Chapter: 60
– Blake –
The scream Hestia let out could have shattered glass.
It definitely shattered Bell.
The poor kid went ramrod straight in the kitchen, both hands still wrapped around the wooden spoon Hestia had given him like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. Ais stood beside the counter with a knife in one hand and a half-chopped carrot in the other, blinking at Hestia with the blank, faintly confused expression of someone who understood a War Game was serious but did not understand why screaming helped.
Hestia, meanwhile, had gone full panic goddess.
"A War Game?" she shrieked. "A War Game? Apollo challenged us to a War Game? In our house? On our first day? Before lunch?"
"Technically, he challenged us outside the house," I said.
Hestia whipped toward me with both hands in her hair. "Blake!"
I chuckled at her look of pure indignation on her beautiful face. "...Not helping. Got it."
She started pacing in tight little circles between the table and the kitchen doorway, her twin tails whipping behind her. "No, no, no, no, no. This is bad. This is very bad. We just got a house. We just got Bell. We haven't even eaten our first meal together yet. I haven't given Bell his Falna. I haven't finished deciding which curtains go in the front room. We cannot be challenged to a War Game before curtains!"
Bell made a strangled noise. "I am so sorry!"
That snapped my attention to him.
He had gone pale, his red eyes wide and wet, his shoulders hunched like he expected us to throw him out the same way Apollo Familia had. His grip tightened around the spoon until his knuckles turned white. "This is my fault," Bell said, voice cracking. "If I hadn't gone to Apollo Familia first, if I hadn't bothered them, then they wouldn't have come after Lady Hestia. I caused all of this."
I crossed the room in three steps and flicked him in the forehead.
"Gah!" Bell yelped, stumbling back and clutching his head.
"It is not your fault," I said.
"But Big Bro Blake, I…"
"No." I pointed at him. "All you did was ask to join a Familia. That is not a crime. They were the ones who humiliated you, threw you out onto the street, insulted you, and then insulted Hestia in front of me." My jaw tightened as I remembered that woman's sneer. "I slapped her because she deserved it. Honestly, I showed restraint."
Hestia froze mid-panic. Then she turned slowly toward me, her expression softening. I sighed, held out an arm, and she immediately rushed into it like she had been waiting for permission. Her body hit mine with a soft thump, and she buried her face in my chest, clutching my shirt with both hands.
"There we go," I murmured, stroking the top of her head. "Breathe, Hestia."
"I am breathing," she mumbled into my shirt.
"You are vibrating."
"I am divinely agitated." She made a grumpy little noise, but she did not pull away. I kept petting her hair, running my fingers gently between her twin tails. Her shoulders slowly loosened under my hand.
Bell stared at us like he had just witnessed some sacred ritual.
Ais stared too, though her expression was harder to read. Her golden eyes moved from my hand in Hestia's hair to Hestia's face pressed into my chest, then back to my hand again. "Headpats calm goddesses?" she asked.
"Apparently this one," I said.
Hestia peeked up just enough to glare at her. "Only from Blake." Hestia's glare lasted about two seconds before I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She squeaked, went pink, and hid her face against me again.
Bell's blush went nuclear.
Ais looked away very slowly, cheeks faintly colored.
Cute. That thought did not help anything, so I ignored it.
After another minute, Hestia finally peeled herself away from me, though she did it with obvious reluctance. Her fingers lingered on my shirt before she turned to Bell. "Blake was right," she said, voice still a little shaky but firming with every word. "This was not your fault, Bell. You are part of my Familia now. Familias stick together. We do not blame each other for things our enemies do."
Bell's eyes shimmered. "Lady Hestia…"
She planted her hands on her hips and puffed herself up. "And you are absolutely not allowed to apologize for joining us. I wanted you. Blake wanted you. That means you belong here."
Bell sniffled once, then nodded hard. "Yes!"
Ais tilted her head. "If Blake is Level Six, why did Apollo Familia challenge you?"
I looked at her. "That is a great question."
"Were they dumb?" she asked. Her brows furrowed together in thought.
I chuckled. "Maybe. Their captain was the one at the door. He seemed convinced I was lying about being Level Six. Apparently, Hestia only descended recently, so there is no way she could have a Level Six in her Familia."
Ais blinked. "But you are Level Six…"
"Correct."
She nodded, as if that answered that. "Then he was dumb."
Bell, apparently recovering from his guilt spiral, leaned forward with sudden excitement. "Then Big Bro Blake should just show them! If you go outside and show everyone your power, they will know you are really Level Six, and then Apollo Familia will back off!"
"That would be the straightforward solution," I admitted.
"No," Hestia said. The word came out direct enough that all three of us looked at her. Her panic had vanished. In its place was something much more dangerous. Hestia's blue eyes narrowed, and for the first time since I met her, she looked every bit as old as a goddess should. Not in her face, not in her body, but in the weight behind her gaze. Hearth and home sounded soft until someone threatened the people gathered around that hearth. Then it became fire. "No," she repeated, quieter this time. "We are not warning them off."
Bell swallowed.
Ais watched her closely.
I folded my arms. "What are you thinking?"
Hestia's lips curled into a smile that was sweet, bright, and absolutely vindictive. "Apollo has been chasing me for centuries," she said. "Centuries, Blake. He knows what I am. He knows I am a virgin goddess. He knows going too far would cost me part of myself, and he still kept trying. Again and again and again!"
My good mood died instantly. The air around me warmed. Lighting arced off my skin. Enough that Bell stepped back and Ais's hand shifted closer to her sword by instinct.
