Chapter 270
The soft hum of untouched tranquility was a rare melody in the city, a stark contrast to the distant, percussive symphony of conflict that echoed relentlessly from the rest of Orario.
Here, in the embrace of the northeast, the land itself seemed to exhale, breathing easy as if untouched by the raging war between adventurers and the evilus cultists on this night.
Only the occasional, muted rumble, like an approaching storm that never quite broke, served as a reminder of the turmoil a distance away.
Within a cozy stone dwelling, a short distance away from the Hephaestus familia forges, Bahamut reclined on a plush sofa, her posture a picture of languid comfort.
A thick, leather-bound book rested open in her hands, its pages catching the gentle glow of a low-burning magic lamp that cast warm, dancing shadows across the room.
Her tail, a magnificent scaly appendage, silver as moonlight, dangled idly from the side of the sofa, occasionally twitching, the scales on its tip gleaming like polished armour.
The air was still, save for the faint crackle of the lamp and the rustle of turning pages.
On a small, carved wooden table beside her, two ceramic bowls sat untouched.
One held a neat stack of roasted potatoes, precisely sliced into thin, golden discs, their edges slightly crisp.
The other contained a bowl of cream-coloured soup, its surface perfectly smooth, promising warmth and comfort.
Across from the table, perched with an almost comical elegance on an armchair, sat Falazure. The evil dragon god, a being of immense power and unpredictable whims, delicately raised a porcelain teacup to his lips, his gaze fixated on Bahamut.
He sipped the warm tea with an air of leisure, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his features.
Every now and then, his clawed hand would dart out with surprising speed, snatching a single, thin slice of potato from Bahamut's bowl.
He did it with the deliberate intent to annoy, a small, irritating gesture he repeated just enough times to be noticed, yet not enough to elicit a direct response.
Bahamut, however, remained utterly unperturbed, her eyes fixed on her book, her expression a mask of serene indifference.
It was a familiar dance, a silent, daily ritual of provocation and practiced ignorance.
“Yawn…”
A soft, surprisingly delicate yawn escaped Bahamut’s lips, her silver scales rustling as her body stretched.
She rubbed her eyes groggily, a hint of deep-seated exhaustion showing in their usually vibrant depths.
Four days.
Four full days had passed since the beginning of the war, and not a moment of true sleep had touched her.
Falazure, with his relentless prodding and petty annoyances, simply wouldn’t allow it.
He craved their magnificent clashes, the kind that shook mountains and parted skies, and he seemed to believe that constant agitation was the path to achieving his goal.
A pang of longing, sharp and unexpected, pierced through her weariness.
She missed the simple, comforting routine of her life before this ceaseless vigil: the quiet clatter of pots and pans, the aroma of a hearty meal simmering on the hearth, the laughter of her children.
Her children, who were now out there, on the front lines of the very war that Falazure so casually observed.
‘I hope they are doing okay,’ Bahamut thought, her eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.
She stretched out her consciousness, a subtle, almost imperceptible thread of divine power, seeking the familiar echoes of her children.
She had been the one to insist they keep their distance, not out of a lack of love, but out of a gnawing fear.
Falazure, an embodiment of chaotic evil, was perfectly capable of exploiting any vulnerability, any loved one, to achieve his twisted aims.
The thought of any of them being taken hostage, turned into a pawn in his endless games, was a fear that clawed at her heart.
It was a valid fear, especially considering his alignment with the forces of the evilus.
“How long are we going to keep playing this tedious game, Bahamut?” Falazure’s voice, smooth as polished obsidian, cut through the quiet.
He set his teacup down with a faint clink, his gaze piercing.
“Just fulfill my very simple request, and you won’t have to worry so much. Who knows, perhaps you might even send me back to heaven.”
He paused, a theatrical sigh escaping him.
“Can’t you hear it? The explosions that shake the very earth? Can’t you feel it, the countless souls being ripped from their mortal coils and sent to the underworld? Perhaps one of those souls might soon be one of your precious children. You know that we will eventually battle, Bahamut. Why prolong the inevitable?”
He rambled on, his words a calculated stream of provocation, yet Bahamut continued to ignore him, her focus seemingly unmoving from her book.
Their usual, tense routine, however, was shattered abruptly.
The dwelling's main door burst inward with a splintering crash, revealing a small, trembling figure framed against the moonlit night.
"Eleni…" Bahamut murmured, her indifference instantly dissolving into alarm.
The young cat-girl, her face and hair matted with sweat and blood, heaved for breath, her small chest heaving with desperate effort.
Bahamut was on her feet in an instant, a flash of silver scales.
She moved with an innate grace, reaching Eleni just as the girl's legs threatened to give out.
Her arm went around Eleni’s slender waist, steadying her, and subtly placing herself between her exhausted child and Falazure, whose gaze had sharpened with immediate interest.
