—
Good morning everyone, here's a new chapter. I apologize for the delay, but I haven't felt very motivated to write lately.
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Thanks to LimX23 and Rayx2108 for being the beta readers and quality supervisors of this chapter.
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Under a gray sky… it was raining.
It wasn't gentle rain. It wasn't calm either. Each drop fell heavily, steadily, as if the sky itself had become weary. The ground was covered in mud and flattened grass, and the air felt thick, making it difficult to breathe.
"We never paid attention to the… prophecies."
The voice didn't come from any specific place. It wasn't in front or behind. It was simply there, resonating throughout, deep and distant, like an echo that never faded..
The sound of metal clashing against metal rose suddenly. Sharp, repeated blows. The clash was disordered, chaotic. It wasn't a clean battle, it was a slow massacre. The rain pounded the surface, running down sword blades.
"Like fools... we cling to old hatreds."
The scene shifted.
A wing stretched out in the darkness. It wasn't seen in its entirety, only a part of it, enormous, covered in dark scales that reflected the flashes of lightning. Each time the wing moved, the winds stirred violently, causing the rain to change direction.
The sound of the struggle continued, constant, like a background noise that never faded. The soaked grass swayed under hurried footsteps. Some were fleeing. Others advanced without thinking.
"And we fought as we had done... for generations."
A figure appeared with its back turned.
White hair soaked by the rain. The wind moved it erratically. The figure stood still, staring straight ahead, as if waiting for something. On its back, clearly visible, was a spear. It seemed familiar to her.
She couldn't see his face. Only his posture. Firm. Tired. Determined.
The rain continued to fall.
Then… the sky changed.
A green glow appeared on the horizon. It wasn't lightning. It wasn't ordinary magic. It was something bigger, more intense. The color slowly spread, illuminating the clouds from below, tinting everything with a sickly hue.
"Until the day that fire rained from the sky." The glow descended.
It didn't fall like a star. It wasn't fast. It was heavy. Inevitable.
The impact shook everything.
A deafening roar ripped through the landscape. The earth split open. The cold rain was replaced by a wave of heat. A massive crater formed where the flash had struck the ground. Rocks, mud, and metal debris were hurled into all directions.
For a moment… silence.
Then, from the center of the crater, something moved.
A hand emerged from among the rocks.
It wasn't human. It was too big. It was made of irregular blocks of stone, joined together in an unnatural way. Between the cracks, green flames burned, as if they were the core that held everything together.
The hand rested on the edge of the crater.
The earth creaked.
Little by little, the figure began to rise.
It was enormous.
The closest thing to describe it would be a golem. But it wasn't an artificial construct. It was as if the earth itself had decided to rise up and walk.
Rocks floated around its body, held aloft by that green fire that burned without consuming anything. The flames didn't move like normal fire. It crawled slowly, as if it was thinking, as if it was breathing.
When the creature finished getting up, its silhouette blocked part of the gray sky.
Then it made a sound.
It was no ordinary roar.
She almost thought she would go deaf.
It was serious. Profound. So low it seemed to come from the very heart of the earth. The air vibrated. She felt it inside her body, as if something were responding to that call.
The rain kept falling on the creature, evaporating on contact with the green flames
The white-haired figure remained there, facing the creature. He didn't move. Nor did he flee. The spear on his back vibrated slightly, as if it was reacting to the presence of what had descended from the sky.
The voice resonated again.
"Now we are on the brink of destruction… because the world itself has come to take revenge on us all."
The vision began to break down.
The images became distorted. The rain grew stronger, louder. The color green invaded everything.
So-
Cassandra sat up abruptly.
A strangled cry escaped her throat as she clutched her chest. Her breathing was rapid and ragged. Sweat soaked both her forehead and back, and the sheets were rumpled and damp.
Her room was dark. Silent.
But the echo of the roar continued to resonate in her mind.
