A Goddess Who Refuses to Leave
If Arcanretia had a concept of "quiet hours," it had chosen to ignore them entirely. And they did not gently. It announced itself. Chants echoed through the streets before the sun had fully risen—Axis followers greeting the day with uncoordinated enthusiasm, ringing bells, splashing water, and shouting blessings that sounded more like dares.
The city moved like a festival that had forgotten how to end. Ruko sat upright, eyes already open. His body had rested, but not deeply. The ache remained—lighter than before, manageable—but still present, like a reminder etched into muscle and bone.
He rolled his shoulders slowly, testing movement. Stable. No sharp pain. Good enough. Across the room, Kazuma groaned into his pillow. "Why is this place louder and creepier in the morning…?" "Because silence encourages thinking," Ruko replied calmly. "And you guys don't like that here, since you guys want to leave here as well count me in."
Kazuma cracked one eye open. "That might be the scariest thing you've said all week, but that's inevitable." Before either of them could continue, the door slid open with dramatic force.
Aqua stood there, radiant, energized, and entirely unreasonable. "GOOD MORNING, MY FAITHFUL FOLLOWERS—oh, you're awake already!" She beamed. "Perfect! I want stay a little longer!"
Kazuma sat straight up. "No. Absolutely not. And we need to talk about this." Aqua waved him off. "Nuh-uh. This is my homeland! We just got here! I haven't even finished my welcome tour, or the ceremonies, or the—"
"—escape plan, retreat." Kazuma muttered.
Megumin appeared behind Aqua, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. "You said one night." "And I lied a little," Aqua said cheerfully. "But only because I love this place!" Darkness nodded slowly, eyes scanning the hall. "It is… quite a liberating place."
Kazuma pointed at her. "Don't encourage her." Ruko stood, pulling his coat into place. "If we're staying," he said evenly, "then we stay aware of the possibility. Not comfortable got it." Aqua blinked. "Why does that sound like a threat but what troubling you go ahead?"
"It's advice, and thanks." Ruko replied. They were dragged—quite literally—into the city again. Aqua led the way like a victorious general returning home, waving to Axis followers who immediately gathered around her in growing numbers. The streets flooded with smiles, pamphlets, and aggressive friendliness.
"WELCOME BACK!"
"PRAISE LADY AQUA!"
"HAVE YOU EATEN YET?!"
"DO YOU WANT TO CONFESS SOMETHING? ANYTHING?!"
Kazuma shrank visibly. "This feels illegal slavery." Ruko observed quietly as they walked. The structure of the city revealed itself more clearly now—no guards enforcing order, no clear hierarchy beyond enthusiasm. Everyone moved freely. Too freely. Freedom without responsibility, he thought, becomes noise.
They were led to a plaza near the waterways—clear blue channels flowing through stone, fed by the great waterfall in the distance. Aqua stopped at the center, arms spread wide. "Behold!" she declared. "Isn't it beautiful?!" It was. And that made it worse.
Ruko felt it again—that subtle pressure under the calm. Like water hiding a current strong enough to pull someone under. Megumin leaned toward him. "Ruko you good! You're staring again." "No I'm listening," Ruko corrected. "But i get the feeling the Cities speak. This one doesn't whisper—it shouts. What the hell im i saying."
Kazuma sighed. "Great. Even the city is unhinged with your metaphor talking Ruko." An Axis elder approached, smiling serenely. "Lady Aqua, will you perform a blessing at the waterfall later today?" Aqua gasped. "Of course!" Kazuma froze. "The waterfall?"
"Yes!" the elder replied. "It's sacred. Many pilgrims report a sight of… visions." Ruko's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Visions caused by faith," the elder continued. "Or destiny. Or dehydration."
"That last one feels important," Kazuma said.
They spent the day being paraded through Arcanretia. Aqua was praised. Megumin was almost recruited. Darkness was definitely misunderstood. Kazuma suffered. Ruko watched, intervening only when needed.
When a cultist suggested absolute obedience, Ruko gently countered, "Faith should guide choices, not to be replace them." When someone mocked doubt, he replied, "Certainty without reflection is just arrogance wearing confidence." People laughed. Some nodded. A few fell silent.
By evening, they returned to the lodging. Aqua was glowing with satisfaction. "See? Nothing bad happened!" "Yet," Kazuma said. Ruko stood near the open window, the waterfall visible in the distance—mist rising like breath from something alive.
"That place," he said quietly, "is that pkace important." Aqua followed his gaze. "Of course it is. It's holy." Ruko didn't answer immediately. "Holy places, really can put up a better name." he finally said, "It's seems tend to attract things that don't belong anywhere else."
The room fell quiet for a moment. That night, as the city celebrated itself once more, Ruko lay awake. Not from pain—but from awareness. Far beyond Arcanretia, something shifted. Not here. Not now. But soon.
A presence stirred—curious, distant, amused. A general who watched instead of acting. A force waiting for ripples to become waves. Ruko closed his eyes, breath steady. Recovery was not finished. Neither was fate. And Arcanretia, loud and shining, had no idea what stood downstream.