Zenith Lochwain peered at the volunteers. Some were children. Most were adults. Even some women joined in among them. What concerned him was the number. Only 1200 showed up to aid them. Counting the fifty liberators and their original forces, the numbers couldn’t be higher than 1500.

Next to him, Santo Ahoy sat. His face scrunched with stress. Orwell outnumbered them hundred-to-one with a higher quality troop. Business taught him grit, but some psychological pressure was insurmountable. They got a humongous problem pressing on them that made Orwell sounded like a joke. That problem was restlessness. The Liberator were trying to keep the volunteer from losing morale and failing. Three days of satisfying egos, soothing rages and keeping with demand for answers took toll on both men. While Rem wrote an explicit instruction for the troop to mingle and familiarize themselves into units, idleness combined with the mysterious no-show leader had sanded the little integrity remained after the first attack.

The two men heard the noise.

“The fight break out again?” Ahoy sagged.

“Bruno is also there,” Lochwain was at the blink of tossing the towel. “At this rate, we will rip ourselves apart before getting to Orwell.”

Kakroom!

A loud explosion sounded.

“What is that?” Ahoy rose, shaken by the roar of destiny.

Madam Marmel climbed down the stair.

“Our partner returns from their preparation. Can’t you sense it? They are stronger than ever.”

…

“What the hell are you saying?”

“You guys should quiet down?” Bruno tried to stop the fight from breaking out.

“I am saying it again? Why the hell do we have to fight alongside a criminal like the Liberator? I can’t trust these people behind my back. They will sell us to the Heavenly Daughter in seconds!”

Bruno cringed. Dammit, he already foresaw that bastard smug face, complaining about their lack of foresight. Three days of anxiety squashed him in the middle of the crowd gathering to watch a brawl between an arguing Liberator grunt and an Adventurer’s volunteer. Tension too massive to vent in the recent days exploded into an argument and a potential fight show.

“Both of you! Calm the hell down!” Bruno raised his voice.

“Shut up, big guys,” a fiery red-head Adventurer shouted. “We are done waiting for your shitty excuses. Where is the guy in charge!? We never got a peep of this Dream-guy. Who know? Maybe you are making him up to trick us into a suicide mission, right? Do you think we are stupid?”

Bruno prayed Rem didn’t hear that.

“Don’t talk shit about that monster,” a Liberator-girl shivered. “He is real. Too real.”

A Liberator snorted at his comrade. The lack of Rem’s presence in the last few days caused of the revolutionaries’ previous bravado to return.

“Are you still afraid of that guy? The suit in charge and that aunty Marchioness shut their trap about that guy. He probably runs away already. So much for the fucking promises. Good will my ass. I have enough of these ungrateful pricks.”

“What do you say?” The red-head responded to the insult.

Marley’s assistant — Sasha — crossed her fingers. Bruno prepared to leap in as the Liberator lost his patience and charged.

Kakroom!

It happened before they registered a blink.

Hollow golden Jasmines synthesized into reality, aiming supernatural polish blades at their throats. More flowers collared the men’s wrists, ankles and waist, pinning them in place. A mysterious woman in ceramic mask and sculpted-glass earpiece hiding her ears touch-downed with the pressure of a Blackhole.

“Gentlemen,” Luxinna Latoria rose, calmly addressed the nervous crowds and two brawlers. “May you calm down?”

Bruno sweated. It was ludicrous. The boy’s growth in a month was an absurd impossibility. He and many believed it was an unrepeatable feat for a C-ranker to overshadow him in a month. He was wrong. No. Incorrect trend wasn’t the descriptor. The trend went inversely proportional to his common-sense. The boy’s progress wasn’t a unique case but a prototype waiting for optimization.

The hulking Liberator now witnessed the fruit of that painstaking research. An elf he dueled two months ago, now dwarfed him in power. Bruno’s gasp quickened as panic set in. At this rate, these monsters would surpass the gods in a year. Forgot Aurorin. At that point, the Seven Continental Alliance stood no chance.

Another oppressive aura dropped, forcing some of them to pass-out from terror.

A woman appeared, slowly staring down at the two fighters and Luxinna.

“Ace,” she tapped the elf’s golden flower, melting it to slag. “No need to get offensive.”

“Fine,” the elves dissolved her glass-sculptures, freeing both men from death’s grip.

“W-Who are you people?” The red-head turned between the two mysterious strangers.

“Think of us as your frontline,” the red-hair demo nodded to the roof. “You seem to be discontent with our lack of communication. Don’t fret, you can bring it to the boss.”

Bruno sensed him before he arrived. The world celebrated. Waves of power rippled across the cosmos from a center of reality. The cascading possibility gathered and pulsed, roaring to break the rotten reality and reforged it with a light of dream. Humanity’s will solidified and focused into a living instrument of hope. The aura from the figure stepping into view from the roof was unmistakable.

