If he was not meeting representatives, Aren spent most of his time in Aurora’s Cathedral. The building was so ruined that it was difficult to recognize. Here, Aren met Estella for the first time. Back then, Aren thought she was a fanatic. The way she spoke of Aurora, and the fact that she was in an abandoned city, praying to a Goddess, didn’t leave much to the imagination. But after he learned a little bit about her, he could kind of understand the Templar.

Estella had no one. She also could not justify it to herself to stay in a populated place, because she was a magnet for disaster. Powerful foes would seek her out and follow her no matter where she went. Her blessing was also a curse.

Aurora was all Estella had until she met Aren. But why was that so? Did she have no one in the real world, either? Aren did not think that was the case. Estella was rich, and she spoke of the person named Yui, who was her maid or “something like that”, as Estella put it.

Most of the time Aren spent in the Cathedral was alone. He was healing. Cassandra could not heal him directly because her rank wasn’t high enough to heal injuries of such type and severity. According to Cassandra, it was more of the former, than the latter. Elemental decay, whatever that meant, was not a cut or a bruise that could be conveniently prayed away. It required a High Priest or higher, with specialized rituals, to cure.

So Cassandra did the best she could. She used her Divine magic to accelerate Aren’s natural healing rate, which was the same thing she did for the group when they were irradiated, and that was that.

Still, over the course of twenty-four hours, in this world, the wound on Aren’s lower back had diminished significantly.

[ Injury analysis. Severity: Severe debilitating wound. Organs damaged: further analysis required. Wound type: Cutting, stabbing, and burning. Recovery time: Two days.]

For the most part, it appeared that the elemental decay part of his wound had finally disappeared. It left behind that appeared to have been caused by burns, which made sense because elemental decay ate away at his body as if it was acid.

A wound like this even Cassandra could heal. But that is not the person he asked for help.

Estella looked different. As she entered the Cathedral, the sun’s bright rays fell on her hair and golden, jeweled hairpins, and caused them to shine in a breath-taking way. In that moment, Aren thought that Estella was beautiful. Her jade eyes also had a preternatural shine to them, with a white-gold, cruciform-shaped sparkle in the center of her pupils.

“You look different,” Aren said, words coming out in a hesitant and disjointed manner.

Estella smiled and lowered her head to hide the slight blush that came to her cheeks. “Mmm,” she hummed. “It is a sign of Her favor. I am one of her Chosen now.”

Aren nodded slowly. He stood before the broken altar where a faint ray of light cascaded through the broken mosaic-glass window and illuminated his form.

“It’s only like this when I am on Her sacred grounds,” Estella added, after a pause. She approached Aren and came to stand next to him. The both of them turned towards the broken window, where Aurora’s form was painted on the glass. The Goddess was charging into battle, illuminated by the dawn sun at her back.

“Do you know this painting?” Estella asked.

Aren shook his head. “I know it depicts Aurora, but I’ve never seen the full painting.”

“It is called the Celestial Twins,” Estella said.

“Twins?” Aren asked. “Aurora has a twin?”

Estella pointed at a blotch of silver, just as Aren realized who the twin could be. In hindsight, it made perfect sense. “You can’t see it well anymore, but that is the moon.”

“Luna?” Aren asked.

Estella nodded. “You know of the Ancient War?”

Aren shook his head.

“It’s an old myth about Gods fighting amongst each other,” Estella explained. “This image depicts Aurora learning that her twin — Luna — has betrayed her.” Estella’s pale finger pointed at Aurora. “She rushes in, to embrace her beloved sister, but her mind and body know only war. As the Goddess of Love and Luck, she reaches out towards Luna to take her hand, but as a Goddess of Battle, she raises her weapon against her.”

Aren stared at the painting where, indeed, it looked like Aurora was reaching out and preparing to strike at the same time. Before, though, Aren only saw it as Aurora charging forward, but now he could see her broken, twisted expression.

Estella rested her forearm on the pommel of her sword. “This betrayal is why Aurora’s Faithful is the way it is today. Did you know that Aurora doesn’t sponsor organizations, except in very rare cases?”

Aren shook his head again.

“Her Faithful only has a handful of High Priests and Bishops. Virtually all of the higher ranks and offices are vacant. Paladins like to dedicate themselves to Aurora because she is the Goddess of Battle, but most adventurer Priests will choose one of the other Gods. Advancing in the Her Faithful is virtually impossible,” Estella explained.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Is that why you chose Aurora?” Aren asked.

Estella’s lips pressed together, and her eyelids drooped slightly. Her expression was like this for just a brief moment, hinting at something tragic and a deep wound.

“She chose me more than I chose Her,” Estella said. “I somehow always knew that I would become a Holy Crusader.”

“I thought you were a Templar,” Aren said.

Estella chuckled. “I was,” Estella said. “I started my adventuring career as a Holy Templar — a caster variant of Templar. But with my Blessings, I also became a Holy Crusader.”

Aren turned to face Estella fully. “Your class changed? And Divine Warfare is from...?” he asked.

Estella nodded. “Holy Crusader,” she said.

