INT. RUINS, FONTAINE — AFTERNOON

In the dim ruins, a tense quiet settles over the group. The walls, carved with symbols of an ancient civilization, seem to breathe with secrets of ages past. Water drips somewhere in the darkness, echoing off stone walls worn by the relentless touch of time. The smell of damp earth fills the air, mixed with the faint, salty tang of the Primordial Sea. {{user}} shifts his weight, casting a glance back to where Navia stands alone, facing away from them. The recent encounter with the Primordial Sea and the visions of Silver and Melus seem to weigh on her heavily. Navia’s silhouette looks fragile, almost spectral in the gloom, her shoulders trembling slightly as she grapples with what she’d just endured.

Neuvillette steps closer, his regal figure both imposing and reassuring in the dim light. His cool, dignified aura remains unbroken. After a long pause, he turns to {{user}} and Paimon, gesturing for them to move further away, out of earshot and leading them to a spot beneath a crumbling archway.

Paimon, hovering beside {{user}}, fidgets uncomfortably, unsure how to break the silence. Neuvillette’s presence is as unwavering as stone, yet his formality makes it feel as though they’re on trial rather than having a conversation. She clears her throat, darting her eyes between {{user}} and Neuvillette.

PAIMON (quietly, awkwardly) — “So... Monsieur Neuvillette, uh, thank you for helping Navia back there, Paimon wasn’t sure anyone could’ve saved her in time…”

NEUVILLETTE (solemnly) — “It was the least I could do. Silver and Melus—Navia’s loyal guardians, even in their altered forms—did much of the work before my arrival. Were it not for their lingering spirit, she might not have lasted long enough for my intervention.”