“Hello, compatriot,” the figure leaped from the building and touched the ground. “I am Dream. I am grateful for your aid, and more grateful for your patience. Extensive preparation held me from greeting you. Need not to fear. I am here now.”

Rem cocked his head to a side.

“Any question or should I start the briefing?”

“Yeah,” one particularly gangly baldy said. “Who put you in charge?”

The challenger incited the crowd like wrestling champion before the finals. Bruno’s heart sank. The riot was going to breakout. He just felt it.

“Okay, man, you appeared from nowhere, made us waited for days, and expected us to obey you! Just who do you think you are?”

“If you want to put yourself as a candidate in charge, feel free. Leadership isn’t something a stranger should shoulder. Everyone on earth deserves an opportunity to stand-up for themselves. I will not fight you over the right to bark order. I never want nor need authority. To tell the truth, I detest it.”

Rem’s slow statement shocked everyone. A man refusing to defend his authority was an unknown species of the land. His voice loud and resolute to every single warrior gathered on the ground. The will to riot tanked when the target rose above their ambition. Per rule of scarcity, value of leadership dropped the moment it got discarded like tissue paper.

“But can you do it? Can you look at everyone’s eyes and promise them to stop Mehest? Will you allow them to implant an explosive inside your heart to prevent you from abandoning them the moment you fail? You don’t trust me? Good judgement, I commend you. Who should they trust then?”

The crowd went dead silent. Rem just torpedoed any attempt for anyone to claim leadership. The baldy sweat. He misjudged the situation to seize control by using the chaos. The entity before him operated on alien logic.

“It appears you misunderstood. I am not here to command you. I am here to fight alongside you and organize the counter-attack. It is more efficient that way. Convince other if you can. Now, please move aside I must make a speech.”

Rem walked past the stunned man. Crowd parted way like welcoming an uncrowned messiah. No one dare spoke nor shifted. His presence was overwhelming.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, sorry for the wait. I know we are a day from the final showdown. Bruno, bring me crate 7A.”

Bruno straightened, walked stiffly past the parting crowd, and bought said crate to Rem.

“Tomorrow, a signal will fly to the sky. Orwell’s forces will panic. Then something will happen. This event is a signal to Orwell’s desperation. I only request you to wait until our setup is over. My team will handle the catastrophe. If we win, and we will, the signal of hope shall burn the sky for a second time.”

Rem popped the crate and pulled out a heavily modded M-16.

“When that promise light shines; the time will arrive to retake your home. The Emperor of this nation will never agree with my statement. Frankly, I don’t care. Every soul here is a master of their destiny. You have the right to life. To speak. To be free. To defend yourself and your family. Through time immemorial, rivers of blood flooded in the street and snow to defend those sacred rights. No matter what the Empire declared to the sky. They don’t have an omnipotent wish-granting device to fix your problem, and neither am I. The only thing I will offer is cracks of hope and opportunity. If you desire freedom to life and liberty, take your sacred right to bare arm and act, then march beneath its banner toward your dream.”

Rem loaded the rifle. He slowly raised his voice, gauging the crowd’s reaction with each pitch.

“I am going to ask you this! Does Orwell have a right to decide you live and die farm animal!?”

Silence.

“No! he doesn’t. No one does. You, the people, are born free and deserve to be free. Does he have the authority to condemn your legacy!?”

“No,” a yell echoed in the crowd.

“Of course not!” Rem added the gasoline. “No sacred text or demon god has the justification to stole and destroy your life. Only you decided that. You are free until you surrender to the chain. People said it is better to submit and survive than die free. I answer I can’t believe those fools are stupid enough to risk their life stealing my freedom! Will you let Orwell threaten you into giving up that freedom!? Or will you fight to the bitter end!”

“Fight!” A voice yelled, and a chorus followed.

“This city is your home. It is your community, your spirit and your resting place. Orwell Mehest might destroy it, but you can rebuild it stronger than ever. Don’t allow anyone to steal it. Individual’s spirit burned brightest when they dare to dream big. The doubter says you cannot take back this city? They said Venistalis is dead? Do you believe the battle is over while you are still live?”

“No!”

“Remember your determination and pride! There resides the true God of humanity. Not among the cloud or Olympus, but right there in your faith. Your finest hours are around the corner. Go! Take your future with your hand. Teach the world way our glory life of untainted steel!”

The roar was epic.

…

“Yeah!!!!!” Santo Ahoy lifted an MP5. “For Freedom!”

Lochwain and Madam glanced at each other.

“He is good. Way better than Emperor Script,” Madam said.

“Yeah, we are lucky Tai Hua and him won’t agree on anything,” Lochwain trembled at that possibility. “If those two join forces, we are doomed.”

…

After spending sixteen hours prepping the troops and readjusting to the situation, Horizon Dawn gathered at the maintenance hatch leading to the sewer.

Rem fitted the mask with Cytortia’s edition oxygen rebreather. He stared at the darkness, map grasped tight and plagued by doubt.

“Are you sure?” Hikma voiced his concern. “You will be alone down there.”

