DRIP. DRIP.

Dante floated in the center of the pool.

The tyrant in him was quiet. Soothed by a peace so deep it felt strange.

The constant, grinding calculations slowed. The gnawing hunger for power was calmed.

For the first time, he simply... was.

Erica drifted closer. Movements shy. Hesitant.

As if afraid of breaking the quiet moment.

The glowing water swirled around her. The silver-blue light catching in her fiery red hair.

She stopped a few feet away. Arms wrapped around herself. Gaze fixed on the water.

"Dante?" she whispered. Voice barely a ripple in the quiet air.

"I'm here, Erica," he replied. His voice softer than he'd heard it in a long time.

"Are you... are you okay?" she asked. Finally looking at him.

Her eyes, usually burning with fierce, obsessive light, were now soft. Vulnerable.

Full of deep, real concern.

"The dragon fight... you were burned so badly. And your arm..."

"The water is healing it," he said. Gesturing with his remaining hand.

It was true. The water was not just mending surface wounds. It was seeping deep into his bones.

Soothing the phantom ache in his severed shoulder. Making the scarred flesh feel less like a wound. More like a part of him.

"This place is a miracle."

"I was so scared," she confessed. Voice cracking slightly.

"When the fire hit you... I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you."

He looked at her. At this girl whose entire world had seemingly shrunk to the single point of his existence.

The logical part of his mind saw her devotion as a tool. A weapon.

But in the strange, forgiving light of this grotto, another part of him felt something else.

Not love. Not affection.

But a quiet acknowledgment of her unwavering loyalty.

She was a constant in a universe of hostile variables.

"I'm not so easily killed, Erica," he said.

And for once, the words were not a boast. Just a simple, weary statement of fact.

He offered a small, tired smile.

"You of all people should know that."

A bright blush spread across her cheeks. A smile of pure, complete joy bloomed on her face.

It was a small reward. A crumb of affection. But to her, it was everything.

"Of course," Masha's voice, dry and sarcastic, cut through the moment.

She had drifted over. Dark hair fanning out around her in the glowing water.

Her intelligent eyes watching them with an unreadable expression.

"Even a river of dragon fire isn't enough to shut him up for long."

Erica's smile vanished. Replaced by a defensive glare.

But before she could snap back, Masha's expression softened.

The hard edges melting away in the grotto's gentle light.

"It's good to see you looking... human," she said to Dante.

Voice losing its sarcastic bite. Becoming something more real. More vulnerable.

"For a moment there, during the dragon fight, I didn't think you were."

"A leader or a king must sometimes wear the mask of a monster," he replied. "To protect his people."

She looked from him to Erica.

For a moment, the soft and light rivalry between them seemed to dissolve.

Replaced by a shared, unspoken understanding.

They were two different women orbiting the same dark star.

And in this single, peaceful moment, they were not rivals. Just survivors.

They stayed in the water a long time.

The water washed away not just their physical wounds. But the deeper, spiritual scars of their brutal journey.

They talked. Not of strategy or horrors.

But of small, simple things.

The taste of real food. The feeling of the sun on their skin.

Fading memories of a world that felt a million lifetimes away.

It was a fragile, temporary truce with their own damnation.

In that moment, Dante allowed himself to believe in the impossible dream.

A happy end.

But all truces must end.

With a shared, reluctant sigh, they emerged from the pool.

Their bodies were reforged. Minds clear. Spirits soothed.

They worked together in comfortable, efficient silence. Filling every flask and waterskin with the glowing elixir.

Their mission was a success.

They returned to the meeting spot. A high, windswept plateau of white bone.

Feeling like new people.

The journey back was light. Almost cheerful.

The easy, relaxed atmosphere that had been born in the grotto lingered between the three of them.

Dante found himself smiling. A real, genuine smile.

As Masha and Erica debated the best way to approach the Bone Dragon's lair.

"I still say we freeze it first," Masha said.

"And I say we burn it," Erica countered. "Fire beats bone."

