Chapter 246
The skeletal remains of buildings clawed at the dust-choked sky, silent witnesses to the recent devastation.
In the heart of these southern Orario ruins, the urgent scuff of boots on rubble echoed.
It was the sound of a Hermes familia member, threading his way through collapsed walls and splintered timber, his movements tight with haste and desperation.
"Captain! Captain!" The cry ripped through the air, sharp with panic.
The man—a scout, his face streaked with dirt and sweat—skidded to a halt before the figure standing amidst the debris.
He bore news, heavy and unwelcome, etched onto his ragged features.
"What is it?" Asfi replied, her voice betraying a flicker of unease.
The title ‘Captain’ still felt alien to her ears, a burden she had only just begun to grasp.
It had been less than a day since Hermes, her patron god, had thrust this mantle upon her.
The weight of leadership, previously borne by their fallen captain, Lydis, now pressed down on Asfi's shoulders like a physical force.
She hadn't begun to process the grief, let alone the crushing responsibility.
"Skirmishes... Skirmishes have broken out," the scout stammered, gasping for breath between words.
"Districts Five, Six, and Eight! We... we've observed more enemy movement than ever before. What do we do, Captain?" His eyes, wide with fear, fixed on hers, seeking guidance she wasn't sure she possessed.
"What...?" Asfi whispered, her own breath catching in her throat.
A dull, persistent ache pulsed behind her eyes, the physical manifestation of the stress and worry that had been her constant companions for the past twenty-four hours.
She instinctively reached up, pressing a hand against her temples, the rough texture of her glove a small, grounding sensation in the swirling chaos of her mind.
She was situated in the southern sector of the city, a world away from the tentative gathering of adventurers like Draco, Dimitra, Lyra, and Kaguya, who were patrolling somewhere in the north.
Honestly, Asfi was terrified.
The icy grip of fear had tightened around her heart the moment the news of Lydis's death had broken, and it hadn't loosened since.
How many times in the last twenty-four hours had she felt this overwhelming sense of inadequacy?
So much had been dumped onto her: coordinating supply runs from dwindling caches, quelling the rising anxiety and potential unrest among civilians sheltering in the south, directing reconnaissance efforts amidst the chaos, and now, defending against these sudden, widespread attacks.
The multifaceted demands were relentless, each problem piling upon the last, threatening to bury her under the sheer weight.
She felt the fragile threads of her sanity stretching, nearing their breaking point.
‘How does he do it?’ she thought, her mind fleetingly conjuring the image of Draco.
The dragon-kin, younger than herself, yet already a respected captain, shouldering immense responsibility with a composure that seemed impossible to her now.
In a strange way, his youth and similar circumstances made her feel a twisted sort of connection.
"Captain?" The scout's voice, a touch more desperate now, snapped Asfi back from her brief, despairing reverie.
Her familia members were looking at her, waiting.
Waiting for orders.
For a plan.
She had to give them something.
She let out a slow, shaky sigh, trying to push the fear down, deep into her gut.
"What is the size of the evilus group attacking?" she asked, her voice tighter than she intended.
"We... we spotted at least twelve separate groups," the scout reported, still trying to regulate his breathing.
"With twenty to forty fighters in each. They outnumber us significantly, Captain. By a frightening amount."
‘What...? That many?’ Asfi's mind reeled.
‘How do we possibly deal with this? We don't have remotely enough people here’
The frantic internal scream was silent, hidden beneath her outwardly controlled facade, but it clawed at her insides.
Yet, she knew she couldn't crumble.
She had to devise a strategy, and quickly.
Suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to turn tail and flee from the crushing pressure of her new role, Asfi forced herself to think, to suggest a course of action, any action.
"Since we're so stretched thin here," she began, her voice gaining a fraction of resolve, "I'll request aid from the Bera Bera. They're stationed in district three, they could provide reinforcements."
However, before she could even finish explaining the logistics, Falgar, a seasoned member of the familia, gently but firmly interjected.
"We can't do that, Captain," he stated simply.
"Why not?" Asfi asked, a fragile spark of annoyance flickering against the backdrop of her fear.
Falgar's expression was sympathetic but unwavering.
