Maya shrugged, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll go talk to him."

  Her footsteps echoed lightly as she followed Sosuke up the stairs. The silence she left behind felt heavier than her presence.

  Alex bumped my shoulder playfully, but there was no humor in his eyes. "You made Sosuke your enemy. That's a no-no, man."

  I rolled my shoulder to shake him off. "Get off me."

  Annoyance burned in my chest. He straight up threatened to kill me. And what made it worse was how possible it seemed. There was no reason for it—not yet, at least—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Him killing me would just make things harder for everyone.

  I moved to the couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. I grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, letting the noise fill the room. Some rerun of Friends played, the laugh track loud and jarring.

  I whispered the words, "Dimensional Storage."

  The air rippled in front of me, a distortion like heat waves rising from asphalt. A small black void opened, no larger than a backpack. My hand slid inside, brushing against emptiness until I reached the end. Smaller than I thought. It could fit a few potions, some rations. Enough to help. If everyone carried some around, we could ration better. More importantly, it could help the support classes actually level up faster. If they could contribute more kills...

  I turned my head. "Hey, Isabella. You should make some potions for us to have."

  Isabella, already preparing her materials, gave a short nod. "Already on it."

  She stepped over to an open space, about ten feet wide, and summoned a cauldron with a sweep of her hand. It landed with a dull metallic thud, and she set to work immediately Her sleeves shimmered faintly with her summoned cauldron. She was going to be there a while.

  I leaned back, crossing my arms. I wasn’t some old man. Friends wasn’t my type of show, and certainly not after everything that just happened. My patience snapped. "Hey Desmond, let's go play some games."

  Isabella and Desmond were the two I could trust. The ones I could count on.

  Desmond adjusted his glasses, then nodded. "Sure."

  I opened the door for him, and he gave a polite, almost old-fashioned smile. "Thank you."

  The entertainment room hit us with a flood of colors and noise. Rows of arcade machines glowed with pixelated demos. Pinball machines clinked faintly in idle mode. A dartboard glowed with digital lights. Beyond them, the room stretched wider. Billiards, air hockey, table tennis, chess, mahjong, cornhole, even a full bowling lane tucked into the far wall. It was overwhelming, like a carnival condensed into four walls.

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  What should we do?

  Desmond scanned the room, calm, deliberate. Then he pointed. "Let's play billiards."

  Never played it before, but sure.

  We walked over. He carefully arranged the balls in the triangle mold, precise as a surgeon. I eyed the rack of pool cues. They all looked long—too long. At five eleven, I wasn’t short, but these felt designed for giants. I picked the shortest one and tested its weight. Heavy, but manageable.

  Desmond stood across the table, cue in hand, his confidence obvious. "You break."

  He looked like he knew he’d win.

  I bent down, awkward at first, but focused on the white ball. Aiming carefully, I struck. The crack of impact echoed in the room, scattering balls across the green felt. One solid rolled clean into the right corner pocket.

  I straightened up, grinning. "Yeah! That means I'm solids, and I go again, right?"

  He nodded with a faint smile.

  I circled the table, eyeing another solid near the middle right pocket. Just had to get the angle right...

  I struck too shallow. The ball kissed the wall and bounced wide.

  Desmond glided past me, his posture calm, composed. "I'm quite worried, son. In this place, faith is perhaps the only thing that can keep you sane."

  His shot was smooth, effortless. A stripe rolled straight into the left corner pocket. "And motivated."

  I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "Conversion isn't going to work."

  Desmond leaned over again, lining up his next shot, this time aiming not directly at a pocket but at an angle. "Why not?"

  The pool cue spun lazily in my hand—though not by my hand. Telekinesis twirled it around me like a baton, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Super low mana drain, too. That was fun.

  I thought for a moment, then answered. "Well, faith alone won't convince me. Even seeing this, it still proves nothing. Certainly not your god."

  His cue struck with another sharp click. The ball bounced against the wall, ricocheted perfectly, and sent a stripe sliding into the left middle pocket.

  Desmond straightened, his eyes meeting mine. It wasn’t just a stare. It was like he was looking through me—into something deeper, something past flesh and bone. "There's legitimate evidence for God's existence. Is it enough to prove without a doubt? No."

  He set the cue down briefly, resting his hands on the table, gaze heavy. "It's certainly enough to consider."

  I shrugged. "Maybe. I could believe that if this didn’t happen. If we weren’t stuck in this Tower."

  Desmond tapped his eye with one finger. A sharp sound rang out—like glass being tapped. "I can see many things you can't with these eyes now. But at the end of the day even I can't explain what's happening to us."

  He lined up another shot, but this time the white ball skidded wide, missing its mark.

  He stood, shoulders straight, voice steady. "The problem with Sosuke is that he has forgotten one of the most important lessons that God teaches. To not rely on yourself only."

  He rested the pool cue across his shoulder, as if it were a cross to carry. His expression softened, almost mournful. "This verse has been ringing in my head for hours. It comes from Corinthians. I quote. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. Even though we are fighting against great odds, God has not abandoned us. I know that may not be what you think, but it's what I know. We can get through this. We have the chance to get through this."

  He looked straight into me, eyes and conviction blazing.

  "If we just have faith."