After sitting in total darkness for a few hours, in a way both mindless while also thinking about things — specifically, nothing — Arnel decided he had enough of feeling sorry for himself. There was absolutely nothing he could do to change things. Life dealt him a terrible hand and now he had the honor of being the first person in history that was thoroughly and convincingly screwed. Also, the first person in history that was a Mind-Machine Interface, that one too, but that achievement came in at a distant second place.
The Sim Pod door closed over him, isolating him from the sounds and light of the real world. Arnel couldn’t remember the last time he was fully aware and conscious in the Sim Pod. In the last month, the only thing he could remember of the Isolation Phase was that he was in too much pain to remember anything clearly. Now, what a wonderful experience it was. This Sim Pod in particular felt nice and cool. Even the darkness and faint machine-hum of the machine felt pleasant and relaxing.
Before he knew it, he felt the machine jack into the slot on the nape of his neck, and the darkness exploded with color.
Waking up in the virtual world was kind of similar to waking up in the living world. A person simply became aware of their awoken existence. It was the same for Aren. Before he knew it, he found himself on the throne, comfortably seated, and wondering how he got there. There was an initial shock of confusion too about his whereabouts. Such questions like: How did I get here and Where am I?
But it slowly came back to him. The answers walked back the parabolic trajectory of his scattered thoughts.
Judging by the messages the group left him, they must’ve thought that he had fallen asleep and, considering the tremendous work he put in towards the victory, they left him alone. Let sleeping tigers lie, Fang said.
According to the exhaustive chat logs, the group secured the area, confirmed it was clear, and eventually made camp and logged off, especially since they noticed that Aren also logged off at some point.
[Group] Fang: Let’s meet up in Leone tomorrow. The area is safe.
True enough, the immediate area was devoid of any creatures — adventurer or orc. It was looted too. Apparently, there was a false wall, which revealed a passageway, behind the throne, but Aren couldn’t see into the darkness. No matter what, Aren did not want to stay in the dimly lit throne room for longer than he had to. He wasn’t afraid of darkness, but he was afraid of being attacked while he could see almost nothing.
Of all the tunnels, only one was lit up by torches, and not faintly like the goblinoids had done it, but brightly lit. Aren could see all the way down the corridor before it turned into a bend. Aren picked that corridor, hopped off the throne and slowly began following the lights.
The group did discuss, before they went to sleep, a strange set of events happening in the ruined city of Rakab, and the surroundings. The orcs were leaving; without their leader, they split up into marauding bands and left. This was mainly the reason for why the group was in a hurry, and wanted to meet up in Leone.
Right now, anyone could walk into Rakab and claim it for themselves.
The corridors, after five or so minutes of walking, came to a set of stairs upon which daylight filtered through the broken rooftops. Aren immediately recognized the structure by its architecture. This was the Cathedral, dedicated to Aurora. It was once, in ancient times, the main site of prayer and pilgrimage for most of the followers of the Light Pantheon, but ever since the First Demonic Invasion, countless years ago, it has fallen in popularity.
But it was still popular. Even after the Orkin Horde Invasion, when the city was destroyed and captured, pilgrims made their way to this cathedral and prayed. Even the goblinoids would not dare lift a hand against them, and under their watchful eye, allowed pilgrims and travellers to rest here in this place, and pray to Aurora.
In certain terms, the Cathedral of Aurora was a sanctuary and a safe point. Aggression here would have tremendous consequences.
The moment Aren walked into it proper, he felt the presence of the Goddess of War, and it was so awe-inspiring and humbling, that he had no choice but to fall to his knees, before the Great Altar, and bow his head respectfully.
He wasn’t alone in the Cathedral either, even though he was far too overwhelmed by the Goddess’s presence to notice.
He could not see her, and he wasn’t even sure if he felt her, but he thought he felt something. He thought the Goddess stroked his hair with a phantom touch, and whispered encouraging words into his ears which he could not hear or understand.
After a few minutes of being bathed in the divine light and presence of Aurora, he felt refreshed and truly content with his lot in life. It was an experience he would never forget, and he wondered if that is what it felt like to be truly blessed.
