Two Years Ago – Top Floor of Babel Tower
The wind howled at this height, a constant whisper against the glass panes of Babel Tower. I crouched in the shadow of a statue—a marble depiction of Freya, of course, her eyes half-lidded, eternal beauty carved in stone. Even here, her presence clung to the air like perfume—heavy and inescapable.
My heart pounded as I peered through the ornate window into the suite beyond. The upper floors were restricted, sacred ground for Freya Familia. A fortress gilded in elegance. And yet… I'd made it this far.
Not for glory. Not for gold.
Just for the view.
I know—it sounds stupid. But there was something about standing on the roof of the Tower, above gods and mortals alike, staring down at Orario glowing in the night… it made the world feel infinite. Worth the risk.
And that's when I saw it.
Dangling from a servant's hand, later left forgotten on a dresser—a pendant. Teardrop-shaped, silver, faintly glowing with divine magic. By Freya Familia standards, it was nothing. But I could tell—this wasn't about power. It was protection. Just strong enough to dull a fatal blow. Invaluable.
If I could steal it, reshape it, and leave it in the right hands... it might save a life. Maybe mine. Maybe someone else's. That had been the thought.
Even if the plan was—admittedly—crazy.
I tracked the guards' movements—timed their steps like a dance I wasn't invited to. Then—my window.
I slipped through the open pane, rolled across velvet carpet, and hugged the shadows. The suite smelled of roses and polished wood. My fingers twitched when I spotted the pendant on a velvet tray, beside a brush and a mirror.
Just grab it and Rift out.
But I hesitated.
The air was heavy in that room. Like Freya's eyes were everywhere. Like the goddess herself might gaze through the marble and glass, notice the absence of one tiny object, and smile.
I gritted my teeth, grabbed the pendant, and whispered a minor illusion—just enough to alter the hue, shift the metal, make it look different. Not forever. But long enough.
Then I ran.
Not far. Not fast.
Just enough to disappear.
I woke with the weight of the dream still clinging to my mind—the wind howling atop Babel Tower, Freya's eyes carved in marble, the stolen pendant resting cold in my palm.
It took me a moment to remember where I was.
Soft morning light filtered through the curtains of my guest room, dust motes dancing lazily in the beams. The scent of dew-soaked grass and faint floral notes drifted through the open window. Stardust Garden.
I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Voices echoed faintly outside.
Curious, I pulled on my shirt and stepped out onto the porch that overlooked the courtyard. And there they were.
Ryu and Alise, already deep in training, their wooden swords clashing with swift, practiced strikes. Sweat glistened on their brows, but their movements were sharp, graceful—a dance of discipline and force.
Standing beneath a tree nearby, watching them in silence, was Astraea.
The morning sun caught in her walnut-brown hair, and her long skirt flowed like water around her as she stood still, serene. Her deep indigo eyes tracked every motion with quiet intensity. She didn't speak, didn't interrupt—she simply watched, as if memorizing each movement.
There was a peace in that moment. A strange, fleeting quiet before the world stirred too much.
I leaned against the railing, just for a little while longer, watching them in return.
I stepped off the porch and made my way through the dew-damp grass, approaching the shade where Astraea stood. She noticed me before I could speak, offering a gentle nod and a small smile as I drew near.
"Good morning, Eirion," she said, her voice warm and unhurried, like the first light of dawn. "Did you sleep well?"
"I did. Thank you, Lady Astraea," I replied, lowering myself to sit beside her on the low stone bench beneath the tree. The bark behind us was rough with age, but the air was cool and clean.
For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence. The rhythmic clack of wooden swords was the only sound.
"They're impressive," I murmured, watching Ryu and Alise move in sync—Ryu with calm precision, Alise with relentless fire.
"They are," Astraea agreed, her gaze soft but proud. "They've grown so much. Every scar, every moment of pain… it shaped who they are. But they've never let it harden their hearts."
Her words hung in the air, gentle but firm—like a reminder.
"Thank you again," she said, turning her head slightly to look at me. "For helping them. For helping Adi. I meant what I said last night. My doors—and my strength—are open to you, should you ever need them."
I felt a small lump rise in my throat, but I nodded. "I'll remember."
