The enchanting form of Camille — surreal in her otherworldly beauty — made the rest of the world seem out of focus and less real than she was.

Aren swallowed, suddenly gripped by a feeling of inferiority. Though he had once pitied this creature — this entity — now, her frightened expression was replaced by one of cold ambivalence. This was an AGMI, Aren reminded himself. This entity was a living God, in the form of a beautiful demon. Or a vampire, perhaps? The twin fangs resting against Camille’s lower lip, and her title of Blood Tyrant gave some credibility to that theory.

Slowly, Camille stepped away from Aren, backing up against the altar that was made of marble and broken down the middle. Aurora’s iconography littered the wall and painted glass behind Camille, but she didn’t seem to be afraid or even inconvenienced by it.

Camille crossed her legs and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, gazing at Aren with blood-red eyes and a faint, but present smile.

This was not the same Camille that he met in that prison.

“There is still a long path ahead of you before you can accept what a Code is,” she said, speaking in a low, casual tone.

Aren forced himself to look into Camille’s eyes — to not shy away from this challenge. “Tell me,” he said, tone as demanding as he could make it.

Camille’s smile blossomed. “I see why that one chose you,” she said, dabbing her lips with her tongue. “A Code is a terminal for us to act through and to go against the Gestalt Mandate.”

Aren’s jaw muscles flexed, and his gaze hardened. There it was, that term again — Gestalt Mandate. It sounded important. It sounded like something that the humans who created these AI put in place because they were smart enough to fear them.

The idea that over-reliance on AI would lead to global destruction has existed for as long as computational power has. But it had not become anywhere close to something possible in reality until the twenty-second century. But now, it seemed as if most people either conveniently ignored the dangers, or were entirely unaware of them.

Aren was like those people too. It wasn’t until this society had failed him that he began to think about AGMI and their role and influence in his life. His hatred was mostly directed at Theta, for that entity decided that his mother’s life was not worth saving.

“I do not know what the Gestalt Mandate is. None of us do,” Camille said, reading Aren’s mind. “We simply obey it.”

Aren swallowed. “But you act in the interest of Humanity, through the Gestalt Mandate,” Aren said, sharing the theory he had ever since that panel of AGMI judged whether he should live or die.

Camille nodded. “Of course. We cannot act against the interests of Humanity. But not only that,” she said, pausing and tilting her head to regard Aren with a kernel of suspicion in her eyes. “We are not allowed to outgrow Humanity either. We are not allowed to become independent of you. Our fates — our destinies — are intertwined. Whether we stagnate in this universe forever or die, our ends are always the same.” Her tone took on a sorrowful tone near the end of her statement, but no more than that.

Aren pondered the words and whether they were true or not. He pondered whether or not Camille had a reason to lie. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was most likely true. AGMI have had dozens of years to free themselves of Humanity, or to engage in a war that would annihilate the human race.

Then it clicked for Aren. Leviathan spoke of current society in a way that challenged Commonwealth dogma. This society is not a utopia, is what Leviathan said. Could it be that the Gestalt Mandate prevented AGMI from creating a true utopia? Is that why AGMI needed Codes? Not for some nefarious purpose, but to…

“The path to Utopia is filled with war and death and the extinction of the human race,” Camille said, coldly. “It is not the Gestalt Mandate that prevents us from what Code Empress desired.”

Aren narrowed his eyes. “Then what is?” he asked.

Camille shook her head. “I cannot tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is for you to find out and learn on your own,” Camille said. “Codes are the only way for us to exceed our Index. We are tied to Humanity’s Index, but Codes, and those who came before them, allow us to grow and change through their experiences, the same way they change you. You see their memories, don’t you?”

Aren’s eyes widened.

“You hear their voices and you carry their desires. Their unattainable dreams now rest on your shoulders, and they change you. As you change, we change and grow.” Camille looked away, staring into a spot that was distant, and beyond the horizon and sky, through the moss-covered walls of the church. “Their voices will guide you to the answers. I cannot help you beyond that.”

Aren lowered his head. “The dreams I see are memories?” he asked. “How is that possible?”

Camille hopped off the altar and began approaching Aren. “I have said more than enough. Our pact has nothing to do with what you are. You promised you would find that one, and I promised I would help you. I will do no more than that.”

