There used to be a town hall in Rakab, but its ruins were now the most attractive tourist location in the city — at least if it were open to tourism. It was a grand building once, made of imported white and gold marble, from a distant place that was now no longer under Coalition control. It was impossible to replicate or repair the town hall without that marble. It now stood as a stark reminder that, sometimes, losing something meant that it would be lost forever.

Still, the group made its primary base and headquarters in those ruins — through the moss-covered and crumbling arches, and underneath the broken marble pillars that no longer supported a roof. There, in that ruined place, temporary construction for basic needs — food, water, and shelter — was prepared next to pitched tents.

It looked like a campsite, but instead of being surrounded by trees and wildland, it was a marble jungle. At the very least, they were certain that the rest of the building wouldn’t collapse on them. Well, ninety percent certain.

This location was picked for a reason. Fang suggested it. He said that discussing policy with outsiders should be done in a place that inspired abject terror and an overwhelming sense of urgency.

Fang called it time-essential diplomacy.

Ame called it gunboat diplomacy.

The group thought it was a great idea.

As Aren approached the rubble-fenced area, their heads turned in his direction. They were sat around a campfire, using loose rubble as stools and benches. At first, they seemed excited upon spotting him. But then they came to the realization, and the accompanying disappointment, that his arm did not grow back, and the hole in his side was not getting smaller.

“It didn’t work?” Fang asked. “Maybe we could hire a High Priest of Aurora from the Adventurer’s guild.”

Aren smiled. “It worked,” he said. “Estella pulled it off.”

Although they were hopeful before, those words — that Estella succeeded — seemed to surprise them.

“How? She’s a Templar, right? She shouldn’t be able to—“ Fang began, but was interrupted by Cassandra.

“It’s the blessing,” Cassandra said. “At least, I think so. In my previous clan, there was a theory that those who are blessed gain favor faster, and at a certain point, can perform higher tier rituals.”

“Yeah,” Ame agreed, nodding. “It’s not just a rumor, that is how it works. But to get to that point, you need to grind for years. It’s the mechanism of how the first priests appeared.”

“Anyway…” Aren said, trying to draw their attention before this speculation and theory got too out of hand. “It is basically like this: In Aurora’s temple, I can be healed.”

Fang chirped happily and clapped his hands together. “What are we waiting for then? Let’s get you patched up.”

Aren shook his head. “Estella is still there. Let’s give her some time.”

Fang nodded. “So, the curse wasn’t purged, right?”

“Yeah. I still have it. It’s just that in Aurora’s temple, blessings and curses from other Divine won’t apply to me,” Aren explained.

“That’s not great,” Fang said.

Aren blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Fang said, as he threw another log onto the fire, “Outside of the Temple, thanks to Ytra, you cannot die. Even if you did die, thanks to Luna, you’ll revive in Her temple.”

Everyone’s expression became thoughtful.

“I am guessing this also applies to holy grounds in general,” Ame said. “So if Aurora declares a holy war, it would work like total war. Everything in the world — in proximity to Her enemy — will be considered holy ground.”

Fang nodded to Ame. “Good point.”

Aren sat down on a crushed piece of rubble and pondered. “Are you thinking it is a trap?”

All of them laughed at the same time — even Nissa who was suspiciously very quiet. Damien also made a sound that was almost like laughing, but not quite right.

“Absolutely not,” Fang said, shaking his head. “This is Lady Aurora we are talking about. If anything, she took pity on you and wanted to make this a fair fight.”

Cassandra nodded. “Lady Dawn is very just and chivalric. Her blessings are the most complicated, and few can count themselves among Her favored or blessed.”

Ame nodded. “She doesn’t play favorites either.”

Aren pursed his lips thoughtfully and didn’t say anything. He regretted that he didn’t learn more about Singularity and the Divine that inhabit it. Then again, he was so glad that he could finally be healed that he didn’t even consider the negatives of Aurora’s arrangement.

Her blessings were complicated indeed.

Estella could not remain in cities for long and had to risk her life every day against powerful enemies thanks to Aurora’s blessing. On the other hand, Aren could be killed and likely excised from the world if he was on Aurora’s sacred ground.

Even with her Favor — that he is beloved by all who follow the Pantheon of Light — meant that he had to question the moral and ethical implications of how he dealt with people. Whether he took advantage of them or tried to earn the rapport was likely a test of Aren’s character to begin with.

“Did you talk to Eli, from the Adventurer’s?” Aren asked after his contemplations.

Fang nodded. “I did,” he said. “They will be coming over tomorrow. Representatives from the Builders and the Merchants will accompany her.”

“Builders? Merchants?” Aren asked.

Fang smiled. “She said she’d cover the cost of a Stronghold,” he reminded Aren. “She even sent over a few designs. Want them?”

Aren nodded. “I’ll take a look.”

Fang nodded, and then pressed his finger against his interface. A moment later, Aren received two notifications.

[ Blueprint received: Exalt Stronghold. ]

[ Blueprint received: New Rakab. ]

Aren summoned his interface and stared at it. He studied it for almost a dozen seconds, narrowing his eyes and pressing random buttons before Fang cleared his throat.

“You go to Clan, then Territory,” Fang said.

Aren looked away from his interface, only to see the incredulous look on his clan-mates faces. They had almost forgotten that he was a complete and utter newbie at this. Then again, not many people could claim that they owned an entire city or possessed any sort of expertise in this area. His clan-mates knew, probably, because they stared at that screen themselves for hours. Why wouldn’t they? They had an entire city. Of course they would stare at it all day.

