It had been quite the fine feeling to tell that boy off finally. Because, for all intents and purposes, his whole shtick was getting awfully droll. There comes a time for heroics, yes, but never a time for suicide!

Or so Camille would argue, having seated herself comfortably in a chair.

Fixated on checking her skills and quests, the distraction served as a way to set her mind at ease. Verifying the quest that had popped up earlier, Camille felt her feet sink into the floor.

Aedi. The looming threat of her existence still permeated. Mulling over that fact, Camille mused on whether that woman would randomly show up and kill her. Then again, for some reason, she doubted that possibility.

Should Aedi really have wished, then the magician could've just burnt Camille to a crisp before Molok had even shown up. For that reason, a sense of idiocy lingered in Camille's mind. The mere thought that her life had been, but an incantation away from expungement, disturbed her.

"I'm going to fucking tear you to shreds." Quietly expressing her distaste with a curl of her lips, Camille then conjured up her skill menu.

Somewhat delighted to know that she had even acquired a new ability, it seemed that her ability had been at work again. No doubt, a product of her previous encounter with killer hornets, it seemed only fitting that the skill is dubbed 'Poison Fist.'

Stinger Fist: Drenches the user's hands in a extraordinarily potent poison. Inflicts poison equivalent to 50% of user's DEX as damage over ten seconds to target and user.

Capable as it were, Camille nonetheless was determined not to equip it.

Poison, huh. To Camille, it was the weapon of a coward. If she were to rely on a skill that depended on waiting for her enemy to death, she preferred no skill at all.

Well, that and the fact that it literally poisoned herself too.

Giving a sideways glance to the room on the left, she felt the familiar name of Molok appear in her head.

"Dumbass." Camille cursed under her breath.

Her face, under the radiant white light, betrayed her innate discomfort.

Dragging on for a few seconds more than Camille would've liked, that display of emotion brought another forth. Hunched over, her friend Morgan stared straight into her eyes.

"Hello, Camille. How is he doing?"

Camille, who considered that question, replied a simple "He's fine." before adding on a, "Thank you for helping me."

"Your welcome," Morgan replied, now making her way to the kitchen.

"I'll get you two something to eat. Feel free to explain the blood and guts all over your body when you want." Said in a sardonic yet compassionate tone made Camille let loose another sigh.

"I promise I'll explain it all later, Morgan. Just bear with me now, alright?"

Morgan, who looked back at Camille through the kitchen door, gave one modest smile in reply.

Fully understanding the meaning behind her expression, Camille calmly waited for the time to pass. And when that time did, Morgan had returned.

Holding two bowls of fragrant stew in each of her hands, a waft of their aromas had begun to spread. Setting one down in front of Camille and the other for some yet unarrived guest, a strange sense of unity had ushered in.

"Heh, thanks, Morgan, you really are the best."

In reference to Morgan's capability in cooking, Camille spoke not a single lie. Her food, by all metrics, was really just that good. Though not the objective best in every category, Morgan did excel at enough variety that it posed little difference. Eating with her resulted in a brand new meal and a variety of cuisines every day.

On that acknowledgement, Camille dug in. Feasting on it in resplendent silence, it took only a minute before that paradise had been disrupted. The woman, still with a piece of carrot in her mouth, then glanced at the source of that disturbance.

At once, a silence fell over the room.

It need not be said that this disruption was Molok. Who, with his head, peeked over the corner of the door, then exited.

Camille, who had nothing to say of the matter, turned her attention back to her food. Understanding that Molok was far more aware of Aedi's modus operandi than her, Camille saw no reason to make conversation. If Molok was set about his ways, then so be it, who was she to judge?

If it meant her survival, then the sacrifice of another's life, no matter their age or status, should be nothing more than a mere trifle. But that was merely a lie she told herself.

Certainly, if that were true, then why did he still affect her so?

Why did Molok's agonised face and blank eyes still torment her?

Without answer, Camille's own woe furthered by the second.

So it was then that Camille found herself staring aimlessly at the stew before her, perhaps in attendance for something to change, or perhaps not. There was no way to be sure. What can be sure is that a shift in the atmosphere did occur, as Morgan then found herself a seat.

Whether carried by purpose or not, Camille's good friend now sat right next to Molok.

"The stew's going to get cold, you know?"

Molok reflected on her words before sullenly replying, "My apologies."

The same old answer as ever. It was as if he were a machine—a mere automaton driven by a predetermined selection of banal answers. Camille tried to divert her focus from the matter but proved unable to. As a compromise, she decided to look at him from the corner of her eye.

It seemed that he had now begun to eat the stew. Lifting a porcelain spoon unto his lips, he then swallowed a mixture of beef, liquid, and carrot.

"This is wonderful, thank you very much." He would say with a faint smile directed towards Morgan.

"No worries, I'm just glad you're enjoying it."

Camille's grip on her spoon tensed as the news of his enjoyment reached her ears.

"So, where are you from?" Morgan inquired. "If you don't 'mind me asking."

"Well, I do not have a passport, so I am not really from anywhere."

"Oh, that's rare."

"My apologies if that is an unsatisfying answer."

"Not at all! Um, I would say your answer is more than satisfying, even."

Unexpectedly, the two's conversation carried on in quite the spectacular fashion after. Full of playful inquiries, reflections of the past, and all manners of discussion, there was just one simple problem.

