The scene opens in Anton Savor’s kitchen where the hum of precision tools echoes through the air. At the center, Anton stands before an ornate scale, its shimmering plates balanced perfectly. He observes it with calm detachment, running his hand along its polished edge.

“In my kitchen, the scale is a sacred tool. It demands precision, measuring not just weight, but worth. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t falter. It simply tells the truth of what’s placed upon it. 

Without balance, a dish collapses into chaos. Without weight, there is no substance. And yet, so many people fear what the scale reveals.”

He places a small gleaming blade on one side, watching the balance shift ever so slightly.

“You claim to weigh sin and virtue, don’t you, Ezekiel? You carry the mantle of divine judgment, a man who sees himself as the hand of retribution. But what happens when the weight is yours to bear? When the scale tips against you? 

You preach balance, but your actions are anything but. Your sermons, your fire, they tip your scale toward wrath and ego. You aren’t a vessel for judgment, Ezekiel. You’re a man drowning in the weight of your own hypocrisy, clinging to scripture to keep yourself afloat.”

Anton pauses and picks up a fragile glass vial, placing it on the opposite plate. The scale trembles, shifting violently before steadying.

“And then there’s you, Klaus. Balance is a foreign concept to you, isn’t it? You don’t measure, because measurement requires substance. And substance is what you lack. Instead, you throw chaos into the air like confetti, a cheap distraction meant to dazzle the audience long enough to forget the emptiness beneath. 

Your chaos doesn’t demand discipline, Klaus. It doesn’t even demand courage. It’s the easiest path; letting everything fall apart so that you’re never forced to create anything real.”

He steps back, allowing the scale to settle, its equilibrium restored.

“Because you see, balance isn’t just about measurement. It’s about reality. When you place something on the scale, it reveals exactly what it is. Nothing more, nothing less. 

That’s why you fear it, Ezekiel. That’s why you avoid it, Klaus. You dread what the scale will expose. That beneath it all, you are too fragile to bear the weight of your own flaws.”

Anton’s voice hardens. 

“But at Warzone, I will weigh you both. Ezekiel, I will place your faith on the scale, and it will crumble under the weight of your false righteousness. Klaus, your chaos will scatter like ash, leaving nothing but the hollow man beneath the facepaint. 

And when the scale is done with you, there will be no redemption. No cheers. Only silence. Because balance doesn’t falter. It reveals everything you are… and everything you’re not.”

He steps forward, his gaze fixed on the scale as its plates glisten under the light.

“It doesn’t bend to ego or spectacle. It cuts through them, leaving only the cold inescapable weight of who you really are.

And neither of you, Ezekiel or Klaus, will have the strength to endure when the weight of that truth breaks you.”