The offer stayed open under the vault floor, and it neither pushed nor faded while he decided. That steady patience unsettled him more than any monster still pressing at the corridor.
Nox left the screen where it hung and knelt at the nearest mat.
His sealed channel leaned toward the load the moment the offer appeared, wanting it without being asked. The Void pattern had counted hundreds of compatible wounds and strained against the seal to reach them.
He set his palm flat to the floor and held the pull where he could measure it instead.
"Vasa, give me the real number and not the one you rounded off for the room," he said, his eyes still on the wounded man in front of him.
Vasa turned her slate until the running totals faced him. "Hundreds of wounds into a single channel, against a body that already logs strain faster than it clears, and you are sitting at twenty-one percent while you kneel there listening to me."
"The ceiling," he said.