Hestia noticed. Her eyes flicked to me, and her expression softened for half a heartbeat before hardening again.
"He never cared about me," she continued. "He is a selfish, arrogant, disgusting scumbag."
My teeth ground together. Apollo had not even met me yet, and I already wanted to cave his face in. Of course. Of fucking course this world has another pretty divine asshole who thinks women are trophies.
"Then we crush him," I declared. The lighting around my body receded.
Bell shivered.
Hestia's eyes lit up.
I looked down at her. "If this War Game is an excuse to hurt him legally, publicly, and financially, then we use it. We let him think we are weak. We let him think he has us cornered. Then we take everything he owns."
Hestia made a tiny noise. "Ehehehe."
I glanced at her. She was staring up at me with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, looking so proud that it almost knocked the rage out of my chest. "Blake," she breathed. "You really are the best."
Then she rose onto her toes, reached up with both hands, and started patting my head.
I froze.
Her hands were small and warm. Her fingers sank into my hair with gentle, clumsy affection. She had to stretch to reach, which made the whole thing ridiculous, but somehow that only made it better.
I stood there, Level Six Nephilim, fallen angel half-breed, part-time superhero, occasional dimension-hopping disaster, and let my tiny goddess pat my head like I was a good dog.
Hm. This was actually pretty nice.
Bell stared like his entire worldview had expanded in real time.
Ais looked thoughtful. "Headpats also calm Blake…?"
Hestia giggled and kept going. "Yes."
I allowed it for five more seconds because I was magnanimous and also because her smile was unfair.
Ais's expression dimmed slightly as Hestia finally dropped back onto her heels. "If you are pretending to be weak," Ais said, "then we cannot spar after lunch… If we fight in the city, people will see us."
I looked at her.
She was staring at the floor now, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. The disappointment in her voice was faint, almost hidden, but it was there. She had been quiet and strange and blunt since I met her, but that did not mean she did not feel things. She just seemed bad at showing them in ways normal people understood.
I had been wrong about her once already. I was trying not to make a habit of it. "That is not true. We just cannot spar anywhere near Orario. If Apollo has people watching us, then yeah, fighting you in a public training field would ruin the surprise. But if we go far enough away from the city, somewhere nobody is around to see, then we can fight properly. I promised we would fight and I keep my promises."
Ais stared at me for a long second. Then she smiled. A real smile. Small, bright, and beautiful in a way that caught me completely off guard.
My brain skipped.
Bell made a noise beside me like someone had stepped on a squeaky toy. His face turned scarlet as he whipped his head toward the cutting board and pretended the carrots were the most interesting objects in the multiverse.
Hestia clapped her hands. "Enough!" she declared. "Apollo and his creepy flower boy are not ruining our first happy Familia meal in our new home. We are going to eat. We are going to enjoy ourselves. Bell is going to receive his Falna tonight. Ais is going to stop thinking about stabbing Blake until after lunch."
Ais lowered her hand from her sword. "I was only thinking about it a little," she said.
"That is not better," Hestia pouted.
Bell laughed nervously. The sound loosened something in the room.
I stepped around Hestia and pulled out the dining chair at the head of the table. Hestia blinked up at me.
"For you, my goddess."
Her face went pink. She huffed, but the smile tugging at her mouth ruined the attempt at sternness.
Bell hurried to set plates down. Ais carried over the chopped vegetables with deadly seriousness, like transporting them safely was an S-rank mission. I brought the last dishes over from the kitchen, and soon the four of us sat around the table in the warm afternoon light of our new home.
Hestia's eyes lingered on Bell, then me. Her smile softened. "This is our first meal as the Hestia Familia," she said. "Not our last. Not even close. No matter what Apollo tries, no matter what anyone says, this home is ours."
Bell straightened. "Yes, Lady Hestia. The food smells amazing!" Hestia beamed like that was the highest praise she had ever received.
I reached under the table and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
– Freya –
Freya stood before the glass wall of her private residence at the top of Babel, one hand resting lightly against the cool surface as Orario sprawled far below her.
The city glittered beneath the evening sun like a treasure box spilled open by careless hands. Streets wound between stone buildings and market squares. Adventurers moved like ants near the base of the tower, armed, armored, and utterly convinced of their own importance. Gods wandered among them, playing their games, building their Familias, laughing and scheming and pretending they understood beauty.
Freya smiled faintly.
They did not. Not truly. From here, she could see almost everything. The city, the walls, the distant plains, the mountains beyond. Orario was the center of the mortal world, the greatest city beneath the heavens, and she alone resided at its crown. It was fitting. It was proper. It was the natural order of things.
Beauty belonged above. Power belonged above.
She belonged above.
And yet, for the first time in longer than she cared to count, the view bored her.
Her fingers curled gently against the glass. Somewhere below, inside that noisy, filthy, wonderful city, HE existed.
The thought made her lips part around a soft, breathless sigh. The memory of his soul still lingered behind her eyes, brilliant and impossible. Freya had seen millions of souls. Mortal souls. Divine souls. Tarnished souls. Fragile souls. Beautiful souls.
She had collected beauty for ages.
She had tasted devotion, lust, worship, obsession. She had watched kings crawl. She had made heroes kneel with a smile. She had seen children with the potential to become legends and monsters with spirits blackened by ambition.
None of them had prepared her for Blake Himejima.
The moment she had seen him through Syr's eyes, the world had changed. His soul had not been bright in the ordinary sense. It had not been gold, or silver, or pure white like some ridiculous fairy tale hero. No, that would have been too simple. Too boring.
