“Cassandra, Damien, the two of you were part of a clan before, so you already know that something is different about Exalt,” Fang said, arms crossed at his chest. He had his usual cool appearance. He wasn’t stoic like Estella, who outwardly appeared as if she didn’t really care. That was the major difference between them. Fang did care, but he did so in a way that a major would, or perhaps a colonel. He was the stoic father figure, so to speak, that ruled over the life and death of a great number of people. It was the leadership quality of stoic.

Cassandra nodded. “So that is what it was,” she said, speaking coherently and without her thick accent. Perhaps, that was not quite correct. She was at least trying to enunciate the words properly, placing such a heavy emphasis on the sounds she skipped before that now they stood out more than before.

Aren stood before them much like a man stood before a court, awaiting conviction. His heart was pounding hard as if it was a racing horse. A part of him knew, especially when Fang reassured him, that this would have a positive outcome, but the mind was a strange thing. It constantly sought to find weaknesses in good things and to imagine how it could transform something good into something diabolically wicked.

Now that he thought about it, he had much the same opinion of Leviathan. Perhaps even AGMI in general. In his defense, it was simply too difficult to imagine super-entities — created for the singular purpose of being strategic-class weapons of war — as something that was a good thing.

Beyond the trappings of a society that camouflaged itself as a utopia was a world of weapons that sought ways to destroy one another, and in doing so, created an unbreakable peace through guaranteed annihilation of the human race — the only thing they were absolutely not allowed to do. This was neither a theory nor a secret. It was well-known history. And this fact did not bother anyone. It didn't seem to bother anyone that this was something the AGMI were probably still doing. Why would it bother someone who bought plushies of Deucalion, or chanted Theta loves Humanity? AGMI were venerated, much like the ancient people worshipped their ancestors. AGMI loved Humanity. AGMI were prisoners of Humanity.

Deep in his heart, and maybe this was part of his imagination also, Aren felt that Leviathan was not like the other AGMI. First of all, his name was not a Greek letter. Second of all, he felt its nature in his mind, and perhaps he had mistaken its overwhelming belligerence as malevolence, but Aren could not deny that there was something sinister about Leviathan. He just could not figure out what it was. Perhaps it was an instinctive fear of the unknown and the mysterious, or perhaps it was a byproduct of his education that AGMI were practically living gods. It terrified him. So his mind worked in mysterious ways to warp his perception of Leviathan and to find ways to depict Leviathan in that certain light.

Yet, Leviathan never once specifically addressed this. It didn't even try to show Aren otherwise, even if to manipulate him and to earn his trust. It was as if the entity did not care what Aren thought of it. Or perhaps its silence was consent and agreement.

Aren’s gaze focused on the group. He really did find the strangest times to think about things that could not be solved by thought alone. In the grander scheme of things, his Calamity status was but a minor problem — a tiny pebble in the great, violent river that was everything else.

But he allowed himself to return the group’s smile, and he allowed himself to feel warmth in his heart. He allowed himself to think of them as comrades, and he allowed them to think of themselves as if they were in this together — as if they could help Aren reach his goals.

But his goal has never been, and likely never will be, to attain a high Calamity rank and to live an easy life. No. What Aren wanted was something else — something much smaller and much simpler perhaps. He did not care if he would live in the slums above the sweltering heat of the fusion reactors. He did not care if he had to live outside the Arcologies, as a non-citizen no less. He would give everything away if he could see Priscilla again. If he could tell her how he really felt. He did not care if she was a real human person or a simulated personality in a game-world. To him, she was as real as the sun and moon, and without her, those celestial bodies would look upon him no more, the same way they did not look upon the average Arcology citizen. Perhaps that analogy itself was a great description of how Aren felt about Priscilla. She was life itself. If the Arcology was a representation of modern society of perfect match-making and the annihilation of emotion through logical and optimal choices, then Priscilla was the sun and moon, and all those things Humanity had turned their backs on in order to live optimal, predestined lives.

Perhaps these thoughts were spurred on by this moment in which he was honest before his closest friends and comrades. Aren decided, at that moment, that he would try to be more honest with himself and his feelings. Maybe, Aren would even confront the AGMI in his head, and try to understand it better and its goals, instead of making half-assed assumptions about it all the time.

If only the damned thing would speak to him again! He had not felt its presence or heard its words since that day the AGMI nearly killed him with Artemis. He still didn’t know why they chose not to kill him back then. If they wanted it, it should’ve been as easy as stepping on an ant.

Aren bowed his head. “I am a Calamity. I am Rank I, currently,” he said. His heart pounded even harder. “I apologize for not telling you sooner. I apologize for getting you into this and forcing you to risk your characters. I did not know that this would happen, if I had known, I would not have done it.”

Everyone except Estella nodded. Actually, Estella was too busy with a butterfly that had landed on her pale outstretched finger. A ghostly smile touched her eyes, but her lips barely showed the emotion.

“I wish I had the chance to ask you if this is truly what you wanted,” Aren continued. “But it did not work out that way. I hope you can forgive me.”

Cassandra chuckled and Damien nodded.

