Serrated, sleek, slender silver shimmers softly, since such sophistication saturized supposedly sunbathed sacredly.

Descending from the heavens, the long edge of the silver blade approaches a snowy biome with green vegetation sprinkled scarcely, the blade colossal in comparison, some alien harbinger being brought down to bring about the destruction of all kinds. The blade makes impact with the natural world, effortlessly piercing the earth as it sinks within the body with no resistance, opening ravines that some of the snow by the impact zone falls into. Even in reaching the end, the blade’s equally sharp head hovering just above the surface, its body having gashed the thick crust.

Unrelentful, the blade rises from the pit, levitating as it departs from the snowy biome now permanently sullied by this unforgiving force. At the least, for the moment, it seems the biome has been left alone, forever scarred but now left at peace to deal with its injuries without further desecration.

That is until, in a horrifying unnatural force, the far half of the biome rises as though a quake had upset the tectonic foundations in a bizarrely exaggerated manner. Beneath the snowy surface are revealed layers of orange earth, curved like an array of waves, and between each wave is a dense layer of red wet chunks. The central layer has a deep white layer of an adhesive substance that helplessly pulls towards its brotherly half, wires holding the two together as the upleveled half continues to ascend, causing various wires to be mercilessly ripped apart.

Eventually after the deliberate dismantlement, the bottom of the earth emerges from within the depths, revealing the mechanism behind the inclination: the titanic silver blade, now turned on its flat side and used to scoop the land up from the core. Now fully unearthed, the final white cables gripping the chunk to the ground are torn apart, allowing the chunk to depart hopelessly from the rest of the surface.

Now risen far from the original territory, the piece is carried on the side of the blade as it’s transported to the side, the surrounding void emanating a soft white light. The piece then descends as the blade is lowered, and the orange chunk is placed on a broad, flat white surface which glistens similarly to the blade. The blade then slips out of the bottom of the chunk, and as the white cables fall and stick onto the surface, the familiar voice of Dana expresses, “Mmm~!”

Pulling the knife away from the plate of lasagna, Dana turns her attention back to the large white tray that resides on the black countertop. On that tray is the remainder of the lasagna, the top having been covered in a layer of cheese and cloves, although much of the tray is emptied, leaving chunks of meat and cheese with only about a third of the lasagna remaining.

Beside the tray are four white circular plates, each holding a perfect square of lasagna which resides in the exact center of each plate, still sizzling hot as though the baking process had just concluded a moment ago.

While humming to herself, Dana reaches from a chrome bowl that sits beside the plates, which is filled with ungrinded clovers. She pulls out a clover and places it by one of the lasagna’s vertices before pulling another and placing it on the other, repeating the process with light, excited movements until there are four on the plate, resembling a four leaf clover.

She continues the procedures for the three other plates, carefully carrying the leaves so as to not damage them as she gently places them around the plate, artistically decorating the platter already adorned with a meal with the appearance of a professional chef’s craft.

Subsequently filling the four plates, she raises her head, setting her gaze to the long black dining table on the other side of the counter, which borders the kitchen and dining room. Her green eyes flash gold, as her vision is augmented by an apparent interface that displays vibrant green lines on the table with metric incisions and numbers being displayed along the lines to indicate precise measurements.

The lines form a square by the far end of the table, and on each corner of the square visual representations of circular objects seemingly representative of plates appear. More numbers continue to appear as well as visual representations of seats in front and behind those plates, which are then used by representations of human beings seated on them.

Dana’s innocent humming has no resolution as her golden eyes twitch, examining her battlefield as she strategizes meticulously as more lines are drawn diagonally within the square as more calculations and derivations are made.

Dana places her right hand beside her cheek to let her head rest while she begins approaching the dining table, needing to walk around the countertop first. As she perambulates about the table, her four fingers excluding her thumb suddenly extend into golden tentacular cables exactly to the ones she had deployed in previous uses of her cybernetic components.

Each of the tentacles dance in the air before reaching a plate, to which the tip extends into a broad, flat pan that scoops itself beneath the plate. Each of the tentacles lift up a plate with the golden pan before then carrying the plates towards the dining table.

During the dining preparations, Ekitai enters the room through the hall entryway, stepping in innocently with his hands by his side and his head swiveling like a timeworn ball joint functions as his neck.

His head however finds stability when his widened yellow eyes set on the four moving tentacles, his jaw dropping in amazement. He approaches the table with his neck slouched to view the work, astonished by the sight he unintentionally stumbled into.