His soul had been vast.
It had stretched beyond mortal shape, beyond the boundaries that should have contained it. It had unfolded in layers, one after another, like staring into an endless night sky and realizing every star was another doorway. There had been light inside him, darkness inside him, lightning, warmth, violence, grief, hunger, love, divinity, and something blue and infinite that made even Freya's breath catch.
It was not merely beautiful. It was endless.
She had found him. After all her searching, after all her distractions, after all the lovers and warriors and pretty little toys that had passed through her hands, she had finally found him.
Her beloved. Her Odr.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. Freya did not turn immediately. She let the moment stretch, let the sound of those steady steps cross the polished floor of her chamber. Only one child in her Familia walked with that weight and that discipline.
Ottar stopped several paces behind her. "You called for me, Lady Freya," he said. His voice was low, steady, and reverent.
Freya turned with a soft smile.
Ottar stood like a mountain given flesh. Broad shoulders, massive chiseled body, solemn eyes, and strength enough to make almost every adventurer in Orario tremble. The King of the Freya Familia. The only Level Seven in the world. Her greatest child. Her favorite child.
"Yes," Freya said. "I have wonderful news."
Ottar's expression did not change much. It rarely did. But Freya knew him too well to miss the slight tightening around his eyes, the smallest shift of tension in his jaw.
He already knew. Or perhaps he feared. Freya's smile warmed. "I believe I have found him."
Ottar was silent.
"My Odr," she said, and the words came out softer than she expected. "After all this time, I believe I have finally found him."
There it was. Pain. It crossed Ottar's face like the shadow of a passing cloud, subtle enough that most would never have seen it. Freya saw it clearly. She always saw him clearly. Her dear Ottar loved her. Of course he did. All her children loved her in one way or another. Some loved her with worship. Some with lust. Some with desperation. Some with the broken, aching devotion of those who had nothing before her and could imagine nothing after her.
Ottar's love was quieter. He simply stood at her side, fought in her name, obeyed her will, and offered everything he was without demanding anything in return.
Freya cherished that. But she had never lied to him. She had always made the terms clear. Her body, her affection, her indulgences, those were gifts she gave as she pleased. But the moment she found her Odr, all such arrangements would end. No child, no lover, no champion, no king could stand in that place.
Ottar lowered his gaze.
Freya gave him time. She could have charmed him into smiling. She could have washed away that pain with a single glance if she wished. She did not. His devotion was more beautiful when it remained honest.
After several long breaths, Ottar bowed his head. "I owe you my life," he said. "Everything I am exists because you found value in me. If you have found the one you have searched for, then I am glad."
Freya's smile softened.
Ottar lifted his eyes again. "Your happiness is everything to me, Lady Freya. I hope he is worthy of you."
A pleased warmth bloomed in her chest. "Thank you, Ottar."
He nodded once. Then, after a pause, he asked, "Who is he?"
Freya turned back toward the window, her gaze drifting down to the city below. "His name is Blake Himejima," she said. Even saying his name pleased her. It felt foreign on her tongue, strange and smooth at once. "I met him while wearing Syr's face at the Hostess of Fertility."
Ottar remained silent, listening.
"He came in with Hestia," Freya continued, and the name soured the air between her lips. "They sat together. Ate together. She clung to him like a needy little thing, puffing herself up whenever I looked at him for too long…." Freya's fingers tapped lightly against the glass.
Annoying little Hestia.
Freya had never considered Hestia a serious rival in anything. How could she? Hestia was loud, small, stubborn, sentimental, and so painfully earnest it almost circled back around to being charming. She was the goddess of hearth and home, warmth and devotion and little domestic dreams. She was also, apparently, the first goddess in Orario to sink her claws into Freya's Odr. That part was far less charming.
"When I saw his soul," Freya whispered, "I forgot how to breathe."
Ottar's eyes narrowed slightly.
Freya smiled to herself. "It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
That made Ottar still completely. He understood what that meant. Ottar, better than almost anyone, understood what Freya saw when she looked upon souls. For her to call something the most beautiful she had ever seen was no idle praise.
"It was like staring into infinity," Freya said. "Infinity itself. His soul did not end, Ottar. It simply kept unfolding." Her voice grew softer. "And it looked back."
For the first time, Ottar's composure cracked enough for visible surprise.
Freya laughed quietly. "Yes. That was my reaction too."
Ottar looked toward the city. "He is in Hestia Familia?"
She smirked. "For now..." The words came out smooth, but the jealousy underneath them was ugly and hot. Freya did not like jealousy. She disliked jealousy because it meant something existed beyond her reach. Something precious. Something another woman touched first. "Hestia has had him for barely a day," Freya said. And already Hestia had fed him, clung to him, smiled at him, leaned into him with those ridiculous breasts pressed against his arm as if she had any idea what she possessed. Freya's mouth tightened. "She does not understand what he is."
Ottar considered this. "If he is new to Orario, then he should be Level One. Then bringing him to our Familia should not be difficult."
Freya turned her head slightly.
Ottar continued, calm and practical. "If he has only just received Hestia's Falna, then he has no history with her Familia. No long loyalty. Hestia has no wealth, no influence, no security. We can offer him equipment, training, protection, status, access to the deepest floors, and anything else he desires."
Freya's smile returned. "Yes," she murmured. "We can." Her mind began to move, smooth and eager.
What would Blake want?
Gold, perhaps, but she doubted greed ruled him. Equipment, certainly. A warrior with that soul would need weapons worthy of him. A home? Hestia had apparently obtained one, somehow. Freya could give him a palace if he wished. A title. A throne. The finest food, the finest clothes, the finest bed in Orario. Her bed.