The two warriors in the courtyard were slowing now, breathing heavily as they lowered their practice swords. Alise flopped onto the grass with a satisfied groan while Ryu remained standing, calm as ever, wiping sweat from her brow.
I rose from the bench and gave Astraea a parting glance. "Excuse me, Goddess."
She nodded. "Of course."
I made my way toward Ryu, who looked up at me with mild surprise. Her flushed cheeks weren't just from the exercise, I noted with quiet amusement.
"Ryu," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "Do you think… you could train me today?"
She blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, a smile ghosted across her lips—small, rare, but real.
"If you're ready to be sore tomorrow," she said calmly, "then yes. I'd be honored."
Alise, still on the ground, groaned dramatically. "Great. Another one to mop up after Ryu kicks his ass."
I grinned. "Looking forward to it."
After nearly an hour of drills, footwork corrections, and light sparring that felt anything but light, Ryu finally called a halt. Sweat beaded at her brow, though she looked no less composed than when we started. I, on the other hand, was very aware of how sore my shoulders felt.
"Take a break," she said, sheathing her wooden sword and heading toward the shaded bench beneath one of the flowering trees lining the courtyard. "You'll collapse if we push harder."
"Collapse with honor," I muttered, dragging myself after her.
The scent of morning blossoms lingered in the air, and I dropped onto the bench beside her, gulping down a flask of water that Astraea had left nearby. Across the courtyard, Alise had vanished—probably off to tease someone else or wrangle the younger girls.
I let out a sigh and leaned back, letting the sunlight warm my face. "You know," I said, "you make that look easy."
"It isn't," Ryu replied simply. "But I've had years of practice."
I glanced sideways at her. "Thanks for training me. I know you don't usually… well, do this."
She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on the courtyard, thoughtful. "You're different."
I blinked. "Different?"
"You fight with purpose. Not just for strength." Her eyes shifted to meet mine. "And… you don't look at me like others do."
"You mean like you're going to break them in half if they breathe wrong?"
She gave me a look, but there was a trace of amusement in it. "Exactly."
Just then, the calm of the morning was broken by the sound of brisk footsteps on stone.
Lyra approached from the far archway, her usual no-nonsense expression tinted with a hint of curiosity. In her hand was a sealed letter, the kind bearing the golden emblem of the Guild.
"Lady Astraea," she called, offering a respectful nod as she approached. "A summons from the Guild. You've been requested at the Pantheon… by the Guildmaster Royman himself."
Ryu and I both straightened instinctively. Astraea, seated inside beneath the shade of a wooden awning, accepted the letter with grace, breaking the seal in a fluid motion.
Her eyes scanned the parchment quickly, her expression unreadable—but her fingers curled ever so slightly at the edges.
"The Guildmaster Royman rarely sends a summons directly," Ryu noted quietly.
"Indeed," Astraea said, folding the letter neatly. "It seems I'm to attend a private audience at the Pantheon before midday."
Ryu and I exchanged a glance. A summons like that? It could only mean one thing.
"The Juggernaut," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.
It all lined up. The Guild would want silence. Damage control. They'd offer the Astraea Familia hush money and wrap the truth in bureaucracy. And me? I wasn't just a witness—I had trapped that thing. I had risked my life to make sure it didn't escape.
They likely want buy my silence, too—and you know that means there's a load of money just waiting on me to grab.
Without really thinking, I stepped forward. "Can I come with you?"
Astraea looked up at me, her gaze calm, but the stars in her eyes sharpened slightly. "You wish to accompany me?" she asked, voice melodic and measured.
I gave a firm nod. "Yes. If the Royman is summoning you, it has to be about the Juggernaut. And… I was there and I helped trap it. If there's talk of compensation, then I deserve a seat at the table. I won't cause trouble. But I won't be cut out, either."
A silence followed—brief, but charged. Ryu blinked at me in surprise, and Lyra's brow arched slightly in approval.
Astraea, however, studied me not with suspicion, but with a quiet, piercing clarity. Like she was seeing through to something deeper. The truth I wasn't saying.
Then, gently, she smiled.
"Very well. You may accompany me. But understand this, Eirion—this will not be a casual visit. The Guild is careful with its secrets. Tread wisely."
