The silence that descended upon the 37th floor was heavy, broken only by the fading crackle of spent magic and the rhythmic breathing of those left standing.
Draco stood amidst a landscape of dissipating ash, with smile of satisfaction from the exertion.
For Ais, the respite was a godsend; even the Sword Princess had her limits, and soloing a Floor Boss like Udaeus had pushed her to the brink of exhaustion.
As the dust settled, Riveria approached Draco, her expression uncharacteristically grim.
She spoke of the anomaly....a bizarre Ooze that had manifested in the wake of Udaeus's defeat, a creature that had snatched the massive magic stone before anyone could react.
Draco's brow furrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features.
A monster that scavenged from its own kind was rare, but one that could successfully pilfer a Floor Boss's drop under the nose of Riveria was unheard of.
Without a word, he closed his eyes, extending a hand as a ripple of translucent magic pulsed outward from his position.
The wave swept through the cracked walls and fissures that marred the throne room, searching for a signature that didn't belong.
Nothing.
"It's gone," Draco said, his voice echoing in the vast chamber.
"Had I known the moment it happened, tracking it would have been a simple matter. But with this much time passed...." he trailed.
Riveria sighed, the weight of the unknown clearly bothering her.
"It is a troubling development. We can only hope that whatever that creature was, it doesn't manifest into a greater threat later."
With the immediate danger subsided and the mystery of the Ooze relegated to a future problem, the reality of their situation set in.
It was time to part ways.
Draco was bound for the lower depths, while the two women needed to begin their ascent back to Orario.
However, Ais lingered.
Her golden eyes were fixed on Draco, a mix of admiration and a stubborn, restless hunger for strength swirling within them.
Despite her victory over Udaeus, witnessing Draco's effortless annihilation of the surrounding mobs had left her feeling dissatisfied with her own progress.
"I'm coming with you," she stated, her voice low but firm.
"To the 45th."
"You most certainly are not," Riveria interjected, her voice dropping an octave into a tone that brooked no argument.
Ais turned to protest, but the words died in her throat.
Riveria wasn't just a companion; she was a mentor and a mother-figure, and her "scary face"...a look of absolute, icy authority....was currently directed straight at the Sword Princess.
Like a kitten retreating from a sudden thunderstorm, Ais shied away, her shoulders drooping in reluctant defeat.
"Sorry," Ais muttered, though she quickly turned back to Draco, her resolve shifting rather than breaking.
"But when you return...please spar with me again. Don't forget."
Draco offered a small smile.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Before they parted, Draco opened his pack, distributing a significant portion of his rations to the duo.
While Riveria tried to decline as it was too much, Draco insisted.
He had calculated his needs based on a much slower descent; seeing how quickly he had reached the 37th floor, he realized he had an excess of weight.
By lightening his load now, he not only ensured their safe return but also cleared space to haul back more lucrative monster drops from the deeper floors.
After a final exchange of nods, Draco watched as the two figures disappeared into the winding tunnels leading upward.
Once he was alone, the atmosphere seemed to shift.
He turned his gaze toward the entrance to the 38th floor.
Initially, he had considered stopping at the White Palace's monster coliseum to hone his skills, but a strange, gnawing sensation had taken root in his gut.
It wasn't fear...it was like a strange lull that felt familiar, yet not.
As he began his descent, the tingling along his scales grew more pronounced.
Something was calling for him in the deep, or perhaps something was happening that required his presence far sooner than anticipated.
Reluctantly, Draco broke into a steady jog, his silhouette blurring as he plunged into the darkness.
While the depths of the Dungeon stirred with his descent, far above on the sun-drenched streets of Orario, the gears of fate were already beginning to grind.
Draco was moving toward his goal, but the world he left behind was far from stagnant.
...........................…
Back on the surface, the sun had just begun peeking over the horizon.
Rays of dawn's first light always bathed the peak of Babel before all else, so Freya's room was the first to witness the day.
Splayed across her massive bed, Freya let out a delicate yawn as the sunlight flooded the room through the closed curtains.
The glow hit her face, lending her pale, fair skin an oddly mesmerizing golden sheen.
Lazily, she slid off the bed.
Her silken sheets pooled on the floor, revealing a figure that was as provocative as it was divine. Still clad in the same seductive black lingerie from the night before, she draped a robe loosely over her shoulders and walked toward the window.
It was her morning ritual to look over Orario.
There was something deeply pleasant about watching her new favorite toy as he made his way to the Dungeon.
Of course, Bell did not enter the Dungeon every day, nor did he stick to a strict schedule, so some mornings were a disappointment...but that never dampened Freya's enjoyment of the hunt.
However, upon sliding open her curtains and allowing the room to be fully submerged in light, Freya's brow furrowed.
She scrunched her nose in a look of pure disgust.
Spread across the exterior of her window were the dried remnants of vomit.
Recalling the annoying face of Bahamut, who had dragged Hephaestus along to drink on the roof of Babel the night before, Freya felt her day was off to a sour start.
"I should fine her for this," Freya muttered sinisterly.
But she quickly decided it wasn't worth the effort; she had far more important things to attend to.
As if to brighten her mood, a flash of white appeared along the West Main Road.
There was Bell, running along the street in a frantic hurry.