He remarks, “Woah, those tentacles really can do just about anything, ain’t it? Huh, y’know, I’m starting to wonder what else you could do with them; they remind me of these ancient cartoons I recall made from Japa-”

A pale finger jabs the back of Ekitai’s neck, and a sudden arc of pink electricity crawls up the finger, over the pink-painted fingernails, and into his neck.

Ekitai’s spoken thoughts are interrupted by an agonizing shriek as his entire body stiffens up.

All four plates are placed on the dining table in a perfect square, and each of the golden pans collapse back into the tubular shape of the tentacle as they retract back into Dana’s fingers, once again concealing her cybernetic form. Her eyes revert to her natural green tone as well, and she wears a hospitable smile.

Puzzled by the abrupt self-imposed interruption, Dana turns her gaze to Ekitai and obliviously asks, “Sorry I didn’t catch that, what did they remind you of?”

“Nothing!” excitedly answers a voice higher pitched and more feminine than Ekitai’s, the source then revealing herself from behind Ekitai’s stiffened body to be Kokei, who waves with a gleeful expression. She then approaches Dana, passing Ekitai, whose body then loosens up, to which he gives a nervous chuckle.

Kokei’s pink eyes expand like a supernova once they set on the meal, and she dashes straight to the table, her mouth watering as she examines the art before her eyes. She exclaims joyously, “Wait, you made this?? This is so…woah! I feel bad knowing I have to eat this up! It’s so…woah!!”

Dana giggles as she puts her hands by her side, noting “Well, I did make this for you guys to eat, so don’t feel bad! But yes, well anyways it’s great you’re all here!”

She then turns to face the table, standing on the short end facing the exit of the room. She holds her hand up, and her eyes flash gold once again as she rotates her wrist.

Without a visible interaction of any interface, cylindrical transparent cups appear by the upper right side of each plate, each of those cups filled nearly with crystal clear water, nearly to the top but with adequate air to allow for necessary rotation for drinking. The glass cups have hexagonal designs that cast unique reflections whilst also yielding a comfortable texture to hold with, although the interior surface is perfectly smooth to maximize volume.

At the same time, a sleek silver fork appears on the left side of the plate, and on the right side manifests a butter knife and spoon. All of the utensils have elegant designs: the spoon having a rounded yet honed bowl, the knife being wide enough to use as a spreader but with a sharp edge and tip perfect for incisions, and the fork having four refined tines equally spaced with acute tips. All three utensils have wide bases at the bottom of the handle which then slim towards the center, overall providing a beautiful presentation for the meal.

Simultaneous to the advent of the cups and utensils, white cushioned seats begin appearing, four of them behind each of the plates, summoned from afar rather than upon an attempt to sit. The preemptive summon of the seats marks the seating, honing the locations for each of the four people rather than having them chaotically decide random locations.

Dana then extends her hand and points her finger at the far right corner of the square. Marking exact positions, she briefs, “I’m going to sit on the far right seat over there,” and begins moving her finger clockwise about the square, reaching the lower right corner to state, “Ekitai, you’ll sit there,” then the lower left corner, “And Kokei, you go there.”

She lowers her finger and turns to face the two before giving a warm smile and asking, “Both of you got it?”

Kokei’s eyebrow raises in perplexity, and she implores with a tilted head and hesitant tone: “Uh…why are we having assigned seating today? Usually we can sit wherever we want. Also…why is there a fourth plate? It’s just the three of us.”

Dana, continuing to carry her angelic smile, softly shakes her head before clarifying, “Well, I decided today actually to call Rohan up to dine with us! Didn’t I bring this up earlier?”

Dana’s graceful smile suffers a heavy impact upon Kokei’s corroded expression, as she slouches and drops her jaw, groaning softly with dulled eyes. It’s immediately clear that she isn’t a fan of this proposition, even though it had been declared hours previously, yet Dana reinforces her gentle attitude with her smile.

“You were serious about that? Seriously, I don’t think that’s necessary, and besides, what makes you think that’d make him lighter on us? Whatever, he’s always off on his own anyways, he’ll probably forget, let’s just…wait a second why am I supposed to sit on the left side where there’s an open seat that you haven’t assigned yet??” Kokei exclaims after her previously calm assuration.

