Fine dust falling from the ceiling of the old church slowly settled back onto the stone floor. The physical tremors from the dragon's roar had ceased, but the tremors in the hearts of the church's inhabitants had only just begun.
In the silent hall, Alfia still stood frozen by the window, clutching a piece of parchment that now felt heavy in her hand.
Meteria, who had previously been ordered to stay in the room, stepped slowly toward her sister. She could no longer restrain herself behind the wooden door. Her hands protectively cradled her swelling belly, but her eyes radiated a warmth that tried to penetrate the wall of ice Alfia had built.
"He didn't say goodbye..." muttered Alfia, her voice sounding bitter. "He slipped away like a thief in the night. He left us with a ridiculous letter about wine and the burden of protection."
Alfia turned, staring at Meteria with a frustration she rarely showed.
"Why, Meteria? Why did he leave without saying goodbye? Who does he think he is? A foolish god who must bear the burden of an entire world alone?"
Meteria smiled sadly. She walked closer and took Alfia's clenched hand.
"He isn't pretending to be a savior, Alfia," said Meteria softly. "He's just... too gentle."
"Gentle?" Alfia snorted in disbelief. "A god who dares to challenge the Black Dragon alone is insane, not gentle."
"Not afraid of the dragon," corrected Meteria. She guided Alfia to sit on a long wooden bench. "He's afraid his heart will waver."
Alfia frowned, looking at her sister.
"Venti-sama... he always laughs and sings, but he loves the peace we have now very much," explained Meteria, her gaze drifting toward Venti's empty chair. "If he said goodbye in person... if he saw our anxious faces, or if we cried begging him not to go... he wouldn't be able to step out that door."
Meteria placed her hand over Alfia's.
"He knows how precious a 'Family' is. precisely because he loves us so much, he chose to leave silently. He was afraid his affection would become his weakness."
Alfia fell silent. Her sister's words struck her heart.
She looked at the letter in her hand once more. Venti's messy handwriting seemed to be laughing at her.
Stupid wind thief, thought Alfia. Venti left secretly not because he underestimated them, but because he didn't trust the ruthlessness of his own heart if he had to say goodbye.
"Seven days," whispered Alfia, squeezing the paper gently until her knuckles turned white. "He has seven days. If he doesn't return, I will drag you and our nephew into hiding, as ordered. But until that time comes..."
Alfia's eyes sharpened, her deadly Silence aura enveloping her body once again.
"...we guard this fortress. Not a single fly is allowed to enter and disturb Venti's home while he is gone."
....................................................................................
Western Mountains, Far from Orario
In a damp mountain forest covered in thick fog, an old man in a dull white robe was running.
His steps were fast, agile, and calculated. He leaped over large tree roots with the dexterity of a veteran, then landed soundlessly behind a thicket.
Zeus, the former head of the strongest Familia that once led Orario to a golden age, was in full flight mode. His usually jovial face was now covered in cold sweat.
"Bad... bad... the aura is getting closer!" he muttered in panic.
He wasn't afraid of monsters. He wasn't afraid of death. But he was afraid of Her.
"I shouldn't have been caught peeking at that hot spring... Why are her instincts so sharp?!" cursed Zeus inwardly.
Snap.
The sound of a breaking twig was heard from behind the fog. The sound of calm, measured, and terrifying footsteps.
Zeus froze. The hairs on his neck stood on end.
"Playing hide and seek again, Zeus?"
The voice sounded smooth, elegant, yet carried a Divine Aura pressure so dense that the air around Zeus felt as heavy as lead.
From behind the fog, Hera stepped out.
She was only walking, wearing a long dress with a hem dirtied by mud and sandals with straps nearly snapping. She looked like an ordinary woman tired from walking a long distance.
However, her gaze was as sharp as a razor. Her posture was upright and haughty like a High Queen inspecting commoners, even in the middle of a muddy forest.
In her hand, she grasped a rough wooden stick she had picked up on the road. Yet in Hera's hand, that stick felt more threatening than anything.
"Come out, Zeus," ordered Hera coldly. "Or I will drag you out right now."
Zeus slowly emerged from behind the tree, putting on his best smile—an awkward smile he usually used to flirt, but this time to beg for mercy from the goddess he feared most.
"H-Hera! What a coincidence to meet her—"
"Silence," cut Hera. She raised her stick, ready to administer a physical "lesson."
However, before that judgment could occur, the ground beneath their feet trembled.
Not a tectonic earthquake. The vibration traveled through the air, through the ground, and slammed directly into them.
The wind carrying the roar from the north passed through the forest, silencing all sounds of nature instantly.
Hera lowered her stick. The awkward smile on Zeus's face vanished instantly.
Their playful expressions evaporated. Two gods who once stood at the pinnacle of Orario as the "God" and "Goddess" of the hero era turned north simultaneously. Their postures changed drastically; the authority of the former Rulers of the Labyrinth City enveloped their mortal bodies once again.