For someone who had returned home past midnight, he was certainly up early and eager to challenge the Dungeon once more.
Freya, upon catching sight of him, found herself mesmerized by the beautiful, clear canvas of his soul.
As she watched, she could already imagine how delightful it would be to stain him with her own color, though she felt there was plenty of time for that later.
"I can't wait. How strong will you get? How bright will you shine? What color will you eventually become?"
There was indeed love in her silver eyes as she watched the boy, but it was a corrupt, possessive love.
She placed a finger against her full lips and playfully bit the tip.
For a moment, a provocative scent filled the room.
"What's this…? Ha-ha-ha, noticed again, did you?"
Even though Bell was a mere speck in the distance, he had come to a complete stop and was looking around frantically.
It was as though he had lost something precious and was searching the immediate area to find it.
Freya's eyes narrowed slightly as a large grin spread across her face.
He had done the exact same thing the first time she saw him on West Main.
He had sensed her gaze the moment she focused on him with the excitement building in her body.
His perception was sharper than she had anticipated...nearly as sharp as Draco's.
Freya knew that Bell didn't exactly possessed the talents of the children who came before him.
'So why, then? Could everything be due to his quick growth? Mmm… very intriguing,' she mused.
Looking back on that first moment, she knew she should have made her move.
She felt she could have easily controlled him like a puppet while watching him speak with such familiarity to a girl on the street.
Even though he carried another god's blessing, she had no doubt she could have persuaded him to her side.
She had restrained herself then because she hadn't known which Familia he belonged to…..or which god would move to protect him.
She had no desire to quarrel with the likes of Loki or Bahamut.
Furthermore, after seeing his innocent smile, her predatory urges had waned, and she simply hadn't felt like it.
'But for now, watching him from the shadows isn't such a bad thing,' Freya nodded to herself.
One eventually tired of always having a cat in one's lap.
It was good to let it play to its heart's content in the garden from time to time.
After all, it was her garden.
She could retrieve him whenever she wished.
"I will wait a while longer before I make you mine...But, it's strange; part of me doesn't want that day to come. Perhaps this period, where thoughts of you dance in my mind, is when I love you most."
Just like everyone before him, once he became hers, she would likely lose interest over time.
He would become another favorite toy on a shelf…..one of many dolls sitting in a row. Occasionally, she would remember him, take him off the shelf to play, and then return him to his place.
The hope and excitement of those first moments always faded.
Emotion deteriorated.
The same was true of love; once it hit its peak, it was fated to crumble.
No one longed for a love that had gone cold.
However, Freya didn't feel the cycle was pointless.
That was simply the nature of love, and she was its goddess.
She felt that having a collection on the shelf that was a little too large was, in its own way, just right.
This was why she found Draco so compelling; he was something of an anomaly.
He was something she wanted but couldn't quite have.
Even if she possessed him, she felt he was too big to fit on her shelf.
To hold him, she would have to build an entirely new shelf just for him...a strange realization that always left her in a dilemma.
Pushing thoughts of Draco aside, Freya refocused on Bell, the one currently within her reach. She hooked a few strands of hair that had fallen over her cheek and tucked them behind her ear, her bare shoulders bathed in the morning light.
Looking like a young girl falling in love for the first time, she continued to watch Bell with doting eyes.
"…However, yes. It might be about time for him to learn magic."
Tap.
She tapped a finger against her chin, thinking out loud.
After tilting her head in deep thought, an idea took root.
She pulled her gaze away from Bell and walked away from the window.
Freya's 'Eyes of Insight' couldn't decipher the specific status given by other deities, but she could infer a mortal's strength and abilities by the color and brightness of their soul.
She could tell by looking at Bell that he possessed no magic.
To Freya, this was a flaw that needed mending.
She decided to act, and quickly.
"I wonder if this will do?"
A heavily adorned bookcase stood in the corner of her room.
It was massive…..so wide and tall that it would crush her if it ever fell.
Her thin finger trailed along the middle shelf before pulling a thick book out by the spine.
It fell into her waiting arm with a heavy thud.
It was a grimoire she had won at an auction five years ago, created by none other than Draco himself.
Thumbing through the pages, Freya gave a satisfied nod.
"Ottar."
"Ma'am."
A rigid, deep voice responded instantly.
The man had either been standing in the room the entire time or was positioned just outside the door.
Boar-like ears stood out atop his short, rust-colored hair.
This male beast-man stood over two meters tall, with a body as solid as a mountain.
He stood like a statue beside Freya, a loyal guard dog awaiting his master's command.
"I want you to take this book…"
She was about to hold the volume out when her words trailed off.
She went silent, looking down at the book in her arms.
"Does something trouble you?" Ottar asked.
"Hee-hee, no, it's nothing. Please forget it."
"Ma'am."
Ottar gave a short nod and took a step back as Freya smiled at the grimoire.
That was right.
It wasn't necessary for her most treasured servant to deliver the book directly.
Besides, if this behemoth were to suddenly appear before Bell and try to hand him a book, the poor boy would be terrified.
While the mental image was entertaining, it wouldn't serve her purposes.
There was no need to place it directly in his hands.
He merely had to find it.
She knew exactly where to leave it....right where she had first seen him, on the street where they had "met."
There was a certain bar nearby.
If the book were left there, it would undoubtedly find its way to him.