Chapter 280
The transition was as swift as it was absolute.
One moment, Orario was a city breathing with the low hum of life; the next, it was like a corpse. With the arrival of night, every magic-stone torch and lamp was extinguished, plunging the labyrinthine streets into darkness.
The silence that followed was heavier than any sound, a suffocating blanket pulled over the metropolis.
People huddled in various camps, not against the cold or the familiar creatures of the night, but against the crushing weight of anticipation for what they knew was coming.
Amidst the city-wide blackout, a single island of light persisted.
The Central Park glowed, a beacon in the oppressive gloom, drawing the city's defenders like moths to a flame.
Familia members from every corner of Orario had gathered, their polished armour and enchanted weapons catching the light of the hastily erected torches.
They formed a sea of grim faces and tense shoulders.
The Bahamut familia were no exception, standing together as tight-knit unit near the edge of the crowd.
“All of Orario’s forces in one place,” Vasileios mused, his gaze sweeping over the many familiar figures assembled.
The sheer concentration of power was staggering.
“Wonder what all the fuss is about,” Michalis echoed, though his light tone couldn't hide the tremor in his hands.
“Don’t play dumb,” Eleni chided softly, her sharp eyes fixed on the makeshift command post near Babel’s south gate.
“You know very well what is about to happen.”
They all did.
The air was thick with it….a mixture of fear and resolve.
Vasiliki, her expression a mask of hardened steel, watched her familia members and then the others.
Shakti of the Ganesha familia, a pillar of calm.
Asfi and Falgar of the Hermes familia, whispering urgently to each other.
The indomitable Ottar, surrounded by the Freya familia's Einherjar, his presence alone a source of stability.
The Loki familia—Riveria and Gareth, stern and unmoving, with Ais, Raul, and the others arrayed behind them, their auras a simmering pot of battle-lust and anxiety.
Nearby, Alise, Lyra, and Kaguya of the Astraea familia stood with their sisters, their faces etched with a righteous determination that defied the encroaching dread.
Some warriors checked the heft of their weapons, the familiar weight a small comfort.
Others shifted restlessly from foot to foot, unable to contain the nervous energy coiling in their guts.
A few stood with eyes closed, lost in prayer or meditation, seeking a final moment of peace before the storm.
Will and spirit warred with fear and nerves in the heart of every adventurer present.
From within the Bahamut familia, Dimitra, her face obscured by cloaks hood, glanced at a distant clock tower, its hands barely visible.
“It’s midnight,” she muttered, her voice a low rasp.
As if on cue, the few remaining functional clocks across the city chimed in a dissonant chorus, their hands overlapping to signal the end of one long day and the birth of what could be their last.
All eyes, thousands of them, focused on the south gate of Babel.
A single figure stood there, small in stature but commanding the attention of the entire assembly. The pallum captain of the Loki familia, Finn Deimne.
“Listen up,” he said.
His voice, though not loud, cut through the low murmur of the crowd, silencing it instantly. Every adventurer leaned in, demanding his next word.
And Finn did not hesitate to give.
“The enemy’s true goal has been revealed. Everything until now, including the great conflict… it was all in preparation for this.”
A ripple of confusion went through the crowd.
“...What do you mean?” Clair spoke the question on everyone’s mind, her voice cracking.
The pallum’s words had stunned them into a momentary paralysis.
“Their true aim,” Finn continued, his tone chillingly level, “is to summon monsters of the Dungeon.”
This was the dreadful conclusion he and Loki had reached in the war room just hours before. “The evilus have committed the ultimate sin. They have sent a god into the Dungeon. By using their divinity as bait, they plan to lure these monsters to the surface.”
“Wha…?!” Asfi’s sharp mind reeled, the implication hitting her like a physical blow.
The uproar was immediate, a wave of shock and disbelief crashing over the assembled adventurers.
Before the chaos could consume them, Kaguya cried out, her voice high with panic.
“W-wait! What kind of monster are we talking about? Surely you don’t mean some insignificant mook?”
“The specifics are still being assessed, but our scouting parties have identified the targets,” Finn said, his words sharp and concise, cutting through the rising panic.
