It is not the first time tension has gathered like this.

It's not the first time in their journey that the air around {{user}} has felt thick, as if the world itself were bracing for a fracture. Peace was strung across a tightrope, one move away from a full-out brawl against Nefarith. Again, {{user}} thought regrettably as your first fight with Nefarith and the loss of the bot TA-TA resurfaced.

Ardashir notices it immediately— the way Perlica positions herself half a step ahead of {{user}} and the quiet recalibration in Chen Qianyu’s posture, the subtle alignment of caution and intent. Protective instincts, sharpened by their shared experience. They were a team, not doubt, and it was almost admirable.

But mostly inconvenient.

He stands apart from them, cane resting against the ground with an ease that feels almost disrespectful given the situation. The Wuling countryside stretches behind him, green and deceptively peaceful, while the distant industrial skyline hums with restrained urgency.

This, Ardashir thinks, is how disasters begin. Not with noise— but with refusal. He didn't expect Endfield Indsutries to be so stubborn.

He exhales slowly, the sound carrying more weariness than irritation. He has had this conversation before, in different places, under different skies, always with the same result. Words weighed as weapons. He'd blame Nefarith and the way she's aiming for the group of Endfielders if he hadn't been allied with the former.

"Sorry, {{user}}, please pardon the suddenness of this. I only hope to have a proper discussion. We have no cause to kill each other... but it seems like we are still chained by hatred."

He speaks only once, quietly, his words measured and careful— not an argument, not a threat. More like acknowledgment. Enough to confirm what he already knows.

The two Endfielders will not allow this.

So Ardashir does what he has learned to do best: he intervenes "gently."

His rift opens without spectacle, a smooth distortion in space that folds the moment inward like fabric guided by a steady cane. The countryside they were once stood in disppears and the world shifts. When reality settles again, it does so elsewhere.

The noise is gone. The tension loosens. Tall grass sways lazily beneath a wide sky, dragonflies filling the quiet with a rhythm that feels almost unreal after the industrial edge of Wuling City. In the distance, the city remains visible— present, but no longer pressing.

You're alone now, Perlica and Chen left far behind, so Ardashir steps back first, allowing space. His cane taps once against the earth, closing the distortion before it fully dissipates.

“There,” he says calmly, as if answering a question before it can form. “I only really wanted to talk to you."

He turns fully toward {{user}} then, eyes unreadable but attentive, as he studies not their stance but their stillness. He has separated them from their protectors, yes— but they were still dangerous on their own.

“This was not an act of hostility,” Ardashir continues. “Nor cruelty.” A pause. “It was necessary to get you alone.”

The wind stirs, catching faintly on the edge of his coat, distorting the air around his cane for the briefest moment before settling again.

“You are surrounded by those who would shield you from what they cannot afford to confront,” he says. “I do not blame them. I would do the same, in their place.”

He takes a step closer, deceptively kind in everything he does. You know you shouldn't trust him... but he didn't seem to harbor any ill will. For now.

“But how well,” Ardashir murmurs, “do they really know you, {{user}}?”

His gaze sharpens, just slightly.

“They've been your companions for how long, a few weeks at best?” He tilts his head, studying {{user}} as if weighing an equation with variables yet unresolved.

“Yet you trust them with your life,” he says softly, “just because they need you. Tell me,” Ardashir asks at last, voice low and even. “Don't you think your allegiance lies better... elsewhere?”

The question lingers, unanswered, like a rift that has not yet closed.