It took Cassandra several seconds to realize where she was. Her eyes scanned the room, wide and frantic, searching for something she couldn't name. Her heart was pounding, as if it wanted to burst from her chest.
"No…" she murmured, her voice trembling.
Daphne slowly opened the door and sighed softly when she saw her.
"Another nightmare?"
Cassandra didn't answer. She kept staring out the window, as if she were hoping to see something beyond the Orario sky.
Daphne closed the door and took a few steps into the room. She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Her expression wasn't harsh, but it was tired. Very tired.
"I heard you jump up," she continued. "I thought you were having one of those dreams again."
Cassandra turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at Daphne out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes were still wide open, as if she hadn't fully woken up. But she said nothing.
Daphne sighed again.
"Look… I was scared too," she said, her voice lower. "When I found out what happened to Lord Apollo. That the people who went with him… died." She paused briefly.
"That's not something easy to swallow."
Cassandra pressed her fingers against the window frame. Her breathing slowed a little, but body remained tense.
"But we can't live in fear all the time," Daphne continued. "Now we're Adventurers of the Miach Familia. He took us in when everything fell apart. He gave us a place when we had nothing."
Daphne straightened up and looked directly at Cassandra.
"We have a duty. We cannot afford to be paralyzed by fear." Silence fell between them.
Cassandra slowly lowered her gaze. Her shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight she carried was becoming more apparent now that someone else was there.
Several seconds passed.
"Something is going to happen…" Cassandra finally murmured, her voice low and trembling.
Daphne frowned.
"What's going to happen?"
"Something big," Cassandra continued, without looking up. "Something bad. It's not like the other times."
Daphne closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and sighed again, this time louder.
"Cassandra…"
She moved a little closer.
"Listen to what you're saying."
Cassandra looked up, meeting Daphne's gaze. There was fear in her eyes. A real, deep fear.
"I saw it," she insisted. "It wasn't just a dream. There was fire. Rain. Something huge fell from the sky. And—"
"Enough," Daphne said, interrupting her.
It wasn't a shout. Nor was it cruel. But it was firm.
"That's enough."
Cassandra remained silent, surprised.
"I'm tired," Daphne continued. "Tired of this, Cassandra. It's the same thing every so often. You dream of something horrible, you get scared, and then you act like the world is about to end."
Cassandra opened her mouth, but couldn't say anything.
"You're not a bad person," Daphne continued. "I know that. And I know you're not doing it for attention. But you have to understand how it looks from the outside."
Daphne put a hand to her forehead.
"They are dreams. That's all. Dreams."
Cassandra slowly shook her head.
"They are not…"
"Yes, they are," Daphne replied. "Confusing dreams, full of strange images because you're stressed.
Because everything that happened with Lord Apollo left its mark on all of us."
Daphne took a deep breath.
"But you can't live as if every dream you have is a prophecy."
Cassandra pressed her lips together. Her hands were trembling slightly.
"The voices…" she whispered. "They say things. Not always clearly, but—"
"That's exactly the problem," Daphne said, frustrated. "You speak in strange phrases. Metaphors. Things no one understands."
Daphne looked at her seriously.
"Do you know what that sounds like to others?"
Cassandra lowered her head.
"Like madness" Daphne finished, her voice weary.
Silence fell once more.
Daphne wasn't angry. That was the worst part. There was no contempt in her voice, no mockery. Just exhaustion.
"Cassandra…" she said more softly. "I don't think you're lying. But I also don't think what you're dreaming of is real."
She moved a little closer and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"I want you to live more in reality. To be grounded."
Cassandra closed her eyes tightly.
"I can't just ignore it," she said. "When I see it… it feels real. Too real."
"That doesn't mean it is," Daphne replied. "Fear can make anything seem real."
Daphne withdrew her hand and took a step back.
"If you keep taking those dreams so seriously, you're going to break inside."
Cassandra didn't answer. Her lips trembled slightly, but no words came out.
Daphne watched her for a few more seconds. Then she shook her head slightly.