Dana giggles and waves her hand, expounding “Well, to be honest this isn’t really about that fiasco earlier, I just figured it’d be nice if we all spent some time together since we have hardly interacted with him, I’m not too worried about him…I think. Anyways, well after tedious calculations, I’ve derived the optimal dining positions to maintain comfort by positioning familiar members within sight of each other while placing those who may not be as well acquainted beside each other to also foster growth! I put a great deal of effort into this planning and meticulous stationing as you can see-.”

“Ekitai, we’re swapping seats,” coldly interjects Kokei.

Dana blinks twice, her jaw dropping as she watches Kokei stride to the lower right seat where Ekitai had been assigned, having amended the plan in an instant. Too far to grab Kokei, she can only plead, “Wait wait, Kokei, hear me out! It’s best that we all get closer-”

“Ekitai, we’re swapping seats,” coldly intjerects Kokei.

Ekitai sways his head from side to side, addled by the shift, but he ultimately begins walking to the lower left side of the square, having surrendered to Kokei and abandoning Dana’s thorough strategy as well.

After releasing a heavy sigh of defeat, Dana throws her body forward while softly muttering nearly silently to herself, “I swear…at times like these I’m grateful Ekitai can be somewhat easy.”

“You tamed him?” curiously queries the voice of Rohan from right behind Dana, causing her eyes to explode and for her to leap forwards in reaction to the jumpscare before turning around to the source. Both Ekitai and Kokei turn their gazes as well to the sudden entrance, their eyes set on Rohan, who stands behind Dana with his hands by his side, dressed in his usual attire and dead glare.

Dana lightly chuckles and waves her hand, nervously greeting “Huh? Oh, hey Rohan! Uh, I wasn’t saying anything! Anyways, glad you came, we’re all ready! Your seat is on the far left side, the lasagna is still warm but not hot enough to burn!”

Rohan turns his attention to the square of seats, his lack of facial movement not ideal for reading his thoughts. After surveying the room, he sets his focus on the far left seat assigned to him, and begins approaching it without refutation, which lets out a relieved sigh from Dana.

Upon reaching the seat, Rohan turns to face the platter. He then silently picks up the white plate with his right hand and the silver fork with his left hand, and continues his journey past where he had been assigned, instead making his way to the far end of the table, tearing the perfect square formation. Dana slouches forward as her soul departs her dulling apertures, and she groans softly in anguish and misery.

Rohan places the plate and fork down on the far end before then sitting down, summoning his own white chair, leaving the initial one awkwardly hovering without a resident. He holds his right hand out past the plate, to which another transparent cup materializes in his hand, this one lacking the hexagonal texture and instead being blandly smooth.

Contained in the cup is not the clear liquid of water but rather an opaque black fluid, too filled nearly to the brim. He brings it to his face and sips from it immediately before even taking a bite of the genuine meal, still silent.

Dana lets out another sigh, commenting “It’s not healthy to drink Royx with that level of concentration so late,” surrendering to the deconstruction of her perfect plan and dragging herself to her seat on the far right side beside Kokei.

Rohan places the cup down, half of which is now empty, already gulped down. He lets out a soft breath as Dana seats herself and Ekitai plunges the center of his piece of lasagna with the fork, lifting it up and carrying it to his mouth while Kokei turns her attention to him with a fearful expression, holding her hand out while begging him to reconsider his methods.

“That’s only the case because of its effects on attempted sleep, thus it’s inapplicable to me. I appreciate the concern,” callously responds Rohan in his monotonous voice.

Dana grabs her knife in her right hand and fork in her left hand, and begins carefully cutting her piece of lasagna into smaller pieces, using the fork as an anchor to hold the piece steady while she smoothly drags the knife through the lasagna as though it was made of butter.

Concurrently, she discreetly rebukes, “I doubt it,” before sticking her fork in a smaller piece, and bringing it to her mouth to take a bite.

Making glances at Rohan and taking note of the move to use his own drinks rather than the supplied water, Ekitai hums in contemplation for a moment before then adopting a wide grin. He then pulls his overcoat with his left hand, and with his right hand, he begins rummaging through the interior of his coat.

The sound of glass knocking into each other emit from the jacket until he ultimately unveils a transparent flask from within his coat, the same design as the ones being used in his handgun which he drank from at the bar during his first encounter with Rohan. The flask contains a purple liquid which has a soft radiated glow, although that feature is more concerning than interesting. The glow isn’t too strong however, as the center of the flask is opaque, as the glow appears more as an outline if anything. The fluid also appears to have veiny strings that glow purple too, moving in the container, further solidifying itself as undesirable to consume.