He would’ve been lost in thought for longer were it not for the throat-clearing sound an individual behind him made. “The Lady must really like you, adventurer.”
“Huh?” Aren jumped to his feet, alert. He turned around, and saw a young woman — a few years older than him — lean against the wall. She had a metal breastplate covering the top of her chest, and in terms of armor, she also had metal platings sparsely cover her white, silk skirt. Overall, both her clothing and armor were fairly revealing, but Aren had the impression that — in terms of armor at least — it was still quite functional.
“I am Estella, a Crusader of Aurora,” she said, holding a hand up in greeting. “What’s your name?”
“Aren,” he replied. He didn’t have any fancy titles or professional distinctions. He almost felt a bit inadequate next to Estella and her professional mien.
“Nice to meet you,” Estella said and crossed her arms. Her gauntleted fists made a sound against her breastplate.
“Are you alone?” Aren did not have a single clue as to why he asked that suspicious and easily misunderstood question. He cursed himself mentally before he even finished speaking the words, but by then it was too late.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Hmm?” Estella asked, an eyebrow shooting up. Her blonde hair, tied into a bun and secured by half a dozen hairpins, shimmered in the sunlight as she bowed her head slightly — directly into a shaft of sunlight — and then pushed herself off the wall. “I am.”
Aren immediately felt Estella’s hostility pour over him and the girl intimidated him to hell and back. Aren was certain, without a shred of a doubt, that in a fight against Estella he would lose so badly that he would remember it for the rest of his life.
Defensively, Aren brought his hands up and waved them side to side at Estella. “I mean, I was just wondering if you need someone to watch your back while you… pray or whatever.”
“Oh,” Estella chirped and relaxed, her mannerisms cold but straight-forward. She kind of reminded Aren of Fang, just a little bit. “No need. I have a companion that watches my back.”
At Aren’s inquisitive glance, the girl pointed at a broken mosaic of Aurora, head haloed in golden light.
It was at that moment that Aren realized that talking to this girl would be a matter of difficulty and frustration. Which was a shame because she was quite pretty. She had beautiful green eyes, golden-blonde hair and a breath-taking figure. But — and there always seemed to be a but with the girls Aren met — she was a zealot. Not that this was a bad thing by itself, but she was a zealot. Aren immediately knew that between the first and second most important thing in the girl’s eyes there was a wide ravine the size of the Mariana Trench. The first most important thing being Aurora, and the second everything else.
An uncomfortable silence developed between the two, and perhaps in an effort to salvage the situation, Aren offered: “I am going back to Leone. We could travel together if you are also headed there. It would be safer that way.”
Yeah, safer for Aren.
Estella nodded and agreed without a word, already heading through the portal, underneath the archway and trellises on which flowers still bloomed, even in this ruined city. In fact, if the city was dead, the cathedral with its large and imposing entrance, was the closest thing to being alive. And rightfully so — Aren saw many offerings, from the extravagant and expensive to the token and meaningful, left next to the cathedral fontis.
Even occupied by goblinoids, the cathedral must’ve received a large number of pilgrims.
“Were you the one who killed the One-Eyed King?” Estella asked as they ventured into the ruined streets of the new city.
The question caught Aren off-guard, and he took his sweet time thinking about the answer. Does he admit it or reject the fame? Priscilla’s Blessing was quite clear on what he was supposed to do in this situation, but didn’t he already somewhat claim the glory? His reputation increased with half a dozen factions, even though he was anonymous.
Apparently, Aren took so long to answer the question that Estella spoke up. “It’s all right, it doesn’t really matter. I can tell that you have the mark of my Lady, Aurora, upon you and that you walk in her grace. That is more than enough for me to help you.”
Ah, so it was professional curiosity, then? What kind of person killed the One-Eyed King and what kind of person walks in the favor of Aurora?
“What about you?” Aren asked. “I can tell that you know how to handle yourself in combat. If I had to guess, you are a Sergeant in the Coalition Army, and that tag on your neck — is that platinum?”
Estella reached up to the necklace around her neck that ended with a tag of white metal, though it also had a slight bluish sheen. “Mithril,” she said.