"Rest for now," she said finally. "We have work to do in a little while."
She turned around and walked towards her bed.
Before going to bed, she added without looking at her:
"And leave those dreams behind. They're not doing you any good." The room fell silent again.
Cassandra stood by the window, alone with her thoughts. Nothing was falling from the sky.
But the weight in her chest did not disappear.
Because, even though Daphne didn't believe it…
Cassandra knew that what she had seen was not just a dream.
…
Miach carefully removed the hand he had placed on Bell's forehead. He didn't do it immediately; first, he made sure that Bell's breathing remained steady, that the slight movement of his chest continued with the same regularity as before. Only then did he sit up completely. The Takemikazuchi Familia's dojo was enveloped in a heavy silence, not uncomfortable, but certainly filled with anticipation.
Bell laid motionless on the futon, with the relaxed face of someone who neither dreams nor responds.
Hestia stood beside him, her fingers clasped in front of her chest. She said nothing, but her posture spoke volumes. Haruhime, a few steps behind, avoided moving, as if she's afraid that any sound might shatter something fragile.
Miach turned calmly towards Hestia.
"Hestia," he said first, slowly, making sure she looked up. "Look… I'm going to explain it step by step."
He waited a second. Not because he doubted, but because he knew that the first sentence always carried more weight than the others.
"Physically, Bell is fine," he continued. "His body shows no signs of malfunction. His breathing is normal, his pulse is normal too. There are no signs of poisoning, curses, or hidden damage."
She let that information sink in. Hestia frowned slightly, as if it were neither relief nor worry, but both at once.
"What's happening to him isn't related to his body," Miach continued. "It's related to wear and tear."
He moved a little closer to the futon, without touching it this time.
"Constant stress. Battles, decisions, constant responsibility. I'm not talking about a bad day, or a rough week. I'm talking about a prolonged, sustained burden, without any real breaks." He made a small gesture with his hand, as if drawing an invisible line. "That kind of pressure always takes its toll. Especially for someone with Bell-kun's personality."
Haruhime clasped her hands in her lap. Miach noticed, but kept his attention on Hestia. "There's a name for the state he's in," he finally said. "It's called Dissociative Stupor." He stopped immediately, gently raising a hand.
"Before the word scares you, listen to this," he added. "He's not unconscious. He's not asleep either. Bell-kun is awake."
Hestia opened her eyes a little.
"What's happening," Miach continued in a low, steady voice, "is that his mind has reduced its contact with the outside world. Not because he can't respond… but because responding, continuing as before, was unsustainable."
He paused briefly, giving her space.
"It's a protective mechanism," he explained. "When the psyche reaches its limit, it withdraws. It's not a conscious choice. It's an automatic response to avoid a greater collapse."
Miach looked up at Hestia, without harshness.
"This isn't your fault," the God of Medicine said clearly. "Not Haruhime's, nor is it anyone's fault here. It's the result of someone carrying too much for too long."
The silence returned, different this time, less oppressive.
"Now," he added finally, "the important thing is not to force him awake or demand a reaction. That would only prolong the process." Her tone remained calm. "What Bell needs is time. A safe environment. And real rest."
He looked once more at the young man on the futon.
"And yes," he concluded calmly, "he will come back. But we have to allow him to do so at his own pace."
[N/A: Basically a catatonic state, but milder and one that can actually be explained by the trauma. Catatonia is caused by psychiatric disorders, which Bell obviously does not have.]
Hestia opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Her gaze fell on Bell, who still had his eyes half-closed, his breathing calm… too calm. As if there was no one behind that empty stillness.
Miach, seeing the trembling in the Goddess of Hearth's hands, added:
"It's not dangerous if he's properly cared for. But he won't respond to stimuli, he won't speak, he won't react normally."
Hestia swallowed, unable to fully process the idea.
