They all turn towards Samuel, the now fading eyes of observa finding the solution to the barrier of liquid.

“Explain.” The sibling requests.

An analogical simplicity to the action, an augmented mind condensing together a plan. “The water is held back by a gravimetric generator. It can be disrupted, if the lowest layer is disrupted.”

“No weapon is able to pierce this given volume of water.” Judge Murphy stops.

“Correct.” Samuel turns to the Judge. “However the mass held back by the field is extreme and as such under a great deal of stress. It is perhaps possible to break it with a low powered explosive. It will, however, require an explosive item able to survive the water pressure.”

The intelligence of augmentation hatches the plan, but its vector of application is unfound.

Alto Carrin asks the Being, as much a test of faith as a question towards a possible divine. “Can you remove the water?”

He cannot answer him, the quantum soul unable to formulate words at his own failure. An emotion unseen across a dead face, instead translated into an awkward silence.

Judge Murphy removes the munition from within his tactical pouch, the simple grenade elevated to the divines within the archaic writing surrounding its shape. “Would this work?”

Samuel’s instincts flare, augmentation surging against death itself. Every single instinct screaming at him for lethal reaction, a calm facade barely maintained by the perfect mind. He asks, a hint of fear held within the stuttered tone and readied body. “I-Is that…”

“Anti-mage grenade.” Judge Murphy informs coldly, turning to the boy as he holds onto one more remaining on his belt. “I don’t believe I’ll need its use for any present dangers.”

Madeline scoffs. “What’s the fuse time on that thing? Assuming it even works underwater…”

“It's an arcane item, explodes on contact with any source of arcane gravity.” Judge Murphy begins to explain. “Samuel, you said there’s a space beneath the water column.”

Samuel tries not to react to the shape, a body already primed to kill. “Correct.”

“Then this should disrupt the generator.” The old man informs, turning towards the Being. “Correct?”

Entranced by the death of the world, the One shakes himself out of the memories, the terror of the past. A secondary process finishing the processing of the Judge’s words, he turns towards him with a lifeless gaze. The grenade’s identifier code detected, a usage by humanity during the throes of a conflict long forgotten, confirmed and realized. Capabilities compared to a current usage, not enough evidence to dissuade the plan. “I don’t see a flaw within the stated objectives.”

The Judge nods, leaning over to the edge of the cliffside. Warning spoken to the rest of the Five. “Please do not use any sort of gravimetric projections or arcane items, it may attract the grenade to you.”

A short two feet between him and a lake of water, old calloused hands breaking delicately held surface tension as he sends ripples across the abyss.

The spheroid shape submerged, its activation rune depressed with ancient experience. Blue light glowing across its surface, a hunter-seeker surging to life as unseen eyes drift across battlespace.

He releases it into the depths.

Falling into nothingness, drowning in a world of dying dust and decay.

An impatient request from Madeline, turning over to the augmented member of the group as it disappears into the black. “How long will this take?”

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“Approximately forty seven point two one minutes.” Samuel immediately answers, an emotional state recovered as he shuts the reminder of the world out. “Assuming a standard one point five kilogram anti-mage grenade.”

Sarcasm palpable, unwanted allies all listening to her major complaint. “Great, now to wait to see if this even works. Half an hour of my life I’m not getting back.”

They all let it sit, an entire five minutes passed without disruption. Humid air attacking lungs, the sound of water breaking against an interior lake slowly commonized by the adaptability of humanity.

All staring at one another in dead silence.

She’s the first to break, a mental willpower and charisma shattering under social pressures of awkwardness. “Anyone want to talk about the afterlife? Or maybe the philosophy of omnipotence in relation to the five gods?”

“Is that necessary?” Samantha narrows her eyes at her.

Madeline pauses, turning to the girl. “We can talk about something more fun like robbing banks, if you want. Or gods damn we could even play a fun game to pass the time.”

“Define a fun game.” The girl coldly requests, her interest piqued by the woman’s offer.

“You ever play thumbs, or shoot count?”

“I am not familiar with the game.” Samantha admits.

The woman takes a deep breath, the passage of time found in the most simplest, and ancient of activities. “Alright, well this thing dates back to the old war, according to some historian nutjobs back in Centralis Uni. But anyway…”

She pulls forth two hands, the flickering of a held chemical fire by a nearby Samuel dancing shadows across the carved granite.

"This is how you play shoot count." Madeline begins, locking eyes with the girl. A perfect Centralian specimen facing off against the Armin bloodlines, entertainment universal across a world of rage and dust in replication of a once common practice in eons past. "On my go, we both hold up a certain number of fingers behind our backs. And then we both guess how many total fingers we both are holding up. And the person who guesses right wins!"

It's so simple, the girl doubting the entertainment value held within such a silly, simplistic activity. Still, stubbornness achieves victory within her young mind; Samantha nodding with cold words. “This activity you have described is extraordinarily basic.”

“Then let’s play this ‘basic’ game.” Madeline smiles with evil intent. “Go!”

The woman pulls a simplistic one behind her back, her counterpart choosing the full spread of thumb to pinky.

“Total of ten.” Madeline guesses.

“Your answer has betrayed your true form.” Samantha challenges. “You have produced ten.”

“Well, show it.”

A defeat sending a massive wave of emotions through the young mind; a victory slipped from her fingers. The girl’s perception utterly stops as the loss is processed, a stubbornness only responded to with rage and hope.

“Again!” She demands, eyes twinkling with obviously read amusement.

Madeline smiles at the reaction, words echoing into the facility. "Alright, your funeral."

Alto and Samuel watch as the two continue, a pace of play increasing alongside experience. The emergence of complex patterns within fingertips, an outsmarting of each party as they build understanding between souls.

Both covered in a thin layer of humidity derived perspiration and grinning from ear to ear, the two commited in a near comical level of combat.

An explanation of play deepening, Madeline begins to touch tactical strategies behind the psychology of humanity itself as they find a lull between rounds. "Alright you see Samantha; sometimes it's better to hold up an even number of fingers, because people are more likely to guess odd numbers. And try to avoid holding up a number you've already used, because it's pretty obvious after the third time."

Samantha listens intently, information barely absorbed as Madeline turns towards their observers. “You two wanna join?”

“Samuel will attempt to cheat.” Samantha warns.

Madeline makes the connection of power, an awkward glance towards the young mage. “You won’t actually read the future right? For this little thing?”

“Victory must be secured at any cost.” Samuel informs her from an emotionless stand point.

Samantha and Madeline give him an exasperated expression in the firelight, the two interrupted by the other observer.

Alto brings forth spiritual wisdom, a world of scripture easily recalled to bring present advice. “The act of knowing is a curse in itself. Accept ignorance if it means life.”

“Thanks Priest.” The woman rolls her eyes. “Now if…”

Something surges from the depths of the water column, a massive liquid mass shifting downward as the containment field fails long ahead of schedule.

The Being turns towards the group, lifeless eyes filled with knowing innocence alongside words of warning. “Please cover your ears and step back, there will be an extreme pressure change within this space.”