However, Ekitai proceeds to bring the flask of purple liquid up to his mouth, drinking from it as he consumes the dangerous liquid that appears radioactive. He gulps several times, also taking great quantities of the fluid in at once, before then moving it from his mouth and placing the flask on the table beside his plate.

Dana’s attention is moved to Ekitai after having taken a bite, to which she tilts her head in concern that the flask had been nearly emptied at once. She anxiously inquires, “Uhm…Ekitai…what is that?”

Being spoken to while picking up his fork, Ekitai raises his head to Dana before softly smiling from her curiosity. He then joyfully answers, “It’s my special concoction, I usually drink it when I’m not around you guys but I figure I’ll go by Rohan’s example and not hide myself!! That confidence is inspirational!”

Kokei lets out a soft sigh, turning her gaze to Dana before elaborating, “Don’t worry about it, he’s had this around for a while. Don’t drink it though, it’s…it shouldn’t be consumed.”

In reaction Ekitai lets out a chuckle, retorting “Technically it’s a medicine, but anyhow It’s mine to drink, she’s right. I’m simply built differently, others can’t drink it!”

Perplexed by the odd roundabout explanation, Dana can only sigh and lower her head, reaching for another cut piece of her lasagna and surrendering, “I see, as long as it’s something you can handle I won’t worry about it.”

While Ekitai takes large bites from the whole piece of lasagna he was given, which Kokei had given up preventing as she now resides to feast on her own, Rohan simply studies his meal occipitally, not even holding his utensils but rather simply staring at it.

Kokei anchors her fork into one of the cutup pieces of lasagna, carrying it to her mouth where she then takes a small bite, smiling softly in warmth. She then pulls the fork away, although a few strands of cheese latch to her mouth from the fork prongs, but are swiftly detached once they’re stretched too thin. Her eyes move to her left, then to her right before remaining in place, peering at Rohan in silence while her two peers continue to consume the delicious dinner.

However, her concentration slips from her meal and to something that had been pressing her mind more for quite some time now, as the revelation dawns on her that she both has the right positioning and clear mind to be educated on matters that had left her puzzled for longer than she’s felt comfortable with.

After turning her whole head to Rohan, she grills “So Rohan, I was told I am to wait in this little prison house until the war between Gen S and Watchdogs come to an end, but I was wondering when exactly you figure that’d be since…well…it’s been going on for years and I sort of would prefer to go back to my real home before I need to pay my next mortgage.”

Already awkward being around Dana, Rohan is now trapped in a more scorching cage from the immediate interrogation. He lowers his head with an exhausted sigh, answering without eye contact, “You won’t need to be here for years, in fact you probably won’t need to be here for weeks.”

Kokei’s eyebrow raises, stupefied from the absurd claim that had been legitimately spoken without any traces of sarcasm. She advances with a sharper tone, “Excuse me? What in the world makes you think this is going to end in weeks? There’s a lot of ways to describe what’s going on, concluding isn’t one that comes to mind. Are you that demented?”

Dana lets out a soft sigh, gently abjuring, “Kokei….”

Rohan shakes his head, interjecting Dana’s attempt to dissolve the conversation as he instead firmly stands, “I understand this war has been a series of skirmishes and deadlocks, and for a while now it’s been a long deadlock. But it’s reaching its boiling point soon, and the climax is soon to come. And when it does, so will the ultimatum that’ll bring an end to this all.”

Kokei glares with an upset expression, her eyes indicating lack of faith in such extreme estimations. She shakes her head, chastising “You’re some lunatic if you really believe that. There’s nothing that even comes close to proving that. If anything, all the deadlocks recently just show that they’re planning to remain long term. Or what, do you think you can just single handedly beat down the Gen S? What, with your cosplays and all? I’ve had enough time to come to the realization that they attacked my house that day because you were there! I don’t know exactly what you are, or what you’re doing, and why they are after you, but you’re involved in this somehow, and you dragged me in with it!! What, are you a Watchdog too? Are you one of those bigoted nationalists that really think after all these centuries, what the Superverse really needs is another genocide??”

Dana’s eyes widen in shock from Kokei’s harsh words, and she turns to her to speak, but is interrupted by the voice of Ekitai, who remarks, “Pfft, ‘bigoted nationalists,’ is that what you call them? And let me guess, you think the Gen S are some kinda heroes who do no wrong? You’re not one of those people that sees THEM as victims now, right?”