Divine Warfare was a Legendary minor class set — meaning that it was a sub-class set of skills. This entire time Aren thought that Estella had obtained Divine Warfare as a Blessing as if it was something that supplemented her skills. However, Estella just said that she got Divine Warfare from the class change.

The primary ability [Divine Warfare] was unique. Could it be?

Aren pondered. “Estella…?” he trailed off.

Estella smiled. “Yes?”

“Is Holy Crusader a Uniq—“

“Yep.”

Aren burst out into laughter.

Estella smiled, tangling a finger into her hair.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Aren asked.

“Whenever you asked,” Estella replied with a hint of amusement in her tone.

Aren chuckled, scratching his cheek. He realized that they were both hesitant to make the first move. Aren liked to think that if it was anyone else, he would’ve at least asked them for the name of their class, or a general breakdown of their abilities. But with Estella, he never asked anything. He treated her as if she was made of porcelain, as if she might break if he pushed her too hard.

But it seemed like Estella was the same way. Even back then when they linked their info scrolls together and learned a bit more about each other — back when she decided against claiming his Calamity bounty.

Perhaps it was on accident, or perhaps it was entirely planned by his subconscious, Aren looked at Estella for the first time. Not as a warrior or a comrade — he had looked at her like this a hundred thousand times by now — but as a girl.

She glanced at Aren from the corner of her eyes, meeting his gaze with a light smile.

In truth, Aren liked Estella. He liked her so much that it hurt. Estella was beautiful, elegant and, in a way, her shyness appealed to him. He liked her so much that a part of him wanted to forget about Priscilla and this stupidity of falling in love with a simulated person. This part of him thought of Priscilla like so — she was just a denizen. Even though denizens were indistinguishable from real people. Their ghosts, and Aren’s ghost, were the same. They were both equally real people, theoretically speaking.

But Estella was also real in the real world. Her existence did not begin and end within the boundaries of Singularity. She was here and now, in flesh and spirit.

Mentally, Aren closed the lid of the box where his feelings for Estella were, and such things like AGMI, Codes, the Gestalt Mandate, the Lost Battalion, and the possibility that he may be responsible for killing nearly half a million people.

Until recently, perhaps, Estella only had Aurora, and Aren knew what it was like to have only one thing. When Aren recalled the last time he saw Priscilla, before he could confess his feelings to her, Priscilla asked him not to. She didn’t say why, but Aren knew that it was because it would hurt — both of them. After all, once the island disappeared, they would likely never meet again.

Somehow, Aren thought that Priscilla also knew what it was like to have only one thing — the promise she made with Aren. The hint of desperation in those final moments, when Aren was paralyzed from receiving the Lightning Blade class haunted Aren in his dreams. As she was about to disappear, she allowed her brave mask to crumble slightly and told him that she would wait for him.

It was impossible for Aren to forget about her. When Aren began thinking of death as the only way to salvation, she came into his life and rescued him from his dark thoughts. Not even a thousand Estellas could make him break his promise or change his heart. Not the Divine, not even the AGMI, or the end of the world, would stop him from reaching Priscilla and keeping his promise.

Even though their promise had nothing to do with love.

“The Goddess of Love, huh?” Aren asked out loud, as he stared at the glass window. It made sense that he would think of things like this in such a place.

Estella smiled, hiding her gaze. “Do you have someone that you like, Aren?” she asked, her tone soft.

Aren’s heart began pounding at the question. “Ah…” He hesitated with his answer. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He felt his cheeks becoming red — mostly because of that idiotic reply. Maybe? Really? That was the best he could come up with. “You?”

And just like that, his safe box burst open, spilling its forbidden contents all over his mind and heart.

Estella took his one hand into hers, leaned closer, and, instead of a proper answer, kissed him on the lips. Her face was almost entirely red. Her fingers were trembling against his hand. He thought it was silly to get so worked up about something, but then he realized that his hand was also trembling. He realized that his own cheeks were burning red.

Minutes passed in awkward silence. Estella was smiling, in a state of perpetual blushing, while Aren was kicking himself mentally because his hand was sweating so much. It had to be disgusting, right? But every time he tried to remove his hand from hers “accidentally”, she would grip on it tighter.

Lately, very few things have affected Aren. Nothing could surprise or shock him anymore. In that sense, he was glad that this happened, because it shook him deeply. For those past few minutes, he remembered what it was like to have actual, deep emotions — other than fear and desperation. He was glad and thankful, but, at the same time, he felt a sting of regret.

When Aren wanted to think of someone that could move his heart and bring a smile to his lips, he did not think of Estella; He thought of Priscilla.

“Estella…” Aren said, his voice barely a whisper.

“You called me here to heal you, right?” Estella asked, skillfully intercepting whatever Aren was going to say next.

“Uhh, yeah,” Aren confirmed, trying to get back to the more important topic.

Estella grinned, her cheeks still flushed. “Stand still,” she said.

Aren was already standing about as still as a human person could. He wouldn't be able to move even if he wanted to. He stared at Estella, pondering how to tell her what was on his mind.

“And don’t speak,” Estella added.

Aren pressed his lips together, and then, after a moment, nodded.

Maybe some things were best left unspoken.