"There, there," Bahamut soothed, her voice a gentle balm.
"Take a deep breath and calm down" she held Eleni close, allowing the girl precious moments to catch her breath, her small body trembling against Bahamut’s solid frame.
Making it to this place had been an arduous ordeal for Eleni.
She had run relentlessly through the dangerous expanse between the northwest battlefields and this relatively peaceful pocket, her path cutting through smouldering ruins and skirmishing lines, risking life and limb to deliver her urgent message.
Once her ragged breathing had steadied enough for speech, Eleni gasped out her desperate tale, her voice hoarse with exertion and fear. "… it’s Draco-nii… he and…an evilus champion called Mors… they fought…and Draco-nii used that skill!" She relayed the dire state of Draco, along with other critical fragments of information, painting a grim picture of the conflict's escalation.
"Well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events," Falazure mused, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
He had heard every desperate word Eleni uttered, his enhanced senses missing nothing.
"To think those children would meet, and directly battle each other. But, what is more interesting," he continued, a predatory smile curling his lips, "is that this information seems to insinuate that my child is losing, or has lost." His tone was laced with an almost perverse amusement, devoid of any deeper concern.
"Don’t tell me you planned this," Bahamut snarled, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. A palpable surge of cold bloodlust emanated from her, causing the air in the room to grow heavy, pressing down on Eleni, who instinctively clutched Bahamut's clothing tighter.
Falazure merely brushed off the accusation with another light chuckle, raising his teacup to his lips.
"While I would love to take credit for such a delightfully chaotic development, I assure you, this was simply all a coincidence." His expression gave away nothing, his usual mask of detached amusement firmly in place.
"Hmmf," Bahamut huffed, a sound of annoyance, before turning her full attention back to the trembling Eleni.
“Can you help Draco-nii?” Eleni pleaded, her large, tear-filled eyes fixed on Bahamut, radiating a raw, innocent hope.
“It’s okay,” Bahamut soothed, gently stroking Eleni’s matted hair.
“I will do something about it. I promise.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Bahamut turned around, her gaze locking with Falazure’s shadowed eyes.
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
“Will you stop me?” Bahamut asked bluntly, her voice devoid of emotion, a direct challenge.
Falazure’s smile widened, a thin, cruel line.
“Why ask when you already know the answer? Your action will count towards interference in the war, Bahamut. A breach of our agreement, no?”
“Even if it means that it might result in the death of your own child?” Bahamut prodded, pushing for a reaction.
Falazure had casually revealed earlier, amidst his incessant ramblings, that Mors was, in fact, his child.
This revelation, Bahamut hoped, might stir some flicker of something within him.
“Don’t bother trying the emotional appeal method with me, Bahamut, it won’t work.” Falazure leaned back, his eyes half-lidded with disinterest.
“Besides, that child picked a fight with yours, and if what your little cat-girl said is right, he lost in a one-on-one fight despite being several levels ahead of your child. Perhaps death might be a better option for him. A lesson in humility, if nothing else.” His voice was utterly devoid of concern, chilling in its detachment.
‘Tsk.’ Bahamut clicked her tongue in raw annoyance, a frustrated sound that grated against the quiet of the room.
She had expected this, of course, knowing Falazure’s callous nature, but the sheer coldness of his dismissal still stung.
Through his incessant ramblings these past four days, Falazure had made it painstakingly clear that he had long since lost interest in the world of mortals, viewing their struggles as mere background noise to his own boredom.
“Then what if I agree to battle you?” Bahamut proposed, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Immediately, Falazure’s eyes, normally filled with a jaded indifference, lit up like a child presented with a long-desired toy.
His languid posture straightened, a primal excitement flickering in his gaze.
“Battle you say?” His voice deepened, a resonant thrum.
“When, and what are your conditions, Bahamut?”
“In two days, outside the city,” Bahamut replied, her gaze narrowing.
This was the one scenario she had desperately sought to avoid.
Battles between dragon gods were cataclysmic events, capable of reshaping landscapes and laying waste to entire regions, often lasting for days, ending only when one of them was utterly defeated and forcibly sent back to their divine temple's.
“Hmm, very well then.” Falazure immediately conceded, a delighted smile spreading across his face.
“I will allow your interference only to save your children and nothing else. I also have promises to keep, certain agreements with Erebus, so I will come along to make sure you don’t do anything extra.”
Bahamut didn’t bother arguing.
She had already anticipated such an outcome, a leash on her actions. She didn’t know the full extent of the agreement Falazure had made with Erebus, but after she dealt with Falazure, she vowed, she was going to make Erebus pay for this, one way or another.
Without wasting another moment, Bahamut turned and rushed outside, Eleni clutched tightly in her arms.