"This voice..." whispered Hera, her eyes narrowing sharply, her hand gripping the wooden stick tightly.
"He is awake," Zeus's voice became heavy and deep. "The monster that ate Maxim... The monster that destroyed our hopes."
Hera stepped forward, standing beside Zeus. She no longer looked like a blindly jealous woman, but a Great Goddess grieving the fall of her children.
"Why now?" asked Hera, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "Why does he roar so angrily? Who dared to disturb him?"
"Someone crazy," muttered Zeus. His sharp eyes stared at the horizon, feeling the remnants of the shockwave now beginning to fade.
"Someone just touched that Dragon, Hera. And whoever it is... he just rang the alarm bell for the entire world."
Hera looked at Zeus. "What should we do?"
Zeus fell silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. "We watch. Our era is over, Hera. We can only hope... that this new generation doesn't end up as ash like the last one."
........................................................................................
Remote Region, Eastern Barren Lands
In the ruins of a long-abandoned village, the smell of burnt meat permeated the air.
A giant man sat near a campfire. His body was full of burn scars and wrinkles from the poison eating away at his vitality.
Zald, the Gluttony. Former Zeus Familia.
In his hand, he held the leg of a Monster he had just roasted. He bit into the tough meat ravenously, not out of hunger, but because his skill demanded an intake of strength to withstand the poison in his body.
Chew. Swallow. Absorb.
Suddenly, he stopped chewing. The meat in his mouth tasted bland.
The vibration traveled through the air, through his brittle yet strong bones.
Zald released the monster leg, letting it fall to the dusty ground. He stood slowly, his massive body towering like a cracked tower.
His weary eyes stared sharply to the north.
"You..." he growled.
Memories of that battlefield returned. Memories of Captain Maxim falling.
"You are angry," whispered Zald.
"Who made you angry, Monster? Did Alfia finally decide to commit suicide in spectacular fashion?"
Zald shook his head. No. Alfia was too smart for that. Alfia loved Meteria more than she hated the world. She wouldn't leave her sister just for a suicide mission.
"Then who?"
Zald clenched his fists. There was a burning envy in his chest. A bitter envy toward whoever was currently standing before that dragon, while he could only rot here.
"I hope you give him hell," muttered Zald, before sitting back down and picking up his fallen food.
He bit into it again, more ferociously this time. He had to eat. He had to survive. Because if a great war truly began again, the remnants of the Zeus Familia might still have one last role to play.
........................................................................................
Peak of Babel, Meeting Room (Emergency Denatus)
Amidst the chaos and debate of the panicked gods, one god sat with feigned calm.
Dionysus, with his blond hair and signature friendly smile, was patting the shoulder of Demeter sitting next to him.
The Goddess of Harvest looked deathly pale. Her body trembled, her hands squeezing the hem of her dress tightly with unbearable anxiety.
"Calm down, Demeter. Ouranos said the tremors have stopped. Maybe the dragon was just... talking in its sleep?" said Dionysus softly, trying to sound soothing.
Demeter shook her head slowly, her eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the round table. Her face showed not hysteria, but deep unease.
"Talking in its sleep... you say?" whispered Demeter, her voice hoarse. She gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white.
"You don't understand, Dionysus. My instinct... my instinct says this is bad. Very bad. If he truly wakes up and comes south... the harvest will never come again. The fields will turn to ash."
Dionysus offered a faint smile, as if understanding the fear. "Ah, you worry too much. We have defenses, don't we?"
Behind his empathetic face, Dionysus's—or Enyo's—mind was screaming in confusion.
This isn't in the scenario! his mind screamed.
Dionysus had just begun setting up his chessboard. Knossos had just been secured, and his plan to bring down Orario was still a seed. He was still searching for the key to open the true gates of hell from within the Dungeon.
The One-Eyed Black Dragon was the Grand Finale. It was the final trump card meant to be played at the end of the act to annihilate everything after Orario was weakened from within.
If the dragon woke up now, before the foundation of his plan matured, then everything would crumble senselessly.
Who messed up my act order? Who tried to skip the script and jump straight to the ending?
Dionysus's eyes swept the room, looking for anomalies. He saw Hermes looking suspicious. He saw Barbatos's empty chair.
Barbatos...
That bard god.
Dionysus had felt a bad premonition since their first meeting.
Is it you who messed up my stage, Bard?
Dionysus sipped his wine to hide an annoyed smirk. If true, then this game just became far more interesting. But also far more dangerous.
........................................................................................
Knossos, Evilus Underground Headquarters
Deep underground, in the man-made labyrinth that served as the Evilus headquarters, panic struck. The patron gods of evil gathered in the dark main hall.
Thanatos, Alecto, Apate, and Dolos. They were present, but the atmosphere was far from conducive.
Thanatos, the God of Death, stood calmly amidst the chaos. He simply stood with a relaxed yet authoritative posture, wearing his signature black-purple robe.
