Xavier took a deep breath, eyes half-closed in thought before glancing at the altar. "Alright, then tell me—how the hell do I wake this thing up or get it to start responding?"

The goddess's tone shifted into something softer, almost ceremonial. "Place the fragment on the altar."

Xavier stood, grabbed the fragment, and walked over to where the altar was stationed. He set the fragment onto it without hesitation.

The reaction was instant. The altar's runes flared, threads of golden light wrapping around the fragment before pulling it downward. A faint hum reverberated through the air as the smaller fragment sank and seamlessly merged into the larger core already resting on the altar. Sparks of red and gold shot across the room like veins of living fire before settling into a soft, steady glow.

A few seconds later, the goddess's voice filled the room again—calm, almost impressed. "It has indeed awakened before."

Xavier froze mid-breath, eyes narrowing. "Wait—what?" His voice came out sharper than intended. "You said it was dormant. If it's awakened already, that means…" He trailed off, his mind instantly connecting the dots. "That means there's probably a prophet bound to it. Which means I'll either have to kill them or make them yield to gain the power of the fragment."

"That would normally be true," the goddess replied, her voice now distant, measured. "But this case is… different."

Xavier's eyes narrowed further. "Different how?"

"The prophet it once chose," she said slowly, "is already dead. Perhaps due to shock, the fragment slumbered—it was wounded, severed from its vessel. When you placed it here, the altar's energy stabilized it."

Xavier exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So you're saying I don't have to go hunting anyone this time? But I wonder what that person had to go through and how strong was the bond between the fragment and the prophet that it went into slumber from shock. I guess we will never know the story."

"Correct. But," she continued, "the fragment is still healing. Tell me, was its form unusual when you found it?"

Xavier thought for a moment. "Yeah. It was smooth—shiny, almost perfect. No cracks, no spikes. But when I brought it…" He looked at the altar, where the merged core pulsed faintly with jagged lines of light. "Now it's grown spikes. Rough edges too."

"That's a sign of recovery," the goddess explained. "It's repairing itself. Once whole, its resonance will fully awaken. But you don't need to wait for that—its power has already been passed on to you."

Xavier frowned, his tone sharpening. "Then what power are we talking about? Because I don't feel shit. When I got the Power Fragment, I could feel it—like something shifting inside me. This one's silent."

"You'll feel it soon," she said simply.

"Soon isn't helpful," Xavier muttered, his voice carrying that mix of annoyance and curiosity that always came when he was being left out of something. "At least tell me what power this fragment gives."

For a long moment, there was silence. The goddess's altar stared at him, eyes glowing faintly, as if measuring what to reveal. And then, finally, she spoke a single word—quiet, almost whispering.

"Essence."

Before he could even respond, her presence flickered—and vanished.

Xavier blinked, staring at the empty air. "Essence?" he muttered under his breath. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Xavier gave the altar one last look — the red glow pulsing faintly— before turning away. Whatever "Essence" meant, he'd have to figure it out later. For now, there was a different kind of chaos waiting for him.

When he stepped out of his room, he was hit by a wave of scent — food, dozens of different kinds, some still steaming, some already half-eaten, some tossed aside completely. The living room looked like a battlefield of plates, boxes, and bowls stacked high across the table and spilling onto the floor.

Lyra sat in the middle of it, hair slightly messy, face glowing with warmth, both hands busy tearing through her next meal. The moment Xavier's eyes met hers, she just looked up for a second — silent, unfazed — and then went right back to chewing.

Lilia rushed over, her voice low but frantic. "Xavier, I don't know what's wrong with her—she's been like this ever since you went in. She's ordered so much food. And even though she eats a lot normally, this isn't… this isn't normal at all. She's—"

"I know," Xavier said quietly, cutting her off. He glanced over at Lyra again, then back at Lilia. "I'll handle it. You should rest. You've been buried in those university preparations for three nights straight, haven't you?"

Lilia hesitated. "But—"

"No buts," Xavier said, softer now. "Go rest. I'll take care of her."

She still looked uncertain, but his eyes had that same calm authority that always made her stop arguing. "Alright," she said finally, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Just… be careful with her. She's not acting like herself right now."

"I know."

Lilia gave Lyra one last worried glance before retreating down the hall. Xavier heard the faint click of her door locking a moment later.

He walked over and sat beside Lyra on the couch. The table between them was a disaster — boxes of noodles, steaks, curry, alien-looking desserts, even empty bottles of imported drinks.

Lyra didn't look up. She just held out her hand lazily. "Drink."

Xavier grabbed the nearest glass and passed it to her. She downed it in a single gulp and reached for the next dish.

He watched her for a while, not saying anything. There was something raw about it — her movements, her expression — like she was being pulled by something stronger than her own will. Xavier was witnessing how just a 'phase' can change a person so much.

After a moment, he asked, "How're you feeling? Is it still just the heat, or… something else now? Are you having a certain feeling in particular or something you really want to do and can't control, something taking over your instincts or something forcing you to do something you can't?"

Lyra didn't look at him. Her voice was quiet between bites. "I don't know. I just… want to eat." She stabbed another piece of meat, bit into it, swallowed, and continued in the same breath. "Everything tastes good. I can't stop."

Xavier leaned back against the couch, arms crossed loosely, watching her. The food kept coming — drones dropping off deliveries every few minutes — and Lyra didn't slow down once.

He didn't interrupt her again. He just sat there in silence, and watched her eat.

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