Regina Altureign was their de facto supervisor. She reviewed their findings with dispassionate, factual ruthlessness.
"Your correlation between harmonic distress and entropy propagation is statistically significant," she stated, pointing to their report. "Conclusion?"
"The Core is the source of the corruption," Sage said. "The process is inherently unstable. It's not a manufacturing flaw; it's a fundamental design flaw."
Regina didn't blink. "The Core provides ninety-eight percent of the continent's power and hydration. 'Fundamental design flaw' is not an actionable diagnosis. Provide a solution. Can the dissonance be dampened? Can the entropy be isolated and harnessed?"
Valentine stepped in. "Harnessed? It's a corrosive, reality-altering toxin."
"It is a high-density energy byproduct," Regina corrected. "Its properties are violent. Violence is a form of power. The question is one of containment and direction." She looked at them. "Your task is to solve the stability problem. Not to question the engine's existence. The engine is non-negotiable."
It was the clearest statement yet. The Syndicate wasn't trying to heal the sickness. They were trying to weaponize the vomit.
As Regina left, she paused. "Paxregal. Your initial structural reports from the Northern Tunnel were meticulous. That level of detail is required here. Focus on the mechanics you can measure. Not the philosophy you can't."
It was the closest thing to advice, or maybe warning, she would ever give.