Freya's smile deepened. She would not rush. Men were easily taken, but Odr was not merely a man. He deserved artistry. Gifts, pressure, temptation, vulnerability, opportunity. She could be Syr when she needed warmth. She could be Freya when she needed awe. She could let him see pieces of her, one by one, until turning away became unthinkable.
Hestia had gotten there first. That only meant Freya would need to be patient.
A faint vibration passed through the air.
Ottar's head turned.
Freya noticed the shift instantly. "What is it?" she asked.
Ottar stepped closer to the window, his gaze narrowing toward the distant mountains beyond Orario's walls. "Two people are fighting," he said. "They are strong."
Freya followed his gaze. She saw mountains, pale stone, and thin lines of trees. Nothing more. Her senses were divine, but her mortal body remained limited under the rules of the lower world.
Ottar, however, was Ottar. And that was an explanation all on its own. "One is Level Five," he said. "The other is Level Six. The level Five is the Sword Princess, but I do not recognize the Level Six…"
Freya blinked. That caught her attention.
Now that is interesting. Level Six adventurers did not simply appear. They were legends in motion, every one of them known, named, studied, feared, coveted. Ottar knew them all. He watched them with the patient hunger of a warrior who stood alone at the peak and waited for someone, anyone, to climb high enough to challenge him properly.
Freya turned fully from the window. A smile curved her lips, more dangerous this time. "Take me there."
Ottar knelt without hesitation. Freya stepped toward him, and he lifted her as easily as if she weighed nothing. One massive arm supported her back, the other beneath her knees. She settled against him comfortably, one hand resting on his shoulder.
"Do not let anyone see us," she said.
"Of course."
Then the world blurred. The tower vanished behind them.
Air tore past Freya's face, whipping her silver hair back in a long stream. Ottar moved with impossible power, leaping from the height of Babel to rooftops, from rooftops to walls, from walls to open ground. Each landing should have shattered stone. Each jump should have announced itself to half the city.
Instead, he moved like a shadow wearing the shape of a giant.
Orario fell behind them in breaths. Freya laughed softly against the wind. This, too, was beauty. Strength so refined it became elegance.
They reached the lower slopes of the mountains moments later. Ottar landed on a rocky outcropping far above a hidden valley, far enough from the battle that even powerful adventurers should not have noticed them, yet close enough for Freya to see.
The first shockwave hit a heartbeat later. Dust rippled across the valley floor.
Freya's eyes widened.
Below them, Ais Wallenstein moved like a blade of sunlight. The Sword Princess danced across broken stone, golden hair streaming behind her, silver rapier flashing in her hand. Her movements were clean and beautiful in that focused, almost empty way Freya had always found intriguing. Ais was not like most mortals. Desire did not cling to her in the usual patterns. She was hollowed by purpose, carved by grief, sharpened into a weapon that still somehow looked like a girl.
Freya had considered her before. Ais had been beautiful enough to notice, but not enough to chase.
The one above her was another matter entirely. Freya stopped breathing.
Blake Himejima hovered in the air with eight magnificent black wings spread behind him. Those wings were night given form. Each feather drank the light around it, pitch black and soft-looking despite the power radiating from them. They stretched wide enough to cast a shadow over the shattered ground below. Lightning crawled along their edges, gold and white, holy and violent.
In Blake's hand burned a spear of blue light. Blue like the space between worlds. Golden lightning wrapped around it in pulsing veins, and every pulse made the air tremble.
Freya's fingers tightened against Ottar's shoulder. "There he is," she whispered. Freya did not look away from Blake. She could not. "My Odr."
Ottar clutched her a bit tighter. She didn't mind, his jealousy would fade with time. Her eyes were still locked on the battle in the distance. Neither warrior noticed her or Ottar. They only had eyes for their own opponent.
Blake grinned down at Ais from the sky. Ais grinned up at him right back. Both of them paused for only a few seconds.
Then Blake folded his wings and dropped.
The impact of their clash split the air.
Spear met sword, blue light against silver steel, and the sound cracked across the valley like thunder. Ais slid backward several feet, boots carving furrows through stone. Blake landed in front of her, wings flared, and thrust again with frightening speed.
Ais twisted aside, her rapier flicking toward his throat.
Blake leaned back just enough for the blade to pass a hair from his skin, then spun, one wing sweeping low in a black arc that forced Ais to jump. She kicked off the flat of his spear midair, flipped backward, landed on one hand, and launched herself forward again before her boots fully touched earth.
Freya's lips parted at what she was witnessing. This is amazing! He is amazing!
Blake's spear blurred.
Ais's sword answered.
Sparks and lightning burst between them. The ground fractured under their steps. Stone chips shot outward like arrows. Each exchange came faster than the last, until Freya's mortal eyes struggled to follow the full sequence. She saw fragments. Ais ducking beneath a sweeping strike. Blake catching her blade on the shaft of his spear. Ais driving a knee toward his ribs. Blake blocking with his forearm and skidding backward with a laugh. His wings snapped open, halting his momentum, and then he surged forward again.
The valley shook.
Freya had seen countless battles.
She had watched Ottar crush monsters that would have sent lesser adventurers screaming. She had watched executives of great Familias clash in the Dungeon. She had seen bloodsport, duels, wars, and divine games dressed in mortal violence.
This was different.
"He is the Level Six I was sensing," Ottar said, intently watching the battle as well. His eyes locked solely on Blake.
