Flex City did not sleep.
It shifted.
The city pulsed like a living thought balanced on the edge of contradiction. Towers bent slightly when observed too long. Yellow-green currents spiraled through the sky like nervous systems exposed to open air. The streets below glowed softly beneath drifting holographic rain, while distant laughter echoed from structures that seemed architecturally impossible.
And at the center of it all—
The Traxian Auditorium.
Sacred ground for the Deviant Alliance.
A place where Omega Devia wasn't merely used.
It was believed in.
Banjo stepped through the entrance portal slowly.
His coat fluttered behind him as the distortion sealed shut.
The moment he entered, dozens of eyes shifted toward him.
Candidates.
Recruits.
Deviant elites.
People he knew.
People he didn't.
Some stood nervously in small groups, still overwhelmed by the impossible architecture around them. Others were calmer now, lingering beneath floating chandeliers made of fractured probability glass.
The atmosphere felt strangely warm.
Not peaceful.
Never peaceful.
But accepting.
Banjo scanned the room once.
Then exhaled quietly.
"…It seems you were successful."
Jason looked over first, hands in his pockets.
"Yeah."
His eyes narrowed slightly afterward.
"And I assume…"
A smirk formed.
"…it didn't go well for you."
Before Banjo could even answer—
Jair burst out laughing from nearby.
"Who the heck are we kidding?"
He pointed dramatically.
"There was NO way he was gonna pull that off."
The room erupted.
Not cruel laughter.
The kind born from shared understanding.
Even some of the recruits laughed nervously despite having no full context.
One of Androsha's Nicronians whispered: "Wait… he tried converting AIRIENS?"
Another recruit blinked.
"…That sounds suicidal."
"Exactly!"
Jair shouted instantly.
Banjo sighed into his hand.
"Thank you all for the emotional support."
Eve stepped forward before Jair could continue escalating.
"Don't mind them."
Her tone was softer now.
Steadier.
"No worries."
She crossed her arms loosely.
"I 'failed' too."
A tiny emphasis on the word failed.
"But I'm still here."
Banjo raised an eyebrow immediately.
"You did?"
He actually looked surprised.
"…Wow."
Then a faint smile appeared.
"Guess I'm not alone."
Eve smiled weakly back.
There was comfort in that.
Not success.
Not victory.
Just mutual understanding between two people who returned without the numbers everyone else carried.
And somehow—
That mattered.
From deeper within the auditorium, footsteps echoed across the reflective floor.
Manu and Kari emerged from behind the gathered recruits, both observing Banjo carefully.
Manu folded his arms.
"We knew there'd be a ghoul invasion."
The atmosphere dimmed slightly.
"But by the time we received proper intel…"
He shook his head once.
"…you had already left."
Kari sighed softly beside him.
"Those Corruption Ghouls are impatient."
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"But…"
A pause.
"I think Traxis approved of it, so…"
Banjo nodded immediately.
"Yeah."
Matter-of-fact.
No outrage.
No denial.
"I figured."
And that silence afterward said more than words could.
Because everyone here understood what that implied.
Traxis had likely allowed the invasion to unfold.
Not necessarily caused it.
But permitted it.
Observed it.
Perhaps even anticipated what ideological pressure it would create.
And suddenly Banjo's failed recruitment attempt looked far less accidental.
Eugene broke the tension instantly.
"You should've seen how I got MY recruits."
He grinned proudly.
"That stadium was wild as hell."
Several recruits nearby visibly winced at the memory.
Sandra, standing among Eugene's group, crossed her arms.
"You caused three emotional awakenings and one existential collapse in under ten minutes."
Eugene pointed proudly.
"Efficiency."
Jason rubbed his forehead.
"You literally psychologically flashbanged a stadium."
"And it worked."
"It SHOULD NOT have worked."
"It absolutely worked."
Jair started laughing again.
Meanwhile Banjo remained quieter than usual.
Not visibly upset.
Not broken.
But thoughtful.
His eyes drifted around the auditorium.
Around the recruits.
Around the elites.
Around the floating yellow-green architecture of Omega Devia itself.
And for the first time since arriving back—
Something unsettled him.
Because despite all the warmth here…
Despite all the acceptance…
Despite the comfort…
He could still feel the memory of Airious lingering in his chest.
The synchronized movement.
The conviction.
The embodiment.
The way those students fought not as people leaning on a system—
But as people expressing themselves through one.
And the worst part?
He still believed Omega Devia helped people.
That hadn't disappeared.
But now another thought existed beside it.
A dangerous one.
One that refused to leave.
If flexibility is enough…
why did Airious still feel so alive?
The auditorium quieted slightly after Banjo's question.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough for the shift to be felt.
Because up until now, the atmosphere had been light:
shared failures,
ridiculous recruitment stories,
laughter,
relief,
survival.
But Banjo had just said something dangerous.
And everyone there knew it.