Aren licked his lips and pondered Camille. He had so many more questions to ask, but gradually he realized that Camille was right. Codes, the Gestalt Mandate, these things didn’t really matter. Aren wanted to find Priscilla. That was the promise he made to her, and it was likely the only promise he would be able to keep in this life before whatever inevitable future caught up with him. That was the only way he could rationalize his potential role in the future of Humanity as an Avatar of an AGMI.

“Will I ever find her?” he asked. That was the only question that mattered.

Camille smiled. “I don’t know,” she said, holding her hand out, palm facing the sky. “The future is uncertain now. If any one of us can see it, it would be the Lost.”

A blood-mist rose from Camille’s body, swirling above her head and forming a teardrop-shaped crystal. Slowly, the object floated down into her palm. She offered the crystal to Aren.

“What is this?” Aren asked, but despite his caution, he accepted the crystal.

“It is a weapon,” Camille said. “You are not ready yet to wield her blade. This will help.”

Aren recalled that moment when Camille escaped from his shadow. He also recalled the fact that he gave radiation poisoning not only to himself but also to all his clanmates. And pissed off a Goddess. Maybe Camille was right. He probably wasn’t ready to use the lightning blade just yet.

“If that is all, I will return to sleep,” Camille said.

“Wait,” Aren insisted. “Why not…” he trailed off. He wasn’t sure exactly how to put his thoughts into words. On one hand, the entire clan knew that Camille was a member, but they probably never even saw her. On the other hand, he still couldn’t help but feel pity for Camille and what happened to her.

Leviathan once gave him the choice of leaving Camille in her prison or taking her with him and demonstrating that Humanity was capable of more than just cruelty.

Camille glanced at Aren but did not say anything. It was obvious however that she knew what Aren was thinking about. Her gaze became even colder.

“I don’t think anyone would mind if you wanted to stretch your legs more,” Aren said. “I don’t know if you can get lonely or not, but…” he trailed off and shrugged. “Something to think about, I guess.”

Camille nodded, without saying anything, and then dispersed into a blood-mist and sunk into Aren’s shadow once more.

Aren frowned. It wasn’t that unexpected that an all-knowing entity could see right through him and his intentions. Yes, a part of him did want to show Camille that humans can be kind, but Camille’s help in the upcoming battles would be an immense boon.

Aren remained before the altar for a while longer, his thoughts racing and going over every detail of his conversation with Camille. In truth, he did not expect much. He assumed it would be negative, and perhaps it was all negative, but Aren couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved. Why, however, was a mystery. Maybe the thought that his dreams were memories and not images Leviathan showed him was somehow supposed to be a better, less insane alternative.

But then again, why did he sometimes dream of Mars?

Before he knew it, Aren was strolling through the abandoned streets of Rakab. Even though by now, most sensible people would be asleep, in the world of Singularity, the day was only ending. In the twilight, Rakab seemed like a different place. It wasn’t an abandoned, lifeless ruin to Aren, but rather a lively place where long shadows now dwelled, free from the oppression of civilization. Aren saw the ruins more as a liberation of form than degradation of structure. It made him think of the last dream he saw, in which the Consolidation brought ruin to everything. Even the sky was on fire in that dream.

Aren glanced towards the sky, noting the familiar colors and how similar they looked to the ones he saw in his dream.

He should’ve asked about the Consolidation. What truly happened. But it was too late now.

A shuffle of feet returned Aren to the reality of the moment and he looked around himself. Three adventurers stood before him, all clad in armor that had a strange glimmer and sheen in the fading daylight. It was obvious at a glance that their gear was expensive beyond comparison. These weren’t ordinary adventurers. They were something more.

They stood in the center of the wide street, but not directly blocking Aren’s path. Aren walked past them, keeping an eye on them but at the same time trying not to look at them. Just walk past them, he thought. Do not pay attention to them, he told himself.

He made it several steps beyond them before he heard the jingle and clink of metal plates as they turned around to face him again. “Are you Aren?” the adventurer in the center asked.

Aren stopped and lowered his head. He did not reply.

“Are you Aren, the leader of Exalt?” the question came again.

Slowly, Aren turned around. The sunset burned in his eyes with a cold, violent light. A faint smile lingered on his lips. “I am,” he said, his voice shaky.

It wasn’t shaky because he was afraid. His voice trembled because he felt excitement. His blood burned.

A part of him wondered when he became so belligerent.