Haruhime reached out and gently extended her hand toward Bell's, as if she feared the slightest touch might harm him. Her fingers brushed against his, cold and passive. Bell didn't react. He didn't squeeze back, didn't tense up, didn't move a single muscle.
"Bell-sama…" she whispered, her eyes trembling.
Hestia felt a pang in her chest upon seeing the scene.
It was painful… too much.
Miach got up and gathered his things.
"I'll keep an eye on things. I'll send some fluids that can help keep his energy levels stable. And please, if you notice any unusual changes, even if you think they're insignificant, call me immediately."
Hestia nodded several times, almost desperately.
"Thank you, Miach. Thank you for coming so quickly."
"It's not a problem."
The God of Medicine cast one last glance at Bell, filled with genuine concern. "Take care of him. He… has endured far too much for someone so young." With a final nod, he left the residence.
The door closed.
And as soon as the sound of Miach's footsteps faded into the hallway, Hestia exploded. "I knew it!"
Her voice echoed between the wooden walls.
"I knew that woman was a bad influence on Bell! I knew it from day one! What kind of Goddess does... does THIS?! How dare she play with him like this?!" Lena jumped, surprised by the scream.
Mikoto and Haruhime lowered their gaze, perfectly understanding where that mixture of anger and pain came from.
Hestia continued, walking in circles, clutching her head as if she needed to hold on to avoid falling.
"I knew something like this was going to happen! I knew it! That aura, the way she looked at him, that absurd obsession… It wasn't natural! But I thought… I thought Bell-kun could handle it. That he would know how to create distance, or that she would get tired of it, or… or something! Anything but THIS!"
Mikoto took a deep breath before approaching and placing a firm but warm hand on her Goddess's shoulder.
"Hestia-sama…"
Mikoto rarely interrupted, but this time it was necessary.
"It's not your fault. You don't have to carry this burden. What happened… wasn't Bell's decision, nor was it yours."
Hestia clenched her teeth, trembling.
"But… he's like this! Look at him!"
She pointed to Bell, who remained motionless, his face pale and expressionless, almost like a doll whose strings had been cut.
"My child… he shouldn't have gone through something like that. Never."
Haruhime, kneeling beside the futon, bowed her head.
"We can't change what happened, Hestia-sama," she murmured softly. "But we can help him now. Bell-sama always does his best for everyone… this time, we must do our best for him."
Hestia breathed heavily for a few more seconds.
Then, finally, she dropped to her knees next to Bell.
She stared at him.
She gently slid her hand through his white hair.
She felt his lack of response, his lack of tension… and something inside her broke a little more. "Bell-kun…"
Whisper.
"Come back when you can. We'll be right here, okay? All of us." Mikoto sat nearby, watching them in respectful silence.
Lena also watched the scene from the entrance of the tatami, her face filled with genuine concern.
Haruhime remained by her side, as a constant guardian.
The dojo was calm.
But not a peaceful calm…
…
Finn's office went completely silent after Riveria finished speaking.
The air felt heavy because of what they had just heard.
Finn was leaning against the desk, one hand on his chin, his gaze fixed on the floor. He was thinking. When Finn was thinking like that, it was a bad sign. Gareth was sitting in one of the chairs, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and with a clearly annoyed expression.
Riveria was still standing. She hadn't sat down. She was still wearing her combat gear, stained with dust and dirt. She hadn't had the time or the inclination to change. Now that it was all over, exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her.
Gareth was the first to break the silence.
"Everything went to hell," he said bluntly, without mincing words. "In an abysmal way."
Finn did not respond immediately.
"We were just supposed to talk to Hestia's kid," Gareth continued. "Ask what the hell he had to do with Freya. And we ended up with a fight in the Dungeon, Freya's Executives on the loose, and even a Dragon getting involved."
Riveria closed her eyes for a moment before speaking.
"That was going to happen anyway," she said calmly, though her voice betrayed annoyance. "Even if Ais and I hadn't been there, the confrontation was inevitable." Finn looked up at her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Freya's Executives had already made their move. And Bell Cranel was right in the middle of it all."
