Tommaso broke away from the group and approached the edge of the plain where the solid ground they stood on met that expanse of packed earth scarred by electric cracks. His stone eyes lifted toward the sky, then lowered to the ground, then up again. His massive face betrayed no emotion, but Brando could see his concentration was evident.

  His lips began to move slightly, counting under his breath. "One..." A lightning bolt fell, illuminating the plain. "Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." Another lightning bolt. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." A third lightning bolt.

  The others watched him in silence, respecting his concentration. Tommaso had always possessed practical intelligence—the kind needed to survive when things became unpredictable. If he was studying something, it meant he'd noticed an important pattern.

  After counting about ten lightning strikes, Tommaso turned toward the group. His stone eyes gleamed with that satisfaction you feel when you understand something.

  "One every ten seconds. Always," he said, his rocky voice resonating with certainty. "But there's more. Watch the ground carefully three seconds before impact."

  Brando focused on the spot where the next lightning bolt would fall. For seven seconds nothing happened. Then, exactly three seconds before impact, the cracks in the ground began to glow more intensely, as if they were receiving energy from above.

  "The signal arrives three seconds early," Tommaso continued. "The ground lights up, then the lightning comes."

  "That means we can predict them," Brando realized, and there was a note of excitement in his voice. Finally something they could understand in this alien world.

  "Yes, but there's more," Tommaso said, pulling his gaze from the sky to observe each group member carefully. "These lightning bolts are aggressive and powerful. If we get too far ahead, if we mess up the timing by even an instant... well, anyone among us who ends up under one of those lightning bolts will die without a shadow of doubt."

  The words fell like boulders in the silence that followed. There was no drama in his voice, no theatrical emphasis. Only the absolute certainty of someone who had learned to recognize death when he saw it approaching.

  Eleonora nervously bit her lower lip and her fox ears moved slightly. "How... how accurate do you think they are?" she asked, and there was a note of concern in her voice.

  Tommaso answered without blinking.

  "Accurate enough not to give us a second chance. It seems these lightning bolts are programmed to target us. We just need to take a few steps forward and they'll start hunting us."

  A heavy silence fell over the group like a lead blanket. The air seemed to have become denser, charged not only with static electricity but also with the awareness of being in a place where every false step would be their last. Rusty let out a confused sound, almost mournful, while his three eyes moved agitatedly between the sky and ground, as if trying to decipher signals that only he could perceive.

  Brando felt the weight of that revelation settle on his shoulders like melting ice. But instead of frightening him, something inside him hardened.

  "Then we won't make mistakes," he said with a firm voice.

  Giordano nodded, unconsciously bringing his hand to the ring on his finger. The jewel pulsed with a faint light, as if responding to its bearer's emotions. "We have to be perfect. For Gaetano and for all of us."

  It was then that Tommaso noticed something else. His experienced eyes were cataloging every detail of the plain, every element that could be useful for survival. "Look at the towers," he said, pointing to the nearest metal structures. "See how the lightning doesn't hit them directly? They seem to... redirect the energy."

  Eleonora followed his gaze, studying the impact pattern. "Do they work like lightning rods?"

  "More than that," Tommaso replied. "They seem to be checkpoints. Safe points."

  It was at that moment that Eleonora did something no one expected. With the speed and agility she had developed in twenty years of survival, she began counting aloud.

  "Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!"

  Boom!

  A lightning bolt struck the ground hard.

  Eleonora launched into a lightning-fast sprint toward the nearest tower thanks to her legs that propelled her forward with violent feline grace. Her feet barely touched the cracked ground, dodging the most luminous veins by pure instinct. In exactly five seconds she reached the perimeter of the metal tower, throwing herself within its range of action just as the ground cracks began to glow.

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  Three seconds later, a lightning bolt tore through the sky, but instead of incinerating a precise point on the ground, the bolt was captured by the tower as if it had been absorbed.

  "It's safe down here!" Eleonora shouted with triumph and relief. "The towers work as shelters!"

  There was no need to discuss. With perfectly synchronized movements, the rest of the group began their own countdown. All together, at the right moment, they launched into a run.

  Ten seconds seemed like an eternity. Their feet pounded on the cracked ground while the hiss of energy ran beneath them and their hearts pumped adrenaline. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. They reached the tower with two seconds to spare, just as the cracks began to glow with that intensity that announced the lightning's arrival. They huddled around the metal base, breathing heavily while the bolt struck and energy danced around them without touching them.

  "Shit," Giordano whispered with his hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. "It actually works."

