The five nested Rings on the ceiling were still shrinking, their dark red light making the Ramen Shop look like a basement in hell.
Yamato lay slumped over the edge of a table, the pale green light in his chest pulsing so hard that his whole body shook. His voice squeezed out between his teeth.
"The frequency of that thing behind the door has completely changed."
"It's issuing its final ultimatum."
Sweat slid down Shikaku's forehead, along his cheeks, and into his collar. His pipe tucked into his sleeve, his thin fingers gestured twice in the air as he silently calculated the intervals between the Rings shrinking. They doubled in speed each time. This was an underground debt-collection clock.
"At this rate..."
He drew a breath, his brows knitting into deep furrows.
"We won't make it to sunrise tomorrow before the Underground Door becomes impossible to hold shut."
He had barely finished when a lazy yawn came from beside him.
Trunks leaned against the counter and casually nudged the Fragment glowing faintly dark red across the tabletop. He watched the Rings on the ceiling for two seconds, then turned his gaze back to his noodle bowl.
"Pops, is there any soup left? I've had six bowls and I'm only half full."
Teuchi poked his head out of the kitchen and pointed his spatula at him.
"Yes. Just don't carry off the pot."
Goten held his bowl in his left hand, his right arm wrapped around Ayame's waist with utter ease. His fingers slipped a little way beneath the edge of her apron. He did not so much as bat an eyelid at the disintegrating Doomsday Clock on the ceiling.
He tipped the last mouthful of soup into his mouth and let out a satisfied burp.
"What kind of bullshit death