Chapter 342
The days following Draco’s mini-expedition with Tsubaki seemed to dissipate into the vibrant hum of Orario, a blur of activity that swept him along.
Before he knew it, two and a half months had vanished, swallowed by the relentless pace of a city reborn.
Now, the time for his departure was almost at hand, a fact that settled in his mind with the familiar weight of impending change.
Orario, in that brief span, had undergone a remarkable metamorphosis.
The scars of the recent war with the evilus, once gaping wounds on the city’s facade, were rapidly fading.
Where rubble and ash had once dominated, new structures now gleamed under the sun.
Houses, shops, and essential amenities had risen from their ruins with surprising speed, proof to the strength of its inhabitants and the tireless work of numerous familias.
The city’s population, too, had adapted, new residents flowing in to fill the void left by those who had perished or fled.
The markets buzzed with fresh voices, the inns teemed with unfamiliar faces, and the very air vibrated with a renewed, if still fragile, sense of hope.
Amidst this reconstruction, a more covert, yet equally vital, operation had been underway.
The Loki, Freya, Bahamut, and Ganesha familias, recognizing the persistent threat, had initiated a comprehensive sweep of the city.
Their target was the lurking shadows, the remnants of evilus forces and other dark organizations that sought to exploit the recent chaos and take root in Orario’s underbelly.
Special attention was paid to Daedalus Street, a labyrinthine district notorious for its hidden pathways and clandestine dealings, and the Ishtar familia territory, the entertainment district.
The latter had always been a haven for illicit activities, and the power vacuum left by the demise of various powers had made it ripe for new predators.
Of course, the goddess Ishtar, despite the circumstances, was not pleased.
The intrusion into what she considered her domain, rankled her pride.
Yet, what could she do?
When four of the most powerful familias in the city..........banded together, even a goddess as audacious as Ishtar chose discretion over outright confrontation.
Her displeasure was palpable in the tense undercurrents that sometimes rippled through the entertainment district, but her protests remained largely ineffectual.
The initiated cleanup had, undeniably, made Orario safer.
The immediate threats were quelled, and the most virulent strains of darkness purged.
But this was a temporary respite, a fact keenly understood by all involved parties.
The universe abhorred a vacuum.
Wherever light flourished, darkness inevitably followed, and the void left behind by these defeated organizations would, in time, be filled by others, new shadows eager to exploit the city’s burgeoning prosperity.
Aware of this cyclical nature of good and evil, the Bahamut and Ganesha familias had already come to a pragmatic agreement: joint organized patrol units.
The sheer scale of Orario demanded constant vigilance, and their combined forces offered a more robust defense.
However, the Bahamut familia, still in its nascent stages, was significantly smaller than the sprawling Ganesha Familia, which boasted hundreds of members.
Consequently, the Ganesha Familia found itself shouldering the bulk of the responsibility, its adventurers patrolling every corner of the vast city.
To ease their burden, Draco had made a significant contribution.
One of the grimoires he had successfully crafted over the past few months found its new home with the Ganesha Familia.
It was a gesture of goodwill, a practical aid, and a strategic investment in the city’s continued safety.
Indeed, grimoire crafting had become a focal point of Draco’s recent activity.
Over the two and a half months, he had successfully crafted three such powerful magic items. Each one was a monumental undertaking, demanding immense concentration and a precise understanding of high level magic.
Yet, Draco had managed to produce them at an astonishing rate, one practically every month……a feat considered unfathomable, given the difficulty of their creation.
The two other grimoires, precious beyond measure, had been put up for auction.
The first had fetched an astounding four hundred and fifty million Valis, claimed by the Freya Familia.
The second had gone for a staggering five hundred million Valis to the Ishtar familia, a bid to shore up their diminished ranks.
In total, after deducting various guild fees and auction house commissions, the Bahamut Familia had netted a cool eight to nine hundred million Valis.
For most adventurers, such a sum represented a lifetime’s fortune.
But to Draco, it was merely a significant drop in a very large bucket.
Half of the earned money was immediately earmarked for the Guild.
It was a partial repayment of the enormous debt he had incurred during his rampage in the factory district during the war.
Even now, over two months later, the city was still importing mountains of rocks and sand, trucked in from distant quarries, attempting to fill the colossal crater he had left behind…….a gaping maw in the earth that still measured over a quarter of its original size despite the ceaseless efforts.
With the remaining funds, Draco had commissioned the Goibniu familia to build a new home for the Bahamut Familia.
Their current residence, Stardust Garden, though charming, was simply too cramped.