I bowed my head. "I understand, goddess."
She rose from her seat with effortless grace, folding the letter and tucking it away in her sleeve. "Then prepare yourself. We depart within the hour."
The walk to the Pantheon was quiet—tension hanging in the air like morning mist. Astraea led with calm elegance, Alise close beside her with an easy swagger, and Lyra a step behind, eyes scanning every detail around us with her usual hawk-like alertness. I kept pace, trying to seem collected, though my thoughts churned beneath the surface.
The Pantheon loomed into view soon enough: a towering structure of polished stone and steel, built with a sense of reverence and power. Wide steps led up to its grand arched entrance, and the Guild's crest—an emblem of balance and order—was engraved above the doors in shining brass.
Inside, the space opened up into a bustling, wide chamber filled with adventurers of every rank and background. The main floor was alive with the sound of muffled conversations, the clink of exchanged valis, and the rustle of parchment. Uniformed Guild employees—black vests, crisp white shirts, grey bow ties—moved with efficiency behind counters and desks, advising adventurers, reviewing reports, and distributing quests.
To our right, the exchange area was busy with adventurers trading in magic stones and monster drops, while toward the back, small, semi-soundproofed meeting boxes allowed for more private one-on-one consultations. Beyond that, a glass-paneled section housed the Guild's library—rows of ledgers, maps, and documents neatly filed, attended by staff scribes and historians.
Despite the bustle, the air shifted when Astraea and her Familia entered.
Some Guild staff paused mid-task. Others offered respectful nods. A few adventurers even stopped mid-sentence. Gods didn't stroll through the Pantheon every day—let alone one like her. Astraea, the Goddess of Justice, commanded more than divine reverence. She was a symbol. A pillar during the fight against Evilus. During the darkest era in Orario's history, she had walked these very streets—not from a throne, but beside mortals—risking herself to aid civilians and adventurers alike. Charitable. Selfless. Unyielding in purpose.
Even now, just her presence carried weight.
And that was when I noticed them—two girls behind the front counter. One, a half-elf, couldn't have been older than fourteen. Pointed ears twitched as she nervously tried to keep her paperwork in order. Shoulder-length brown hair framed her face, and her emerald-green eyes were earnest, if a little overwhelmed. Eina Tulle. Bell's future advisor. She looked younger, fresher. Still finding her footing in the chaos of the Guild.
Next to her was a girl with bubblegum-pink hair and matching eyes—clearly enjoying herself as she teased Eina with some offhand joke. Misha Flott. Same as always, it seemed.
I hadn't expected to see them so early. If I remembered right, they had officially joined the Guild more than five or six years before the start of the main story.
A senior receptionist stepped out from behind the counter and bowed low, voice formal.
"Goddess Astraea. We've been expecting you. Guildmaster Royman Mardeel is ready to meet with you in his office on the second floor."
Astraea inclined her head gracefully. "Thank you. These three will accompany me."
The woman's gaze shifted—first to Alise, then to Lyra, and finally to me. There was the briefest flicker of surprise in her expression, but she said nothing. Merely nodded and stepped aside, motioning us toward the stairwell that spiraled upward.
As we ascended, I let my eyes sweep over the hall one last time. The Pantheon really was the heart of Orario's adventuring world. A living machine powered by paperwork, valis, and quiet control. It watched everything, judged quietly behind glass, bow ties, and ledgers.
We reached the second floor of the Guild—the real power behind Orario. Polished floors, reinforced doors, hushed voices. A far cry from the chaos of adventurers and paperwork downstairs.
A secretary opened the double doors to the Guildmaster's office after a curt knock.
The Guildmaster's office was spacious, cluttered with papers and sealed scrolls, but rich with detail. Shelves of ledgers towered behind a broad desk, and behind that desk sat Royman Mardeel.
The "Guild's Pig."
Inside, Royman Mardeel sat behind a desk far too large for his short frame. The man was unmistakable—a fat elf with a round face, slicked-back white hair, and green eyes that glinted with the kind of greed only decades of bureaucratic maneuvering could sharpen. His suit was sleek, black with silver trim, perfectly pressed. Probably enchanted to repel wrinkles, not that his body did.
