"Teacher Caelan, we're here."
Philly stood before Caelan, her little face flushed with excitement.
Five days earlier, the Midnight Phantoms had successfully restarted the lifts, seized control of it from the nobles, and even re-established contact with the Spire District.
Although the gangs in the lower hive hadn't been completely wiped out yet, all lift transport was now under the Midnight Phantoms' control, including those that reached the Spire.
If a gang uprising broke out on any level, the Midnight Phantoms could rapidly dispatch reinforcements through the lifts, while the gangs could only fight in isolation.
This freed up large numbers of the Phantoms' living forces, easing their manpower shortage.
The surplus forces were sent upward into the Spire, so that the nobles high above could finally taste the iron fist of revolution.
Philly personally led the team, first, to carry out ideological work in the Spire District, and second, to discuss the next phase of plans with Caelan and Curze. Of course, absolutely no personal motives were involved!
Most of the factories in the underhive were already under Phantom control, producing a steady stream of essential supplies, rations, fuel, munitions, and even standardized uniforms.
The uniforms were personally designed by Dorothy. Their colors combined sky blue and white, an image inspired by the blue skies and white clouds that Nostramans had never once seen, and symbolizing hope for a better world.
Dorothy had originally wanted to use gold, the color of the sun, but Leon and Philly had vetoed it.
The Midnight Phantoms already had their own sun, and everyone knew who that was.
Caelan was that sun. Curze was that sun. Teacher Dorothy, too. But the Midnight Phantoms themselves were not. They were merely the countless mortals blessed under the sun's radiance; how could they dare to steal its brilliance?
Five hundred Midnight Phantoms stood in formation, awaiting Curze's inspection. Kaz, only recently recovered from injury, stood proudly at the very front. One of his eyes had been replaced with a bionic implant, and one of his arms with a mechanical prosthesis.
This boy, one of the earliest to follow Curze into battle, had achieved great merit for the Phantoms. His record of honor was second only to figures like Leon and Philly.
Curze stopped in front of Kaz, and the boy straightened nervously under his gaze.
"Kaz, I remember you," Curze said.
"My lord." Kaz lowered his head.
"Don't lower it. Hold it high, you should feel proud. You've earned it."
Curze hadn't even said much before Kaz's face flushed red with excitement, and he shouted at the top of his lungs:
"For the Midnight Phantoms!"
Curze fell silent. He looked at the overjoyed Kaz and patted the boy's prosthetic arm.
He had never been skilled at talking to people; intimidation and killing were his real talents.
Though the Midnight Phantoms revered him as their leader and hero, Curze had never thought of himself that way.
After all, the Midnight Phantoms had not been founded by him, but by Caelan and Dorothy.
Dorothy was the one who had lit the first spark. Caelan had fed the fire. Curze had simply carved a bloody path forward for it.
He had contributed, yes, but not so much that he could claim the mantle of founder.
Caelan noticed the shadow of doubt in Curze's expression. He always kept an eye on him. With a pat on Philly's head, he sent her off to work, then turned to Curze.
"You're afraid again?" Caelan asked.
"Not afraid. I just don't think they should worship me like this." Curze replied.
Caelan shook his head. "Who made the Midnight Phantoms what they are?"
"You and Teacher Dorothy," Curze answered.
"Dorothy made her contribution, but not so much that she could claim all the credit," Caelan said.
Curze froze. 'Weren't those my own words?'
"If it weren't for us," Caelan continued, "the spark Dorothy lit would have been snuffed out quickly. She is not the true founder of the Phantoms."
"Then it's you," Curze said, accepting it. Caelan was always right.
"I'm not worthy either. Without you, I would never have set foot in this world. Philly would have died miserably in that alley. Dorothy's flame would have been snuffed out; she would have died in sickness or at her brother's hand. Leon and Kaz would still be butchering for pleasure in the lowest depths."
"Then it's me?" Curze asked.
"Do you remember what I taught you? The masses are ignorant. What they become depends on what kind of leader they have. If the leader is a tyrant, they all become tyrants. But if the leader is a hero, they too will yearn to be heroes. Curze, are you a hero?"
"I am."
"Then are you the founder of the Midnight Phantoms?"
"No." Curze slowly shook his head, his pale face thrown into shadow. "Without us, Teacher Dorothy's spark would have been extinguished. Without me, you would never have entered this darkness. But without you, " He raised his hand, tracing invisible lines in the dim light. "I would never have become a hero, nor learned how to protect that fragile flame."
His fingers closed into a fist, as though grasping all the hive's darkness. "Dorothy's ideals, your guidance, my blade, we are all founders of the Midnight Phantoms. None of us is dispensable."
Caelan's lips curved into a faint smile. He studied Curze's profile. "Only us?"
Curze blinked. 'Who else?'
"Them too." Caelan pointed to Kaz, and then to Philly, who was speaking with Marco Shen. "Philly, Leon, Ben, Kaz, Tor, Blanche, Vicky… the ones you remember and the ones you don't, the ones you've met and those you've never seen, every one of them, every person who joined the Midnight Phantoms and fought for justice, they are all founders!"
"Dorothy lit the flame. We guarded it. But without them, the ones who fed it with fuel, how could it have grown? How could there even be Midnight Phantoms?"
"Curze," Caelan said, fixing him with his gaze. "Do you understand?"
"…Now I do."
The truth was, Curze could have figured this out on his own. But he didn't resist Caelan's teaching. In fact, part of him wished he would never grow up, so that Caelan could always stay by his side, guiding him.
But if he never grew, then what made him different from his infantile brothers?
Caelan would be disappointed. And so would he.
Caelan knew Curze was only caught in a passing shadow, not even a dead end; he would walk out of it on his own.
But Caelan's philosophy was that problems must always be dealt with on the spot. Left unresolved, they only festered, leading to disaster later.
That was why he and Curze never concealed things from one another.
"Have I told you the story of Kuafu chasing the sun?" Caelan asked.
Curze shook his head.
"Then let me tell you." Caelan glanced at Kaz and the others, still flushed with fervor. "You can listen too."
"In ancient Terra, there lived a tribe of giants in the mountains and forests. Their chief was the son of a god, named Kuafu. This tribe was known as the Kuafu clan. Their environment was harsh, and to keep his people alive, Kuafu had to fight floods and beasts every single day."
"One year, the sun descended from the sky…"
.....
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