She paused briefly.
"Ais and I just prevented it from ending in something worse."
Gareth grunted under his breath.
"It's hard to believe that it can even be called a 'prevention'."
Riveria pursed her lips.
"I know."
She put a hand to her temple, clearly frustrated.
"And now that I think about it with a clear head…" she added. "Ais practically left me alone in front of seven executives from the Freya family."
Finn raised an eyebrow.
"The Seven?"
"Yes," Riveria replied, looking at the ground. "If they hadn't taken turns attacking me, and if that Dragon hadn't appeared…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but it wasn't necessary for them to understand what she meant.
Gareth let out a snort.
"Then we really wouldn't be having this conversation."
Riveria nodded silently.
Finn straightened up a little and crossed his arms.
"Are you going to punish Ais?" he asked.
Riveria looked up at him, frowning.
"Yes."
There was no doubt in his answer.
"It wasn't a malicious act," she continued. "But it was indeed a reckless one. She got carried away. She didn't think about the consequences."
Gareth shook his head.
"That girl always does the same thing."
"That's precisely why she needs correction," Riveria responded. "I can't allow her to act this way in a situation involving a Familia of Freya's stature." Finn nodded slowly, accepting her strict but necessary decision.
So he decided to change the subject.
"So…" he said, his tone becoming more serious. "What do you think about initiating a War Game?"
Riveria raised an eyebrow.
"Now?"
"The Freya Familia is clearly in internal conflict," Finn explained. "Their Goddess acted on her own, the Executives were either unhappy or confused, and they attacked two Executives of the Loki Familia."
Gareth looked at Finn.
"That last part sounds like an excuse."
"It is," Finn replied bluntly. "One that we could use as a base."
Riveria reflected for a few seconds.
"I don't think it's wise," she finally said. "Freya is still Freya. Even with internal conflicts, her Familia is still the strongest in Orario."
Finn watched her intently.
"But there's no clear reason for us to turn a blind eye either."
Riveria remained silent.
"No," she finally admitted. "No, we don't."
Gareth shook his head forcefully.
"I don't like it," he said. "I don't like any of this."
Riveria sighed.
"If we're going to do this, there's no going back."
Finn nodded.
"I know."
Gareth leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms more tightly.
"Whatever this is," he said. "It's going to cause problems."
Finn's office door opened without warning.
"Yohooo! What's up, my favorite mortals?"
Loki entered with her usual gait and smile. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. Finn, Gareth… and Riveria.
"Riveria-chan~" greeted naturally, although her gaze lingered on her for a second longer than usual, noticing her dirty clothes and tiredness.
Finn straightened up.
"Loki, there's a new situation."
The serious tone made the Goddess of Mischief raise an eyebrow. She closed the door behind her.
"…"
"…"
"…"
Finn explained what happened in the Dungeon. The attack. Freya. Ottar. The Executives. Bell Cranel. The Dragon. Everything.
When he finished, Loki's expression had completely changed.
"Ehhh!?" She exclaimed suddenly. "Did they attack Riveria-chan and my Ais-chan!?" The disbelief lasted barely a second. Then came the anger.
"What the hell is wrong with those idiots?! Have they gone crazy or what?!" She paced back and forth in the office, clearly upset.
She continued clicking her tongue. Her brow furrowed in a grimace of displeasure. "Freya crossed the line. She completely crossed the line."
She stopped in front of a shelf, grabbed a bottle of wine without asking, and took a long swig straight from the bottle.
"Ahhh…"
She lowered her shoulders slightly, but her expression remained tense.
"So," she said, more seriously, "have you thought of anything?"
Finn answered bluntly. "I thought of doing a War Game."
Loki tilted her head, with a doubtful expression on her face.
"Mmm…" she murmured. "I don't know."
She drank a little more, but at less the amount than before.
