Chapter 374
From his quiet vantage point in a dimly lit corner of the pub, Draco sipped a dark, amber vintage, his red eyes scanning the room.
Beside him, Bahamut and Aasterinian sat with an air of detachment.
The two dragon goddesses were currently occupied with a shared platter of roasted meats, but their sharp ears had already picked up the shift in the pubs atmosphere.
Draco’s gaze shifted toward the other end of the establishment, where the pride of the Loki Familia occupied a table.
They were one of the titans of Orario, their presence alone enough to command the room.
But tonight, they weren’t discussing their conquests in the depths of the Dungeon.
They were laughing.
"The kid took the full blast of that stinky cow’s blood!" Bete howled, his voice cutting through the ambient noise like a serrated blade.
He leaned back in his chair, his lupine features twisted into a mask of cruel amusement.
"Got soaked from head to toe! So, I call him Tomato Boy! Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ahhh….Ow, my ribs!"
Bete clutched his side, his laughter so violent it was bordering on physical pain.
The werewolf was clearly intoxicated, but his words carried the weight of public humiliation.
"Woah…" Tiona gasped, her large eyes wide with a mix of pity and disbelief.
Riveria, didn't share the amusement.
She turned a sharp, reproachful look toward the woman sitting quietly beside her.
"Ais, please tell me you weren’t trying to do that! I’m begging you!"
Ais, stared down at her plate.
Her expression was unreadable, a mask of stoic neutrality, but there was a subtle tension in her shoulders.
"… No, I wasn’t," she replied softly, her voice tinged with a discomfort that few noticed.
Bete, however, was far from finished.
Tears of mirth pricked at the corners of his eyes as he slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the silverware.
"And get this! Tomato Boy! He ran away, screaming his head off! Gya-ha-ha-ha! Our princess saves him from becoming minotaur feed, and what does the brat do? He just buggers off! Not a word! Just a red, dripping mess sprinting for the exit!"
"… Hm," Ais hummed, her gaze drifting toward the floor.
"BA-HA-HA-HA-HA! Absolutely priceless!" Tione joined in, slapping her knee.
"Ais scares away a newbie just by being there! You are sooo awesome, Ais!"
Even Gareth, the seasoned dwarf warrior who usually maintained a more grounded temperament, let out a deep, rumbling chuckle.
"Ha-ha-ha… I’m sorry, Ais, but I can’t take this anymore!”
The entire Loki Familia table erupted.
The laughter was infectious, spreading to the surrounding patrons who didn't even know the context but found Bete’s delivery impossible to ignore.
Even Bahamut and Aasterinian perked up, their curiosity piqued by the spectacle.
They glanced toward a small, trembling figure seated not far from them…..Bell Cranel.
Bell was frozen.
His face, usually bright and full of hope, was a ghostly pale white, save for the tips of his ears which burned a humiliated crimson.
He looked small……smaller than he actually was…..as he tried to shrink into the wood of his chair.
Draco watched the boy with detachment.
He shook his head slowly, the ice in his mug clinking against the rim.
He didn't plan to help.
In Orario, words were sometimes more dangerous than blades, and if a boy couldn't survive a few insults in a tavern, he had no business facing the horrors of the lower floors.
Draco understood Bete, in a way.
Although they weren't close, the Bahamut Familia had shared a brief, bloody history with Bete’s previous group, the Vidar Familia.
Draco recalled Nikolaos mentioning the young werewolf and his companion, Selena, several times during the dark days of the great war five years ago.
The Vidar Familia had been a proud lot, but they had been extinguished in a failed expedition a year after Draco had left the city.
Bete’s cruelty wasn't just malice; it was a scorched-earth policy against weakness.
He hated the vulnerable because he had watched the vulnerable die.
He was a man who barked to keep the world at bay.
‘Still,’ Draco mused, ‘acting like a drunken twit is a choice’
"Um… B-Bell?"
