"As expected, high-level adventurers are a different species from us, amazing!"
"He really dared to say it… the Flame Demon is a true man…!"
-----------------------------------
Because someone got carried away and let their tongue slip, accidentally blurting out all their true thoughts, they ended up being knocked unconscious by an angry blonde swordswoman at the lively banquet and tossed under the table, otherwise it really would've been humiliating beyond measure.
Chances are, it won't even take a day before the outrageous things he said will spread throughout the entire city.
His image collapsed in an instant. But… was that really the truth?
Under the table, the supposedly unconscious Fron secretly cracked open one eye, squinting and quietly observing the situation beneath the table.
It's worth mentioning that this table was surrounded entirely by young girls. Needless to say, this was their sanctuary.
'The first impression should be about set now, right? That should keep them from suspecting me.'
Obviously… his earlier remarks and behavior were all an act, meant to mislead certain people and divert their attention away from him. A frivolous persona fit the bill perfectly.
'Can't have a certain god bothering me endlessly, I ought to give you a little surprise of my own, otherwise how could I loaf around all day doing nothing~.'
With a quiet, cold chuckle in his heart, Fron shut his eyes again and entered meditation.
[Meditation], a crucial stage in controlling and refining magic.
How to efficiently, quickly, and precisely refine mana during battle to cast magic, that is a vast and profound discipline.
Among ordinary mages, for example those in the town of Rivira, even when injecting the same amount of mental energy into a spell of similar power, some people refine mana quickly while others are far slower.
Since magic can be the key to reversing the tide of battle, a mage's casting speed can almost determine the speed of victory. The more critical the situation, the more obvious this becomes.
And the cause of this gap? Naturally, the inheritance of knowledge and technique.
As the mainstay mage of the Loki Familia, taught personally by the city's strongest mage, Riveria, Fron's acquired experience and skills were truly priceless.
By nature, Fron was already stronger than most mages of the same level. Coupled with the rare knowledge he absorbed from the Familia's library, he eventually forged his current prowess.
This is the importance of choosing the right Familia.
Even after returning from the expedition, Fron did not slow his pace in the peaceful days, acquiring unknown knowledge, meditating, and battling. Even at Level 4, his growth never slackened, steadily climbing over time.
The strong get stronger, greater strength brings more capital, and with that capital he could exchange for even more knowledge. That was Fron's path to power.
"Everyone, welcome back!"
"No problem, as long as there's booze~"
"There's always enough booze, meow!"
At the tavern entrance, the Loki Familia was preparing to return to their home base.
And as for a certain someone? He was being carried by an irritated-looking Bete.
"Hey, how long are you gonna keep pretending to be out? You actually want me to carry you back to the infirmary?"
"As expected of you, Bete, your senses are way too sharp."
"Cut it out with that disgusting crap, you're making my fur stand on end, bastard."
Lagging a little behind the main group, Bete clicked his tongue, dropped Fron to the ground, and the young man nimbly flipped up, grinning playfully.
By now, he was no longer the newcomer who had just joined the Familia, naturally, he had blended into this big family.
He got along well with everyone (especially the girls), though of course… that didn't mean he was exempt from being on the receiving end of Bete's intimidation.
Speaking of which, despite Bete's sharp tongue and tsundere nature, the reason he became this way lay in a life story that could almost fill a whole volume of A Depressing Hero's Tale.
Bete was the son of the werewolf tribe leader from the northern plains. Though the tribe had never received the blessing of the gods, their strength was still formidable.
As a beastman raised on the plains, Bete had been taught from birth to believe in the law of the jungle.
His handsome looks, great talent, and strength made him a young warrior admired by all in the tribe.
This life should have accompanied him forever, but on his twelfth birthday, the tribe was attacked by a monster from one of the world's three great unknown region, the Dragon's Valley. No one survived except Bete.
His father, mother, and sister all died to the monster's claws; worse still, his childhood sweetheart perished before his eyes. Only because he was unconscious at the time did he narrowly escape.
After that, Bete changed. He hated his own weakness, his own helplessness, and the self that couldn't protect anyone. He began pursuing absolute strength and came to Orario.
To ensure he would never again have everything stolen from him by the strong, he joined his first Familia: the Vidar Familia.
The blessing of a god, great power, it was like finding a new home.