Having seen his happiness for herself, Camille was now sure of an inherent contradiction.

By all means, how was it that he still wished to die? If he had been but an empty shell of apathy, then such a desire was natural. But he wasn't.

He was just a boy, one capable of feeling all the same emotions as any other would. For that reason, through her visible irritation, Camille could hold herself no longer. After getting out of her chair, Camille then walked to a window, opened it, and stood.

"I think I'm going to kill myself today."

Thus, her plan had begun.

"W-what." Molok, who too got up, then approached.

"Yep, I'm just sick of it all, really, so might as well just end it now."

Camille feigned an exaggerated malaise at the boy, worried for her life.

Meanwhile, as Molok's mind searched for a proper response, Morgan flashed a discreet grin. Looking back at her friend, she then gestured a thumbs up.

"P-please wait, do not carry out such a horrible act!"

"But why not? It's my dream." Camille continued, this time with an added touch of mockery. "If I can die and become a superhero in the afterlife, then welp, might as well!"

"Stop being ridiculous! You know that is not going to happen."

Though he had been calm until then, Molok's voice now echoed with a subtle wave of subtle anger.

"Do you realise this is how you sound to me?"

Camille, who moved from the window, then made her way to Molok. In a release of frustration, she grabbed him by the collar.

"Do you realise how stupid and bollocks your motivations are?"

Seeing his conviction and beliefs challenged, Molok involuntarily uttered a hushed wail.

"Stop making fun of me. Please."

Camille would not surrender. Until he would see to the errors of his ways, the woman would persist. Standing in silence, Camille watched as the muscles in Molok's face twitched. Making an expression that she could not discern, Camille urged the boy to stand up for himself.

"Or what?" Camille demanded, in reference to before. "You gonna do something about it?"

If asked what would come next, Camille might've answered with anger or rage. A response expressive of Molok's inner turmoil, and defiance at her words, would not be that which transpired. Alas, the poor boy, who had well enough of all this slander, began to well with tears. Releasing him of her grip, Molok then plopped to the floor.

Sobbing all the while, an utterance of dismay escaped from the regretful Molok's throat.

"I-I do not understand, what is so wrong with what I am doing?"

Dense as she were, Camille only replied, "Huh, wait, don't cry!" Which, truth be told, was less of a reply and more of a shriek of her heart. Sadistic as she were, afflicting such pain on a good-natured boy who had done nothing to wrong her proved to be a bit much.

Going on to then pat him in some act of condolence, Camille sighed.

"Look, I'm not doing this to hurt you."

"Really?" He muttered in disbelief. "I saw what you did to that man in the video."

Camille gave an embarrassed cough at that mention. Though she had long suspected that someone recorded her, it being acknowledged was a different topic entirely.

"Well, that's different, you're uh."

Pausing in search for a suitable word, Camille didn't suppose that describing Molok as not a 'scumbag and degenerate' would work. Eventually, Camille thought that swapping the topic proved to be smarter. Therefore, without much else on mind, Camille said an honest "I just want you to see the value in your own life, you know?"

Sadly, she did not get the reaction she anticipated. Perhaps still stunted by some hormonal sadness, or perhaps bitter, Molok for all that, did not relent in his sorrow.

"Uhh, think about all the stuff you're gonna miss."

Unclear on what else to mention, it was now clear that Camille had little to no clue in dealing with such episodes.

"I will not miss anything, I have no family, I have no friends, I have no pets, I have nothing!"

In reply, Camille awkwardly suggested, "Well, actually, I can be your friend."

"You are just saying that to make me happy."

"No..." She lamely denied. "I mean, yes, I am saying it to make you happy, but I do genuinely like you."

This cheered him up immensely. "R-really?"

"Yeah, you're pretty cool. You know, you've got a lot of guts for a kid, and I can respect that."

Nervously scratching her chin, the humility of this situation dawned on Camille's subconscious. Humiliated as she were, Camille could not recall the last time that she made amends with someone that was crying, much less one half her age.

What she now realised incidentally was that this must've all seemed very stupid from an observers perspective. In practical terms, she, as a functioning adult, was now consoling what was essentially a random teenager with magical powers. Concluding that she wanted all this to end very quickly, Camille begged for the sweet release of progress.

That progress, which came in the form of Molok asking, "You mean it?" gave her the proper opportunity to end this travesty once and for all.

"Definitely, I'm not the type to lie. Just ask Morgan." Camille added, gesturing to the friend who now stood next to her and held a box of tissues.

Taking one out to wipe the tears off his swollen eyes, Camille thought it possible that he had stopped crying. That assumption was indeed correct, as the once fully sullen boy became now a modestly sullen one. Though the time of sadness had ended, Camille's duty had not.

To finish her initial purpose, Camille, in a manner more dignified than usual, said, "I mean, I respect having ambitions, but I think you're taking it too far. Being a hero is an impressive dream to chase after, but there's no point if you don't live to see its results."

Noticing a faint shimmer of hope in his eyes, Camille smiled and declared, "That's why, we'll find a way to beat Aedi, without you dying, got it?"

Symbolic of the curtain that would close upon this tender scene and bring forth the beginning of another. The time of battle drew ever so nearer, and with it, the chime of Aedi. Hearsay of another unaligned, let it be known the time shall arrive.