The soft voice belonged to Syr, the waitress who had taken a peculiar interest in the white-haired boy.
She stood by his table, her tray held tight to her chest, her brow furrowed in genuine concern. Bell didn't answer.
He couldn't.
His entire world was currently being dismantled by the howling laughter of his idols.
"But really," Bete sneered, his voice dropping into a deeper, more venomous register as he noticed the attention shifting back to him.
"It’s been a long time since I’ve seen something so pathetic! So disgusting I could cry! The hell was he doing down there? If you’re going to cry like a little baby, you shouldn’t be a dungeon-crawler in the first place! Right, Ais?"
Ais remained silent, her golden eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.
Bete interpreted her silence as agreement and pressed on, emboldened by the alcohol and the crowd.
"It’s weak adventurers like him who give the rest of us a bad name," Bete spat.
"Littering the Upper Floors like trash. Just give it up already! Go back to the farm and dig holes in the dirt where it's safe!"
Draco sighed.
‘Harsh, but not entirely inaccurate for this city’ he thought.
Bell was a novice who had been gifted a rare potential….a "cheat," as some might call it…..but he lacked the calloused heart required to wield it effectively.
A Minotaur was leagues above his level; running was the right choice, but disappearing without a word of thanks to his savior was the mark of a child, not an adventurer.
"Shut your mouth already, Bete!" Riveria finally snapped, her patience evaporated.
She stood up, her presence radiating an aura of command that silenced the immediate tables.
"It was our mistake that let the Minotaurs escape to the upper floors! That boy was a victim of our negligence! He had nothing to do with it! And stop drinking! Learn some respect for yourself, if not for others!"
Bete recoiled slightly, but the alcohol fueled his defiance.
"Bleaaa! You elves and your ‘high and mighty’ pride! But yeah, what’s in it for you to protect that wimp? You’re just lying to yourself to keep your conscience clean! Trash is trash! What’s wrong with calling it what it is?"
"Hey, hey! That’s enough!" Lefiya, the young elf mage, tried to intervene, her voice hesitant. "Bete, Riveria-sama, please relax! You’re killing the mood!"
Bete ignored her, his blood-shot eyes fixed on Ais.
He leaned over, invading her personal space with the smell of cheap ale and aggression.
"Ais! Tell me. What did you think about that kid? That pathetic shit who was shaking and pissing himself in front of you? Do you really think he deserves to stand at our level? To be called an 'adventurer'?"
Ais looked up then.
Her gaze was steady, though a flicker of something…..perhaps guilt…..crossed her features.
"… I don’t blame him for acting the way he did under those circumstances," she replied.
"Why you acting all goody two-shoes?" Bete groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Okay then, I’m changing the question. Him or me? Who’s got it going on?"
"Bete, are you drunk?" Riveria asked, her voice dangerously low.
"Shut it, hag! Now, Ais! Choose! As a female, which male wags your tail? Which one makes you hot? A warrior like me, or a dripping tomato?"
"… I have no reason to answer that question, especially to you, Bete," Ais replied with a deepening frown.
Bete let out a sharp, barking laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"Of course you wouldn’t! Why would a tiny kid who’s so weak, so feeble, and all-around nauseating have the right to even stand next to you? There’s no way he’d measure up! A tiny kid like that could never land Ais Wallenstein!"
That was the final straw.
The sound of a chair screeching against the wooden floorboards echoed like a gunshot.
Draco watched as Bell lurched upward, his chair flying backward and clattering to the ground. Tears were already streaming down the boy's face, his eyes wide and vacant with the shock of total public humiliation.
Before anyone could say a word, Bell bolted.
He didn't look back.
He didn't look at Syr.
He didn't look at the Loki Familia.
He was a blur of desperation.
"Bell?!" Syr cried out, dropping her tray as she scrambled after him.
The boy burst through the double doors of the pub in a full sprint, disappearing into the twilight of the Orario streets.