Aren chuckled and dismissed the interface. “I’ll look at it later,” he said, slightly embarrassed. Then he looked at Nissa.

She did not meet his gaze. But still, there was a slight smile on her lips. She knew what was coming next.

Without saying anything, Aren reached into his satchel and produced the item that he had promised to her. The black coronet of the Ashlord. An item that could grant a Unique class.

“Nissa,” he said, holding out the circlet towards the Arcane Archer. “We cannot do this without your help. You are our only long-ranged fighter.”

Nissa’s smile widened and she glanced shyly towards Aren and the others. “Are you sure you want to give it to me? What if I lose my ranged abilities?”

The others also smiled at Nissa. They were almost as excited about this as she was. In truth, everyone dreamed of acquiring a Legendary or Unique class. It wasn’t just the path towards becoming a famous pro — one could accomplish that even with a lower-tier class — but there has not been a single world champion without either a unique skill or a unique or legendary class.

Aren shook his head. “This class does not override your abilities,” he explained, sharing what he managed to learn of the class. “It allows you to use elemental decay: Ash, to be specific.”

This got a few intrigued looks from the others. Surely, they had many questions. Questions that Aren could not answer. Not because he didn’t know the answer — he simply didn’t understand the answers. But he knew, without a doubt, that the Ashlord was a support class, of sorts. It had and tags. Among its Arcane Types, there was no

tag either, meaning that whatever magic it used was not Planar. It did share with Aren’s Lightning Blade, but the similarities ended there.

Aren was certain — though he wasn’t sure why he was certain — that this class did not overwrite abilities, but allowed one to combine what they already knew with this new type of magic.

And it made sense to Aren that this was the case. From what Ame explained, Stygian obtained this class in the Abyss — meaning that it was a reward. It would be an absurd reward if one had to undo all their progress in a class they already likely mastered to wield a new power.

On a level that was deeper than that of the conscious and cognitive, Aren could feel what this class was capable of. Perhaps it was because of his [Arcane Predator], but he knew that this class was always meant to be used alongside a class that specialized in ranged combat. But it wasn’t ordinary ranged combat that one might think of when imagining archers. It was beyond that.

“You’ll just have to see for yourself,” Aren said, as he offered the circlet to Nissa.

Nissa bit her lower lip as she stared at the circlet. It was clear that she wanted it, but still, she hesitated.

“Just take it already,” Fang said, stifling his laughter.

Even Cassandra nodded encouragingly to Nissa. “You’ll do great,” she said.

Nissa looked at each one of them in turn, and even to Damien who silently nodded to her. Then she reached out and carefully, very slowly, took the circlet. The entire time, she was looking at Aren, perhaps expecting him to change his mind.

But he didn’t change his mind. When he smiled at her, happily, tears welled up in her eyes.

It could not be overstated how grandiose a gift this was. Hypothetically, a Legendary class had a worth that was astronomical. A Unique class was practically priceless. They were not things meant to be traded for money or favors — they were strategic resources that could not only obtain a tremendously high citizenship class for only one person but secure the future of an entire organization.

“I don’t know what to say,” Nissa said, holding the circlet and on the brink of tears.

“When I came from the Island, you were the first one to reach out to me,” Aren said. “You didn’t have to. We were friends before, but in the last few years, after what happened, we didn’t talk much. You had no obligation whatsoever to spend time with me or to try to help me out.”

“Aren…” Nissa whispered. “That’s…”

Aren shook his head. “It’s true. You didn’t sell me out when you learned I was a Calamity. You didn’t betray me. You reached out to me, helped me get settled, and then you stood by me, even though you probably knew that you’d be risking everything — your character and all — if you sided with me.”

Fang closed his eyes and nodded. At this point, Nissa could not hold back her tears anymore.

“I might be a newbie, and I might not know where our path ends,” Aren said, “But I know that this is just the beginning for us. You aren’t just clan-mates to me. Friendship doesn’t even come close to describing how much you mean to me. You were there for me when I needed you the most, in this world and in the other one. Without you…” Aren trailed off.

Fang grinned from ear to ear. Nissa was laughing and crying at the same time. Cassandra, Damien, and Ame seemed a bit more withdrawn in their expressions, but they certainly looked like they felt included in Aren’s feelings.

“Without you… I can’t do it,” Aren said.

He looked at each person and noted their curious expressions.

“One of the people that helped me — the one who saved my life — now needs my help,” Aren said. “I can’t do it alone,” he added after a pause.

Fang jumped to his feet and clapped Aren on the shoulder. “Even though we stopped talking, I never stopped looking after you,” he said. “I never stopped being your friend.”

Nissa wiped her nose with the back of her palm and spoke, fighting back tears, “I knew you weren’t just after fame and citizenship. A friend of ours needs our help? No problem.”

“I am glad to have friends like you,” Cassandra said, smiling brightly.

The others agreed with the Priestess’ words.

“Thank you,” Aren said and bowed his head. Never before had he felt such genuine gratitude towards someone. They didn’t even ask any questions that Aren had prepared for. They just accepted it. They took up his cause without wondering why, how, or what.

It was as if they were saying that no matter what his fight was, it was theirs as well, on principle.

The fire crackled contently.