The instant they were out of the confined space of the dwelling and under the grand expanse of the night sky, Bahamut’s form began to shift.
With a soft, shimmering glow, magnificent, feathery draconic wings, spun from pure moonlight, erupted from her back.
Her silvery scales, already catching the light, now glistened with an ethereal luminescence, and her elegant horns seemed to pulse with an inner light.
“Beautiful as always, Bahamut. I don’t know why you keep hiding such a wonderful thing.” Falazure’s voice, now laced with genuine awe, stood just behind them.
“Shut it,” Bahamut muttered, her focus entirely on her urgent mission.
With a powerful beat of her newly unfurled wings, she launched herself into the sky, effortlessly carrying Eleni, who gasped, clinging tightly to her goddess.
Falazure simply chuckled, a sound of satisfaction.
Without a whisper of effort, his own wings, woven from shadow and night, materialized from his back.
With a single, silent beat, he too ascended, a dark counterpoint against the moon, effortlessly following Bahamut into the vast expanse of the night, towards the distant echoes of war.
…………………………………………………
The oppressive air of western Orario’s night, filled with the wails of the tormented, clung heavy around the church.
It was into this despair that Ryuu’s voice, sharp and clear as a bell, sliced through the stagnant air.
“Alise! Everyone!”
The call resonated, a beacon in the darkness.
From the shadows of crumbling walls, from the desolate rooftops and broken spires, figures erupted.
Some moved with impossible grace, leaping from wall to wall like ethereal dancers, their forms blurring against the moonlit sky.
Others descended from perilous heights in a single, silent drop, their landing softer than a whisper.
“Ryuu!” Alise, her red hair a streaking comet against the dark, cried out, her voice a mixture of relief and indignation.
She closed the distance to the elf in a series of powerful strides, her eyes, softened with an almost desperate tenderness.
“We came to get you!”
The others gathered around, their presence a warm embrace against the chill of the night.
Lyra, sauntered closer, her hands linked behind her head, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Finally found you, our little runaway elf,” she drawled, her tone light but with an undercurrent of genuine concern.
“You know, we busted our butts looking for you. Anything to say for yourself?”
Before Ryuu could formulate a reply, Kaguya, with a modest smile took a strides as graceful as a flowing river, joining them.
Her eyes, however, held a decidedly mischievous glint.
“Apologies are weak,” she stated, then flashed Ryuu a devious grin that promised mischief. “Show your repentance by acting as my peon for a week, you idiot.”
Ryuu’s breath hitched.
Seeing Lyra’s playful exasperation and Kaguya’s cutting, yet affectionate, demand, a wave of remorse washed over her.
But stronger than the guilt, a surge of overwhelming joy ignited within her.
A warmth spread through her cold arms and legs, thawing the lingering despair.
It was the familiar heat of belonging, of being truly seen and cherished.
“Lyra, Kaguya… Gladly. I will make it up to you, whatever it takes!”
“We were worried about you!” chirped another, her voice echoing the sentiments of the entire troupe.
“Well, that cheered you up, didn’t it?” another added kindly, their collective presence a vibrant, living shield against the encroaching darkness.
Olivas, who had been observing the scene from a distance, stood frozen in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Astraea Familia?!” he muttered again, the name a venomous curse on his tongue.
But the moment of apprehension quickly passed, replaced by a sneer of renewed arrogance.
His smile returned, wide and unnerving.
“So what? One more measly group of second-class adventurers isn’t enough to stop our army!”
At his command, the cultists, a tide of fanatical zealots, let out a guttural war cry.
They surged forward, a chaotic, weapon-wielding mass, intending to overwhelm the small band of girls with sheer numbers.
“Hmmf,” Alise scoffed, a dismissive sound that was almost a purr of annoyance.
She surveyed the oncoming horde, her expression utterly devoid of fear.
“We can’t have a decent conversation with all this noise. And there are people to save, too…” She placed one hand on her hip, her posture radiating an effortless power.
Her chest, encased in a polished breastplate, puffed out slightly as she met the oncoming tide head-on.
“Let’s do this, everyone!” she cried, her voice ringing with resolve.
In her right hand, her blade, pointed directly at the advancing enemy.
“Nobody else gets hurt! Your days of tormenting the weak are over!”
On her command, the other girls instantly brandished their weapons.
There was no hesitation, no doubt.
Like the snap of a bowstring, or an outburst of concentrated emotion, they leaped into action with a singular cry that tore through the night: “Haaaaaaaahh!!”
The two forces met with a savage, resounding clash.
It was not a battle of equals, but a swift, brutal execution.
A swing of Ryuu’s sturdy wooden sword, leveled many foes in an instant, sending them sprawling like broken dolls.
Kaguya, a shadow in the swirling chaos, moved with deadly grace, her spare blade a silver blur. It dispatched her enemies swiftly and silently, each strike finding its mark with chilling efficiency.