"Ah... what a beautiful melody," said Thanatos softly. His voice was gentle and smooth, yet it gave the other gods in the room chills.
"Beautiful, my foot!" screamed Alecto, the Goddess of Misery, covering her ears. Her face grimaced in pain. "This mana pressure is painful! This isn't enjoyable suffering, this is pure terror!"
Apate, the Goddess of Deceit, stared at the empty throne at the end of the room. "Where is Enyo? Is this part of his trickery? He never told us about summoning the Dragon!"
"Enyo isn't that stupid," replied Dolos, the God of Trickery. He shook his head. "Summoning the dragon now is suicide. There is no strategic advantage."
Thanatos stepped slowly, his voice remaining calm in the storm of panic.
"Calm down, Brothers and Sisters," said Thanatos politely. "Enyo isn't here, which means this isn't part of his Grand Script."
He stared into the darkness of the Knossos corridor.
"Let no one do anything foolish that attracts the Dragon's attention. Let death come to our enemies first."
..........................................................................................
Giant Education Ship, "School District"
In the open sea far from the main continent, a "ship" moved, cutting through the waves.
It was the Giant Education Ship, the floating and mobile academic district.
On the main bridge, Leon Vardenburg, the strongest human in the School District and head instructor, stood tall with arms crossed. Beside him stood the God Baldr.
"Did you feel it, Leon?" asked Baldr. His usually warm shining face was now dim and serious.
"Yes, Baldr-sama," answered Leon stiffly. "This pressure... this is the pressure of the 'End'."
Leon looked toward the students training on the lower deck. They had all stopped, young faces looking confused and afraid.
"This is the reason why I train them hard," muttered Leon, his eyes burning with steely determination. "The world thinks we are just an adventurer school. But the true purpose of this District isn't to churn out ordinary Dungeon explorers."
Baldr nodded. "Our task is Global Talent Screening. Finding those with potential across the world, who cannot be reached by Orario."
"And preparing them for today," cut Leon. "The day Zeus and Hera failed. The day that Black Dragon returns."
Leon turned, facing the ship's intercom.
"All instructors, status Red Alert! Calm the students! This isn't a drill, but this is the reality they must face!"
"That dragon's roar is a brutal reminder," mumbled Leon with a heavy voice. "That without the 'Shield' (Zeus and Hera), this world is just fresh meat waiting to be devoured. If Orario falls... we are humanity's last bastion."
............................................................................................
Old Church, Back to Orario
The sun had begun to rise high, but the atmosphere in Orario was still gray.
A group of gods walked along the path toward the old church on the outskirts of the city.
Hermes led in front. Behind him were Loki (with Finn and Riveria), Freya (with Ottar), and Ganesha.
"Hermes, are you sure about this?" asked Loki sharply.
"Think again, Loki," answered Hermes without turning. "His song yesterday. The lyrics about Aria. And now he disappears. There are no coincidences this neat."
They arrived in front of the church door. Before they could knock, the door opened.
A cold wind blew out, carrying an aura of threat.
Standing in the doorway was Alfia.
She wore no armor, only a house dress and apron. But the look in her eyes made Finn and Riveria instantly alert. Ottar tensed.
"Uninvited guests," said Alfia flatly. "This church is closed."
"Alfia," greeted Hermes, trying to be diplomatic. "We are just looking for your god, God Venti. He wasn't present at the Emergency Denatus."
"He went," answered Alfia briefly. "To find wine."
"Wine?" Loki gave a short laugh, full of disbelief. Her red eyes stared at Alfia sharply. "You mean to say he's wandering around looking for a drink while that monster just screamed the apocalypse?!"
"He left before the dragon roared," corrected Alfia calmly, unintimidated. "And he left this."
Alfia threw Venti's crumpled letter to Hermes. The gods read it.
"Gone to find Wine. Don't miss me. If you do, hug the pillow that smells like my wine. - V"
"You are lying," said Freya softly. "I see unease in your soul, Alfia."
"And I see fear in your soul, Freya," retorted Alfia sharply.
Suddenly, the air pressure increased. Alfia's Gospel hummed low.
"My sister is pregnant," said Alfia, her eyes sweeping over the gods. "If you have no proof other than wild speculation... leave. Or I will take this as a declaration of war."
Finn stepped forward, shielding Loki. "Loki, she's serious."
Loki clicked her tongue. "Tch. Let's go. Waste of time."
Freya looked at Alfia for a moment, gave a mysterious smile, then turned as well. "Give my regards to Venti when he comes home."
One by one they left. Hermes was the last. He looked at Alfia, then pocketed the letter.
"Seven days," muttered Hermes softly.
Alfia's eyes narrowed.
"I'll be waiting for the full story, Alfia," said Hermes with a wink, then left.
Alfia waited until they were gone. Her shoulders dropped, her breathing ragged.
She closed the door and locked it tight, as if that could block out her anxiety.
"Day one has just begun," she whispered to the emptiness of the church.
"And it already feels like a century... Hurry home, Venti."