As we entered, he looked up—and his gaze passed over Astraea and her familia with carefully measured politeness… until it landed on me.
A blink. Then a long pause. Then a slow, disdainful scan—head to toe—as if trying to identify the smell that had walked into his office.
"Ah... Lady Astraea," he said smoothly, rising only half an inch before settling back into his seat. "Always a pleasure. You bring… interesting company, as ever."
Astraea smiled peacefully. "Thank you for seeing us, Royman. These three are with me."
Royman's brow lifted, gaze once again snagging on me. "Indeed? I recognize Miss Alise and Miss Lyra. But… this one little one?"
"Eirion," I said simply, meeting his gaze.
He didn't acknowledge my name. Instead, he looked to Astraea with a tilt of the head. "And he's here because…?"
"Involved in the 30th Floor incident. Directly," Astraea replied, calm but firm. "He contributed to saving lives."
Royman clicked his tongue softly, unconvinced. "Hmph. I see."
His eyes moved back to me, narrowing slightly. "You don't look like much. Barely older than a 10. I suppose these days, every child with a sword thinks he's a hero."
I didn't react. Not visibly. But I filed the insult away. So did Alise, judging by the subtle twitch of her mouth.
"He's more than that," Astraea said, a rare edge under her serene tone.
Royman tapped his fingers together, then pulled out a slim folder from his desk and placed it before him. "Very well. Let's get to it."
He flipped another page, pausing only slightly.
"This is the first time this kind of creature has ever been summoned by the Dungeon itself. We're calling it the Juggernaut—the Dungeon's executioner, triggered by large-scale disruption to its ecosystem."
Both Alise and Lyra turned toward me, brows knit with confusion. I'd told them—briefly—that my grandparents had come across something like this before. That was how I knew the name.
But I said nothing. I kept my eyes forward and my mouth shut.
He opened another folder, skimming through its contents with the nonchalance of someone used to burying truth beneath paperwork. "The Guild will, as expected, suppress all information on this incident. The panic would do more damage than the monster ever could. You will, of course, be compensated."
Royman looked at me again, eyes narrowing. "That is… if you truly were involved."
"I was the one who trapped the Juggernaut," I said plainly. "And I'm the reason the Astraea Familia made it out alive."
He scoffed, unimpressed. "A bold claim. From someone I've never seen in any Guild report. What Familia are you with? And what level?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I stepped forward, calm but sharp—and spoke a single word.
"Rift."
The air behind me tore open. Space split with a whispering hum as an illusory rift bloomed into view, jagged and dark, just large enough for one terrifying, clawed limb to emerge.
A skeletal claw—bony, monstrous, and all too familiar—pierced the edge of the rift and dragged along the floor.
Royman lurched backward in his chair, eyes wide. "What do you think you're—magic is not—!"
His voice cracked in panic.
The claw scraped across the floor with a grinding shriek, its fingers twitching as if eager to grab something—or someone.
I kept my eyes on him. "Now then… do you still think my claims are so bold?"
The room was silent except for the echo of the claw's motion.
Then I closed my palm.
"Rift." The illusion snapped shut, the rift vanishing in a blink, as if it had never been.
Royman sat frozen, face pale and glistening with sweat. Rage flickered beneath the fear, but neither Alise nor Lyra gave him sympathy. Lyra was openly smirking. Alise let out a short chuckle, shaking her head like she'd been waiting years to see someone do that.
Goddess Astraea, standing quietly behind me, gave me a look that was unreadable—serene, neutral… but her eyes sparkled faintly. Disapproval on the surface. But underneath? She didn't really mind.
Royman cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. His pride had taken a hit, but his fear kept him from lashing out. He straightened in his chair, slower than before.
"Well then," he muttered. "It seems… your claims may hold merit after all."
I didn't reply. I didn't need to.
He got the message.
As expected of the Guild's head, Royman composed himself quickly—at least on the surface. He straightened his lapels, adjusted his bowtie, and cleared his throat like the last two minutes hadn't happened.
I smiled thinly, folding my arms behind my back in a posture that could almost be called respectful. Almost.
"Well then, Guild's Pig—" I caught myself, eyes gleaming, "—I mean, Guild's head."
Royman twitched.
