When Fang and the others showed up, Aren was ready for anything. Before then, Nissa had almost died twice, but managed to escape and draw away her pursuers from Aren. Considering how hard Nissa was trying to keep Aren alive, it was not unreasonable to think that this was a huge deal.

But, when Fang showed up, ahead of the others, he checked Aren’s wounds and simply said: “Your status doesn’t change anything. The risks and rewards are greater. That is all.”

That is all.

Aren felt silly for thinking that he’d hear anything else from Fang. He expected shouting, cursing, elimination — honestly, almost anything was on the table. But a cold, logical statement was not even on the list, and, knowing Fang, it should’ve been.

Was that why Leviathan did not interfere?

Since then, armed with knowledge about the goblin tactics from Nissa who survived the initial ambush, and fended off several pursuit parties, the group moved to secure the immediate area, while Cassandra stayed behind and used her divine gifts to heal Aren’s wounds.

Cassandra was a follower of Latra, the Light Pantheon’s Goddess of Seasons, Change and Life. Though, which deity they followed did not matter for White Priests, they could all perform healing. However, invoking Latra had its own benefits, in addition to the normal White Priest repertoire of abilities. Latra could heal wounds, bring the dead back to life, feed the party and more. Latra was a very popular choice for White Priests.

The healing process was slow, but effective. Wounds of Aren’s severity could take days, or weeks, to heal on their own. But with a White Priest of Latra around, they could disappear within minutes or hours.

“You have great friends, an’ are lucky to have a static group,” she said, possibly trying her best to speak properly, although her accent was still heavy and easily noticeable.

“Where are your friends?” Aren asked. There wasn’t much else to do but lie still. At the very least he could speak now, and moving didn’t hurt so much anymore. His body was shrouded in a faint, white light, and brilliant flames burned away at his wounds. The flames were difficult to spot, as most of Aren’s wounds were internal, but here and there, broken ribs had pierced his skin, and under the white flame’s healing property, the wounds closed, and the ribs floating back into their proper place.

“They moved on a long time ago,” Cassandra explained. “I graduated two years ago. Damien too.”

“Why not go with them?” Aren queried.

Cassandra shrugged. “They found a better ‘ealer. The clan had three supports back then,” she explained. “During a raid, we obtained some skills. I chose Inferno, and one of the other supports chose Celestial Bulwark.”

Aren nodded. He could already figure out where this was going.

“One day, they said: Sorry, but clan expenses are getting high. We have enough damage, but not enough support. We can’t afford you anymore. Goo’ luck,” Cassandra said, not seeming sad or anything at all.

“But they were your friends…” Aren pointed out the unfairness.

Cassandra just laughed at Aren. “No such thing as friends when money’s involved, Aren. Tha’ clan made enough money, here, to live luxuriously in the real world. Small clans can afford to keep a semi-decent suppor’ with offensive skills around, but large, successful ones, can’t.” Cassandra adjusted Aren’s bandages. “When yer clan becomes big enough, it’s not just friendship anymore, then it’s a business.”

“When we make it and become successful, we won’t just be a business,” Aren promised.

Cassandra laughed at Aren again. She didn’t say anything immediately, instead, she checked his wounds first, mainly his sides and back. “Everyon’ says that at first.” She smiled at Aren, full of kindness. “I don’t mind. If I make some money, that’s enough for me, even if you kick me out later. I have a daughter, and I want to pay her tuition fees. She wants to be a Colonist.”

Aren blinked, but something she said earlier stood out to him. “How did you graduate two years ago, but… already have a…” He didn’t quite finish the sentence on purpose. It was none of his business. Besides, some people start a family early.

Perhaps sensing Aren’s thought patterns, Cassandra laughed again. “I am from Sector 6. I had to be re-educated for my citizenship test. I couldn’t find a job, and living off the Commonwealth wasn’t quite enough, so I started… well, I became an adventurer.” She pointedly avoided saying player, even though it should be fine to do so here. Still, even though they mentioned the real world earlier, there was no reason to risk getting a fine, or a ban.

“Damien?” Aren asked.

Cassandra shook her head. “Na’, he’s a normal graduate. I just met ‘im recently, a few months ago. He also had trouble finding a group.”

“Why doesn’t he talk?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’s shy. Maybe he has trauma,” she said. “Doesn’t matter. He’s a good kid. He’s generous and kind. Just allow him a chance, an’ you’ll see.”

Aren nodded. Cassandra may think that they’ll start kicking out the misfits, but Aren had no such intentions. To begin with, all of them were misfits, except perhaps Nissa. Nissa was, most likely, the only normal person in this group. Well, Cassandra too, despite her accent.

At that moment, Fang hopped over the wall and landed next to the two. Damien was on the rooftop, peering down, while also keeping watch on the surroundings.

“We got problems,” Fang said. “How’s the healing coming along?”

“Almos’ done.” Cassandra’s thick accent returned with a vengeance. “What’s th’ problem?”

“Adventurers. A whole raid group,” Fang said, casting an appraising glance at Aren’s physical state.

“Why’s that a problem?” Aren asked.

