The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Atlantic in bruised purples and deep oranges, but the interior of the mansion was bathed in the warm, amber glow of the dining room's Edison bulbs. The scent of the grill—charred rosemary, garlic, and high-quality Wagyu beef—wafted through the open terrace doors, mingling with the salt air.
Chase stood at the head of the table, carving the steaks with the same effortless precision he had once used to dismantle divine cores. Beside him, Rixsa was busy pouring wine, her movements fluid and relaxed. She had swapped her emerald blouse for a comfortable, oversized cashmere sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder, revealing the smooth, sun-kissed skin Chase had spent the afternoon admiring.
"Alright, the 'Singing Spinach' has been silenced, and the potatoes are officially ready to eat," Chase announced, setting the platter down.
The group gathered around the table, a sight that would have baffled any observer from their old world. A fallen Commander, a reformed Noblewoman, a Divine Child, a Deadly Scout, and the Surgeon—all sitting down to a meal that didn't involve rations or the threat of a poison taster.
Alex sat between Kaelen and Vincent, her eyes wide as she looked at the spread. "It smells so much better when we aren't fighting for our lives! Chase, can we do this every night?"
"Maybe not every night, Alex," Chase smiled, handing her a plate. "I think my wallet—and my sanity—needs a break. But tonight is special."
As the meal began, the conversation flowed with an ease that felt like a miracle. Vincent, usually the most stoic of the group, was actually engaging in a spirited debate with Rixsa about the mechanics of the arcade games they'd played.
"The logic of the 'Street Fighter' is flawed," Vincent said, meticulously cutting a piece of steak. "The recovery frames on the dragon punch are too long. In a real skirmish, you would be disemboweled before your feet touched the ground."
"It's a game, Vincent!" Rixsa laughed, throwing a piece of bread at him, which he caught effortlessly out of the air. "It's about the flash, the style! Not everything has to be a masterclass in lethality. You need to learn how to have fun without calculating wind resistance."
Kaelen leaned toward Chase, her voice low and soft. "Thank you, Chase. For today. I haven't seen Vincent... light up like this since before the Siege. You've given him back more than just his life. You've given him a reason to live it."
"He did most of the work himself, Kaelen," Chase replied with a small chuckle, looking at the boy-commander. "I just provided the roof. You two provided the heart."
The mood shifted slightly when Alex reached for a cupcake she had brought back from Sienna's. "So, now that Chase isn't the 'Alpha's dog' anymore, what are we going to do? Are we going to be like a real family? Do we have to get a dog? Rixsa says dogs are just loud wolves, but I think they're cute."
The table went quiet for a heartbeat. The word 'family' carried a heavy weight for people who had spent centuries as tools or fugitives.
"I think," Chase said, looking around the table, his gaze lingering on Rixsa, "that we're exactly what we need to be. We aren't a legion, and we aren't a coven. We're just people trying to make it in a world that doesn't understand us. If that means being a family, then I'm okay with that."
Rixsa reached under the table, her hand finding Chase's thigh and squeezing firmly. "No dogs yet, Alex. Let's see if we can go a whole week without someone trying to blow up the driveway first."
"I can agree to those terms," Vincent nodded, raising his wine glass. "To our new familys retirement. May it be long, quiet, and exceptionally boring."
"To retirement!" they all echoed, the clink of glass against glass sounding like a final seal on their old lives.
But as Chase took a sip of his wine, his eyes drifted toward the study where the new OmniCorp terminal sat waiting. He knew peace was a fragile thing, held together by a thinning veil and the grace of hidden gods. He knew about the "Ascended" and the skimming of Essence.
But for tonight, as he listened to Alex's laughter and felt the warmth of Rixsa beside him, he let himself believe that the glass wasn't going to break, the problems of this world was not his to worry anymore.
"One more thing," Chase added, looking at Vincent. "The silk worked. She hasn't stopped touching the fabric all evening."
Vincent smirked, a rare, genuine expression. "I told you, Vance. Quality matters. Just remember the other half of the advice later."
Rixsa narrowed her eyes on them. "What advice? What are you two whispering about?"
"Just tactical textiles, Rixsa," Chase said, pulling her closer. "Just tactical textiles."