"I must say, I was rather offended by your words earlier. Given what I've contributed, perhaps you might… reconsider the scale of compensation."
His jaw tightened.
I sighed, placing a hand to my heart in mock lament. "After all, it would be such a tragedy if something like the Juggernaut were to somehow slip its cage. Into the city. Unannounced. Uncontained."
I gave him my most businesslike smile—one part polite, two parts dangerous.
Royman stared at me, face going red for a moment before the color drained away. The calculating gleam returned to his eyes, but this time, there was a certain… caution behind it.
Lyra let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying herself. Alise gave me a sidelong glance that was half warning, half impressed.
Astraea said nothing, but her serenity deepened like a still pond concealing deep currents.
The Guildmaster finally spoke, voice clipped. "I see. In light of your… unique contribution, I believe we can make an exception. You will be compensated accordingly."
I bowed my head slightly. "Much appreciated, Guildmaster."
"Your discretion is expected."
"As is yours," I said softly, letting the words linger.
The room held its breath.
Then Royman picked up his pen and began scribbling on a new set of forms, muttering under his breath.
The balance of power in the room had shifted. Not completely—but enough that I could feel the weight of it in the air.
And for once, the Guild's Pig had been made to sweat.
Royman was still muttering under his breath when I pulled a folded slip of parchment from my coat and handed it to him.
He took it with visible reluctance, eyes narrowing as he skimmed the contents.
Then he froze.
His face shifted—first confusion, then dawning horror, and finally that pale, almost sickly shade only a man whose wallet was about to suffer could turn.
"Three Grimoires? A hundred and ten million valis? And second-class weaponry? This is absurd!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Absurd?" I leaned forward just slightly, resting my fingertips on his desk. "Guildmaster, you do realize you're speaking to the person who singlehandedly trapped the Juggernaut and ensured the survival of one of Orario's most respected Familias. The Guild owes me."
His mouth opened to protest again, but I didn't give him the chance.
"Before you tell me the Guild can't afford it, we both know that's a lie. The Guild is filthy rich, and the Grimoires are rare…" I let the words roll off my tongue like a slow, sharpened blade, "The guild has many Grimoires lay to waste. You can absolutely fulfill my list."
I smiled—sharp, businesslike, and just arrogant enough to drive the point home.
"But, because you were so rude earlier… I'm adjusting the terms."
Royman blinked. "Adjusting—?"
"Double the valis," I said. "Double the Grimoires. And the weapons should Durandal-enchanted and this is now non-negotiable."
His mouth worked soundlessly, like a fish hauled out of water.
"That," I added with a tone that could've belonged to my aunt Alfia, "should be fair compensation, don't you think… Pig?"
This brat… why do they remind me so much of that damn witch, Silence
Alise coughed into her fist, clearly trying not to laugh. Lyra openly grinned, enjoying every moment like it was theater. Even Astraea—calm, composed Astraea—turned her gaze slightly toward the window, her lips just barely twitching.
Royman's eye twitched. But he said nothing.
He knew he'd lost the moment the claw from the Rift scraped the edge of his desk.
"Fine," he finally ground out. "It will be… processed. But don't expect me to like it."
I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my coat.
"Didn't ask you to," I said coolly, letting the edge of a smirk tug at my lips. "Just do your job, Piggy."
Royman looked like he'd swallowed a lemon whole, face flushing red beneath layers of pale skin and pride.
He cleared his throat stiffly. "Which… Familia should the compensation be sent to?"
"I'm currently a guest of the Astraea Familia at Stardust Garden," I replied. "It'd be best to deliver everything there—before six days' time."
He nodded, though reluctantly, scribbling a note for his secretary with angry little flicks of his pen.
"Well then," I turned toward Astraea and gave her a respectful nod. "Lady Astraea, I'll take my leave. Thank you for allowing me to accompany you."
Astraea studied me with that calm, unfathomable expression, as if she were quietly filing away every word and gesture. "Very well. We'll return shortly."
Without another word, I stepped out of the Guildmaster's office, leaving the air just a little tighter behind me.
As the heavy door closed, I made my way back down to the Guild's reception floor, weaving through the counters and paperwork, finally settling into a quiet corner. I leaned back, exhaled slowly, and let the buzz of adventurers fill the space around me.