Freya turned her head slowly. For a rare moment, she knew her face showed everything. Shock. Desire. Pure Delight.
She had been so amazed watching the fight that her divine mind hadn't even been able to yet ask the question of WHY a brand new adventure in Orario was able to trade blows with the Sword Princess.
– Ais Wallenstein –
An hour later…
Ais walked through the front gates of Twilight Manor with dirt in her hair, a tear across the side of her dress, a shallow cut on her cheek, and several blackened scorch marks staining her sleeves. The two lower-ranked adventurers standing near the path froze the moment they saw her.
One of them dropped the crate he was carrying. The other whispered something that sounded like a prayer for her.
Ais looked at them. They looked back but clearly couldn't think of anything to say to her.
Ais kept walking.
She did not understand why they were staring so much. She had returned from Dungeon expeditions looking much worse than this. There was only a little blood. Most of it had already stopped. The burns stung, but not badly. The bruise on her ribs throbbed when she breathed too deeply, but that would be gone soon too.
She was Level Five. Her body healed fast. Besides, none of the injuries felt important. The fight had been important.
Blake had been powerful. He could fly and fight in ways she had never encountered before. Ais's fingers twitched near the hilt of her sword as she remembered.
It had been fun. Very fun. Ais's mouth almost curved upward.
Then the front doors opened ahead of her. Lefiya stepped out into the entry hall and immediately gasped like Ais had arrived missing an arm. "Ais-san! W-What in the hells happened to you!?"
Ais blinked in surprise at the genuine worry in her friend's tone.
Lefiya rushed toward her, eyes wide with horror. She stopped barely a step away and lifted both hands like she wanted to touch Ais but was afraid she might break something. "What happened to you?" Lefiya cried.
Ais looked down at herself. There was dirt. Burns. Scratches. A few torn spots in her clothes. Her left stocking had a hole near the knee. Her right sleeve smelled faintly of ozone from Blake's lightning.
Oh. That was why everyone had stared at me as I walked through town. "I sparred with Blake," Ais said plainly.
Lefiya's expression twisted into outrage. She spun around toward the main sitting room, where Riveria had just appeared with Finn and the others behind her. "I told you leaving Ais-san alone with that unknown man was a terrible idea!" Lefiya said, her voice was cracking as she glared at the green haired elf. "Look at her! He hurt her!"
Riveria's eyes narrowed as she crossed the hall. Her gaze roamed up and down Ais' body in worry. "Ais…?" Riveria paused. "Are you all right?"
Ais nodded. "Yes. I am fine."
Riveria's brow tightened. "You are certain?"
"Yes."
"She is covered in burns!" Lefiya protested.
Ais shrugged lightly. She didn't see the problem. "They are small burns. I've had worse…"
"There is blood on your face!"
"It stopped bleeding a while ago. I've had worse…"
"Your sleeve is smoking!"
Ais glanced down. A tiny wisp of smoke curled from the edge of her torn sleeve. She patted it once. The smoke vanished. "Fixed." Ais nodded.
Lefiya made a wounded noise.
Tiona's laughter burst from inside the sitting room. "Ahahaha! Did she really just pat out the smoke?"
"Tiona!" Riveria warned.
"What? That was amazing!"
Tione leaned over the back of the couch, chin propped on her folded arms. "Ais, did you actually go fight Blake right after lunch?"
Ais nodded. "Yes. We went towards the mountains. We went far away from the city to not disturb anyone and so no one would see us fight."
"Good girl," Tiona said, giving her a thumbs-up. "No property damage fees! Those are always so annoying!"
Riveria closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That is not the concern here."
"It was a fun spar," Ais admitted with a small smile.
Everyone went quiet for half a heartbeat.
Then Bete scoffed from the corner. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his ears flicking in irritation. "Ha? You got your ass kicked by that upstart pretty boy and you call it fun?" Bete snapped. "What the hell, Ais? You're making us look bad."
Ais looked at him. Then she looked away.
Bete made angry wolf noises. Most of the room ignored him. That happened often.
Finn walked over next. His eyes moved over Ais's injuries, then toward the distant window, as if he could see the mountains where she and Blake had fought. "You fought him seriously?" Finn asked.
Ais thought about it. Blake had held back. She had held back too. Not completely, but enough. Neither of them had tried to kill the other. Blake had redirected several strikes away from her when they would have hurt too much. She had pulled her blade from places where it would have cut deeply.
But she had wanted to win. So had he.
"Yes," she said.
Finn nodded. "Good. Making connections with another strong adventurer will benefit both Familias in the long run. Later, you should tell us what you learned about his abilities. We should know in-case we ever have to face him seriously."
Ais went still. Her hand tightened faintly around the hilt of Desperate.
Finn noticed. Riveria noticed too.
"What is it?" Finn asked.
Ais looked at him. Then she looked toward the floor. "I do not want to."
Finn blinked. "You do not want to tell us? Ais," Finn said carefully. "We are your Familia. And Blake Himejima is a stranger!"
Ais frowned. That word felt wrong now. He was not Familia. He was not someone she knew well. She did not know what food he liked beyond Hestia's cooking. She did not know why his wings were black. She did not know why his lightning felt different from magic. She did not know why his eyes became so bright when he smiled during a fight.
But he had apologized when he realized he misunderstood her. He had agreed to fight her without making her feel stupid for asking. He had given her warning before using his strongest lightning. He had laughed with her.
He was not a stranger.
"Blake is my friend," Ais decided.