It was barely manageable for their small group now, and if the Bahamut Familia intended to expand, to truly grow into the powerhouse he envisioned, it would require a compound far larger and more accommodating.
Luckily, before the war, foreseeing the inevitable recovery and subsequent land value increase, Draco had shrewdly purchased a large plot of land cheaply.
The construction wouldn’t begin for many more months, as the Goibniu Familia was swamped with an almost ridiculous backlog of contracts from a city desperate to rebuild.
But Draco was perfectly at ease with this delay; he was simply tying up loose ends, ensuring the foundations for his familia’s future were firmly laid before his inevitable departure.
Speaking of loose ends, Draco’s romantic life had become a delicate knot, a complicated jumble of expectations and affections.
Many women, mostly close friends were actively interested in pursuing romantic relationships.
This interest persisted even after they learned he and his goddess, Bahamut, were already a couple.
Any other man might have reveled in such attention, but for Draco, it was frankly overwhelming. And Bahamut, bless her insightful heart, wasn’t exactly helping matters.
She had given her consent for him to accept other girls he fancied, her logic clear and pragmatic: he was the last surviving dragon-kin.
As a goddess, she couldn't produce descendants for a mortal like him; that was common sense, an immutable law of this world.
But this common sense, Draco knew, wasn’t necessarily true.
He could indeed have children with a goddess.
This was a unique piece of knowledge, a rare gift bestowed upon him by the very being who had reincarnated him into this world.
It was this singular, potent secret that weighed heavily on him, making him feel an immense, gnawing guilt towards Bahamut.
Indeed, Draco desired multiple women.
It was a fantasy he, like many an anime fanatic, had once entertained.
But this was no anime world; it was as real and complex as any other.
He truly cared for Bahamut, deeply and genuinely.
How could he explain his unique ability without twisting the truth or outright lying?
Most, if not all, gods and goddesses possessed an innate capacity to detect falsehoods.
His only viable option, he concluded, was silence…..a silence that felt increasingly like a betrayal.
Furthermore, it was somewhat of a taboo for a reincarnator to disclose their past life or the circumstances of their reincarnation, a secret Draco intended to take to his grave.
Stuck in this agonizing dilemma and burdened by an ever-present sense of guilt, Draco eventually reached a decision.
It wasn’t an easy one, but it was one he felt was honorable.
He called for those closest to him, the ones who would likely relay his intentions, and carefully articulated his choice.
He had decided to be upfront, to lay his intentions bare, hopeful that his message would be understood and relayed without misunderstandings to the other interested girls.
Draco had decided to neither chase nor accept any other women until he and Bahamut had taken the next major, definitive step in their relationship.
He owed his goddess that much….to fully commit, to solidify their bond before even considering others.
Their relationship, despite its unique circumstances, deserved that singular focus and respect.
He was, after all, about to leave for an unknown period.
Not knowing how long he would be away from the city, he had also made it explicitly clear that, within the time he was gone, they should feel free to move on if they held no more interest in him.
It would be fundamentally unfair to leave them waiting indefinitely for an unknown amount of time, tethered to a promise that might never materialize.
He valued their feelings too much to string them along.
With his intentions laid bare, Draco felt a deep sense of ease wash over him, a heavy weight lifting from his shoulders.
The final preparations for his departure, once tinged with a complex mix of anticipation and apprehension, now felt purely purposeful.
He had done what he could, both for the city and for his personal affairs.
Orario was recovering, his familia’s future was secured, and his heart, though still carrying secrets, had found a temporary peace.
The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, Draco was ready.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The sky over Orario had surrendered its crystalline blue to a heavy, oppressive mantle of grey.
It was a morning defined by a biting chill that seemed to seep through stone and timber alike, heralding the arrival of a seasonal shift that the city’s inhabitants had long expected.
Snowflakes, delicate and multifaceted, began to trickle from the heavens like displaced fragments of a celestial mosaic.
They descended in a silent, swirling dance, gradually draping the labyrinthine streets and the towering spire of Babel in a pristine, white shroud.
This was the first true snowfall of the year, a quiet but firm announcement that winter had finally laid claim to the land.
Despite the thick, powdery blankets coating the thoroughfares, Orario remained a hive of industry.
The city of adventurers did not sleep for the weather; if anything, the cold served only to sharpen the urgency of those scurrying between the guild, dungeon and the various familia homes.
Inside the hearth of the Bahamut Familia, the atmosphere was a welcoming contrast to the frigid exterior.