"Freya's trial was today," she added, clearly frustrated. "And now I have to rethink my course of action regarding that woman."
Finn looked at her intently.
"Was the summons you received for that?" he asked. "For the trial?"
Loki nodded.
"Yes. For the destruction of the Ishtar and Apollo Familias."
Finn made no comment. He just nodded, processing the information.
Loki clicked her tongue.
"The whole city is in a panic and now this…" she said, sighing. "What a nuisance." Gareth then spoke.
"And what punishments did they give her?"
Loki smiled sideways, humorlessly.
"A huge fine, movement restrictions, and forced labor for her Familia," he replied. "Nothing that will really hurt her."
Riveria frowned slightly.
"So she's still dangerous."
"She always was," Loki replied. "The difference is that now she's emotionally involved."
Finn narrowed his eyes.
"That makes her more unpredictable."
"Exactly," said Loki. "And I don't like it at all."
She looked directly at Riveria.
"Are you OK?"
Riveria nodded.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Loki pursed her lips for a second.
"I'm glad to hear it."
Then she looked back at Finn.
"The War Game…" she repeated. "I'm not ruling it out. But if we ARE going to do it, it has to be at the right time."
Finn nodded.
"For now, it's just a possibility."
Loki took another swig from the bottle and sighed.
"Damn Freya…" she muttered. "She just always has to go and overcomplicate everything." Time passed.
Finn's office gradually emptied. Gareth was the first to leave, followed by Finn. Silence settled once more over Twilight Manor, broken only by distant footsteps and the creaking of the floorboards.
Riveria was gathering some documents when she noticed that Loki was still there, leaning against the wall, looking at her without saying anything.
"Do you need anything?" Riveria asked, without raising her voice too much.
Loki tilted her head, thoughtful.
"Yeah," she replied. "I want to update your Status."
Riveria raised her eyes slightly, surprised for a moment. It wasn't unusual for Loki to make Status Updates… but it was almost always Riveria who had to remind her or formally request them. After that brief moment, her expression softened.
"Now?" She asked.
"Now," Loki confirmed. "If those maniacal Freya simps attacked you, the least you can do is take advantage of it. Let it be recorded in the Falna." Riveria sighed softly.
"I guess that's fine."
"You won't regret it," Loki replied with a lopsided smile.
Without another word, Riveria nodded, and they both headed to Loki's room. The place was just as it always was: messy, with empty bottles scattered here and there, and curtains barely drawn, letting in the light from outside.
Riveria closed the door behind them.
"Let's be quick," she said calmly. "I don't want to waste any time."
She turned around and began to unbutton her top with precise and practical movements. Loki, as usual, didn't miss the opportunity.
"Hehehe… I always like this part."
Before she could get too close, a sharp bang echoed in the room.
"Ouch!"
Loki put her hand to her head, making an exaggerated face.
"Riveria-chan! That hurt!"
"Focus," Riveria said coldly, glancing at her sideways. "Just the Status Update. Nothing else."
Loki grumbled as she rubbed the spot where she'd been hit. "How strict... but it's okay, it's no-biggie."
Riveria sat with her back to Loki, leaving her skin exposed for the process. The Goddess raised a hand, pricking her finger with the needle. The familiar light of the Falna appeared slowly, drawing lines and symbols on Riveria's back.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The atmosphere, tense before, grew strange. Loki stopped joking. Her expression changed as she read the information revealed before her eyes. At first, it was simple concentration. Then, surprise.
After that… disbelief.
The silence dragged on.
Riveria noticed it.
"Is something wrong?" She asked without turning around.
Loki did not respond immediately. Her eyes scanned the symbols again and again, as if waiting for them to change.
"Loki," Riveria insisted. "What's wrong?"
The Goddess of Mischief swallowed. For once, there was no laughter or mischief on her face. Only seriousness.
"Riveria…" she said slowly.
Riveria felt a slight knot in her chest.
"You're now able to Level Up."