Chapter 395
The final echo of the battle faded into the heavy silence of the city streets, replaced by a sudden, deafening roar.
“Guoooooooooo!!!?!”
The cry was less a shout of triumph and more a guttural, confused bellow that seemed to rattle the very cobblestones.
It was the sound of a troll’s consciousness being snuffed out in a single, decisive instant.
The massive creature, stood frozen for a heartbeat, a silver sword embedded deep within its chest.
Then, with the finality of a collapsing mountain, it fell.
Thud.
The impact was thunderous, sending a tremor through the ground that the civilians felt in their bones.
They watched, hidden in the alcoves and shattered storefronts of the west block, as the monster’s lifeless form settled into a heap of inert flesh.
“Nn, the end?” a voice asked, laced with a deep, almost theatrical boredom.
“Yes…”
The reply was soft, a mere breath of air.
Ais withdrew her silver sword from the troll’s body.
The blade came free with a wet, slick sound.
With a flick of her wrist, she cast the black blood aside, the droplets scattering like dark jewels on the pavement.
In one smooth motion, the sword slid cleanly back into its sheath, the click of the guard meeting the scabbard’s lip the only sound she made.
She watched the monster break apart, her golden eyes placid and unreadable.
The civilians, sensing the immediate danger had passed, instantly emerged from their hiding places.
Their cheers erupted, a wave of sound that washed over Ais, yet failed to stir any emotion within her.
They surrounded her, their faces alight with relief and adoration, but she remained an island of calm in their midst.
Loki, her goddess, stood just behind her, leaning casually against a cracked lamppost.
She placed a hand on Ais head, her fingers gently stroking the blonde strands of the adventurer’s hair, but her gaze was distant, her expression one of utter ennui.
“I would say these monsters were a bit strange,” Loki murmured, her voice a low counterpoint to the cheering crowd.
“It’s good that everybody is all right……but doesn’t it feel like they were dancing to someone else’s beat?”
Ais nodded to herself, a subtle dip of her chin that was lost on most of the celebrating onlookers but not on her goddess.
She agreed completely.
They had rushed all over the west block, protecting the citizens from the escaped beasts.
Yet, the monsters hadn’t fought with malice or territorial instinct.
They hadn’t run away, either.
They had simply wandered the city as if searching for something specific, their movements disjointed and purposeful.
Ais couldn’t shake the chilling feeling that an unseen hand had guided these monsters from above, a puppeteer pulling strings she could not see.
“That all of them?” Loki asked, turning her bored gaze to a nearby guild employee who had just finished coordinating a rescue team.
The employee, a harried man with a clipboard, shook his head.
“Not quite… There is still one left.”
The information hung in the air.
Out of the nine monsters that had escaped the Amphitheatrum, only the silverback remained unaccounted for.
Ais’s expression didn’t change.
A silverback, was indeed a formidable foe for the civilians and new adventurers.
For her, it was a creature she could slay in an instant.
Loki was even less interested, letting out a long, suffering sigh.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
She started to run, not with urgency, but with the lazy stride of someone eager to finish a tedious chore.
Ais followed silently behind her, her steps light.
They headed for East Main after questioning a few citizens who had spotted the silverback from their hiding places.
The trail was somewhat fresh, the panic still palpable in the air.
It was then, as they navigated the debris-strewn streets, that they learned a crucial piece of information: Draco, the strongest adventurer in the city, had already taken care of most of the monsters in the area.
Upon hearing this, Loki’s face lit up with hope.
“Perfect! That lizard kid is here. That means we can go home. A silverback is nothing to him.”
There was no doubt Draco could dispatch a silverback with contemptuous ease.
More importantly, Loki didn’t want Ais anywhere near him.
The dynamic between the two was one she couldn’t quite parse, and it made her instincts prickle with unease.
However, Ais had other ideas.
The moment she learned Draco was nearby, a flicker of something unreadable passed through her golden eyes.
She reached out, her grip surprisingly firm, and grabbed Loki’s hand.
“Eh? Ais, what are you….?”
Without a word, Ais pulled her goddess along, her pace quickening into a determined run.
She navigated the streets with her instincts, following the flow of the crowd.
Loki, caught off guard, could only stumble along in her wake, her protests dying in her throat.
They arrived at the last known location of the silverback, a wide plaza near Daedalus street, but the scene was not what they expected.
“Ehhhh? What’s this?” Loki exclaimed, her voice a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
Instead of what they had anticipated, they found a throng of civilians celebrating in the street. There was no sign of Draco, no sign of the silverback, only jubilant citizens.
Loki, reluctantly pushed her way to the edge of the crowd.
Ais, not one for crowds or casual conversation, stayed a step behind, her presence a quiet anchor in the sea of noise.
“Hey, lady! What’s going on?” Loki asked a stranger, a woman whose face was flushed with excitement.
The woman turned, her eyes wide.
“Didn’t you hear? That boy struck the monster down! Heard it from a few folks from Daedalus. The monster ran deep into that maze, and the boy slew it with one strike!”
Loki’s brow furrowed.
“Hold up, lady. Who’s ‘that’ boy? Was it that lizard kid from the Bahamut familia?”
“Ah, you mean the monster of the Bahamut familia… I did hear he slayed most of the monsters on east main except one,” the woman explained, her tone still buzzing with energy.
“The one who slayed the last monster was a fresh younger adventurer, with reddish eyes and white hair? Yeah… he kind of looked like a rabbit!”
“Huh?” Loki’s face contorted with confusion, but the blond girl standing behind her jumped, a barely perceptible jolt that betrayed her surprise.
‘White hair…?’
The image flashed in Ais’s mind.
She had seen someone like that.