He explained that after repelling Olivas’s assault, an anomaly in the reports of the god exodus had bothered him.
Two days ago, he’d dispatched a high-level scouting team deep into the Dungeon.
The information they returned with was apocalyptic.
“The targets were sighted at noon today, on the twenty-fourth and twenty-eighth floors. They are ascending, destroying everything in their path.”
“Targets? Plural?” a voice shouted from the crowd.
“Yes,” Finn confirmed, and a fresh wave of horror washed over them.
Kaguya and countless others were rendered speechless.
“According to the scouts’ reports, the targets are extremely large. Given the speed of their ascent and the sheer scale of the destruction left in their wake, the Guild believes their combat ability is at least on par with a Monster Rex of the deep floors. Perhaps greater.”
The fragile dam of discipline broke.
A great panic swept through the crowd.
“You can’t be serious,” Falgar breathed, his face pale.
“You’re telling us,” Asfi shrieked, her composure finally shattering, “that the evilus sent their own god into the Dungeon just to lure such forces of nature to the surface?!”
“Which means,” cried Alise, her quick mind connecting the terrible dots, “the enemy’s goal is…!”
“Yes,” Finn affirmed, his gaze lifting to the colossal tower that pierced the heavens.
“To destroy Babel from beneath.”
At the very apex of Babel, Freya stood on a balcony, her silver eyes gazing down at the flickering torchlight in the park below.
“So, they unleashed the might of a god within the Dungeon, calling forth those jet-black monsters…”
“Yeah, and in the deep levels, too,” Loki added, perched casually on the arm of a lavish armchair behind her.
“Those pitch-black critters are basically bred for killing gods. Dangle a piece of divinity in front of ‘em, and they’ll tear through the world to get it. Even Ouranos’s prayers won’t be enough to keep them sealed down below.”
The Loki familia had encountered something similar once before, two years ago, when an evil god lured Ais, who was a level one at the time, down to the twelfth floor.
There, the god briefly unsealed his Arcanum and summoned the Black Wyvern, an anomalous being whose power far outclassed the level where it appeared.
Loki could only assume that this monster would be similar.
This was why Erebus sent the evilus champion Mors to the dungeon around the mass exodus event, it was to help escort the evil gods who released waves of their divinity on the dungeons deep floors.
This new threat was orders of magnitude worse.
“And to think this all managed to escape our notice, even Ouranos’s,” Freya remarked, a perfectly trimmed eyebrow arching in cold fury.
“Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say… they deliberately concealed it from us.”
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but the evilus really pulled one over on us this time,” Loki growled. “That damn Erebus and his schemes.”
On the edge of Central Park, away from the main throng, Hermes watched the scene unfold, his usual easygoing smile gone.
“So these monsters,” he mused aloud.
“They must have been summoned on the first night of the war, right in the middle of the mass exodus of gods or a bit after.”
Astraea, standing beside him, nodded grimly.
“It is the only period when a god could have activated their Arcanum without our knowledge.” The full, horrifying scope of Erebus’s plan was finally crystallizing for them all.
“The pillar of light that appear when a god is sent back to heaven is the pure manifestations of divine energy,” Astraea continued, her voice trembling slightly.
“Considering the energy released by ten of them simultaneously…”
“Yeah,” Hermes finished, his eyes narrowing.
“There’s no way we could have detected a fainter Arcanum signature from deep underground with that much lingering energy on the surface.”
Erebus’s massacre had been a sacrifice, a diversion, and a smokescreen all at once.
The ten pillars of light were not just a terror tactic; they were the cloak for his true dagger.
“He didn’t just send back our allies,” Hermes growled, the venomous cleverness of the plan sickening him.
“He sacrificed some of his own as well, just to ensure the energy output was massive enough to hide his true move. That’s ruthless. A part of the plan from the very beginning, I’d bet.”
Astraea cast her gaze downward, her heart aching.
“It’s all so terrible. I can’t believe it.”
She looked up, her eyes tinged with a sorrowful fear.
“It can only be Erebus. We are all just dancing in the palm of his hand…”
“That’s why he calls himself absolute evil,” Hermes said, his voice hard.