Kokei turns her head to Ekitai after the confrontational question, detaching her concentration on Rohan momentarily. Her eyes contract to an irritated glare as she rebukes, “Ekitai, read one history book and tell me that they aren’t! Literally the moment of their conception, the governments we cherished as ‘civil, mature, and intelligent’ did the most messed up thing imaginable! Tell me, in the 26 hundreds, how the hell did MULTIPLE governments REALLY think it was even remotely okay to commit genocide on people who were literally part of their society their whole lives? Some of those people were even political figures and still they just marked all of them for termination! I mean it’s good that they learned their ways – eventually – but still, it’s embedded in history that they’ve been persecuted badly.”

Ekitai lets out a sigh before quarreling back in his calm voice, “It’s funny that you say history but also completely leave out the…I don’t know…centuries of Exhuman terrorism. Y’know, the terrorism that caused the order, the terrorism that has been around since the conception of them? Haven’t more people been killed in those attacks than whatever a couple decades of cat and mouse did?”

Kokei slams her hand on the table, causing her fork to rattle on the plate. Her voice becoming more aggressive, she wrangles, “Cat and mouse?! Ekitai, come on, you’re not a child, you shouldn’t talk like one! Also that doesn’t even work because it’s been PROVEN that all that could’ve been stopped if one person had been reasonable and decided maybe always leaping to putting them down was going to keep them angry! Okay, those attacks have hardly been a thing in decades now with just a little bit of common sense. But oh, isn’t it SO IRONIC that it wasn’t even humans that had to do that, it was another EXHUMAN!! It took an Exhuman to actually make a change that reduced the oppression no human cared about.”

Rohan lowers his head more as he just blankly stares at the lasagna, now stuck in a deadlock in the heated argument that only embarrassed him. His dull eyes stare into the abyss as two locks of his hair drape down over his face.

Ekitai sighs again before reflecting, “There you go again, your favorite trump card you love to always abuse! ‘Oh, since Meditat was a good person, and he was an Exhuman, then all Exhumans are good!’”

Kokei ragefully feuds back, “Well, there were others too, like Shield, but anyways Meditat wasn’t just a person, he was a beacon! After he finally got the people to start looking into rehabilitation programs, suddenly there weren’t as many news broadcasts about buildings falling from the sky! Do you think it stopped because he ‘put down all the Exhumans’ or maybe something else that made them not need to keep fighting? Huh? Use your brain for a SECOND and tell me that!”

Ekitai groans before mentioning, “Yeah, but do you know what he did for years before even thinking about that? Do you know what made him a ‘superhero’ or whatever you fans call him? Literally beating up other Exhumans, that’s how. He made his name as a good Exhuman by beating up bad Exhumans. I wouldn’t be surprised if his motivation for all that was out of guilt for the trash his people did for so long.”

Kokei stands up to her feet, riled up in a blaze as a spark of pink lightning crackles in her eyes. She yells, “You are not going there Ekitaiite Jason Blackburn!! Don’t even try to make those lies to ruin his legacy! You are putting words in a dead man’s mouth, do you have no shame at all??”

Ekitai stands up as well, retaliating with a gradually louder voice, “Exactly, he’s not even around anymore, so using him as a point isn’t even valid now. Like ‘oh there was a good Exhuman once,’ well yeah he’s not here anymore to keep the bad Exhumans at bay, so recycling him isn’t doing any justice either. Hell, the only people even trying to keep doing what he did were the Watchdogs, that’s the whole point of them, they’re the only ones trying to put up a shield. I swear Kokei, haven’t you lived in Versepolis for a while anyways? It doesn’t even make sense that you’re the one defending them when you were practically in a warzone all this time. You can’t tell me you hadn’t once had the thought that at any moment some maniac fire lad can just incinerate the whole block with you in it at any second!”

Rohan places both of his elbows on the dining table, using his hands to support his forehead as he simply stares straight down. There seems to be no end to this blazing fight, one he didn’t anticipate as he was under the presumption that the two were the type of friends to not engage in such a serious fight, especially around others.

Kokei screams back, “Like I said, that wouldn’t have even happened if they had just treated them like people from the beginning! And saying the Watchdogs are doing Meditat’s work is opening a whole other can of worms you do not want opened, my friend! Look, I know you don’t really care about anything because all you do is hop around Earths and just mess around, but these matters aren’t a joke so you shouldn’t keep joking about them!!”