Lyra’s boomerangs, swept across the battlefield, arcing and returning with impossible speed, denying the fanatical cultists the opportunity to martyr themselves in futile charges.
Simultaneously, magical bombardments, unleashed by their lesser-known mages, mercilessly swept up the leftovers, transforming the disordered mass into scattered broken bodies.
The girls moved as one, a perfectly synchronized unit, their forms a whirlwind of steel, magic, and unyielding will.
All of them had realized one very important thing: that while they may not yet have found the ultimate answer to their complex sorrows, they could still continue their journey, guided by the steadfast light of the stars, walking hand-in-hand with their own brand of justice.
“They’re fighting,” a man, one of the townsfolk who had been hiding in the shadows, whispered, staring in wonder at the impossible spectacle.
“So fast… and so strong.”
“All… to protect us…?” asked another, his voice thick with a dawning realization.
They were not combatants.
All they could do was cower, to hide behind those who were willing to lay down their lives.
To see these adventurers, whom they had once reviled, fight so selflessly on their behalf moved them to their core.
A sorry, bitter feeling worked its way up their throats, choking them with guilt.
“We don’t deserve this…” The man recalled the words a certain grey-haired young girl had told him days ago.
That each lost life was a burden the adventurers would never forget, a weight they carried long after the battle ended.
Blinded by grief and fear, he and others had repaid their goodness with stones, with curses, and the crushing weight of that guilt was almost enough to break him now.
It was then that a single war tiger, his fur matted with grime and blood, his massive frame visibly weary, approached the huddled townsfolk.
“Hey, will you cheer them on?” Falgar asked, his voice rough but clear.
“Huh…?” The man looked up, startled.
“It doesn’t matter what you did in the past. We adventurers are still fighting tirelessly for you.” Falgar, finally able to take a brief respite thanks to Astraea Familia’s timely arrival, was too injured to fight, but he addressed the crowd on the adventurers’ behalf, his eyes burning with a quiet dignity.
“Please,” he said, his voice pleading, “Lend them your strength. Your voices.”
The young man who had been weeping earlier started to cry again, but these were tears of shame and burgeoning hope.
Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, and he choked on a sob that was half apology, half adoration.
“Get them…” Then, with all of his heart, he screamed the words he had been unable to say for so long, the words that had been buried under fear and resentment.
“Go get ’em, adventurers!!”
Following his lead, a groundswell of emotion erupted.
More and more voices joined the chorus, tentative at first, then growing in strength and volume until they became a roaring wave of support.
“Come on! You can do it!”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything we did!”
“Win this thing and come back, so we can give you a proper apology!”
Men and women, old and young, their faces tear-streaked but resolute, all added their voices to the chorus, their unified will a new, invigorating wind that swept across the battlefield.
“My, how the tables have turned.”
Staring out of the broken window of the church, Erebus feigned surprise, a theatrical gesture for an audience he alone perceived.
There was no smile on his lips this time, only a wide-eyed look of genuine, if cold, admiration. “I’ll be. You really did it. There’s no arguing it. You managed to squeeze hope from despair before my very eyes. Just you and your companions.”
For all his divine wisdom, for all the calculated precision with which he pulled strings, even the god who claimed to represent pure evil could not perfectly know what was happening on the game board after it had been so decisively flipped over.
He had underestimated the relentless, stubborn light of justice.
“So, Ryuu… Is this your final answer?” Erebus watched closely as the elf girl flitted like a gale wind between her enemies’ weapons, faster and stronger than anything else on the battlefield, her movements a blur of devastating efficiency.
Then, in a flash, the evil god’s diabolical smile returned to his lips, wider and more terrifying than before.
He licked them, an unsettling gesture of anticipation.
“If so,” he purred, his voice dripping with malice, “I shall have to uphold my end of the deal. I shall not rest until every last bystander breathes their last.”
Erebus placed his hand onto the deserted railroad switch, a cruel game piece poised to unleash a bomb-laden cart onto the rails, ready to reveal to Ryuu just what reward her answer had earned.
This was a reference to the trolley problem he had presented Ryuu earlier.
“Let’s see your precious justice carry on after this,” he mused, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.
“We’ll see how undying it is after a good old-fashioned massacre.”
“Before you do that,” came a voice, calm and steady, cutting through Erebus’s pronouncement like a sharp blade.
“Do you think you could indulge me for a bit?”
For the third time tonight, Erebus’s face was tinged with genuine surprise, a flicker of something almost akin to apprehension in his usually mocking eyes.
A pair of footsteps echoed softly on the floor, deliberate and unhurried.
From the darkened church aisles, a lone figure stepped out of the shadows and into the faint, oppressive light, their presence radiating an unexpected, unsettling gravitas.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on and donate.