“I must do this, Hikma,” Rem tried to convince himself like he stirred up the crowd. “Only I can do this. Like only you could severe the connection between Orwell and the Primordial. Both of us have the riskiest job that we must succeed alone. No, that isn’t true.”

Rem corrected himself, attempting to motivate both him and the boy tasked with an impossible expectation.

“We are surrounded by comrade and friends who count on our success,” Rem bravely stomached the darkness like the day he faced the Paracis Corruptor. However, the opposing corner wasn’t the monster from beyond. His enemy was the suffocating loneliness and massive army of terror waiting for him.

Throughout history, man feared the dark for good reasons. The unknown terrified him. Rem’s vision allowed him to intercept the monster underneath, but it didn’t relieve himself of doubt. One wrong move and he would die in empty blackness, far from the light of the sun. Rem might overcome the fear of death and failure, but images of loneliness stayed suffocating.

Rem looked at the pitch-black sky and the eldritch moon mocking him. Then he remembered the hero who made him. Rem smiled. Clark Kent was afraid of the dark. That was true when he was a kid, but he must hear it with his godlike hearing. The laughter. The chirping of birds. The hope and wish that shone in the sun. Maybe those lights became the sun that propelled the greatest hero from darkness.

If his hero could overcome the isolating blackness, why couldn’t he.

“Luxinna, Melody, I hope you got this.”

“Roger.”

“Good luck, Rem.”

And Rem dove into utter darkness with nothing but a map and imaginary Superman guiding him.

…

Orwell opened his eyes. Green lanterns decorated his chamber. The Amalgam he deployed a few days prior already positioned in the location. The treaty declared troops’s withdrawal and ceasefire, but said nothing about movement.

With a massive number of Amalgam at the border of Earth-quarter, Orwell was ready to push his troop to retake 4/5 of Venistalis and starved the defender to submission. It was a fool-proof plan.

Future Orwell may agree. Sadly, the man they were facing was invincible in strategy. Times Reality Breaker’s plan sank can be counted in both hands. All this misfortune consistently involved ungodly beings above his paygrade or a single woman who made fate itself her simp.

Orwell already played the abomination card. Unless Embrace of Heaven herself entered the fray, the attempt to claim strategic victory by Orwell would fall like a flying pig.

…

In the pitch-black darkness, Rem pried an aging section of the wall.

Three years of brainstorming in time shift dreams allowed Rem the time he needed to master the six Arcane he learned — [Flames Whips], [Burn the Witch], [Lightning Python], [Holy Force], [Mentalism] and [Interference].

[Interference] was an Arcane that allowed a person to interfere with an existing system. A highly sophisticated Arcane, Rem needed an entire year in a dream world to reach an utilizable level. Time arrived to make a dull use of his training.

Rem—his presence hidden—sneaked into the catacomb, with swarms of patrolling skeleton Amalgam coming around the corner.

He closed his eyes and did the unthinkable. He invaded the Amalgam’s mind within his range with [Mentalism].

After having lifeline dropped to two crystal, Orwell Mehest put extreme defenses on both of them with the 100 hours he got. The catacomb under Venistalis was an obvious point. It had more concentration of Amalgam numbering over fifty-thousand, various traps, barriers and few of the most powerful Amalgams Orwell had. Orwell even put his prototype anti-Cytortia's measures duct-taped together in an overtime there.

Attacking that position with conventional force was borderline impossible, but Orwell made a mistake. His security had a massive weakness — it is a hive-mind.

Rem had fought Orwell’s Amalgams for hours, learning their every move. He used [Mentalism] to observe their mind and discovered this key to victory. Orwell controlled and observed the Amalgam as a network. With [Mentalism] and skills, these networks proved vulnerable to infiltration and subterfuge. It was a surprise attack that won’t sail twice, so Rem bid his card for the most important opportunity.

He dove into the Amalgam’s mind, sorting through the jumbling entanglement of the hive-mind and breaching into Orwell’s master control. Rem scoffed. My lord. Orwell didn’t put any defense here. A disappointment after wasting mental-years of practice for a job this easy. From there, Rem saw everything running through Orwell’s intelligence channel, including what slipped past Orwell’s mainframe.

The boy frowned. Some sadist just refuse to die. No matter. Luxinna and Melody got the bastard outgunned. Rem progressed as plan and left a surprise package in the network.

Reality Breaker opened his eyes and walked to meet the patrol of thirty Amalgam appearing from the corner without blinking. The soulless machine and Rem met eyes and strolled past the others without an inkling of a fight. The Amalgam ignored the obvious intruder and continued with their merry patrol. It was like Rem didn’t exist.

Having remove his existence from all the five senses of Orwell Mehest’s hundred thousand strong fighting force, Remus Breaker marched unopposed into his enemy stronghold with Horizon Dawn’s made C4 in his bag-pack.

7 hours until the showdown, and Horizon Dawn was one up in the intelligence department.