The room went very still. Tiona's eyes widened. Tione's mouth curled. Lefiya looked like someone had stabbed her in the heart with a spoon.
Finn stared at Ais as if she had just declared she was leaving to become a fisherman. "Ais," he said slowly. "You met him..."
Ais puffed her cheeks. "Yes."
"And now he is your friend?" She knew that look. It was the captain look. The one he used when he wanted people to explain things in ways that made sense to him. Ais did not have an explanation that would satisfy him.
She only knew the answer. Blake was her friend. She would not spy on him. She would not give away his secrets.
Finn stared at her.
Ais stared back.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Finn lifted both hands and let them fall with a sigh. "Fine. Keep your secrets!"
Tiona collapsed sideways against Tione, laughing. "She beat you, Captain!"
"She did not beat me," Finn argued back.
"She totally did," Tione said. "Ais used stubbornness. It was super effective!"
Riveria's stern expression softened into something warmer. "It is nice that Ais has made a friend…"
Ais nodded once.
Riveria sighed. "Even if that friend is a little casanova with wings."
Ais looked at her. Casanova. She had heard that word before. Tiona used it when talking about men who smiled at too many women. Loki used it when she complained about handsome gods. Bete used worse words. Ais considered Riveria's tone. She considered the way Riveria had blushed when Blake called her a fantasy elf princess. She considered the way Riveria's ears twitched whenever his name came up. She considered how Riveria had pretended not to look at him while very obviously looking at him.
Ais's thoughts settled into place. Then her expression turned serious.
Riveria flinched. "Ais?" she asked. "What is wrong?"
Ais looked up at her teacher. "Blake is strong," she said.
"Yes?" Riveria replied cautiously.
"He was nice to me."
"I am glad."
"He likes fighting too."
"That was rather obvious from your condition."
Ais nodded and finally got to her point. "I like him."
Lefiya made a noise like she had swallowed something wrong.
Bete's ears shot upright.
Riveria went very still.
Ais kept going because she had already started and stopping felt difficult. "So I am going to steal Blake from you."
For several seconds, nobody breathed.
Then Riveria's entire face went red. Her ears twitched so hard Ais noticed them immediately. "Steal him?" Riveria sputtered. "Ais, what are you talking about!?"
Ais tilted her head. "You seem interested in him."
"I am not!"
"You blush when people mention him."
"That is because everyone keeps saying ridiculous things!"
"You asked about his magic though?"
"I am a mage!" Riveria inhaled slowly through her nose. "That is not the same thing!"
Ais frowned. That was not a good answer. She felt like that answer was wrong.
Tione leaned toward Tiona on the couch. "This is like watching an opera in real life."
Tiona's grin was bright enough to light the room. "This is amazing."
Lefiya had both hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes glassy with betrayal. "Ais-san…"
Bete growled. "You have got to be kidding me! Fuck this new guy!"
Riveria pointed at him without looking away from Ais. "Do not start."
Bete's tail bristled. "Tch."
Ais stepped closer to Riveria.
Riveria took half a step back before catching herself. "There is nothing going on between Blake and me," Riveria said, each word precise, controlled, and completely unconvincing to everyone in the room. "He made one inappropriate compliment. That is all."
"It was not inappropriate," Ais replied, moving even closer. "You looked happy after he did it."
Riveria choked on Ais' words. She had a look of pure betrayal on her face.
Tiona made a strangled sound and rolled off the couch laughing.
Tione covered her mouth with her shoulders shaking.
Finn turned away, which meant he was smiling.
Ais did not understand why everyone thought this was funny? She was being clear. Riveria did not seem to want Blake, or maybe she did and was pretending not to, which was confusing. If Riveria was not going to do anything, Ais could! That seemed simple.
The doors to Loki's private rooms flew open!
Everyone turned.
Loki stormed into the hall wearing only a towel wrapped around her body, her wet hair dripping onto the floor, one hand clutching the towel closed while the other pointed dramatically toward Ais. "Ais!" Loki cried, voice cracking with despair. "Tell me it ain't true!?"
Ais blinked. Her goddess was being weird again…
Loki stumbled forward, dropped to her hands and knees, and slammed her forehead to the floor. "Please tell me that handsome little bastard from Hestia Familia didn't seduce you too!?"
"Loki!" Riveria snapped. "Put clothes on!"
"Not now, Mama Riveria! This is an emergency!" Loki wailed into the floorboards. "First he called you a princess and made your ears all twitchy!"
"My ears did not get twitchy!"
"They are twitching right now!"
Riveria clapped both hands over her long elf ears. "No they are not!"
Loki continued sobbing. "Then Tiona started talking about him like she wanted to climb him like a tree!"
"I'm enjoying all of this so much right now!" Tiona smiled from the couch with a big smile. "Our familia is the best!"
Loki continued even more, moving her finger to point at the next Amazon sister. "...And Tione looked at him like she was comparing him to Finn!"
Tione's dark cheeks became a bit darker. "I was not!" she tried to argue.
"You absolutely were," Tiona said shamelessly to her twin next to her.
"And now Ais!" Loki punched the floor once, making the polished wood creak. "My Ais! My precious Sword Princess! Taken by Hestia's stupid handsome child before I even got a proper grope goodbye!"
Ais crouched in front of Loki. Loki lifted her tearful face.
Ais reached out and patted her head.
Everyone froze.
Loki froze too.
Ais gently moved her hand over Loki's wet hair. "There, there," Ais said gently, remembering how Blake did it.
Loki blinked. "Wha—?"
