The ruins of the Peace Summit looked less like a political negotiation and more like a war crime scene. Purple gas stains lingered on the walls, frosting oozed down like someone had murdered a birthday party, and Rei lay on the floor wondering if his toothbrushes were haunted.
The five women sat around the table (or what remained of it) in eerie calm, sipping tea as if the last twenty-four hours hadn't included: explosions, aerial duels, gas grenades disguised as cake, and Lilia's revelation that Rei had been engaging in "oral terrorism" for years without consent.
Rei groaned, lifting his head from the sticky frosting puddle. "Can we just… call this whole peace summit a failure and move on to literally anything that doesn't involve psychological torture?"
Drakana snorted, wiping cake from her claws. "Hah! Told you it wouldn't work, mate. You can't cage five apex predators in one room and expect 'peace.' We're natural rivals. Dragons don't share."