"Ice makes things brittle," Masha argued. "Then we shatter it."

"You two could work together," Dante suggested. "Freeze it, then burn it."

They both stared at him. Then at each other.

"I suppose that could work," Masha said slowly.

"If she doesn't get in my way," Erica added.

And it was that scene. That single image of peace and friendship.

That Lana saw when they arrived.

For Lana, the waiting was a special kind of hell.

She sat on a fossilized bone. Her Serpent's Tooth crossbow resting across her lap.

A bright, cheerful smile plastered on her face for Jin and Talia.

They were a quiet pair. Their silent, love-sick glances a constant reminder of the closeness she craved and had been denied.

Inside, she was a raging inferno.

Every minute that passed was torture.

Her mind was a canvas for a thousand horrifying, jealous visions.

'What's taking them so long? The healing spring is supposed to be a simple mission.'

'Are they attacked? Is he hurt?'

'Or is it something else?'

The image of Dante, alone with them, was poison seeping into every thought.

With Erica, that pathetic, red-headed mutt whose loyalty was as predictable as it was sickening.

And with Masha, the cold, calculating bitch who thought she was his equal.

'I have to be calm. I have to be logical. That's what he wants.'

'He doesn't want chaos. He wants a partner who understands.'

The words echoed in her mind. A chant of self-hatred.

So she smiled. Made small talk with Jin. Complimented Talia on her daggers.

She played the part of the perfect, supportive teammate.

And with every passing second, the mask grew heavier. The rage beneath it building.

'Stay calm. Stay calm. Be what he needs. Be logical. Be useful. Be—'

Then, she saw them.

They emerged from a narrow canyon. Walking into the twilight gloom of the plateau.

And they were... happy.

Erica was walking at Dante's side. Her face full of a soft, glowing light Lana had never seen before.

Masha was on his other side. Her usual stern expression replaced by a relaxed, easy smile.

They were talking. Laughing about something.

And Dante.

He was smiling.

Not his usual cold, predatory smirk.

A genuine, relaxed, utterly devastating smile of contentment.

A smile she had never seen.

A smile that was not for her.

In that moment, the carefully built mask of the "changed woman" shattered.

The rage was a physical thing. A white-hot wave that washed over her. Making her vision swim.

She wanted to scream. Wanted to charge them.

Wanted to take her crossbow and put a bolt through both of their treacherous, smiling faces.

'He smiled. He SMILED. For them. Not for me. Never for me.'

'I changed. I tried. I studied. I learned. I became what he wanted. And he's smiling at THEM?'

But she didn't move.

She took a deep breath. Forced the inferno down.

Banking the flames behind a wall of pure, cold, patient hatred.

She was still changing, after all.

And she was learning.

She forced the bright, cheerful smile back onto her face. Ran to greet them.

Movements full of practiced, joyful energy.

"Dante! You're back!" she chirped. Voice a perfect imitation of happiness.

She threw her arms around his neck in a brief, possessive hug. Then pulled back.

"We were so worried! Did you find it?"

"We did," he said. His smile fading slightly as he registered the intensity of her gaze.

"The mission was a success."

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

She turned to Jin and Talia. "Did you hear that? They got the healing water! We're all set!"

She was the perfect, positive teammate. The picture of relief and joy.

But as Dante turned to speak with Jin about their mission, her smile vanished.

She looked past him. Her gaze falling on Erica and Masha.

And she let them see it. Just for a second.

The pure, unfiltered, murderous hatred in her eyes.

It was a silent, poisonous promise. A declaration of war.

Erica took a step back. Face pale.

Masha's eyes narrowed. Understanding immediately.

Then, the smile was back. Brighter than ever.

Lana turned to Dante.

"So," she said. Voice full of light, playful curiosity.

"Tell me everything. Your journey must have been so difficult."

"What happened down there?"

Her eyes drilled into his. Her cheerful expression a perfect mask.

For the single, burning question consuming her soul:

'What did they do to you? And what did you do to them?'

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