Pressure
9th November, the year 334 of the Dawn era; Jyorta descended the flight of stairs through the narrow dungeon, hearing the sounds of his footsteps echo around. Even though he had gone through this region many times, his heart always began to thump faster whenever he stepped foot in it.
He was donned in a black suit of armour, its surface covered with hexagon shaped patterns, the material light and flexible. The armour was only three millimetres thick, paper-thin in considerations of armours.
The material also wasn't something to boast about, looking like it could be torn to shreds by the cumulating attacks of Tier 1 Frenzy Beats. But to Jyorta, this level of base defence was enough. After all, he wasn't a tank but an Esper.