The stone archway of Subterranean Gate Nine screeched like tearing iron as its spatial aperture shrank by six inches every second.
Violent arcs of crimson lightning crackled along the outer rune rings, illuminating the panicked faces of eleven hundred refugees sprinting down the tunnel.
Nox skidded to a halt before the gate console, his eyes taking in the terrifying cascade of error codes scrolling across the terminal.
"Toll calculation formula: exponential escalation per organic entity," Vasa shouted over the deafening alarm horns.
"The machine network set the price to one million mana crystals for the final hundred people," Diana said, her face pale as psionic static buzzed around her hands.
"The gate throat will collapse in less than forty seconds at this rate of spatial degradation," Captain Dennis warned, pointing his sword at the warping portal vortex.