Ais kept patting. She had learned something earlier. Blake had patted Hestia's head, and Hestia had calmed down. Then Hestia had patted Blake's head, and Blake had calmed down too, even though he denied it.
Goddesses like headpats. Maybe it works on Loki too?
Loki's eyes slowly narrowed into delighted crescents. "Hehehe," Loki giggled shamelessly, leaning into Ais's hand. "This is nice! This is the best!"
Riveria stared in disbelief. "Do not reward her bad behavior, Ais!"
"But it is working," Ais pointed out.
"That is not the point!"
Loki nuzzled harder into Ais's palm. "No, no, she has a point. Let the girl cook!"
Finn covered his mouth with one hand. Bete looked like he wanted to jump out a window.
After a moment, Ais stopped patting Loki and stood.
Loki made a small disappointed sound but stayed on the floor.
"Blake's Familia asked for a favor," Ais said.
Loki looked up from her kneeling position. "A favor?"
Riveria lowered her hands from her ears. Finn's easy humor vanished, replaced by the calm focus of the captain. Tiona sat upright. Tione leaned forward. Even Bete stopped growling.
"What favor?" Loki asked.
"The Apollo Familia challenged the Hestia Familia to a War Game," Ais said. Silence slammed into the room. No one moved. Ais looked around, confused again. This kept happening today. "Blake asked if Loki would be the witness for the contract signing before the Familias fight."
The silence deepened. Loki's towel slipped slightly. Riveria did not even scold her.
Finn's eyes narrowed. "Apollo challenged Hestia?"
Tione whistled low. "That was fast."
Tiona grinned, but there was a dangerous edge to it now. "Apollo really is an idiot."
Bete pushed off the wall. "That weak familia of deviants challenged a Familia with a Level Six as its captain?"
"He does not believe Blake is Level Six," Ais explained what she had heard from Blake while they were having lunch.
Bete looked away with a scowl, because he had also not believed Blake was Level Six at first. But then he saw Ais and Blake exchange blows in the dungeon.
Ais's cheeks turned slightly pink remembering that first fight. She had been a bit overzealous a few days ago. Blake forgave her though, because like she had thought, he was nice.
Loki slowly rose from the floor. Her towel was crooked. Her hair was wet. Her face had lost every trace of comedy. For once, she looked like a goddess. "Apollo always was a greedy little shit," Loki said softly. "But fine, I suppose I can help out the big titted shorty with this, if only so I can personally witness Apollo get crushed! How dare that bastard have such an awesome harem while I keep failing!?" Loki declared with more tears in her eyes.
Ais felt like Loki was missing the point there, but close enough. "There, There…" she said, reaching out and patting Loki's head again…
– Hestia –
The next day…
Apollo stood across the table from Hestia like a peacock that had learned to wear human skin.
That was rude to peacocks.
Peacocks were pretty, dramatic creatures that mostly screamed at things and showed off. Apollo was that, but with centuries of entitlement rotting underneath the gold.
The meeting room belonged to the Guild. It was narrow, polished, and painfully formal, with a long table of dark wood taking up most of the space. A magical contract slate rested in the center, blank for now, waiting to record the terms of the War Game.
Apollo stood on one side with Hyakinthos Clio at his shoulder.
Hestia stood on the other with Blake beside her.
Loki lounged near the head of the table with a grin that said she had smelled blood and intended to enjoy herself. Finn stood beside her. He looked far too composed for someone helping arbitrate a disaster between gods. Then again, Hestia supposed Finn had spent years managing Loki. That probably hardened a person.
Apollo's golden hair gleamed under the room's lamp light. His robes were immaculate, mostly white cloth and gold embroidery, arranged to make him look divine, elegant, and important.
Hestia hated him immediately all over again. Not that she had ever stopped.
"My dear Hestia," Apollo said, voice warm enough to make her skin crawl. "I must admit, I was delighted when I heard you had finally descended. The lower world was growing so dull without your stubborn little face."
Hestia crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared.
Apollo's gaze dropped. Of course it did. His eyes lingered on her chest with shameless lust before crawling back up to her face.
Blake went very still beside her.
Hestia felt the air around him tingling. Not enough for Apollo to notice, apparently. That idiot was too busy admiring himself through whatever reflection existed inside his own head. But Hestia noticed. She always noticed Blake. She shifted slightly and brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. Not yet.
Blake's jaw flexed once, but he stayed quiet.
Good boy. Hestia almost ruined the entire meeting by smiling.
Apollo sighed dramatically. "Still so defensive. Still so prickly. You never change!"
"And you still make every room worse by entering it," Hestia said sweetly.
Loki snorted.
Apollo's smile tightened for half a second before returning in full force. "Ah, there is that fire. I missed it."
"I did not miss you."
"Cruel as ever." Apollo placed one hand over his heart. "But perhaps that is why I remained so fond of you." Apollo leaned forward, palms resting on the table. "You must understand, Hestia, things do not work here the way they worked in Heaven. Down here, the power of one's Familia matters more than stubborn pride. A god without power, without wealth, without children strong enough to enforce their will, has no protection."
His gaze slid to Blake. Hestia felt Blake's fingers twitch beside her.
Apollo smiled wider. "Offending a superior Familia can be a death sentence," Apollo continued. "But I am nothing if not merciful."
Loki made a gagging sound. Apollo ignored her.
His eyes dropped to Hestia's chest again, lingering there with such open want that Hestia felt Blake's aura spike like a blade sliding from its sheath.
Apollo licked his lips. "If you offer yourself to me," Apollo said, voice lowering into something oily and intimate, "I will call off the War Game. I will forgive your little Familia's insult. I will spare those two pathetic children of yours the humiliation of being crushed beneath my banner."