Aren almost stumbled over a rock and Estella’s words. A Mithril Rank adventurer. She was well on her way to becoming famous.
“I was dishonorably discharged,” Estella explained. “I was an Officer of the Army, with the rank of Lieutenant. Myself, and the Silver Knights, watched over some pilgrims when a demonic horde emerged from the Forbidden Abyss. I received an order to abandon the pilgrims and rally to the defense of Pallas.”
She glanced back at Aren, gauging his reaction perhaps, before continuing. “I refused to heed the summons, and protected the pilgrims from the demonic invasion. Then I was summoned to a Tribunal, and discharged from the Army, for disobeying orders.”
Aren listened quietly, not interrupting the blonde crusader. He was surprised that she so openly, and candidly, spoke of her situation and the events that led to her fall from grace, although Aren couldn’t help but feel that she did the right thing.
“You see,” the blonde went on, “As someone who walks in the grace of Lady Aurora, I cannot refuse to protect those weaker and less fortunate than I.”
Aren blinked, surprised by the words, and a part of him also felt like reciprocating and telling Estella about his own blessing. He chose not to, in the end. It wasn’t his secret to share anymore. “That is a noble goal, and quite praiseworthy if you ask me.”
Estella chuckled. “Did you know that monsters could also be followers of the Light Pantheon?”
Yes, Aren did know that, but he remained silent.
“Sometimes, that means I must protect them as well,” Estella said with a rueful smile. “I cannot refuse. You can probably guess, but I am not very well liked on the mainland.”
At first, Aren thought that Estella was dealt quite a terrible hand — having to protect monsters from adventurers. No doubt, her reputation with the various factions was quite strained, if not downright at the level of open hostility.
But then he realized something. What if monsters asked Aren for aid? Would he also not be able to refuse them too?
When Estella glanced back at Aren, and saw his unsightly expression, she smiled. “I see you don’t have it easy either.” She adjusted the sheath on her hip, before continuing on. “The Gods don’t care for our mortal opinions on right and wrong. A follower is a follower, whether they are a sentient creature or not — civilized or barbaric.”
Aren nodded. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t do anything more than that. Estella was reading him like an open book and he was terrified of what kind of secrets he might give away by being careless and reacting openly to everything the blonde said. Could she really tell that Aren also had the Favor of Aurora?
But even that was noticed by the crusader and she chuckled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You are under my protection now, and I won’t do anything to endanger you. Even after I escort you to Leone.”
Aren felt slightly relieved, if not a bit offended that he was being escorted. Of course, Estella was without a doubt his superior in every way, and Aren had no doubts about that, but he wasn’t someone that would fall over at the slightest breeze. He could take care of himself, too!
“What about your friends?” Aren asked, changing the topic.
“What about them?” Estella asked.
“Surely, they understand why you had to do what you did,” Aren said.
Estella shook her head. “I never told them. I tried to, but they made it very clear that our paths are different now. They want to explore the Forbidden Abyss, but I am no longer welcome in Pallas.”
Aren frowned. That is quite some friendship.
“I don’t blame them,” Estella said. “Our goals were different to begin with, but our friendship began on the premise of having the same goals. It just turned out different, that is all there is to it.”
She really was like Fang.
Aren smiled deviously. He knew he wanted Estella to join his group — and clan. Perhaps it was because she was pretty and Aren was at the ripe age for making bad decisions and believing in stupid things. Aren wanted to think it was because he knew that Estella would be a powerful and loyal ally, and because he was certain that convincing her to join would be easier than buying cake and eating it.
At some point, in accordance with his devilish plan, Aren invited Estella to his group. She accepted without asking questions.
As the two approached the city of Leone, and its pearlescent, towering white walls, Estella perhaps considered leaving Aren there, but she was shocked to the very core when fanfare heralded the duo’s arrival. A procession of guards streamed from the city, and surrounded the group, escorting them into the city. Citizens threw rose petals at Estella’s feet, and for the first time, in who knows how long, she was welcomed into a city, as if she were a fabled hero.
Her green eyes shimmered with the moisture of tears, as she mumbled words that revealed the root cause of her confusion and happiness. “But I am supposed to be distrusted...”