Silas pushed open the creaky wooden door of his cabin, his boots dragging against the floorboards. His right hand was wrapped in a makeshift bandage torn from his janitor uniform, still throbbing with a dull, phantom heat from channeling Vera's Abyssal fire. His mana reserves weren't just at zero; they were in the negative. He felt like a hollowed-out battery.
He stepped aside, gesturing weakly for his two legendary companions to enter.
Aria stepped in first, her elegant white-and-gold dress brushing against the doorframe. She looked around the cramped, single-room cabin with a critical eye, mentally cataloging the tiny kitchenette, the single wooden chair, and the small bookshelf crammed with old developer manuals.
Vera slinked in behind her, her heavy gothic boots thudding loudly on the wood. She crossed her arms, her crimson eyes darting around the room suspiciously as if expecting an Admin ambush.
"This is your fortress?" Vera scoffed, kicking a stray data-crystal (formerly an apple) out of the way. "It is pathetic. A mere hovel. My dark presence alone threatens to collapse these fragile, mortal walls."
"It's a one-bedroom in an unregistered dimensional pocket," Silas groaned, leaning his back against the wall and sliding down until he hit the floor. "The rent is free, and the Enforcers can't find us. You're welcome to go back to the crater if the aesthetic doesn't suit your dark majesty."
Vera flinched, her arrogant posture instantly deflating. "I... I did not say I wished to leave! Do not put words into the mouth of the World-Eater! I merely stated that the acoustics are sub-optimal for my villainous laughter."
Aria sighed, an incredibly elegant sound of profound disappointment. She turned to Vera, looking down her nose at the shorter, chaotic girl. "Your volume is unnecessary, [Abyssal Ruin]. Silas's administrator core is severely depleted from stabilizing your erratic code. He requires a low-stimulus environment to run his recovery protocols."
"Don't you order me around, you overgrown dictionary!" Vera snapped, a tiny, harmless wisp of black smoke puffing from her lips. "And my code isn't erratic! It's delightfully apocalyptic!"
Silas closed his eyes, letting the headache wash over him. "Girls. Please. Just... let me sleep."
He pointed a lazy finger toward the only piece of furniture that mattered in the room: a single, twin-sized bed pushed into the corner.
"I'm taking the floor," Silas mumbled, pulling his knees up. "You two figure out the bed. Try not to delete each other."
Aria and Vera both stared at the tiny mattress. Then, they looked at each other. The tension in the room instantly spiked.
"As the senior resident of this sanctuary, and the one holding the largest archive of historical data, I naturally require the elevated resting platform," Aria stated calmly, taking a step toward the bed.
Vera immediately blocked her path, planting her boots firmly. "Senior resident? You've been here for a day! And my core temperature drops when I enter a dormant state! If I sleep on the floor, my thermal safety locks might glitch and incinerate the entire cabin. It's a matter of basic survival!"
"Your thermal locks are perfectly stable, you malfunctioning matchstick," Aria countered, her cyan eyes narrowing.
"Who are you calling a matchstick?!"
"Enough," Silas croaked from the floor. He was too tired to even open his eyes. "Just share it."
There was a long, horrifying silence. Silas finally peeked an eye open. Both girls were staring at him with bright red faces.
"Share a resting platform with this chaotic variable?" Aria asked, genuinely appalled.
"I'd rather sleep in an active volcano!" Vera yelled, her gothic persona entirely breaking down into flustered panic. "And what about you? You're the Administrator! You can't sleep on the hard floor. If your biological chassis takes damage, who's going to supply me with my daily dark-mana tribute?"
Before Silas could argue, Vera marched over, grabbed his jacket collar, and hauled him up with surprising, un-dampened strength. She dragged him over to the bed and unceremoniously shoved him onto the mattress.
"Hey—" Silas started.
"Quiet," Vera commanded, her cheeks burning as she crawled onto the edge of the mattress, pressing her back firmly against the wall to give him space. "I am claiming the inner defensive perimeter. To protect you, obviously."
Aria watched this with a look of supreme indignation. Not to be outdone by a piece of corrupted malware, she gracefully glided over to the bed.
"Very well," Aria said stiffly. "If the Administrator is to be the central server, I must remain in close proximity to maintain my Wi-Fi connection."
She sat on the opposite edge of the bed, her back stiff, leaving Silas trapped directly in the middle.
Silas lay perfectly still, staring at the wooden ceiling. To his left was a gothic weapon of mass destruction radiating the heat of a heavy blanket. To his right was an ancient, divine library smelling faintly of old paper and ozone. The twin bed was so small that every time either of them breathed, their shoulders brushed against his.
"This is ridiculous," Silas muttered.
"Silence, mortal," Vera whispered, her voice much softer now, her eyes already drooping. "The World-Eater requires a nap."
Within five minutes, the soft, rhythmic breathing of both girls filled the cabin. Silas felt the familiar, gentle pull on his mana circuits as they unconsciously tethered themselves to his aura for stability in their sleep. It was exhausting, slightly suffocating, and the most comfortable he had felt in ten years.
As he finally drifted off to sleep, one thought crystallized in his tired mind: I really need to build a bigger house.