But the good times didn't last.
The Vidar Familia, being a typical exploration Familia, sustained itself by delving into the Dungeon.
During these battles, Bete's talent began to shine; he quickly rose to Level 2 and earned his first title, Grey Wolf.
Life improved, and hope returned. He buried his pain deep inside, began bonding with his comrades, and even opened his heart.
These days nearly made him forget his hatred, until, at 16, he became a Level 3 adventurer.
With his newfound strength, Bete decided to hunt down the "Overlord of the Plains," the monster that destroyed his tribe.
As expected, he succeeded. After a bloody battle, he returned victorious, only to be met not with celebration, but with the corpse of the woman he loved, killed in a Dungeon accident.
Bete lost his beloved a second time.
In rage and hatred, he cursed both the Vidar Familia and its god, abandoning Orario altogether.
From then on, Bete developed an intense disdain for the "small fries" who were weak, garbage in his eyes.
Not good at expressing himself and afraid of losing someone again, he used venomous words to drive the weak away from danger. That was Bete's version of kindness.
...
In the Loki Familia, there was an unspoken rule, no one pried into their comrades' pasts. So among peers, everyone knew very little of each other's histories.
The only ones aware of such details were the top three and Loki herself. Fron, however, was an exception.
Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, Fron returned to his thoughts, slowly putting away his smile.
He stepped forward and patted Bete's shoulder.
"Huh? What are you doing!?" Bete, hands in his pockets, bared his teeth irritably.
"Bete, you're really kind, even if you're not good at showing it."
"You bastard, what nonsense are you spouting!?"
"Ahh, yeah, that's it, that's the feeling, hahaha!"
"Trust me, Bete, your happy ending is already on the way!"
"?"
"You bastard, wait up! What the hell are you talking about! Hey, stop right there! Explain yourself!"
"Don't you walk away after saying half a sentence, get back here!!!"
"Ahh, Orario's nights are just as nice as ever, still so beautiful."
"Bastard!"
Friendship between men is that simple. A few words are enough to close the distance, and with a drink or two, you're already comrades, aren't you?
...
The next day, Fron awoke with a splitting headache.
He didn't know how everyone else planned to spend the coming leisurely days, but he no longer had the energy to care.
The appearance of an enhanced species on the 51st floor had put him on alert. Others might not know what that thing was, but how could he not?
Even with his Level 4 strength, hell, even if he were an irregular, if he were thrown into that conspiracy, he wouldn't even make a splash before turning to dust.
After all, this was a god's game.
After several days of analysis, he concluded that he now had only two real advantages:
First, The enemy thought they were hidden in the dark while he was exposed in the light, the one being manipulated.
But in truth, he was the most deeply hidden "cheater" of all. You think I'm on the first floor, and you're on the second? No, Fron is actually in the stratosphere.
Second, He was such a small fry in their eyes that he wasn't even worth considering a combat unit.
If he suddenly exploded into action, he could catch them completely off guard. To make it even safer, he had put on a little show the night before for the enemies in the shadows.
With these two points, there was plenty of room to maneuver.
...
Southern district of the city, South Main Street, Orario's bustling marketplace.
In the densely packed southern quarter stood an inconspicuous mansion with stone walls overgrown with grapevines.
Inside the courtyard, in a house built entirely of massive stone blocks, a figure stood on the veranda, gazing over the beautiful city.
No sound, no words, no movement, no thoughts.
A gentlemanly exterior, yet carrying the alluring scent of wine.
In the clear, jade-like eyes of the god, there was at times emptiness, at times madness, at times tenderness and elegance.
"Who exactly am I? What do I want? Why am I here?"
Chaotic memories and thoughts battered his consciousness, leaving him lost…
But as a certain prompting surged from a corner of his mind, his gaze gradually regained focus.
The god's lips curved into a gentle smile, he had found himself again.
From the creeping darkness, a figure in a dark red cloak silently emerged from the shadow of the wall and stood beside the god.
"The Loki Familia has returned from their expedition."
"Oh? And the situation?"
"Messy, but the members are unharmed."
"I see. And the one I told you to watch who rose to Level 4?"
"..."
After a brief silence, the cloaked figure gave a rather poor assessment.
"Just a low-class clown."
"That's good. Hehehehehe…"