Chapter 40 – Remorse

Sal sighed as he sat in his little office area of the dorm room. He had managed to get through the night without sleep and started to wonder if this was how he was going to live in the dorms for the next three years. The list he had created subconsciously rested on the board, and Sal had spent quite some time staring at it as he tried to figure out the best course of action.

It was hard to believe that he had used this board to write down the names of the different calamities a few weeks ago, and now it was littered with requests for his services. In the top right-hand corner, there was an organizational planner that he started a few weeks ago, that detailed his remaining time at Quest Academy. It was listed out per six-month semester, and he realized how quickly they were moving through the term. There was just over four months before the Savior class would be picked.

Since the cohort tournament at the end of the first month, he had spent literally two weeks just going through classes while he waited for Chatfield to arrive with the materials. Then, the hellish weekend where he made evolutionary weapons and had to solo-run a leecher dungeon by himself. Now, it was the first day of the following week, and he had barely spoken a word to Hannah or Divinity.

Sal rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. The main culprit in this fiasco was himself, and to a lesser extent, the monocle. Wearing it while crafting had been great, as it allowed him to get through boring builds, but at the expense of his emotions and humanity. He had ignored messages and kept focused on his work, which had been great until that evening.

Looking at the board and blaming himself wasn’t going to help with the reply he needed to send. Sal glanced down at the messages on his tablet with a sigh. It was time to cross the first line off the list to restore his Spirit.

Divinity: Hey, teams are getting together to discuss strategy for the inter-cohort tournament. We’re meeting in the canteen at 8 pm.

Divinity: Where are you? We’re sitting in the usual corner.

Divinity: Doom Society meeting is tonight, don’t forget.

Divinity: Sal, I looked into your future and saw something troubling. We really need to talk.

Divinity: Looks like you survived the leecher attack I foresaw, and you’re back in the workshop.

Divinity: We need to talk.

Sal was not excited for that talk. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been avoiding his messages, and judging from the wall of them from pretty much all his friends, he had fucked up. He knew he was in hot water with Hannah, but it was the Divinity messages that really felt like a stab in the chest. He had managed to miss that meeting in the canteen, as well as the Doom Society meeting. Sal didn’t even register that he had gotten a message from her about the leecher attack, and he felt horrible just thinking about what she went through without context.

Picking up his tablet, he started to type a response when there was a knock at his door. Sal walked with the tablet in his hand, determined not to leave Divinity hanging for any longer. If it was Hannah, she’d have to wait until he sent the message. Sal had gotten through the first three words of his apology before he decided to delete them and suggest a time for them to talk. He deleted that message too by the time he got to the door. With a sigh, he opened the door to find Divinity on the other side with crossed arms.

Sal’s mouth opened as he gestured to his tablet. “I was literally just replying to—”

“I know, and you were going to take forever,” Divinity answered curtly as she walked into the room without waiting for an invitation.

She paused in confusion at the immaculate state of his dorm. It looked more like a showroom than a place for a student to live. Before Sal could say anything, Divinity turned and sat on the edge of his dresser and started to speak.

“So, let’s save ourselves some time here. I was so worried about you because of that damn leecher thing that I looked through countless futures to see if you’d survive. We’ve had this conversation over a dozen times already in my head and I’m not in the mood to have it again. I’ll tell you what you need to know, and then we can move on. Okay?” She phrased it like a question, but it really wasn’t one.

Sal nodded as he awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed.

Divinity looked up at the ceiling and gathered herself before continuing. “In every single one of these damn conversations, you look like a puppy that’s been kicked, so could you look somewhere else while I talk?”

Divinity’s voice was strained and Sal knew he was on incredibly thin ice, so he turned around and faced the wall, with Divinity behind him. Normally, he would have thought all this to be incredibly stupid but he hated seeing her like this and didn’t want to do anything that would damage their friendship further.

“Thank you. I’ll start with the questions you ask at the end. I don’t hate you. We’re still friends. I’ll forgive you in time and the main reason I’m upset is that I was sure you were going to die and I felt helpless to stop it.” Divinity’s voice changed, but Sal couldn’t tell what emotion it was without seeing her.

“I thought it was because I kept encouraging you to be a Hero when you were happy just crafting and being in the Support class. The guilt I went through was my own fault, and I understand that you can’t be blamed for me looking into your future. Stop it!”

Divinity’s voice cracked as Sal started to turn around.

“You’ve apologized about this over a hundred times, and I feel guilty for how I’m reacting but I hate it. We’re supposed to be a team, and I feel like you’re doomed to follow the path of the hermit Crafter. In one future, you get on some techno-train and leave before completing your second semester. Another one, you set up a guild but won’t let any of us join you. In another one, you end up trying to solo dungeons and towers and die before we graduate! The worst one is when you enter a portal and never come back. Sal…I’ve watched countless futures of you leaving or dying, and I’m trying my best to ignore them and believe in what you told me. That you want to be here.”

Divinity’s sniff at the end told Sal that she was crying, and he felt like a monster. None of those futures seemed remotely likely, but he couldn’t tell her that if she’d seen them in some variant of the future.