“There may be no god crueler than him in the mortal world right now.”
He glared into the darkness beyond the park.
“This explains why the evilus forces have been holding back lately. They were letting us exhaust ourselves in minor skirmishes and guerrilla warfare, all to buy time for their real weapons to arrive from below.”
And now, the wait was over.
The enemy’s greatest weapons were on their way.
An all-out war was about to begin.
A cold thought suddenly struck Hermes, recalling the Bahamut familia’s recent desperate struggles.
He remembered Draco's monstrous, rampaging form, a trump card spent to win a single, brutal engagement.
He couldn't help but wonder, with a sinking feeling in his gut, if forcing Draco to expend that power had also been a calculated move in Erebus’s grand, horrific design.
………………………………………………………………
The pall of defeat hung heavy over Central Park, a suffocating blanket woven from smoke-stained memories and the ghosts of fallen comrades.
The murmur of despair was the only sound that dared to challenge the grim silence.
Meanwhile, Lyra seemed to be having trouble accepting Finn’s words.
Her face, usually a canvas for mischief and confidence, was contorted in a mask of pure terror.
“What the hell?!” she cried, her voice cracking with manufactured panic.
“I thought Zald, Alfia, and Mors were bad enough, but now we’ve gotta fight off two Dungeon bosses as well?! We’re doomed! Utterly doomed! Tell us you got somethin’ up your sleeve, hero!”
Her panic was a contagion.
It ripped through the assembled adventurers, turning their quiet dread into a loud, frantic uproar. A ripple of fear became a tidal wave of chaos.
Ryuu, standing beside her, was aghast at the pallum girl’s uncharacteristic dismay.
“L-Lyra! I know things look bad, but you mustn’t demoralize us further! We need to stay strong!”
“Nah, it’s fine. Just watch.” A sly grin flickered across Lyra’s lips, a secret shared only with the wind.
“Huh?”
Her eyes shifted back to the small figure standing on the makeshift dais, a beacon against the looming shadow of the Babel tower.
“Who do you think is standing’ up there? He’s our race’s shining beacon of hope!”
It was all an act.
A perfectly timed piece of theater to set the stage.
The next moment, that beacon spoke.
His voice was not loud, but it cut through the din like a razor.
“We fight.”
A thousand panicked conversations died in an instant.
Ryuu, Alise, Kaguya, and every adventurer in the park gazed up in shock, their minds cleared by the sheer, unshakeable certainty in those two words.
All except Lyra, whose faith in her race’s hero had never been in question.
“We must split our forces in two,” Finn explained, his voice as calm and level as a still lake.
He let his gaze sweep across their stunned faces, acknowledging their fear without validating it. “One group to stay up here and protect the tower from the evilus remnants. The other to intercept and slay the monsters before they breach the surface.”
He paused, letting the strategic weight of his words settle.
“The bulk of our forces will make up the former group. The latter will comprise only our strongest warriors. Our enemy’s goal, whether above or below, is the destruction of Babel with this pincer attack. We must not let them succeed.”
His calm assessment, however, worked the adventurers into a different kind of frenzy….one of tactical debate.
“You call it a pincer attack, but that doesn’t do justice to what we’re dealing with here!” cried Asfi, her mind already racing through the logistical nightmare.
“True,” Falgar agreed, stroking his beard.
“The enemy is encircling us vertically instead of horizontally. A three-dimensional siege.”
“We won’t be able to directly support a team that’s multiple floors deep,” mused Shakti, her brow furrowed.
“Or vice versa. If either team falls, it’s over for Orario.”
It was Vasiliki who finally voiced the doubt gnawing at every heart.
“Easy to say, but can it be done?”
Finn’s response was immediate and absolute.
“I assure you, it can.”
Vasiliki was taken aback by the sheer force of will in the pallum’s words.
“But only we can do it,” Finn went on, his voice beginning to rise.
“What is about to commence may well be the largest conflict since the age of the gods began and ‘quality over quantity’ became the law of this land.”
His azure eyes, pure and still moments before, now held a gathering storm.
“If we do not fight here,” he demanded, “then who will? If Orario cannot succeed, then who can?”