The suddenness of his departure left a vacuum of silence in the room, broken only by the confused murmurs of the other patrons.
"Did someone just dine ’n’ dash?" a voice called out from the bar.
"At Mama Mia’s? The guy’s got guts, that’s for sure!" another laughed.
Bete scoffed and reached for his drink again, seemingly satisfied with his "victory."
The rest of the Loki Familia began to return to their own conversations, though the mood had noticeably soured.
Riveria looked as though she were contemplating a physical assault on the werewolf, while Tiona and Tione shared a look of awkward realization.
But Ais didn't sit back down.
She stood frozen, her eyes trained on the door.
Her well-trained reflexes had allowed her to catch a clear glimpse of the boy as he turned to run. A thin body.
White hair.
And those ruby-colored eyes… they were filled with a soul-crushing shame that made her chest tighten.
‘Could that be…?’
She moved.
Her movements were fluid and ghost-like as she navigated the crowded floor, sidestepping servers and drunkards.
She reached the entrance and leaned against a stone pillar, staring out into the busy thoroughfare.
To her right, she saw the back of Syr uniform as the waitress vanished into the evening crowd, still calling for the boy.
"Bell…" Ais mouthed the name.
It felt strange on her tongue, yet it resonated more clearly than the voices of her comrades behind her.
"Oi-oi, Aisuuu, what you doing’?"
A pair of arms suddenly snaked around Ais’s waist from behind.
A familiar, lithe body pressed into her back, and a chin came to rest on her shoulder.
Loki, the goddess of mischief herself, had decided to join the fray.
Loki’s hands began to wander, squeezing Ais with a lack of boundaries that only a deity could get away with.
Ais’s breath hitched for a second.
Had this been anyone else…..especially a man…..they would have been through the nearest window.
But Loki was her goddess.
Still, there were limits.
Ais grabbed the arm coiled around her stomach, her grip like iron, and drove her elbow back into Loki’s ribs.
It wasn't a full-force strike, but it was enough to make the goddess gasp and recoil.
Before Loki could recover, Ais spun around and delivered a firm, open-palm slap to the goddess’s cheek.
Thwack.
"Chee! You are feisty today! You don't look it at all, Aisuu!" Loki whined, rubbing the red handprint that was already beginning to pulse on her pale skin.
"Hands to yourself," Ais warned, her voice cold.
Loki looked as if she were about to burst into tears, her lower lip trembling pathetically, before she suddenly broke into a wide, predatory grin.
She looked up at the ceiling and cheered, "Shy and cool! Sooo my type! Hit me again!"
Ais turned away, the embarrassment burning hotter than the slap.
"Please stop."
"Don’ be making that face," Loki said, her tone softening slightly, though the mischief remained. "If Bete’s getting’ to you, I’ll have Mama Mia string him up by his tail outside!"
Loki clearly misunderstood.
She thought Ais was upset about Bete’s behavior toward her.
Inside the pub, the situation had devolved further.
Riveria had finally reached her breaking point.
She had the werewolf pinned to the floor with a boot to his chest, expertly tying his wrists with a length of rope she had seemingly conjured from thin air.
"Hee-hee, Aisuu. Come on back," Loki said, wrapping an arm around Ais’s shoulder to guide her back to the festivities.
Ais resisted for a moment, casting one last look at the street.
The flickering magic stone lamps, illuminating the cobbled road, but the boy was long gone.
He had vanished into the shadows of the city.
Disappointed and strangely hollow, Ais allowed herself to be pulled back into the warmth of the pub.
Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the empty table where the boy….Bell…..had been sitting.
Her gaze drifted further, past the laughing patrons and the clinking glasses, until it landed on the far corner.
There, sitting in the shadows, was a man she hadn't noticed before.
He was leaning back, a mug of fruit wine in his hand.
He wasn't laughing.
He wasn't even looking at the Loki Familia anymore.
He was looking directly at her.
Ais’s body froze.
She immediately recognized his features.......
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