"If we pull the Bera Bera from District Three, the eastern sector of the city becomes completely undefended. Remember, the enemy isn't just throwing these groups at us; they likely have reserves, troops on standby, waiting to exploit any opening we create. We can't afford to leave such a vital flank exposed."
Hearing the logic in his words, Asfi felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks.
Deeply embarrassed, she averted her gaze.
Falgar was meant to be her aide, offering support and counsel, but in this moment, it felt agonizingly like he was just highlighting the glaring flaws in her thinking.
It was hardly the confident, decisive start she (or anyone) would hope for as a captain leading her familia through a crisis.
"Then what... what do we do?" Asfi muttered, the pulsating ache in her head intensifying with each passing second of indecision.
"Is there anyone... What about the Bahamut Familia? Are they perhaps free?" she asked, a flicker of desperate hope igniting.
If the Bahamut Familia, small but composed entirely of high-level adventurers, was available, they could make a significant difference.
The scout, still trying to regulate his breathing, shook his head.
"No, Captain. Last we checked, the Bahamut Familia, along with the Astraea and some Loki familia members, are protecting the factory district in the northwest. It's housing a large concentration of civilians. It would be unwise in the extreme to remove them from that post."
‘Is there anyone left? Anyone capable of helping us?’ Asfi wondered, her teeth unconsciously biting down on her lower lip, a nervous habit she hadn't engaged in for years.
She felt adrift, completely out of her depth, stranded in a leadership role she was convinced she wasn't fit for.
No good ideas were coming, her mind a jumbled mess of dread and confusion.
Falgar, seemed equally stumped, and the precious seconds were ticking away, each one bringing the enemy forces closer.
"Why don't you leave it to me, lass?" a deep, resonant voice suddenly cut through the tense silence, drawing the attention of every Hermes familia member present.
Asfi's eyes widened as she recognized the figure emerging from the dust clouds.
"G... Gareth?" she breathed, the name escaping her lips in a reverent whisper.
"Don't change your positions," Gareth stated as he approached.
His great battle-axe was slung casually across his shoulder, its blade marked with the dark sheen of fresh blood.
"It might just be exactly what the enemy wants. They're trying to provoke you, to make you overcommit, with these slapdash skirmishes." Behind him, a group of adventurers, trailed in his wake.
They were visibly exhausted, their armour scuffed, their weapons bearing the grim evidence of recent combat.
Yet, despite their weariness, they had come.
"Thank you, Gareth-san," Asfi began, a wave of relief washing over her, quickly followed by a renewed sense of embarrassment at her own helplessness.
"We were..."
Gareth held up a hand, cutting her off.
"Don't thank me yet, lass. In return for dealing with this particular problem," he gestured towards the direction of the reported skirmishes with a weary nod of his head, "we have another task for the Hermes Familia."
Asfi's brief relief evaporated, replaced by a fresh surge of apprehension.
"What can we do?" she asked, nervous about the request Gareth might levy.
Gareth's gaze was serious, cutting through the lingering dust.
"We would like your familia to do what it is known for: to investigate. We need you to find the whereabouts of the evilus champions: Zald, Alfia, and Mors. And, if possible, the dark god Erebus as well. Leave the fighting here to us. Your job is to track them down."
It was Falgar, standing beside Asfi, who responded.
"Understood. We will take this request."
Asfi, rooted to the spot, could only stare, her mind struggling to process the magnitude of the task.
The mission Gareth proposed was anything but easy; in fact, it was arguably far more dangerous than confronting the waves of evilus soldiers currently battering the south.
It was a dive into the shadows, seeking out the architects of this war.
"We..." Asfi tried again, her voice catching.
Gareth's gaze, sharp and penetrating, locked onto hers.
"Do not falter, Perseus," he said, using her alias, a name that felt both familiar and impossibly heavy right now.
"That is what the enemy desires above all else. They are keeping us off balance, demanding we fight without rest, forcing us to play their guessing game of where and when they will strike next." Gareth paused, his expression grim.
"As a captain, you must now be the rock. The unmoving center around which your familia can rally, so they do not break apart in the storm of this war. Can you do that, Asfi?"
He didn't wait for her reply, didn't need it.
With a final, assessing look, he turned and began to move towards the sounds of conflict, leading his exhausted, resolute group of adventurers into the fray.
