The silence that settled after that alignment wasn't heavy—it was functional. Each person there had already accepted their role, had already internalized what needed to be done, and now the atmosphere carried a focused, almost strategic quiet. The soft clinking of cutlery returned to fill the space for a few moments, not as a distraction, but as a natural interval between decision and action.

Damon was the first to break this rhythm.

He placed his hands on the table and stood up slowly, the movement fluid, controlled, as if his body were already completely recovered—and, in fact, it was. The slight tiredness that remained was more mental than physical, and even that was beginning to dissipate under the momentum of what was to come.

"I'm going to train a little," he said casually, but with a clear intention behind the words. It wasn't just habit. It was necessity. After what he had faced the previous night, after feeling his own body fail in such an… invasive way, he didn't intend to remain still.

Ester looked up immediately, assessing him.

"Training?" she repeated, with a slight tension in her voice. "After yesterday?"

Damon shrugged, already beginning to walk around the table.

"Precisely because of yesterday."

Aria followed him with her gaze, her smile softer now, less provocative.

"Are you going to try to figure out how not to get destroyed by sound next time?"

He chuckled softly through his nose. "Something like that."

Morgana didn't say anything immediately, but her eyes followed him attentively, analyzing more than just his words.

There was a concern there—not evident, not exposed—but present. Still, she didn't stop him. She knew it wouldn't do any good.

Elizabeth, for her part, simply observed in silence, her fingers intertwined on the table, her gaze fixed on him with a calm intensity, as if registering something that hadn't yet been said.

Damon was just a few steps from the door when— Something changed.

Without warning.

His vision… faltered.

Not completely.

But it distorted.

As if an invisible layer had been superimposed on reality, creating a strange effect, almost imperceptible at first glance, but impossible to ignore when he concentrated.

And then—

The message appeared.

Straight onto his retina.

Clear.

Cold.

Impossible to confuse with anything else. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

[Initiating global update]

Time didn't stop.

But, for Damon—

It seemed to.

His step faltered.

Minimally.

Almost imperceptible to anyone observing from the outside.

But inside—

Everything froze.

"What…" he began to murmur, more to himself than to anyone there.

The voice came next.

Not external.

Not audible to others.

But present.

Inside his mind.

Direct.

Absolute.

[Do not interrupt.]

The impact was immediate.

It wasn't pain.

It wasn't like the sonic attack.

It was… blackout.

His eyes lost focus.

His body—

Given way.

Without resistance.

Without any attempt at recovery.

It was abrupt.

Total.

Damon simply fell.

The sound of the impact against the floor echoed through the dining room with a dry violence that completely shattered the balance of the environment, causing all the women to react instantly.

"DAMON!"

Morgana's voice was the first to cut through the air, laden with a despair she didn't try to hide, her body already moving before she even finished speaking. She knocked over the chair as she stood up, running to him and falling to her knees beside him, her hands immediately going to his face, trying to lift it, trying to force any kind of response.

"Damon! Hey— look at me, Damon!"

But he didn't respond.

There was no reaction.

His eyes were open… but empty.

Unfocused.

Absent.

And that—

Was worse.

Esther arrived soon after, her posture rigid, but her quick and precise movements betraying the urgency of the situation. She crouched on the other side, her hand already going straight to his pulse, checking the rhythm, the pressure, any vital sign that might indicate what was happening.

"Pulse… stable," she murmured, more to herself than to the others, but her voice carried no relief. "Breathing… normal… but—"

She frowned.

"He's not responding."

Aria also approached, more slowly, but with her gaze completely focused, observing every detail of the situation with an attention unusual for her usual lightness.

"This isn't a common fainting spell," she said, crouching down beside Morgana, her fingers hovering near his face, but not yet touching it, as if analyzing before acting. "His body didn't… react."

Elizabeth was the last to move.

But when she did—

It was direct.

Without hesitation.

She approached with firm steps, kneeling beside them, her presence immediately altering the chaotic rhythm that was beginning to form. Her eyes were fixed on Damon, but there was no panic in them.

There was… control.

"Step back a little," she said, her voice firm, clear.

Morgana hesitated for a second.

But obeyed.

