Raora Panthera, a beeg cat who needs no introduction had finally entrapped Advent into The Cell to fulfill Justice's purpose in a final, decisive brawl between good and evil.

But, as Advent were thrown into their back foot, The Archiver, in a last ditch effort to spite the world that had turned their back on Advent, cursed Raora—as she all of a sudden felt her connection to all her Chattini went null.

The fight had ended, the people flooding streets cheered at Justice's triumphant victory, but... Raora was left at the scene, static. Her heartbeat throbbed in her mind, the tips of her fingers cold, knees buckling to fall dead that very moment. What... happened to Chattini?

No longer lively as the beacon and pink ray of hope that she was, having been felled with a depression that impaled her in and out. Streaming became a bust for obvious reasons, her connection with Justice was slashed, and all she left was a room that wasn't short of now plushies of Chattini, surrounding the Italian artist like a valley of a never ending reminder of her faults.

Whilst Raora had fallen on her knees, clinging to a Chattini, expecting the plush to come back to life, to prove that these plushies weren't just plushies, but no one else believed her. At least not in the dingy neighborhood she went into hiding to. Rakra was sure they were alive... Raora knew they were alive, deep down in her heart... but each day, her doubts amounted.