The reception floor buzzed with movement—adventurers negotiating quests, advisors fielding requests, paper shuffling in a near-constant rhythm.
My eyes landed on the two girls behind one of the main counters. The half-elf with shoulder-length brown hair—Eina Tulle. She had that air of quiet professionalism, her emerald eyes focused as she filed a report. Beside her was a pink-haired girl, leaning on the counter with a mischievous smile: Misha Flott, if memory served. Her body language screamed "I'm bored, entertain me."
This could be interesting.
I strolled over, hands in my pockets, voice casual. "Excuse me. Do either of you have time for a few questions? About Orario... and the Dungeon."
Misha looked up first, grinning like she'd been waiting for a distraction all morning. "Well, aren't you bold? You're not trying to flirt your way into a fast-track, are you?"
I smiled back. "If I was, would it work?"
Misha giggled. "Depends. Are you charming and rich?"
Eina sighed, setting down her quill. "Ignore her. She's like this with anyone young man. I'm Eina Tulle, Guild advisor. I can help with Dungeon-related inquiries."
"I'm Eirion," I said, offering a polite nod. "I'm… new to Orario. Figured I should understand the city and its labyrinth before I dive headfirst into either."
Eina's expression softened slightly. "That's good. Too many first-timers rush in without understanding what they're risking. Have you registered with a Familia yet?"
"Not officially," I said. "I'm… temporarily under the hospitality of the Astraea Familia."
Eina blinked. "The Astraea Familia? That's rare. They don't usually take guests especially men."
Misha leaned forward, interested. "Ooh, so you're mysterious and connected. Color me intrigued."
"I'm just trying to stay alive," I replied dryly.
Eina cleared her throat, her tone slipping into business. "Very well. What would you like to know first? The Dungeon's structure? Monster patterns? The Guild's resource exchange?"
"Let's start from the top," I said. "I want to understand why this city works the way it does—why everyone risks so much for what lies beneath."
Misha whistled low. "Going for the heavy stuff, huh?"
Eina gave a small nod. "It's a fair question. The Dungeon fuels everything in Orario—money, power, even the gods' influence. But it also takes its toll."
I folded my arms, listening closely. This wasn't just curiosity—it was reconnaissance.
Because someday soon, Bell would be here too.
And I needed to know everything.
Eina reached below the counter and pulled out a folded map of the city. With practiced precision, she spread it out across the surface and pointed to the very center.
"Let's begin here," she said. "The city of Orario is divided into eight radial districts, all built around the central point—Babel Tower. That's the massive tower you see from anywhere in the city. It sits directly above the Dungeon entrance, and it's where most Dungeon-related administration occurs. Only the top floors are restricted to certain Familia… like Freya's."
I gave a faint nod at that, remembering a certain pendant.
Eina's finger moved clockwise. "To the Northwest, you'll find the Pantheon—the Guild headquarters where we are now. It manages adventurer registration, Dungeon expeditions, quests, and emergencies. The Guild keeps records on every Familia and adventurer... ideally."
Misha threw a pointed smirk my way at that.
"To the northwest," Eina continued without missing a beat, "is the Northwest Hephaestus Familia Shop. But it's where many adventurers purchase gear forged by the Hephaestus smiths. Pricey, but reliable."
She moved on, tracing the map.
"Daedalus Street, to the southeastern, is… chaotic. A dense, maze-like neighborhood built by a legendary architect. It's known for its complex design and hidden alleyways. Not the safest place to wander especially for kids."
Misha piped in, "Unless you're looking for illegal goods. Or bad decisions."
"Don't encourage him," Eina muttered, then pointed to the North. "Twilight Manor—home to the Loki Familia. One of the most powerful Familias in the city. They've helped lead major Dungeon expeditions and played a big role in fighting Evilus."
My eyes flicked over the map, taking in names I'd only ever read about.
"West of Babel, there's the Amphitheatron—used for public speeches, festivals, and duels," Eina continued.
"Then," Eina pointed toward the southeastern, "we have the Market Area and the Free Market, where everything from rations to rare materials can be bought or traded. Bustling every hour of the day."
"Don't forget the Adventurer Graveyard just past it," Misha added with a shrug. "A grim reminder of what happens when you underestimate the Dungeon."
