Though reality remained unaltered for Mel, when the alternate twenty mortals breached their barracks, they unearthed the pillows they had coveted for diurnal cycles precisely where they anticipated. The interior lay in mild disarray; the straw bales had been hauled to disparate corners of the barracks, yet the former Fifteenth Ward disciples dared not execute anything beyond this petty sabotage.
Mel, who succeeded in striking the aggressive mark he established at the genesis of the month, had achieved his ambition as well, yet he paid the toll via the ruination birthed within his vessel from his war against the Venom Energy. Though his descent into a graver state with every passing diurnal cycle sparked futile jubilation amongst the others, zero mortals could cast blame upon them for harboring such sentiments.