The air was thick with the comforting, rhythmic percussion of a kitchen in full swing……the insistent hiss and pop of thick-cut bacon and seasoned sausages hitting a hot pan.
The savory aroma wafted upward, drifting through the floorboards to rouse the slumbering residents.
In a mid-sized room on the second floor, Draco stirred.
His awakening was not a graceful one.
A low, guttural groan escaped his throat as he shifted, his hand instinctively rising to throttle a persistent, rhythmic throb behind his temples.
The previous night had been a blur of revelry and excess, fueled by the dangerously smooth, amber nectar of the Soma Familia.
Celebrating a farewell was a double-edged sword; the warmth of the company had been unparalleled, but the toll of the wine was now being collected with interest.
The party had raged until the early hours of the morning, leaving the world feeling slightly tilted and far too bright.
As his vision cleared, he felt a familiar, comforting weight pressing against his chest.
He looked down to find a petite figure nestled against him, her breathing slow and rhythmic. This was Bahamut, his goddess and, for the past three months, his lover.
Even in sleep, her beauty was evident; her elegant horns pointed with unconscious lethality toward his chin, and her tail was coiled possessively around his own, the scales cool against his skin.
Their relationship had evolved rapidly since they had officially begun dating, leading to this shared sanctuary within the house.
Yet, for all the intimacy of their shared bed, they maintained a ceiling of restraint.
A solemn promise stood between them…..a vow to forgo the final threshold of physical intimacy until Draco reached his age of maturity.
With painstaking care, Draco shifted his weight, sliding an arm beneath her shoulders to gently reposition her onto the pillows.
He moved with the stealth of a thief, desperate not to break the spell of her exhaustion.
Once she was settled, he lingered for a moment, admiring the soft contours of her face in the dim morning light.
He leaned down, planting a feather-light kiss upon her lips….a silent promise of return….before slipping out of the bed.
The enticing scent of breakfast acted as a beckoning hand, pulling him toward the stairs. However, the grime of the previous night’s celebration weighed on him as much as the hangover. Before indulging his appetite, Draco detoured to the washroom.
The shock of cold water against his face did wonders to dispel the lingering fog of the Soma wine, grounding him in the reality of the day.
Today was significant; it was the day before his scheduled departure from Orario.
His mental itinerary was already overflowing with the names of friends, acquaintances and romantic interests he needed to see one last time.
Dressed and revitalized, Draco descended to the kitchen.
He expected to find a bustling scene of familia members, but instead, he found only Aasterinian. She sat at the table, the morning light catching the pages of a thick, leather-bound book she was engrossed in.
Aasterinian was an enigma even among the diverse pantheon of Orario.
She was a goddess of whims and wanderlust, operating on a temporal scale that few mortals could fathom.
She would vanish for days, or even weeks, chasing some unknown horizon or interest, only to reappear as if she had never left, staying just long enough to reset her internal compass before departing again.
Her business was her own, and while curiosity flourished in her wake, no one in the familia dared to pry.
“Morning, Lady Aasterinian,” Draco said, his voice still slightly raspy from the night before.
The goddess didn’t look up immediately, her finger tracing a line of text.
“How many times have I told you to just call me Asta, Draco? We aren’t so distant that you need to choke on formal titles.” She frowned, though the expression held more playfulness than genuine irritation.
‘But I barely know anything about you’ Draco countered internally, though he knew better than to voice the thought.
Outwardly, he offered a sheepish, awkward smile.
“Old habits, I suppose.”
“That aside,” Asta said, finally closing her book with a soft thud, “do you want some breakfast? I took the liberty of preparing enough for the entire household, provided they wake up before it turns to ice.”
“Sure, I’d appreciate that,” Draco replied, pulling out a chair opposite her.
Aasterinian rose, and with light steps moved toward the hearth.
She returned a moment later with a generous plate: crispy bacon, charred sausages, and thick slices of bread.
However, beside the plate sat a bowl of what could only be described as a thick, vibrant green slurry.
It possessed an unappetizing, mossy hue and an aroma that was difficult to categorize…..somewhere between damp earth and crushed herbs.
Draco’s stomach gave a nervous lurch.
He had been so dazzled by the scent of the meat that he hadn’t noticed the olfactory warning signs of the soup.
Under the expectant gaze of the goddess, he felt his options narrowing.
Reluctantly, he tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into the viscous green mixture.
He braced himself, closing his eyes as he took the first bite.
The moment the liquid touched his palate, Draco’s reptilian red pupils dilated in genuine shock. The flavor was nothing like its appearance.
