The gate behind them didn't just close; it sealed with a heavy, pressurized hiss that echoed through the unnaturally quiet courtyard. Dimas felt the sound vibrate in his teeth."Welcome, Chef," the man in the white robes repeated, his voice smooth and airy, like he was reciting a well-rehearsed prayer. "We’ve been waiting to see what you could do with the ingredients we provide."Dimas stared at the kitchen. It was a masterpiece of stainless steel and industrial precision, sitting right in the middle of a world that was supposed to be rotting. "You’ve got a lot of high-end hardware for a place that's supposedly hiding from the system.""The system provides for those who understand its true purpose," the man replied, gesturing toward the gleaming countertops. "I am Brother Julian. We are the architects of the New Table."Rafael stepped up beside Dimas, his hand never straying more than an inch from the hilt of his broken sword. "The 'New Table'? Sounds like a cult name if I ever heard
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