For one brief, terrible moment, Hestia saw red. Her divinity stirred inside her, old and hot and hungry for flame. Hearth fire was warmth. Hearth fire was home. Hearth fire was safety. But fire also devoured.
Apollo's smile only widened, like he mistook her silence for fear.
Apollo had no idea how close he had come to being reduced to a smear across a Guild conference room.
Hestia laid her hand fully over Blake's to calm herself down. Her boyfriend looked over at her. Hestia gave his hand a tiny squeeze. We are going to ruin him properly.
Hyakinthos stepped forward, his chin lifted and his expression twisted into offended superiority. "You should accept Lord Apollo's mercy," he said. "We visited the Guild. We reviewed what records were available. Blake Himejima only became an adventurer a few days ago! He dared to sully my honor by tricking and threatening me!"
Hestia blinked. She ignored most of his words except for the most important part. The Guild had not put Blake down as Level Six? Had Eina hidden it? Had everyone involved simply decided that a man claiming to be Level Six after a single day sounded like nonsense and shoved the report into the mental box labeled "Not my problem until after lunch?"
Honestly, that sounded very possible. Hestia decided she liked Eina a little more than she had yesterday.
Hyakinthos sneered at Blake. "No matter what lies you told outside our gates, there is no possible way you are Level Six."
Apollo chuckled. "Indeed. A crude and pathetic bluff. One that your familia is now paying for dearly…"
Blake was not the best actor in the world. Honestly, he was probably not even the best actor in this room. Loki lied better while drunk and dangling upside down from a banister. But Apollo was arrogant. That made up for many things.
Blake lowered his gaze. He looked almost nervous. His shoulders pulled in slightly. His hands curled at his sides. His mouth pressed into a thin line.
Hestia had to bite the inside of her cheek.
Blake spoke quietly. "You are right…"
Apollo's eyes gleamed.
Blake swallowed, as if the admission tasted bitter and he was afraid. "I only became an adventurer a few days ago…"
Hyakinthos smirked. Apollo looked triumphant.
Hestia lowered her head just enough to hide her smile.
Gods could sense lies. Blake had not lied. He had only become an adventurer a few days ago. He had registered with the Guild after arriving in Orario. He had received Hestia's Falna after that.
None of that had anything to do with the truth Apollo actually needed to know. Blake did not say he was weak. He did not say he was Level One like they thought he was. Apollo had simply heard the shape of the words he wanted and filled in the rest with his own stupidity.
Across the table, Loki's grin sharpened. Her red eyes flicked to Hestia, gleaming with wicked amusement. The look said everything. You sneaky little tit monster.
Hestia puffed her cheeks at her.
Loki's grin widened.
Hestia hated that she was absolutely going to owe Loki a favor after this. She could feel it already. Loki would milk this for years. Decades, possibly. Still…. Worth it. Apollo is going to lose everything. Hestia would make sure of it!
"My poor dear," Apollo said, voice drenched in false sympathy as he looked at Hestia. "You must be terrified. A tiny Familia. No influence. No allies. A little rookie who thought a bold lie could protect you."
Hestia lifted her chin. She needed to look scared. She really did. Unfortunately, she mostly wanted to climb onto the table and kick him in the face. So she settled for narrowing her eyes and letting her lips tremble just slightly. Not from fear, but from effort. "You are disgusting," she said.
Apollo smiled as if she had complimented him. "So you have said before."
"And I meant it every time!"
"How passionate." His eyes gleamed. "You know, I would enjoy hearing you say that from somewhere much closer."
The table cracked. Not loudly. Just a tiny sound.
Apollo looked down. So did everyone else. Blake's hand rested on the edge of the table. His fingers had sunk into the wood.
Blake glanced at the damage, then pulled his hand back. "Sorry," he said, still wearing that fragile, false fear. "Nervous."
Finn stared at the finger marks in the wood.
Loki coughed into her fist.
Hyakinthos looked vaguely unsettled, but Apollo only laughed. "See?" Apollo said. "The boy is already breaking under pressure."
Hestia smiled sweetly. "Yes," she said. "He is very delicate..."
Loki made a noise like she had swallowed her own tongue.
Finn closed his eyes for one brief second.
Hyakinthos squared his shoulders. "Then there is nothing more to discuss. The insult against Apollo Familia cannot stand. Since Hestia refuses Lord Apollo's mercy, the War Game will proceed."
"Finally," Loki said, pushing herself upright. "I was wondering how long you were going to keep being creepy before we got to the part with paperwork. And I can't believe I'm actually going to say this out loud—but I prefer the paperwork over listening to you drone on and on...."
Apollo's smile thinned. He hissed in her direction. "Arrogant as always, Loki. Just get on with it. You're here as the mediator, nothing more!"
"Fine, fine…" Loki sauntered to the head of the table. "Right. Since both sides agreed to use me and Finn here as witnesses and arbitrators, we are gonna set down terms nice and clean. No take-backs. No running to the Guild afterward crying that someone tricked you because you were too stupid to read."
Apollo sniffed haughtily before tilting his head up and licking his lips. "I understand contracts perfectly well. And I will bet everything I have in Orario, if Hestia is willing to do the same, and offer up herself as well of course!"
Hestia was conflicted. It was hard to hide her growl and her triumphant smile at the exact same time. Her familia was going to take this arrogant bastard for all he was worth!
Finn cleared his throat. "Let us begin with the format of the War Game…"
XXX