Elizabeth brought her hand to Damon's face, positioning her fingers precisely along his jaw, tilting her head slightly to better assess his breathing, his eye response, any micro-reaction.

"Damon," she called, her tone low but full of authority. "Answer."

Nothing.

No reaction.

Not the slightest movement.

And then—

She narrowed her eyes.

Something was wrong.

But not in the way she expected.

"This isn't physical," she said finally, her voice lower now.

Esther looked at her.

"Then what?"

Elizabeth didn't answer immediately.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, analyzing.

Calculating.

"Something shut him down," she murmured.

Aria tilted her head slightly.

"Shut him down… how?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied. "But it wasn't external."

Morgana gently cupped his face in her hands.

"Then wake him up!" she said, her voice faltering slightly now. "Do something!"

Esther was already adjusting his position, laying him more firmly on the ground, ensuring there was no airway obstruction, while her eyes remained alert for any change.

"He's not in immediate danger," she said. "But this… isn't normal."

"Of course it's not normal!" Morgana retorted, her breathing quickening, her eyes still fixed on him. Aria finally touched his arm lightly, as if testing some kind of energetic response, something beyond the physical.

"It's like he's not… here," she murmured.

Elizabeth didn't look away.

And then—

For the first time—

There was something different in her expression.

Not fear.

But…

Real worry.

Because that—

She didn't recognize it.

And that was rare.

Very rare.

"Damon…" she called again, quieter now.

But there was no answer.

And the silence that followed— Was worse than any scream.

Because for the first time since it all began— They didn't know what was happening.

And that— Was dangerous.

The darkness didn't come as a blackout.

It came… as absence.

Damon opened his eyes—or at least he felt like he had—but there was no difference between before and after. There was no light. There was no shadow. There was no form. It was an absolute void, as if the very concept of space had been removed, leaving only consciousness adrift in something that couldn't be defined.

For a brief moment, he didn't move.

Not because he couldn't.

But because he was understanding.

Feeling.

Processing.

"…of course," he murmured, his own voice sounding strangely clean in that nothingness, without echo, without resistance, as if it simply existed without needing to travel anywhere. "It had to be this."

Then he stood up.

Or rather—

He assumed a standing position.

There was no ground beneath his feet, but there was no fall either. It was as if the very act of deciding to stand was enough to make it a reality in that space.

And then—

Something appeared.

Not as light.

Not as an object.

But as information.

Right in front of you.

Clear.

Unchanging.

[Incubus System recreated]

Damon stared at it silently for a few seconds.

His eyes scanned the message as if expecting something else to emerge along with it—some detail, some explanation, anything to justify this absurd timing.

Nothing came.

And then—

He let out a laugh.

Low.

Disdainful.

"Seriously…?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed the sentence as if he were facing something profoundly inconvenient. "Now you decide to show up?"

He ran a hand over his face, sighing afterward, the gesture more of irritation than weariness.

"This piece of junk hasn't worked properly for weeks," he continued, not mincing words. "It disappears, reappears, freezes, does whatever it wants… and now it decides to rebuild itself in the middle of all this?"

Silence.

The message didn't change.

No reply.

No reaction.

As always.

Damon exhaled slowly through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief second before opening them again, his gaze now more direct, more focused.

"…whatever," he said, shrugging.

A pause.

Short.

"It doesn't matter."

He leaned slightly forward, as if speaking directly to it, as if hoping that—this time—he would be heard.

"Send it back."

Nothing happened.

No change.

No reply.

For a second—

He almost believed he would be ignored again.

But then—

The message changed.

Simple.

Direct.

Cold.

[System denies.]

Silence.

And then—

Damon laughed.

Not annoyed.

Not surprised.

But… genuinely amused.

"…denying?" he repeated, with a slight arch of an eyebrow. "Are you denying me now?"

He put his hand to the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side as if evaluating that response from an almost curious point of view.

"Look… it's evolved."

His eyes returned to the message.

And the smile remained.

"Not that it makes a difference," he continued, his tone light, but with a firm undertone. "I'm not asking for permission."

A pause.

And then, with the same naturalness as someone commenting on something trivial:

"I just want to leave."

Silence.

Again.

But this time—

It didn't last.

The message changed again.

Without warning.

Without transition.

[System updating body.]