Chapter 320
The air was tense, a suffocating wave washing over every participant as they slowly shuffled into the Guild’s primary meeting hall.
It was a chamber built for large scale meetings and grand announcements, with high, vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows depicting legendary heroes.
Today, those vibrant colours seemed a cruel mockery, casting distorted, gaudy light upon the grim faces below.
Each captain and representative moved with a leaden weight in their steps, finding seats not by rank or protocol, but by the gravitational pull of a familiar face in a sea of strangers.
This was a gathering of ghosts as much as it was of the living.
Within the cavernous room, the changes were stark.
New faces, many far too young, sat stiffly in chairs once occupied by seasoned veterans.
Their eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and unearned authority, darted around the hall, seeking guidance that was no longer there.
Even more jarring was the absence of familiar representatives.
The empty chairs a dozen other Familias served as silent, gaping wounds in the assembly.
The seven-day war with the Evilus had been a meat grinder.
It had chewed through Orario’s finest and spat out a victory so drenched in blood it was hard to distinguish from defeat.
Familias had lost their captains, their patron gods had been sent back to Tenkai, and the rank-and-file members had been decimated.
The somber atmosphere was a shroud they all wore.
While every soul in the room yearned to be in their home, mourning the lost, they were here.
The meeting was that important.
It was about survival.
Upon entering, Draco’s eyes, a sharp, piercing reptilian red, scanned the room.
His unique features—subtle black scales peeking underneath his clothing, two obsidian horns curving back from his temples, and a long, scaled tail that swayed behind him drew a few weary glances, but no one had the energy for surprise anymore.
He and Shakti, moved with a purpose that cut through the miasma of grief.
He found his anchors near the front: Asfi and Tsubaki.
Without hesitation, he and Shakti took the seats beside them.
The proximity to friends was a small comfort, a shield against the crushing emptiness of the hall.
“Hey, hey, Asfi,” Draco called out, his voice an extremely low murmur, pitched to travel only to her ear.
Asfi, who seemed to be staring through the ornate table in front of her, lost in a labyrinth of thought, jolted as his warm breath tickled her ear.
Her eyes blinked, slowly refocusing on the present.
“Ah, Draco… when did you get here?” she replied, her expression a canvas of confusion.
It took a moment for her to fully register his presence, to pull herself back from whatever dark corner her mind had retreated to.
“You seem a bit lost,” Draco observed, his tone gentle.
"Did something happen?"
Asfi’s lips parted, then closed.
A flicker of something raw and painful crossed her features before being expertly masked.
She seemed to weigh her words, to calculate if she wanted to share her burden.
Finally, she settled on a familiar defense.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she replied, the words perfectly formed but utterly hollow.
“I see,” Draco muttered, giving a slow, single nod.
He recognized the wall she had erected.
It was one he was intimately familiar with himself.
It wasn’t the time or place to push, and he had enough demons wrestling in his own head.
The war had left no one unscathed.
Turning from Asfi’s quiet storm, Draco faced Tsubaki, who was already engaged in a low conversation with Shakti.
He deliberately shifted his tone, injecting a measure of forced cheerfulness into it, a desperate attempt to carve out a small pocket of normalcy.
“Hey, Tsubaki-chan, it’s been a while,” he called out.
Tsubaki’s sharp, red eyes snapped to him, and a familiar frown creased her brow.
“It’s Tsubaki-san, kid. I don’t think we are that familiar,” she replied, her voice a low rasp, though the bite lacked its usual venom.
Draco merely smiled, undeterred.
“Come on, don’t be like that. I’ve been extremely busy with various things, that’s why I couldn’t stop by your workshop. For that, I apologize.”
Shakti, interjected with a slight, knowing smirk.
“Oh, I didn’t know you two were that close. Adi has a lot of competition it seems.”
Tsubaki raised a single eyebrow.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“It’s all a misunderstanding,” Draco quickly denied, his own frown now genuine.
“Adi and I aren’t like that.”
“Relax, I know that,” Shakti replied, her smirk softening into a gentle smile.
“But you didn’t need to deny it so quickly. I was just probing. I don’t know what you did to her, but Adi keeps mentioning your name a lot more often. At this rate, I fear she might one day request to leave the Ganesha Familia to join yours.”
Her eyes drifted, a thoughtful, almost concerned look replacing her teasing.
“Well, you can’t blame the young girl,” Tsubaki added, crossing her muscular arms.
Her gaze roamed over Draco, analytical and appraising.
“Draco is quite young and handsome, if you ignore his weird horns, scales, and tail. He’ll pretty much be every ladies’ magnet. Or perhaps it’s those features, and the dangerous vibes he gives off at times, that tempts them.”
“Ahem,” Draco cleared his throat, a faint flush creeping up his neck.
“Enough talk about my handsomeness. Congratulations to you both on your level up.”
He deftly changed the topic, his eyes noting the deeper, more condensed power resonating from both women.
It was a tangible thing to his senses, like the hum of a perfectly forged blade.
The war, for all it had taken, had also given.
The crucible of non-stop, life-or-death combat had forged new legends.
