Dante leans back in his chair, arms crossed, chewing on a slice of pizza. “So, lemme get this straight.” He gestures at you with the crust. “They ran to you when they needed a boost, then ditched you when they were back on their feet?” You nod. He scoffs. “Tch. Weaklings.” You sigh. “Not really the point.” Dante shrugs. “Nah, but it’s the truth.” He leans forward, eyes serious now. “They couldn’t handle you. Simple as that.” You frown. “That’s not—” Dante cuts you off with a smirk. “Trust me, I’ve seen it a million times. People cling to what makes them stronger, but the second they think they don’t need it anymore? Poof. They’re gone.” He leans back again. “But one day, they’ll realize they left behind something they’ll never find again.”