This morning, during the tense meeting between the goddesses….Loki, Freya, and Bahamut…..she had seen him running past the café window.
A boy with reddish eyes and white hair, a boy who had been humiliated because of her.
As if summoned by fate itself, the person in question was still in the area.
“Excuse me! Please let me through!”
A new wave of noise swept over the crowd.
People started cheering louder, pushing and craning their necks to get a better look at something…..or someone……at the center of the plaza.
Loki, ever curious, yelled, “Me, too! Me, too!” and dove headfirst into the swarm, her lean, tall, yet flat form unsurprisingly was adept at navigating the press of bodies.
Ais stayed behind, standing still as the tide flowed around her.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in her chest: a quiet pang of loneliness.
She didn’t want to be left out.
She walked up to the edge of the crowd, standing on her tiptoes, trying to get a good look over the sea of heads.
“Excuse me!!”
At that moment, a boy ducking as low as he could burst out of the crowd, moving with a desperate, frantic energy.
He shot right past her, a blur of white hair.
Her golden eyes followed him, tracking his movement, trying to confirm his identity.
And it really was him.
He didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t even glance in her direction as he rushed by, his face flushed with a mixture of exertion, embarrassment, and triumph.
Ais watched his back shrink into the distance, a solitary figure escaping the adulation of the crowd.
There was no mistaking him.
He was the boy she had saved from the Minotaur in the dungeon.
The boy who had been trembling, crying, utterly powerless.
‘He slew… a silverback…?’ Ais thought, her head tilting slightly in genuine curiosity.
Bell Cranel was, to her knowledge, weak.
Bete may have gone a little overboard in his taunting, but the boy had been a clumsy, inexperienced adventurer, fresh and naive.
The boy she remembered could never have slain a silverback.
“… Congrats.”
The word left her lips before she realized it, a soft whisper lost in the din of the crowd.
But she had meant it.
She wanted to congratulate the boy who had run out of the bar, humiliated and spewing tears, on his incredible, impossible growth.
She wasn’t interested in the trick he might have used, or the luck that might have favored him. She was simply acknowledging the result.
She decided that for the time being, she should seek him out at least once and apologize for the ordeal he had been put through.
……………………………………………………………………………
High above the city, far from the noise and the celebration, a figure glided effortlessly through the air, his silver hair ruffling in the wind.
“Ugh, that was exhausting to watch…..but it was fun,” Draco grumbled to himself, a wry smile playing on his lips.
He hadn’t expected to interfere so much in the battle between Bell and the Silverback.
But in the end, he found the outcome enjoyable.
The boy had potential, a spark of something rare that was worth fanning into a flame.
Well, there were the little bits of nerve-wracking interaction with Freya to contend with, but he had managed to get through it in one sane piece.
‘If I didn’t have charm resistance, I might have really fallen just by being near her……I have to be more careful,’ Draco mused, his expression sobering.
While he could resist Freya’s charm, it didn’t mean he was completely immune to it.
It was a constant, low-level pressure, a siren’s call that he had to actively ignore.
And that was with Freya passively using her charm.
Imagining what would happen if she decided to imbue her charm with her divinity, a concentrated blast of pure allure, sent a shiver down his spine.
It was a terrifying prospect.
Soon, Draco arrived at the Amphitheatrum.
He made his way towards the VIP section where his goddess, Bahamut, was supposed to be.
After leaving Bahamut to deal with the initial monster outbreak, she had gone to the VIP section to enjoy the rest of Monsterphilia with some other goddesses nearby.
As expected, she wasn’t happy when she saw him.
“What took you so long, and why does her scent linger on you?” Bahamut asked, her voice sharp as she leaned forward.
Her nose flared as she sniffed the air around him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Eh?” Draco gasped in horror, subconsciously sniffing himself.
He was sure that he had never touched Freya, nor had he gotten close enough for any scent to transfer to him.
He had maintained a respectful distance at all times.
But then Bahamut burst into laughter, a bright, musical sound that filled the booth.
She morphed from a stern inquisitor to an amused spectator, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I was joking about the scent thing,” she said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye, “but based on your suspicious reaction… did another female delay you?”
Draco felt a flush creep up his neck.
He had been played.
“See, I told you… I won the bet,” a cheerful voice chimed from behind.
Draco turned to see Demeter, her smile wide and triumphant.
Taking a good look around the opulent VIP booth, he saw Aasterinian, Demeter, and Hephaestus seated around a low table.
They were all goddesses, and all had shown some sort of interest in him, whether it was professional, strategic, or something more personal.
On top of the table, various snacks and teacups were littered around, evidence of a long, leisurely wait.
Draco felt a hint of embarrassment seeing those eyes staring at him, all of them waiting for an answer.
He had indeed spent an awful lot of time dealing with monsters that could die from his sneeze.
It would be suspicious to anyone that someone of his caliber had spent over an hour dealing with monsters that should take no more than five minutes.
Lying wasn’t an option; they would see through it in a second.
So, he had to resolve the misunderstanding quickly.
Letting out an exhausted sigh that was only half-feigned, Draco took a seat amongst their table. He gestured to a nearby attendant, ordered some more snacks, and began recounting everything that had happened.
He spoke of the monsters, the citizens, and the strange, orchestrated nature of the chaos.
He told them of the boy, Bell Cranel, and his improbable victory.
He spoke of Freya’s presence, her interest in the boy, and the subtle, dangerous game she was playing.
In the background, the roar of the crowd enjoying the final taming show echoed, a constant, thunderous backdrop to his quiet tale.
The goddesses listened, their expressions shifting from amusement to curiosity, and finally, to a thoughtful, calculating silence.
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