  Alessio studied the other towers scattered across the plain with a military eye. "We'll have to jump from tower to tower. Like a timing game."

  Tommaso nodded, indicating the distribution of the metal structures. "Some are reachable in ten seconds of running. Others..." He shook his head. "Are too far away."

  "A real survival test," Alessio concluded, and in his voice was the admiration of a veteran recognizing a well-designed system.

  But while the others focused on planning, Brando noticed that Rusty was becoming increasingly agitated. The small Pseudo-Glacial wouldn't stop moving, his three eyes staring at something in the depths of the luminous cracks. Something that only he seemed able to see.

  "What is it, buddy?" Brando asked, crouching down to look into his companion's eyes. "What do you sense?"

  Rusty let out a low sound, almost a growl, while continuing to stare at the veins of energy that pulsed beneath their feet. His eyes moved frantically, as if following something invisible that moved beneath the plain's surface.

  For the next twenty minutes, the group moved across the electric plain like a perfectly oiled machine. Alessio evaluated the route, identifying the safest paths and calculating distances and times with precision. Brando, Rusty, and Giordano covered the flanks and kept their eyes constantly moving to spot unexpected dangers. Eleonora and Tommaso formed the rearguard, she with her feline agility ready to sprint in case of emergency, he with his stone endurance ready to protect the group from any threat.

  The rhythm had become hypnotic: ten seconds of relative safety during which they ran toward the next tower, three seconds of warning during which they prepared for impact, then the lightning that illuminated the plain and temporary shelter within the metal tower's protective perimeter. It was a deadly march steeped in electrical energy.

  "Tower fifty meters away, northwest direction!" Alessio shouted during one of their sprints, his voice cutting through the electric air. "Perfect timing! Keep it up!"

  Brando felt his lungs burning as his feet pounded the cracked ground. Every step was calculated and every movement had a precise purpose. After all, they had said it: they had to be perfect. There was no room for error in this level. One second delay, a wrong distance assessment, a moment of hesitation, and everything would end in a flash of light.

  "Three seconds!" Tommaso yelled, and the group threw themselves within the tower's perimeter just as the cracks began to glow.

  The lightning struck with its usual surgical precision, and energy danced around the metal structure in arcs of pure power. Brando leaned against the tower's base, breathing heavily. Giordano was beside him, sweat running down his forehead despite the plain's cool air.

  "We're getting good at this," Giordano said, a tired smile lighting up his face. "Almost too good."

  "Don't let your guard down," Alessio warned him, already studying the next tower. "The moment we start feeling safe is the moment we make mistakes."

  What Alessio said was absolutely right, but while the others planned their next move, Brando noticed something was changing in Rusty. The small Pseudo-Glacial no longer participated in their sprints with his usual energy. His movements had become mechanical, almost robotic. And his three eyes wouldn't stop staring at the luminous cracks in the ground, as if following something moving beneath the surface.

  "Next tower forty meters away," Eleonora announced, pointing to a structure that stood isolated in a particularly dense zone of electric cracks. "We should make it in eight seconds."

  "Two-second safety margin," Tommaso confirmed. "Doable."

  The group prepared for the next jump. The lightning struck, energy dispersed, and they began the countdown. "Ten... nine... eight..."

  But during the seventh second, when they were halfway to the next tower, Rusty suddenly stopped.

  Not a gradual slowdown. Not hesitation. He stopped abruptly, as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain. His three eyes fixed on something the others couldn't see, something that seemed to be in the exact center of an exposed zone of the plain, where the luminous cracks intersected forming a complex geometric pattern.

  "Rusty! Move!" Brando shouted with primal force. The mental countdown continued in his head. Six seconds. Five seconds. Four seconds.

  But Rusty was as if in a trance. He moved slowly, deliberately, toward the center of that exposed zone. His steps were measured, precise, as if following instructions only he could hear. The luminous cracks beneath him began to pulse more intensely, reacting to his presence.

  "NO!" Brando turned, ready to go back, ready to throw himself into the dangerous zone to save his companion.

  But the cracks were already glowing. The three-second signal announcing the lightning's arrival.

  "Brando, no!" Giordano grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the tower. "It's too late!"

  The lightning fell with supernatural precision. It didn't randomly strike the zone where Rusty was. It sought him and found him. It wrapped him in a column of pure electrical energy that illuminated the entire plain like starlight. The light was so intense that Brando had to close his eyes, but even through closed eyelids he could see the glow burning on his retina.

  "Rusty!" Giordano started moving toward the impact point, but Alessio stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

  "Wait!" The veteran shouted. "Something's wrong!"