His voice, though calm, trembled with a latent strength that resonated in their very bones.
“Only we possess even the slightest chance of victory. We will not stand idle while that chance slips through our fingers!”
The crowd fell silent again, every eye locked on him, every soul hanging on his every word.
He wasn't just giving orders; he was imparting purpose, inspiring courage.
“There is one more thing I must ask of you,” he said, his tone shifting.
“Are you content to remain defeated?”
The whole crowd flinched as if struck.
Their eyes flashed wide, each mind thrown back to that traumatic day of fire and loss.
“Do not lie to yourselves!” Finn’s voice was a whip, lashing away their denial.
“We are defeated! The enemy has humiliated each and every one of us! So I ask you, my fellow lost souls: Look to your side! Where are your friends?”
Fists trembled at their sides, knuckles white with rage and grief.
“Look behind you!” Finn cried out, his voice raw.
“Where are your loved ones?”
A wave of pain washed over the adventurers.
The faces of those they had failed to protect…..lost to the tide of destruction and hellfire…….rose unbidden in their minds.
Finn’s words were not healing the wound; he was setting it ablaze, transforming their despair into a furious, burning resolve.
“If they are gone, who is left to avenge them?! Who will carry on their wishes?! To whom falls the task of vindicating our anger and grief?! It falls to us! So do not let despair hold you back! Break free from those chains! Do not let sorrow consume you! Let it be your courage and take back our future with your own two hands! Let nobody else experience the pain we have suffered!”
A dwarven warrior, tears streaming into his braided beard, raised his stout arms with a guttural roar.
A beast-kin archer loosed a howl of pure defiance at the sky.
Even a stoic elven mage forgot their modesty and bellowed, their voice joining the rising chorus. An Amazon and a human pumped their swords in the air while the pallums placed their tiny hands over their fiercely beating hearts.
“We already know the taste of defeat!” Finn roared, his own fist now clenched.
“We drink the muddy waters we find there and nourish ourselves on it! In defeat, we grow strong! And we will not lose again!”
His moonlit eyes quivered with the irrepressible force of his spirit.
“Show me your pride, adventurers! You are the most tenacious, defiant, and hard-headed curs this world has ever known! We may have lost the battle, but show me who will win the war! This land is where legends are born! This is our city!”
The park erupted.
A single, unified howl of human and demi-human alike shook the very foundations of the tower, a sound of pure, untamed vigour.
Dimitra looked around, her mouth agape.
“It’s crazy how morale just shot through the roof.” Eleni muttered in agreement, Nikolaos and Clair nodding numbly behind her.
The Bahamut Familia stood frozen, caught in the fiery vortex of emotion swirling around them.
“See? I told you he could handle it,” Lyra said to her fellow Astraea Familia members, a triumphant chuckle escaping her.
“Lyra…” Ryuu murmured, her earlier concern replaced with awe.
Lyra looked back up at Finn, her expression softening.
“He’s a swindler and a cheat. The worst kind. He shouts his lies loud and proud and keeps repeating ’em until everyone’s on board. Then, in that moment, it becomes the truth.”
Her words were a critic’s, but her eyes were like those of a girl in love…..a girl who had found her light in the deepest darkness and refused to let go.
She smiled, a flower blooming in the ashes of despair.
“His words are our courage. That’s why he’s our race’s greatest hope.”
At her words, a shared understanding bloomed across the faces of the Astraea familia.
They knew what this fire in their hearts was; it was the courage Finn had given them.
“The hero’s a swindler, huh? Yep, that sounds like Lyra, alright!” Alise laughed, wiping a tear from her eye.
“In that case,” Ryuu said, her own smile firm and resolute, “let us all help make his lies the truth.”
On the dais, Finn raised his hand for the final time.
“This is nothing but a trial for every one of us would-be heroes! A far greater threat awaits the world even after we succeed here!”
The Black Dragon.
Apocalypse Incarnate.
The unspoken name hung in the air.
This battle was not the end; it was merely a stepping-stone.
“We must finish what Zeus and Hera began, and prove ourselves the next generation of heroes, in name and in deed!”
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