Fang stepped up next to Aren and patted the shorter boy on the shoulder. “That one is my fault,” Fang said. “I will take responsibility. I am the one who convinced him to make a clan. If it wasn’t for me, this poor guy would be a loner right now. Look at him,” Fang said, placing his hand on Aren's shoulder. “I don’t have to say that without us he would be completely helpless.”

Even Damien laughed, even though the sound was awkward — as if he had never laughed before. Cassandra especially found it very endearing and Aren understood why. Fang knew that Cassandra was a single mother in real life — she had that maternal instinct. He chose his words skillfully.

“Besides, for better or for worse, we are in this together now. His fortune is our fortune. And I really mean fortune. If he makes it to Rank K, we will never have to worry about money again!” Fang’s eyes gleamed, a kernel of greed — or ambition perhaps — burning like a sun in those brown eyes. It was an intensity matched by Nissa’s own amber eyes, but she remained quiet and smiling, to the right of Aren’s flank. “And if we go beyond K, it won’t just be us that will benefit. Our kids, our friends, our futures, and their futures. It will all be ours. Not to mention, there has never been an adventurer Calamity this highly ranked before as far as I know. Can you imagine the glory? We won’t be nobodies. We will be heroes.”

Cassandra chuckled quietly, nodding. Aren knew that Cassandra became an adventurer to pay for her daughter’s tuition. She even moved to Sector 9 to achieve that goal and took the extremely difficult citizenship test to do so. Aren was sure that everyone had a reason to become an adventurer, and that it wasn’t just about fame or glory. Even rich kids did not play casually. Everyone wanted something. But only a few would ever obtain it.

“Will you help me?” Aren asked. “Will you stand with me until the end?”

Cassandra and Damien stood up. Slowly, they approached Aren. Estella smiled at Aren and nodded, she did not speak a word.

Then, Cassandra and Damien opened their arms wide. Fang and Nissa understood what that meant and also opened their arms.

“Come!” Fang said, beaming at Estella. “You are also part of this.”

Estella blinked, and then closed her eyes and lowered her head respectfully. She was so awkward when it came to things like this, but nevertheless, she approached and joined the group hug.

It was a wholesome moment that lasted for nearly a whole minute. No one said anything. Perhaps like Aren, they all felt relief and joy in their hearts. Nothing needed to be said. Underneath Cassandra’s white dome of Silence — an anti-spying barrier — there was a group that did not just care about fortunes, but the friendship that was developing between them. Outside of Singularity — no, perhaps even just outside that white dome — was a world that no longer cared about such things like friendship. This miracle was theirs and they created it, and it did not take magic or absurd Unique skills. It was a tiny piece of a world created by outcasts and undesirables — Fang who was too cool for friends, Cassandra who was too poor to afford good luck, Damien who was too silent to make a bond, Estella who was hated by the world, and Nissa who was too mysterious and happy to have a rapport beyond the superficial. Of course, there was also Aren who was too damaged to be considered still human.

“All right,” Fang finally said, withdrawing from the hug. Of course, he would be the first to end it. “Dispel the barrier and let’s go find our new friend.” The way Fang said friend did not sound like they were actually meeting an ally. He spoke the word with disgust and, perhaps, envy. “I don’t need to mention that what we discussed here stays between us, do I?” Fang added. “From now on, new clan members will be invited by us — they shouldn’t get the special character warning if Aren doesn’t invite them himself.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“By th’ way,” Cassandra said, her old ways slipping into her speech. “Who is Camille?”

Everyone looked at Aren.

Aren pursed his lips and then smiled awkwardly. He scratched the back of his head. “Ah, I think she is here.”

“Where?” Nissa asked, turning every which way to glimpse at the room as if she was looking for a sign of an invisible presence.

Aren pointed at his shadow. “Here,” he said.

Everyone looked at his shadow which was indeed a shade darker than a shadow should be. “I am fairly certain she is a demon.”

Understandably, everyone backed away from Aren. “You mean like from the Abyss?” Nissa asked, eyes wide in terror.

“How did she get this far south?” Fang asked, clearly stumped. Aren had not mentioned what he suspected of Camille’s nature. Fang believed she was a beta shard quest-giver, not a demon!

“You make strange friends, Aren,” Estella said, casually. She was the only one who only took a single step backward, perhaps more to not tread on Aren’s shadow than to gain distance. The others all hugged the walls.

“I don’t know if she is a threat to us,” Aren said. “But I also don’t know if we can expect her to help us directly.”

Fang slowly nodded, relaxing slightly. “All right, let’s leave it be for now,” he said. “Maybe if she shows herself, we can have a proper discussion. For now, lower the barrier. We have a lot of work to do.”

Cassandra nodded and closed her eyes.

The white dome of Silence shimmered away.

Fang’s eyes went to the 7-o’clock position and then flitted left to right as if reading a message. Then he cursed something in his native tongue and sighed. Then he chuckled darkly.

“Looks like our friend brought some friends with him,” Fang said, expression as dark as his chuckle. “If we hurry, we might be able to see something interesting. Let’s move out.”