A few seconds after Gareth's imposing figure had vanished around a pile of rubble, Asfi finally found her voice, though it was thin and shaky.
"Falgar?"
"Yes, Captain?" Falgar responded immediately, his focus entirely on her.
"I... I don't think I can do this," she admitted, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.
The confession tore a fissure in her carefully constructed facade.
"You have to take over, Falgar. I... I don't think I can be the captain this familia needs right now." Shame burned hot in her cheeks, and she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.
The sheer weight of the lives depending on the decisions she made, the potential consequences of failure, felt debilitating.
If her god, Hermes, were here, perhaps she could have found the strength, leaned on his capricious energy, but he, like so many other deities, was undoubtedly occupied elsewhere, lacking the time or inclination to fuss over the mental state of one struggling captain, even one of his own.
With sweat-drenched gloves, she covered her face, feeling herself begin to sink into the crushing depths of despair.
Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm, steady hands settle gently on her shoulders.
Looking up, her vision blurred by unshed tears, her eyes met Falgar's.
There was no judgment, no impatience, only an understanding gaze.
"Listen to me, Asfi," Falgar said, his voice calm.
"Like Hermes, I too believed you were the best one for this job from the moment we lost her. And I still do."
"But... why?" Asfi asked, genuinely bewildered.
What could he possibly see in her panicked, overwhelmed state that suggested competence?
Falgar's grip on her shoulders tightened imperceptibly, a gesture of quiet strength.
"It's because you care, Asfi. More deeply than anyone else here. You worry yourself sick precisely because you understand the gravity of the situation, because you know the weight of what you carry. And you possess a sharp mind, sharp eyes that can cut through the confusion and seize the truth of the present moment."
As he spoke, a memory flashed vividly through Asfi's mind – the voice of Lydis, her fallen captain, clear as if she were standing right beside them.
‘The moment is now’
"Please," Falgar pleaded softly, his eyes earnest.
"Be confident in yourself. Just for this moment."
Falgar could speak these words with such conviction because he truly knew Asfi.
He had joined the Hermes familia around the same time she had, sharing not only the triumphs and adventures but also the mundane hardships and the sheer, exasperating chaos that often followed in Hermes's wake.
"Think back," Falgar urged, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips.
"Think back to all the absolute nonsense Hermes-sama has put you through, forcing you to clean up the aftermath of his... mischievous antics. This situation seems like nothing compared to some of those times, doesn't it?"
Asfi closed her eyes, picturing the chaotic, frustrating, often hilarious yet always challenging scenarios Hermes had hurled her way over the years.
Dealing with his impulsive decisions, his grand, often impractical plans, his knack for attracting trouble – it had been relentless, exhausting, and often required innovation and quick thinking. And Falgar was right.
She had always, somehow, managed.
Like a spark igniting in kindling, Asfi felt a warmth spread through her chest.
It wasn't comfort, but a burgeoning ember of resolve, burning away the suffocating shadow of despair that had threatened to consume her.
‘There are many things that I cannot do' she thought, acknowledging her limitations without letting them define her.
‘But there are also things only I can do’.
She opened her eyes, and the world felt subtly different.
The ruins were still ruins, the dust still hung heavy, but her perspective had shifted.
Lydis was gone, yes, but her legacy, lay before Asfi, waiting for her hand to guide it.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Asfi felt her mind settle, the frantic thoughts aligning into a clear purpose.
She turned to her waiting familia members, her gaze filled with newfound clarity and authority.
“Falgar,” she said, her voice still a little hoarse, but firm.
"Assemble the others. We have a job to do." Her gaze swept across the few familia members who had gathered, their anxious faces turned towards her, waiting.
"We will fulfill the request Gareth-san has given us," she commanded, her mind already racing through the logistics.
"Our priority is locating the evilus champions. But while we are doing that, we will also organize scavenging teams. Focus on ruined buildings in the sectors that have already been cleared of evilus soldiers. We need supplies – food, salvageable equipment, anything useful we can find. Every bit will help."
As the orders were issued, clear and decisive, a sense of relief rippled through the Hermes familia members present.
A leader had emerged from the shadow of grief and uncertainty.
Life, purpose, had been breathed back into their ranks.
They would not let despair consume them here.
There was a war to be fought, and a future that desperately needed winning.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on and donate.