connected with her arm. Her blood soaked hot against his fingers. "Gods above, what did you do?" she hissed. "Where's the door?" Karys hauled him toward the coordinates where the Backstage entrance had opened. Every scrap of grating dug into her fractured knee, but she shoved Zennor forward, his tailored coat coated in grime and running red. The automatons padded across the gangway behind them, claws clinking on metal alongside the heavy stomp of Praxus's boots. A draft of still air brushed Karys's knuckles—the perimeter of the threshold. Karys threw her shoulder forward, pitching them both across the seam into the dressing room just as the primary conduit outside shrieked and tore open. A blast of pressurized gas slammed against the closing threshold, cutting off the industrial cavern behind them. Karys collapsed across the velvet carpet, pulling Zennor onto the floorboards. The seal held, but beyond the hidden frame, the tunnels were filling with poison, cutting off their return to the Under-Grid.