“They’ll kill us if they find us, that’s one problem,” Fang said, and Cassandra nodded in agreement. “And if we don’t kill them, they might clear out Rakab and get all the glory before we get the chance. In fact, it doesn’t even matter if they clear it out or not.”

Aren thought about the words. “If we don’t do it alone, without outside help, it won’t be the same.”

Fang nodded. “You are a quick learner. That’s right. If we don’t do it alone, our entire plan fails.”

“So what do we do? Fight them?” Aren asked.

Fang shook his head. “No chance. There’s thirty plus of them. And… you are our ace, you understand?” If you die, you stay dead, is what he meant.

Aren nodded. “I should remain hidden.”

Fang nodded. “So it’s four versus almost forty.”

“But aren’t you the Junior Arena champion? Alongside Ame?” Aren asked.

Fang grumbled, cursed something in his native Mandarin, and then said. “To hell with Ame. Don’t mention his name again.”

Aren’s eyebrow shot up in surprise at Fang’s outburst, but decided not to push the matter further. Even Cassandra’s curiosity was piqued, but she was focusing on healing Aren, renewing the divine invocations.

“They will move in small groups of four or five, but even so, I am at best good for two or three, even with help,” Fang explained. “After that, they’ll just blob together into a death ball and mow us down. We have no choice but to retreat and figure out a new plan.”

Aren was shocked still by the sudden, foreign thought, but at first, he didn’t understand. What about the Siege of Alesia? They had already tried that. It didn’t work. They were picked off before they could even start.

Even if they could avoid getting slaughtered and picked off again, then engage the orcs in the plaza, a few Light Barriers would not keep the raid group out. It would be just a tiny inconvenience.

Then it hit him, like a lightning bolt out of the blue. Caesar built extensive fortifications around a fortified settlement he was besieging to avoid a deadly pincer attack.

Aren licked his lips. “Do we stand a chance if we stop the raid group from regrouping?”

Fang shook his head, but froze mid-motion. He pressed his thumb into the dimple on his cheek, and his curled index finger against his bottom lip. His brows were furrowed in thought, his gaze distant.

“You said they move in small groups, and when provoked, they regroup and take down the enemy with superior forces, right?” Aren pointed out.

Fang nodded. “Right, right,” Fang said. “If we stop them from regrouping… we don’t even have to fight at all.”

Cassandra looked between the two, confused and uncertain.

Fang hissed after a moment. “That is savage and brutal,” Fang said and then glared at Aren. “You know, any alliance or clan would kill to have a strategist like you.”

Aren chuckled and shook his head, about to denounce and refuse the honor of receiving such words from a brilliant strategist — it wasn’t his idea to begin with.

Fang wouldn’t let that happen. “It’s not enough to come up with an idea; you have to come up with one, on the spot, under pressure. That is critical.”

The Eastern Warrior then beat the dust off lamellar armor and moved towards the broken wall, preparing to scale it.

“Nissa, I, and Damien will take care of this. You sit there, get patched up, and when you are ready, I will have a mission for you. Tonight, we are killing two birds with one stone,” he said, and then scaled on top of the broken wall, and from there, onto the rooftop. “Cassandra, the scroll case, please.”

Cassandra nodded and tossed the leather scroll case up to Fang. The two left immediately afterwards.

Aren wasn’t sure what Fang meant by two birds with one stone, or how only the three of them — Nissa, Fang and Damien — would be able to ‘take care of this’, but he didn’t question Fang’s problem-solving ability. If clans would kill to have Aren, Aren didn’t want to know what they’d do to have someone like Fang.

Aren deeply respected Fang — Ame too — for similar reasons, they were both excellent warriors; top tier. But lately, Fang stood out to Aren with his logical and reasonable thinking, strategic and tactical thinking, and generally, not being a jerk.

And the others too, Aren respected them as well. Damien was quiet, but he was efficient and gladly gave up his life for the cause. Nissa also shared some traits with Fang. She thought about the whole more than the individual. She had a chance to both steal Aren’s Unique Class, as well as eliminate him as a Calamity and receive a reward, but she chose not to.

And Cassandra, despite her harsh accent, seemed easy-going and kind. Aren had the impression that the White Priestess could’ve easily worked on her healing abilities and become a top tier support, but instead she chose to hang out with Damien and help him. Of course, Aren had no proof that this was the case, but her dedication and tireless focus to patching Aren’s wounds spoke volumes of her patience and teamwork. Her plea to convince Aren that keeping Damien around was a good idea, even if she herself were to be found unsuitable for the party, spoke of her selfless and self-sacrificing nature.

“You…” Aren murmured when he realized. “You hang out with Damien to help him find a clan or static group, even though you know you’ll be kicked out eventually.”

Cassandra’s gaze focused on Aren. Her kind smile made a reappearance. “Nonsense,” she said, but Aren knew, based on her tone, that he guessed right. “I need to put food on th’ table too. But if people like him, and want to keep him, all th’ better, no?”

Aren decided then, that no matter what, Cassandra would be a permanent member of their clan, or there would be no clan at all.