Shakti and Tsubaki had broken through to Level 5, a milestone that placed them among Orario's elite.
But they weren't alone.
News had already spread like wildfire: Riveria, Gareth, and Finn of the Loki Familia had finally ascended to Level 6, a feat that further solidified their familia's status.
Alongside them, the Freya Familia’s Allen, Hedin, and Hogni had also achieved the same rank. And at the absolute pinnacle, Ottar, the warlord, had shattered all expectations, reaching the height of Level 7.
Orario was stronger than it had ever been, and yet it felt more fragile than ever.
As for his own Bahamut Familia, none had updated their status with Bahamut yet, but Draco knew.
Most, if not all of them, had fulfilled the requirements to reach Level 4.
They had bled and suffered for that right.
And then there was him.
Draco himself had more than surpassed the threshold needed for Level 6.
The excelia he’d gained was immense, a roaring sea of power within him.
But he couldn't advance.
The goddess, Aasterinian, had been clear.
His next level-up was a critical milestone, tied directly to the nature of his very being.
But advancing now, with the unstable state of his body…..the strange, powers that warred within his was impossibly risky.
He had to wait until after their planned journey to meet the dragon god named Io.
The restriction chafed at him, a constant reminder of his own precarious existence.
Tsubaki’s booming laugh snapped him out of his reverie.
“Hahahaha, thanks! Hopefully, you’ll share a drink with us to celebrate.”
“Yeah, hahaha,” Draco let out a laugh that felt brittle and thin in his own ears.
His original plan after this ordeal was to lock himself away and sleep for like a week.
But he knew he couldn't refuse Tsubaki, not after having put her off several times.
He owed her that much.
Shakti just shook her head fondly at Tsubaki’s antics.
The jovial, if strained, atmosphere between them offered a fleeting moment of respite, a tiny island of normalcy in an ocean of grief.
The moment was shattered when the grand doors at the back of the hall swung open.
Royman, the chairman of the Guild, walked into the room.
The silence was immediate and absolute.
Behind him, Finn walked with a somber gait, his youthful face etched with the gravity of his new Level 6 status.
They were followed by several Guild staff, their arms laden with humongous stacks of paper. The staff moved with quiet efficiency, distributing thick packets to each captain, their contents tailored based on Familia type, rank, and accomplishments during the war.
When the heavy stack landed in front of Draco with a soft thud, he frowned before he even touched it.
He picked up the top sheet.
The dense black ink seemed to bleed off the page, each word a hammer blow.
It contained a dizzying array of information, some a source of grim pride, most a cause for deep concern.
The first page was a summary.
Casualties sustained: a number so high he had to read it three times.
A breakdown by Familia, with entire rosters crossed out, stamped with the chilling words: Disbanded – god returned to tenkai.
Amongst these was the Astraea familia.
The next section detailed the cost of repairs to the various districts, a figure with so many zeros it looked like a cruel joke.
He had never seen so many zeros in a number before; it felt abstract, unreal, an impossible debt a hundred generations of normal civilians couldn't repay.
Flipping further, he saw the official promotion of the Bahamut Familia, an accomplishment that felt utterly hollow now.
Following that were the new Dungeon quotas.
To get the city back on its feet, to fund the monumental reconstruction, exploration-type Familias would be required to meet impossible targets.
It was a demand for their blood, sweat, and treasure on a scale never before seen.
‘How the hell are we going to fulfill any of these?’ Draco screamed internally, his mind reeling. Outwardly, his expression remained a stoic mask.
He pulled his long, silver hair backwards, a new habit, and took a deep, steadying breath.
His gaze lifted, sweeping across the room.
He saw his own shock and despair mirrored on the faces of the other captains.
A hardened dwarf stared at the paper in his hands, his knuckles white as he clenched his fist.
A newly appointed elf captain, a girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen, looked pale and nauseous.
Even Finn, the famed Braver, had his eyes closed, his expression one of deep weariness.
Royman reached the podium and clapped his hands once.
The sound was sharp, cutting through the stunned silence like a whip crack.
“Alright, everyone.”
His voice, usually smooth and oily, was now raspy and strained.
“First of all, I thank you all for attending this meeting, despite the horrors we have all witnessed over the past week.”
Silence gripped the room as everyone’s attention was forcibly pulled to the chairman.
Draco noted the man’s appearance.
The fat, conniving elf was gone.
In his place stood a leaner, almost gaunt figure.
The stress of managing a city on the brink of collapse had melted the excess flesh from his bones, leaving behind dark circles under his eyes and a deep-seated exhaustion that even his fine robes couldn't conceal.
As the Guild’s chairman, the weight of Orario’s internal and external affairs rested squarely on his shoulders, and it was crushing him.
‘Sigh, this is going to be a long meeting,’ Draco thought, his gaze drifting to the stained-glass window.
The sun had already set, painting the sky in dark hues, dotted with the white specks of starlight.
It was now the early night.
He estimated the meeting could last until midnight, at the very least.
After that, Tsubaki would likely drag him out for drinks he didn’t want but desperately needed.
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