“Am I allowed to talk yet?” Sal asked quietly, but there was no response. He kept his back turned and placed his palms on his knees.

“I know you’ve heard it a hundred times, but I’m really sorry. For not messaging you back when I was caught up with other things. I didn’t think about your ability, and if I hadn’t been so shit at replying over the last few days, you wouldn’t have felt the need to check in on me with your power. I don’t have any excuses to give you. I was shit and I need to be better. I’m not great at friendships or used to them, really, so this is a lot of learning for me, and I promise to get better.”

“You do have excuses,” Divinity corrected him with a laugh as she sniffled again.

“You were bullied into that dungeon run because you tried to make Upgrade feel better about her inferiority complex. You were feeling suffocated by the mounting expectations of you that you hid away in the workshop to craft all day. You have lots of excuses, Sal. You’re just choosing not to say them because this is one of your nice and compassionate versions.”

Sal sighed as he finally turned around to look at Divinity. “It’s my only version, Divinity. I don’t know how to break it to you, but all those others aren’t me. I’m not trying to—”

Divinity cut him off and continued his intended sentence word for word. “Invalidate your visions as I know the incredible power you have, but I’m Salvatore Argento. The person sitting in front of you right now, not the person you’ve seen in visions. Yes, Sal, this conversation happens whenever I break down and cry. You don’t want to burden me with your feelings, so you bottle them up. Which I also hate.”

Sal blinked in surprise before getting to his feet and moving to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror before drying off with a hand towel. When he returned to the bedroom, he glanced at Divinity with a frown.

“Name all the things I didn’t do in any of the visions.”

Divinity stared at him as if he had two heads. “Okay, this is a first. There are infinite possibilities of things you didn’t do.”

“Humor me,” Sal insisted as he gestured for her to continue.

Divinity sighed and waved a hand. “You never hit me. You got defensive a few times and said you needed space—”

Sal shook his head and raised his hand. “Nope, not looking for more reasons to feel guilty. Tell me things I didn’t do.”

Divinity floundered for a bit as she thought about it. “You didn’t come up with any solutions. You didn’t give me anything more than promises that it would be better going forward, like last time.”

Sal smiled. He was finally uprooting her actual concerns. Instead of interrupting, he let her continue, explaining all the things he didn’t do in the future.

“You never proactively set up meetings or arranged for us to hang out. You never make decisions and leave me to come up with all the solutions. You never tell me to take a break from using my power. You never compliment me for doing a great job; you just feel like it’s something I know.”

Divinity looked off to one side as she went through her internal list. What had started as a few random thoughts had turned into a barrage of shortcomings. After a few moments, Divinity caught herself, and her eyes widened.

Sal put up his hand to stop her from apologizing. “I’ve also never given you anything, so wait here a second.”

He left her on the dresser, her face turning slightly red in embarrassment. Going into the office space, Sal picked up what he was looking for and realized he was about to potentially solve two problems in one go. When he returned, he held out his hand without revealing what was inside.

Divinity looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you shrink my crown?”

Sal laughed as he turned his hand over to reveal the moonsilver monocle. “I made this a few days ago, and I’d like to give it to you. Since you’ve not had a future where I’ve given you a present without prompting or circumstance, here’s a gift from me to you.”

Divinity picked it up and held it up in front of her. “What does it do?”

Sal went through the abilities, explaining about Perception, Deduction, and the Calm effect, which caused her to glare at him.

“You’re giving me something that will make me calm down? Are you suggesting that I’m too emotional?”

Sal expertly navigated the minefield by explaining how great it was at helping him get into the zone and switching off distracting thoughts.

“I was thinking that with the Skill class, this might help you focus all your attention on improving essence control. You don’t have to use it for that, but it’ll help you discern when people are lying and loads of other useful behaviors. With you being in the Controller class, it’ll be great for deducing strategies and maybe even sorting out the useful information from visions.”

Sal waited patiently to see whether he had managed to put the pin back into the grenade, and her eventual wide smile improved his chances of survival, dramatically. She placed it on her eye and looked at Sal thoughtfully.

“You’re nervous and worried. I probably would have been able to tell that, though. You look terrified. Tell me lies and facts so I can test it out.” Divinity twisted on the dresser to give Sal her full attention.

Sal laughed as he thought about it. “I wasn’t scared when I did the dungeon with Chatfield and Upgrade.”

Divinity’s grin grew wider as she pointed at the monocle. “Okay, this is really cool. You’re a liar. Next one.”

“I have no desire to walk into a portal and never return.” Sal laughed, but Divinity didn’t smile at that one.

“You’re not lying, but your lies and facts suck. We’re changing it up. Question time. Who is your best friend?” Divinity slowly crossed her arms and waited for his answer.

Sal didn’t need to think about it at all. “My father. Then you, then Upgrade. Pretty pathetic when you consider I didn’t know two of the top three two months ago.”

“Not pathetic at all,” Divinity answered without a shred of mockery in her tone. “Okay, next. Why was Hannah not on that list? Shouldn’t your girlfriend be in your top three?”

Sal could almost hear the pin leaving the grenade once again.