I sat there for a second, waiting.
One of them was supposed to start. That's how it always went.
But none of them spoke.
They just kept staring. Like statues with eyes that followed you around the room.
I stabbed my fork into the roasted meat and started eating.
What the fuck is wrong with them? Is this some kind of intimidation tactic? Are they trying to guilt trip me with their eyeballs?
I chewed. Slowly. Took a bite of the rice. Tried the weird purple fruit—too sweet. Still, they watched.
Another bite. Another chew. Still silence.
Eventually, I got tired of pretending it wasn't bothering me.
I put my fork down, hard enough to make a small clink on the plate. Looked straight at them.
"Y'all just gonna keep staring? Like, the fuck?"
Sito was the first to speak.
"I told them what the princess said," he said, voice low but clear.
Then he paused. Dramatically. Like that sentence alone was supposed to carry the weight of the world.
I blinked. "Okay… and?"
They just kept staring. No reactions.
"See? I told you he didn't care. He's got 8th grader syndrome."
"That's fair."
"So… let me get this right." Omar leaned forward. "There's a giant thing in space—space!" He gestured dramatically toward the ceiling. "That almost caused the extinction of this world, and you're still choosing to stay?"
"Yeah."
He threw up his hands. "Alright then. If that's not convincing you, nothing will. I'm done trying."
"Yeah, I'm done too. It's pointless," Joe said.
"So, how'd the training go?"
I froze—confused, and a little… baffled?
"That's it? I thought this was gonna be another long conversation where y'all try to convince me to leave."
Joe shrugged. "What's the point? Are we supposed to sit here and beg you to come back?"
"You're right. It wouldn't have worked anyway. I just thought these last six days were gonna be you guys piling on the pressure."
Omar leaned back in his chair. "Seriously. If a reality-ending sky god that teleports continents into space isn't enough to change your mind, then, like… shit, man. You're delusional. Trying to get through to you is just banging our heads against a wall."
Sito chuckled under his breath. "We figured we'd give it one more shot. That's all."
I looked between the three of them, still chewing the last bite I'd taken. The shift in tone threw me off. For once, there wasn't pressure. No speeches. No "think of your family" or "what about the people who love you." Just… quiet resignation.
"I mean," I said slowly, "I expected another dramatic argument. Maybe a guilt trip or two."
"Been there, done that," Joe said, reaching for a piece of bread. "You've got your reasons. Doesn't mean we agree with them—they're downright stupid—but it's your decision."
"You're definitely insane," Omar added, "but I hope you find whatever you're looking for here."
Joe scoffed. "He has to find it." He looked at Omar, then at me. "Because if you don't, you traded limbo for hell. And you'll be stuck here."
Omar laughed. "Or the other option: go to space, kill an eldritch horror, go to the moon, find some space-time rocks to come back home. Nothing too crazy, you know?"
I chuckled—not because it was funny, but because I might actually be crazy. It sounded like the kind of adventure I wanted.
"Now that we're on speaking terms and not debating my life choices—what do your statuses look like?"
I was genuinely curious. If I got something broken like Space and Gravity, then they had to have pulled something insane too. And no one, no matter what they said, could resist taking a look.
"I know you guys looked. There's no way you didn't."
Omar spoke first. "Of course I looked. Joe did too, even after he said he wouldn't."
"That was just heat-of-the-moment nonsense, you know? The second I got in my room I said Status," Joe admitted.
"So what did you guys get?" I asked.
"My affinities are Hot and Cold," Omar said.
"That's it?" Joe asked, confused. "Not Fire and Ice? Just… Hot and Cold?"
He sounded underwhelmed, but I understood immediately how broken that could be.
"No," I said, voice rising slightly. "That's actually broken as fuck. Fire and Ice would be cool, but if your affinities are the concepts of Hot and Cold? You could be insanely powerful."
Joe narrowed his eyes. "Concepts? What does that even mean? Like, what can he actually do with that?"
I tried not to react, but my face must've given me away.
"Did this guy ever graduate high school?"
"Imagine this," I explained. "Not just freezing water or shooting flames. I'm talking about controlling thermal energy itself. He could suck all the heat out of a room until everything becomes brittle and frozen solid. Or raise the temperature so high that things don't just burn—they disintegrate at the molecular level."
Joe gave a low whistle. "That's broken."
"And that's just the start. Because it's temperature, Omar's not limited to just the extremes. He could create massive temperature gradients—like a wave of scorching heat followed by a chilling cold snap. Rapid expansion and contraction in materials? Things would crack or explode."
I turned to Omar. "You could manipulate air pressure and moisture by controlling temperature differences—turn fog into boiling steam, or make ice shards rain from the sky. You're a walking disaster zone. And it's not just destruction. You could absorb heat from wounds to slow bleeding. Chill muscles to reduce inflammation. Warm someone freezing to keep them alive in a snowstorm, or cool them down in a desert."
I leaned back, fascinated. "You could be…"
I stopped. The thought hit me hard.
"…could have been overpowered."
Because he wasn't staying.