Wait, what? No going home in Diamond? And 6E12 saving us all?

"Hold up," I said to the black-dressed lady. "Not to be rude, but where did you hear all that from?"

"I'm glad you asked," came a male voice behind me. I startled around, to find a teenage boy slightly younger than myself. He had jet-black bangs, black eyeliner, pale skin, and wore a black hoodie and ripped jeans. He had no expression on his face, except a blank one best described as totally-done-with-life.

"Welcome to the Guild of Truthseekers," he said to me. "You'll like it here."

Oh no, cultists!

I instinctively shuffled away from the pair of dark-dressed strangers, now ready to bolt off at a moment's notice.

"Haven't you ever wondered?" the lady asked, approaching me, matching my slow retreat. "How Legend players exist? If players really went home in Diamond, then no one should be able to progress beyond Diamond. Such an obvious paradox. The masses refuse to wake up to even the simplest revelations, content to sleep together in the darkness."

"I dunno," I said. "That reasoning seems like a bit of a stretch."

Maybe I should just start running.

"Rule 2 in your notebook," the lady said. "It says, 'Anything written down will show up across all the notebook of your teammates.' Right? Notebook of your teammates. Notebook, singular."

"What's your point?" I asked.

"It should've been plural. Meaning, the rules contain a grammar mistake. We aren't the pawns of some omniscient god. But rather, the one forcing us to play these challenges is a mere, fallible being just like us. And like us, they can be beaten."

"...OK," I said. "This is definitely a stretch."

"The founder of our guild was blessed," the lady said. "She wore the Crown of Foresight, and she heard the future's whispers. 6E12 will come, destroy this prison, and we will be freed."

The teenage boy nodded. "We never met her because she went up to Gold a year ago, but all the other followers swear she's legit."

"Shut up Jayden," the lady whispered, then turned back to me. "Come, insightful one, and we shall show you the entire truth."

"Uh, no thanks," I said.

"Please," the lady said. "I know this is all very sudden. But trust me, you'll see that we mean no deception."

"Come on," the boy said. He reached his hand out, as though he wanted me to grasp it and follow him. "Our base is only 20 minutes from here."

Nope nope nope nope.

I ran. And they freaking gave chase!

"Please, wait!" the lady shouted, stumbling through the streets behind me. I considered slowing them down with a Frost Missile, but immediately decided that initiating combat one-versus-two was the worst idea I've had today. Instead, I ran toward the wall circling Ring One, toward the exact spot where Mr. Atlas had his shift as a watchman.

After several minutes of running, I neared the wall and saw him atop its battlements.

"ATLAS!" I screamed. Thankfully, he had his axe and armor already equipped. He seemed to notice me.

Mr. Atlas lowered himself down the wall using his grappling hook. I ran to his side. He was wearing the badge of the Guard's Guild, a shining, engraved medallion of silver on his chest. The lady and boy stopped several yards away, looking between Mr. Atlas and me.

"Cultists!" I reported to Atlas.

"We're not cultists!" the boy yelled. To my surprise, he sounded genuinely hurt.

"Screw it!" he said to the lady. "Screw this. They never listen to what we say. Now everyone's gonna hate us. We're all gonna die..."

"Shut it Jayden," the lady said. "It's fine. Let's go."

She gave me one last, regretful stare, then turned and left with the boy.

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My heart felt heavy. Had I done something wrong?

"Guild of Truthseekers?" Atlas asked me.

"Wait, you know about them?"

"They annoy townsfolk with a bunch of conspiracy theories. Otherwise, harmless."

I told Atlas the things they tried to convince me about.

"Sounds like the usual," he said.

"You think they might be right?" I asked.

"You never know," he said. "But do yourself a favor. Don't waste time on conspiracy theories. If they turn out correct, you can start paying attention then."

Mr. Atlas chaperoned me home. On our way, I told him I was out to buy soap, because the one back home was too scratchy.

"Simmer some water," he told me. "Melt the soap. Strain out the exfoliant. Now there's body wash. Also, don't walk alone at night too much."

I thanked him as he dropped me off at our house. His body-wash recipe worked well, and I managed to cook up a glass bottle's worth of liquid soap. Call me Edward Elric, 'cause I just did me some alchemy.

I passed the soap bottle into the bathroom, to a still-waiting Saber.

"Here's your gamer-girl bath water," I told her.