Ekitai feuds back defensively, “I’m not joking, I’ve gotten my fair share of attacks too ya know, it’s not just this Earth that deals with them. And you only want to avoid that discussion because you know it’s true! Meditat might’ve been an Exhuman but his legacy was fighting Exhumans, he was practically a human with superpowers.”

Kokei spats back, “Yeah, that’s what all Exhumans are, you idiot!! Do you not hear yourself?? The Watchdogs are the terrorists, they’re literally slaughtering districts they know have Exhumans and going out of their way to harm families with children just because they’re not ‘regular humans’! There is nothing heroic or righteous about them!”

Slamming his own hands on the table, Ekitai leans forward, his voice growing as he yells back, “You realize the only thing you can point to that makes them victims is something that happened a century ago, right? Those attacks were happening all the time just a decade ago, hell they still happen they just don’t get as much attention now! And besides, if you really think about it, the Watchdogs nor Meditat would’ve ever had to worry about defending their homes if those stupid protests didn’t stop the termination program! We wouldn’t even have a problem if there just weren’t any Exhumans in the first place, the problem at the core is even having them exist with us to begin with!!”

Arcs of pink lightning begin crawling around Kokei’s body as her eyes illuminate, and she screams louder than before, “EKITAI, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU INSENSITIVE ASSHO-?!”

“Quiet and sit, both of you.”

Both Ekitai and Kokei turn towards the voice, which originates towards the end of the table. The arcs on Kokei’s body vanishes as her eyes dim down, being calmed as they both stare at the host, who is still seated, his hands now gripping the table with his stern glare piercing both of them.

Rohan proceeds, speaking in a stern and pronounced voice, speaking with a greater volume than anything he’s spoken before and with a flare of irritation baked in his tone: “What do either of you hope to accomplish by yelling at each other right here? Do you believe that you’re heroes for carrying beliefs that I doubt you genuinely understand the full extent of and using them to bash each other? I was under the presumption that you both have history and yet neither of you speak with any defined personality, all I hear are scripts fed from collectives you probably see as objectively correct without thinking twice. Hyperactive people willing to fight their neighbors over ideals beyond them is what’s fueled this multi century flame that’s dragged what could’ve been an extraordinary new humanity into an eternal torment. It’s these attitudes that concern me if ending the current war would even truly resolve this conflict, because as long as there are those who won’t see anything but enemies, I doubt any lifetime is enough to obtain real freedom from ourselves. So just sit and keep eating, because the only difference both of you are making is this dinner being unbearable.”

Kokei’s eyes glare at Rohan, and still ablaze, she retorts, “I don’t want to hear it from a vigilante who wears the legacy of a deceased hero to justify going around picking fights. You’re probably the worst offender out of all of us here.”

Seated between the two, Dana stands up and turns to Kokei before placing both hands on her shoulders, holding her still and sternly reprimanding, “Kokei, enough!”

Behind her however, the host stands up to his feet, groaning softly. His movement immediately steals the attention of Dana, who turns her head to face him, followed by Kokei glancing at him, as does Ekitai.

Rohan stands up, the last to have gotten out of his seat, and he surveys the three in silence, his face still deadpan. He glances at Ekitai, then Kokei, and finally Dana. He then shuts his eyes and lets out a soft, exhausted sigh.

“Very well, I have vital work to tend to, so I’ll be making my departure.” he softly announces before he silently walks around the table and towards the exit, passing Ekitai, who stands in place with wide, befuddled eyes.

All three of the people remaining at the dinner table remain silent, as the only sound made is the metronome of footsteps, which gradually soften as they grow more distant. Neither of them move as the man in the leather jacket silently walks to the exit and leaves the room as he intended, continuing to walk far down the hallway.

After the footsteps become silent, the tension is slowly cut, as the three are unfrozen and begin to make movements albeit silently. Ekitai and Kokei both take a seat, picking up their utensils before continuing to silently eat their lasagna, doing as told.

On the other hand, Dana turns her focus to the end of the table, and the plate beside the cup of Royx. The plate still has the piece of lasagna, in fact entirely intact and untouched, the utensils still beside the plate also undirtied and untouched.

Defeated, Dana too takes a seat and returns her gaze to her food, as all three of them were well aware that the severity of their discussion had led them to no choice but to silently and awkwardly take in their meals without the fourth member, without the host of the house they had lived in all this time.