Alcerys purged the thoughts of lashing out from her mind, as she had done before more times than she cared to count. Instead, she started signing out questions.

“Injuries?”

“Uh…” the homunculus drawled, even raising an arm and stretching. She suddenly gritted her teeth and stopped, putting her arm down as she remarked, “Oh yeah, a couple broken ribs, got tossed around. The gate fixed ‘em up so I should be fine in a bit. Seems like the gate just makes smaller injuries go poof, so unless Strol got really roughed up we should be good to go.”

“We should exchange information,” Alcerys signed out again, forcing herself into what would undoubtedly be an irritating but useful conversation. Of course, she was right. The three of them sat at the base of the altar and exchanged descriptions of what they each went through in the Trial of Solitude, comparing and contrasting their findings.

Alcerys disclosed the facts as they were, except for her findings regarding the Black Swordsman’s nature as a composite homunculus. She herself had no way to know what of the other two’s claims was true, though she had a hunch they too excluded some parts. The hunch was, of course, entirely correct. Zelsys made no mention of her conversation with the Sister, painting her as a flat murderous traitor, and Zefaris did much the same in regards to Subcore Sigma, describing him as an entirely logical machine that did nothing besides carry out the trial and let her pass.

To no surprise on her part Alcerys found Zelsys’ tale the most difficult to believe, unable to stop herself from questioning, “You expect me to believe that thing can cut through black stone?”

Zel conceded the point with a smile, reaching for her cleaver, “I can just show you.”

Already she had stood up and pulled her blade free, ambling over to the altar, reaching down to grip the control handle. She requested the dungeon to raise one of the floor pillars up to about chest height, not wanting to just go sawing at the walls if she could avoid it. One of the floor panels nearby did indeed rise to her requested height, and not only that, but it also expanded out into four narrower pillars. She hadn’t expected the dungeon to actually do as she asked, let alone this quickly... But while she was at it, Zelsys also wordlessly asked the dungeon to raise a few pillars elsewhere to serve as a makeshift table and seating.

This took a few more seconds, but the dungeon did indeed oblige. A cluster two wide and eight long rose to the height of a table, whilst every pillar two out from it rose to a reasonable sitting height. A little strange at first, but she supposed it was better than having to sit on a single pillar stuck a certain distance from the “table”.

“And here’s some proper seating for good measure,” Zel remarked with an offhand chuckle as she let go of the control handle, making her way over to the risen pillar. Zef made no qualms about moving over and taking a seat, still doing up the top two buttons of her shirt and adjusting the collar as she did so, whereas the Inquisitor just… Stood there. That burning gaze remained fixed right on Zel’s back from behind the mask’s reinforced lenses.

The new handle thrummed reassuringly in Zel’s hand. Where before she would’ve actively hefted the Butcher’s great mass about, now its center of mass sat so close to her hand that she barely had to adjust her grip at all. It was almost unnerving how easy the implement of death was to maneuver about. With a shift of her grip, she held the cleaver the same way she had when she used it to catch the Sister’s weapon, right hand on the main handle and left on the guard. She took a breath, filling her lungs to their fullest before she willed the Butcher’s sawteeth to come alive.

Only the slightest wisps of Fog escaped her mouth when the blade came alive and its teeth began to scream with violent oscillation, many white sparks leaping between them. Bringing the sawteeth against the black stone dulled the sound, and soon black sand began to pile up around her feet whilst her cleaver visibly sank into the stone. The Inquisitor was already signing something at her only seconds in, but Zelsys didn’t pay heed, and didn’t stop until she sawed all the way through the narrower pillar.

She had no practical reason for this - it took effort to keep pushing and maintain steady breathing, and it was noisy, but it was fun. She just kept going until the upper part of the quarter-pillar toppled to the ground with a loud thud, and with a heavy sigh, she turned to see that Strolvath was sat across from Zef, observing with an amused expression on his face. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, was emanating an almost visible aura of anger and frustration, much to Strol’s further amusement.

A breath out, relaxing. The cleaver’s sawteeth surged to life for another brief moment, before they fell silent.

“That thing can cut through dungeon stone, huh?” the scarred soldier mused, leaning back as he raised a seal-bottle to his lips. “Hell of a tool. So how’d it go for you? Not too tough I hope, seein’ as none of you look all that beat up.”

Zel reiterated what she said about her ribs, making her way over to the spot on the ground where the rest of her gear lay. She slipped the Butcher back into its Fog-infused holster and strapped it to her back, then put the ammo belt and picked up the backpack before walking over and taking a seat right by Zef’s side. Both her and Zefaris had already eaten of their rations, but nevertheless she retrieved a few more pieces of dried fruit, seeing as Strol was also in the process of satisfying his own hunger.