Eina's hand hovered over the southwestern district. "The Entertainment District is… well, self-explanatory. Bars, theaters, gambling dens. Not exactly my scene. And you better not go there"
"But very much mine," Misha grinned, winking.
"There's also Folkvangr, the estate of Freya Familia, in the southwest near the Entertainment District. It's heavily guarded and not open to the public.
And in the east is Saint Fulland's Cathedral—a neutral temple space where gods sometimes hold ceremonies, especially those aligned with justice or healing."
"Nearby is the Dian Cecht Familia Pharmacy, known for the best potions and healing salves in the city, though they charge... excessively."
Misha snorted. "Only rich adventurers go there to get patched up."
She tapped one last spot. "And finally, the Gnome's Great Library, northeast. A massive collection of tomes, records, and ancient lore. Many aspiring mages and scholars spend their time there."
I leaned over the map, taking it all in. It was one thing to hear about these places… but seeing them laid out like this made everything more real. More dangerous. More alive.
"Thanks," I said, genuinely. "That helps a lot."
"You're welcome," Eina replied, folding the map neatly again. "Just remember, knowledge is your first line of defense in Orario."
"And your second is a sharp sword and someone to patch you up when you trip on your first," Misha added cheerfully.
I smiled. "Duly noted."
As the conversation shifted, I leaned on the counter a bit and asked, "So… what about the different Familia in Orario? I know there are a lot of them, but which ones should I actually know about?"
Eina brightened a little—probably pleased I was asking something responsibly this time. Misha, of course, grinned like she'd been waiting for this.
"Well," Eina said, folding her hands neatly, "there are dozens of Familia registered with the Guild, but only a few are considered top-tier or particularly influential."
Misha cut in before Eina could launch into a lecture. "Let me guess—you want the juicy ones, right? Power, scandal, insane adventurers with too much muscle and not enough brain?"
I chuckled. "Sure, surprise me."
Eina sighed, but continued.
"The Loki Familia is one of the strongest. They're known for their elite team of adventurers, especially Riveria, Finn, Gareth, and Bete. They were instrumental in the last major expedition to the lower floors."
"Don't forget Ais Wallenstein~," Misha sang. "The Sword Princess herself. Half the newbies join just hoping she'll look their way."
I raised a brow. "Right. That's not weird at all."
Eina rolled her eyes. "Then there's Freya Familia. Very powerful, very mysterious. They don't participate in many public events, but they're dangerous—whispers say they control much more than we know."
"They're also pretty," Misha added. "Even the men. It's weird."
Eina ignored her. "Hephaestus Familia dominates the forging industry. Most of the best smiths work under her. If you want a high-grade weapon, that's where you go. Of course, it's going to cost you."
"I've heard some of their weapons sell for hundreds of millions of valis," I murmured. "No wonder the Guild has money."
"Exactly," Eina nodded. "Then there's Ganesha Familia. They manage public order and events like the Monsterphilia. They're loud, eccentric, but reliable."
"'I AM GANESHA!'" Misha boomed in a low, theatrical voice. Eina just sighed again.
I hadn't been waiting long in the reception area—maybe fifteen, twenty minutes tops—before I spotted them descending the wide staircase from the second floor. Astraea walked with her usual serene grace, each step unhurried, composed. Alise followed just behind her, hands behind her head, red hair bouncing slightly with every step. Lyra, as always, trailed like a quiet shadow, her violet eyes scanning the room with habitual precision.
They found me seated near the information desk, arms crossed, still getting the occasional side-eye from a few guild employees. I stood as they approached.
Astraea offered a soft smile. "I hope you weren't too bored waiting."
I shrugged. "Made some friends. Learned a bit about the city… and the Dungeon. And I might've startled a few people by association."
Alise snorted. "You've got a knack for that."
Astraea gave a small chuckle at that—brief, but sincere—before turning toward the front doors. "Then let's return. There's still the rest of the day ahead of us, and I believe you've earned some peace… for now."
With that, we stepped back out into the sunlight of Orario.
As the Guild doors closed behind us, I let out a quiet breath. The air outside felt lighter somehow, as if the stone and paperwork of the Pantheon had been pressing on my shoulders.