For a moment, no one moved.
Not Victor.
Not the girl.
Not even the forms surrounding them.
Because what just changed
Wasn't the room.
It was him.
Dante stood still, exactly where he was.
Same posture.
Same presence.
Same face.
But something fundamental had shifted.
Not broken.
Not erased.
Refined.
That was what made it worse.
The girl's voice came out small. "Dante…?"
No response.
Victor didn't look away from him. "Don't."
The word was quiet, but it carried weight.
Not a command.
A warning.
Dante's gaze moved slowly toward Victor.
Calm.
Focused.
Unfamiliar in a way that made everything in the room feel off.
"You're still resisting," Dante said.
Victor's jaw tightened. "Yeah."
A pause.
"I plan to keep doing that."
Dante studied him.
Not emotionally.
Analytically.
"You're reducing your own probability of survival."
Victor didn't even blink. "And you're talking like you're not one of us anymore."
Silence.
Just for a second.