He stood near the center aisle, hands in his pockets, expression thoughtful rather than accusatory.
"So…"
His eyes drifted toward the Nicronians behind Androsha.
"How did it work?"
Jason answered first with a shrug.
"I went back to my school."
A faint grin formed.
"It wasn't exactly how I imagined it would go, but…"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"…I pulled it off."
The recruits behind him exchanged looks immediately.
Jason smirked wider.
"If I hadn't shown them some visceral proof, they would've thought I needed to go to an asylum."
Adrian barked out a laugh behind him.
Fred nearly doubled over.
"Honestly?" Adrian said. "That speech sounded insane out of context."
Jason pointed dramatically.
"And yet you're HERE."
"That is unfortunately true."
Jair jumped in next.
"Well same here."
He gestured lazily.
"Went to meet Timmy, my former bully, convinced him of my absolute nonsense somehow…"
Timmy immediately cut him off.
"It was ONLY because you had that crazy witch girlfriend on the rooftop that night."
Jair lit up instantly.
"Ohhh, you mean Valerie?"
He grinned proudly.
"Lis, yeah, okay, that definitely helped."
Timmy folded his arms.
"She literally looked into my soul and smiled."
Jair nodded.
"Romantic, right?"
"NO."
The room laughed again.
Even Banjo cracked a smile.
Eugene stretched casually from nearby.
"You already know mine."
Sandra muttered immediately: "Unfortunately."
Eugene ignored her proudly.
"Crazy as hell."
He pointed toward himself.
"Who could've known that sprinting fast enough through emotional pressure points would flashbang people's inner realms?"
One of his recruits whispered: "I still don't fully understand what happened."
"Neither do I," Eugene admitted proudly.
Then—
The atmosphere shifted again.
Because Androsha stepped forward.
And everyone in the room immediately knew she was about to make this dramatic.
Very dramatic.
She lifted her chin slightly, fog-like distortion drifting softly around her shoulders.
"As for me…"
Her voice echoed through the auditorium with deliberate elegance.
"The return was not ordinary."
The Nicronians behind her straightened instinctively.
"It was…"
A pause.
"…an impending fulfillment."
Jair leaned sideways toward Jason.
"She practices speeches in mirrors, doesn't she?"
"Absolutely."
Androsha ignored them flawlessly.
"My own people."
Her eyes softened briefly.
"My own kind."
The fog thickened faintly around her.
"Those who doubted me."
"Those who thought my understanding was weakness."
"Those who could not see beyond the rigid devotion they inherited."
She spread her arms slowly.
"This…"
"…was the moment I had dreamed about since childhood."
The recruits behind her watched almost reverently.
"My fog was never merely visual obstruction."
"It was relief."
"It was softness."
"It was revelation."
The fog pulsed outward subtly as she spoke.
"A gentle interruption of conditioning."
"A space where people could finally stop forcing themselves to remain what they no longer were."
Her expression shifted then.
Not smug.
Not entirely.
But fulfilled.
"And when I saw the relief on their faces…"
A faint smile appeared.
"…after receiving my fog…"
"I knew."
"They would never doubt me again."
Silence lingered for half a second.
Then she finished quietly.
"Even the elders joined."
That landed heavily.
Not because of theatrics.
Because everyone there understood what that meant.
The elders of Nicron.
People devoted to Airious for generations.
People whose loyalty to Avia was cultural, spiritual, ancestral.
And they converted.
Willingly.
Banjo blinked slowly.
"…Whoa."
A grin spread across his face despite himself.
"Okay."
He pointed at her.
"That's actually badass."
The Nicronians behind her smiled proudly.
"You're definitely the one with the most followers."
Androsha tilted her head smugly.
"Obviously."
But then Banjo chuckled softly.
And the tone changed again.
"Though…"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"That's kinda ironic."
The room quieted slightly.
"Nicronians have been loyal to Airious for centuries."
His eyes narrowed faintly.
"And I couldn't even convert a single Airien."
A weak laugh escaped him.
"…Yeah."
"Bad luck, huh?"
A few Nicronians laughed awkwardly behind Androsha.
But Banjo's expression didn't fully match the humor anymore.
Because now—
He was thinking.
Really thinking.
And then he said it.
Quietly.
"But that made me wonder…"
The auditorium stilled.
"If Androsha had the most followers…"
His gaze drifted across the Nicronians.
"And those followers were once deeply devoted to Airious…"
A pause.
"…then why did they fold so easily?"
Silence.
Complete silence.
No laughter now.
No smugness.
No jokes.
Because that question was horrifying.
Not insulting.
Not accusatory.
Just philosophically dangerous.
Because it attacked something none of them had fully examined yet:
What does devotion actually mean…
if it can be replaced this quickly?
Even Androsha's expression shifted slightly.
And for the first time since Banjo returned—
The auditorium itself seemed uncertain.
Because Omega Devia was supposed to awaken truth.
Not expose how fragile loyalty might have always been.