It was rich and surprisingly creamy, possessing an earthy depth that felt grounded and wholesome.
As it slid down his throat, a localized bloom of warmth spread through his chest, settling in his stomach like a glowing ember.
It wasn't just food; it felt like a tonic, systematically dismantling the remnants of his headache.
He took several more bites, his initial hesitation replaced by a genuine, if confused, hunger.
He looked up to find Aasterinian watching him with an intensity that felt as though she were peering into his very marrow.
‘What is she looking for?’ he wondered, the slow movement of his jaw the only sound in the room.
“It... it tastes remarkably good,” Draco admitted after swallowing a particularly hearty spoonful.
Aasterinian didn’t offer a verbal reply.
Instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She reached into the folds of her cloak, produced a small notebook and a pencil, and began to jot down a series of rapid notes.
Draco’s eyes narrowed, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth.
He stared down at the green soup, suddenly wary.
In the few months he had known Asta, he had learned one immutable truth: she only bothered to record things that she found fundamentally amusing or scientifically curious.
The fact that his reaction warranted a written entry was deeply unsettling.
‘What exactly did she put in this?’
The question burned in his mind, but he remained silent.
He had lived in long enough to know that some questions were better left unasked, especially regarding the culinary experiments of this odd goddesses.
‘What you don’t know cannot hurt you’ he told himself, though the "amused" glint in Asta’s eyes suggested that might be a lie.
He finished the meal in record time, the warmth of the soup giving him a much-needed second wind.
Standing up, he offered a polite nod.
“Thank you for the meal, Asta. It was... exactly what I needed.”
“I’m sure it was,” she murmured, her pencil still scratching away at the paper.
As Draco exited the kitchen, he cast a lingering, sympathetic glance toward the stairs.
“I wish the others luck,” he muttered under his breath.
He could only imagine the chaos when the rest of the familia descended to find the mysterious green brew waiting for them.
Stepping out of the main hall, Draco felt the immediate strike of the winter air.
It was a sharp, revitalizing contrast to the humid warmth of the kitchen.
He adjusted his cloak, the heavy fabric rustling as he prepared to navigate the snowy streets.
He had a long list of people to visit—Hephaestus’s forge, the Ganesha familia home, and perhaps a final stop at the Guild to settle his affairs.
Rose seemed to have been avoiding him during the last few months.
However, as he reached the iron front gate of the Bahamut home, his momentum died.
Standing just outside the gate was a figure that looked remarkably out of place in the gathering blizzard, yet perfectly at home in the silence of the morning.
It was a young girl, her stature small but her presence undeniable.
Spilling from beneath a simple hood was a cascade of hair the color of spun gold, framing a face that was…at first glance……as cold and impassive as the falling snow.
Her golden eyes, usually likened to serene pools of amber, were currently fixed on him with a sharp, piercing intensity.
She was clad in light armor, the hilt of her sword peeking over her shoulder.
Though her expression remained a mask of stoicism, Draco knew her well enough to read the subtle tension in her shoulders and the slight downward curve of her brow.
She wasn't just waiting; she was simmering.
Draco felt an ache building up on his temples.
He knew that look.
He knew exactly why the "Sword Princess" in the making was standing in the freezing cold at his doorstep.
News traveled fast in Orario, and the fact that he was leaving the next day without having told her personally was a debt that was about to be collected.
“Ais,” he said softly.
He had grown quite fond of the persistent girl.
The girl didn't move.
She simply stared at him, the silence between them growing heavier than the snow piling up on the cobblestones.
The farewell tour was supposed to be a series of easy goodbyes, but looking at her, Draco realized that this might just be the hardest one of all.
A/N: Hi readers, so what do you all think? I decided to push for the time skip early, and I will explain.
First of all, I want Draco's relationship with Bahamut to be cemented first before proceeding with the other characters.
Secondly, with a few characters like Clair, Hephaestus, Alise, Kaguya, Demeter, Rose and Vasiliki making their feeling clear, then the ambiguous ones like Freya, Tsubaki, Shakti, Adi and several others…….I reasoned it was best to wait.
Relationships are a complex thing, and I don’t think the mc should make everyone like him, three months is just too short a time.
Draco has made meaningful connections over the course of the story with the first group of girls, so that should be enough for now, anymore would be chaos considering all he is leaving them with, is a vague promise, not commitment.
Oh right, feel free to leave in the comments about characters that you think would match with the mc.
Also, feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 1 extra chapter as a free member.