So that was Friday night. On Saturday, I stayed in bed to rest. Saber hadn't even hurt me that bad, but I felt a bit emotionally drained. On Sunday, Saber, Jack, and I visited the phone-charging person Josh told us about. She lived in a quiet corner of Ring Two, at the end of a cul-de-sac street. A young girl, looking about 16 or so, came out to meet us. She wore an oversized black zip-up jacket with the hood over her head, and she had Apple EarPods in her ears. She carried a snack bowl with her.

"We heard about you from Josh," Saber told her.

"Yeah," I said. "Josh said we're 'real ones,' so we get the privilege of meeting you."

She took a chip from her snack bowl and ate it. "Cool. Let me see your phones."

She took our phones into her hand and began to shake them up and down vigorously. About 15 minutes later, she handed them back. My phone powered up, and I saw it now had 48% battery.

"Arm's tired," the phone-charging girl said. "That's all from me today. Gonna be 40 bucks each."

We paid her. She went back inside her house, and we also left.

"I like her," Saber said.

The next day was Monday, which meant Hei and Saber and I had to go back to the Combat Institute. Tanin, our recruiter, greeted us with a smile.

"How was your guys' weekend?" he asked.

"Nothing major happened," I said, before Saber got the chance to mention anything about Headmaster Fink. "Right, Saber?"

"Ehh," Saber simply mumbled.

After settling us into a classroom, Tanin made us read a newcomer's brochure about guild rules and regulations. It was mainly boring stuff, like "don't accept bribes," "all Institute expenditures must be accounted for," and "don't harass other Institute members." I wondered if Fink violated that last one.

The rest of the week was devoted to role-specific job training. For me, that meant spy lessons in preparation for me infiltrating the Spanish-Speaker's Guild. I learned some espionage tricks, like the code words the Combat Institute used to communicate. A couple random spots around the town were our designated "dead drop" zones, where we could drop off key items or letters. Hei would remain at the Combat Institute as my partner. He'd be in charge of monitoring our team notebook, in case I needed to send any urgent messages. I had to use code words though, so Mr. Atlas and Jack wouldn't find out. They might still get suspicious, of course, so using the notebook was a last resort.

Also, I got trained on anti-torture techniques, which was pretty badass, but also made me really nervous about my upcoming job. Apparently if they tortured me to extract information, I could give cop-out answers. For example, there were certain pieces of information about the Combat Institute I was allowed to provide to our enemies, such as demographic statistics and layouts of public buildings. However, the true secrets of the Institute must never be surrendered.

"Don't worry," Tanin told me. "Under severe suffering, your mind disassociates from your body, so that helps a lot."

"Uh…" I said. "Thanks I guess?"

"Relax," Tanin said. "We're just preparing you for the worst-case scenario. This is actually a pretty low-risk mission, you'll be fine."

But, as they say, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

I spent the weekend practicing body-language concealment techniques, such as how to look by turning my eyes and not my head. And then, it was Monday again. This time, I did not go to the Combat Institute for work. Rather, I walked alone to the Spanish Speaker's Guild Hall.

It was an innocuous-looking, charming sandstone mansion surrounded by an elegant metal fence. I entered through the gates of the fence, then proceeded into the main hall, all the while working to keep my nerves at bay. A friendly receptionist-lady greeted me in Spanish and directed me to fill out a newcomer's sign-up form. Thankfully, the form was bilingual in English and Spanish. I submitted the form, then waited around in the guild hall for them to process it. The whole while I discreetly scanned my surroundings, but I saw nothing much beside a few passers-by.

Soon, the receptionist gathered me and two other newcomers into a side room.

"Hola, bienvenidos," she welcomed us. "Some of you may prefer Spanish, or maybe English. But this is everyone's first day, and I just wanna make sure you're all feeling welcomed." Then she repeated in Spanish, "Es el primer día de todos ustedes, y quiero asegurarme de que todos se sientan bienvenidos. A veces, voy a hablar inglés para los pochos."

"All right," she said, switching back to English. "Today we have three new members with us. Hooray!"

Just act natural, I told myself. Stick to simple phrases. Minimize the amount you converse with everyone, and just pretend to be introverted. Good plan. I ought to blend right in.

The receptionist flipped through the paperwork we filled out earlier. "Let's learn everyone's names. So, today we have…Alfonso Iglesias, Maria Calderon, and…El Luchador Loco. Huh. Well, it's good to meet everyone.”

So far so good. They wouldn't suspect a thing.