Watching Bell walk away, nervously adjusting his new vest every few steps, Raine allowed himself a barely perceptible sigh of relief.
"Don't miss the moment, kid," he whispered into the void.
Now that his charge was occupied with matters of the heart, Raine was left alone with himself. And he had no intention of wasting this time on idle contemplation of clouds. In Orario, information was a currency, sometimes far harder than the golden Valis.
He delved into the tangle of alleyways, deliberately avoiding the wide avenues where tourists strolled. He was interested in places where laborers, mid-level smiths, and adventurers returning from raids gathered. Raine didn't ask questions head-on—that was the lot of amateurs. He simply listened, ordered drinks for chatty regulars, and made mental notes.
The rumors varied.
They said the Loki Familia—one of the two strongest in the city—was currently on a deep expedition. Some whispered they were preparing to break a descent record; others claimed they were searching for some rare resource on the 50th floors.
"When 'Loki' returns, the market will crash again," grumbled a one-eyed dwarf near a weapon shop, spitting on the pavement. "They dump so much loot that the price of wyvern fangs drops through the floor."
A second rumor concerned the upcoming festival. The Ganesha Familia, the keepers of order, had begun buying up live monsters.
"Monsterphilia is coming soon," a fruit vendor explained. "Those circus performances again. Hope this time everything goes quietly at least..."
A third rumor was disturbing. In dark alleys, people spoke of disappearances on Daedalus Street. Nothing concrete, just whispers that it was better not to go there at night, even if you were armed.
By evening, when the sky over Orario was painted in alarming purple tones, Raine decided he had gathered enough. His legs led him to an inconspicuous tavern, "The Old Barrel," on the border of the residential quarter. There were no minstrels or drunken brawls here, just the quiet hum of conversation and the smell of roasted barley.
Ordering a mug of ale, Raine took a corner table, habitually scanning the room.
His attention was almost immediately drawn to a figure at the bar.
It was a tall, broad-shouldered man. But that wasn't what attracted Raine. The man had long, raven-black hair pulled back in a high ponytail—a hairstyle rarely encountered in this world. And his clothes... It was a loose garment resembling a kimono, but adapted for combat, with wide hakama trousers.
Raine felt a strange pang in his chest. In the air hung a subtle, but so familiar scent—a mixture of dry bamboo, tatami, and old, well-cared-for iron. The smell of his past life. The smell of a home that was no more.
The man picked up two massive mugs and, throwing some joke to the bartender that made him laugh, headed for the exit to the open veranda.
Driven by something more than just curiosity, Raine grabbed his drink and followed him.
Outside, at a rough wooden table, sat another man. He had blue hair and a surprisingly handsome, but gaunt face. He was dressed poorly, but carried himself with the innate dignity of an aristocrat.
The black-haired man slammed the mugs onto the table with a crash.
"Drink, Miach!" he boomed in a cheerful bass. "My treat! You can't mope in your lab forever, my friend."
"Thank you, Take," the blue-haired man smiled softly. "But you know, debts won't pay themselves."
Raine approached their table. He didn't hide, understanding that beings of this caliber felt another's presence with their skin.
"Forgive me if I'm interrupting."
The black-haired warrior turned. His dark eyes met Raine's amber gaze. For a few seconds, they silently studied each other.
"Oh?" the man tilted his head to the side with interest. "A rare guest. Coal-black hair... and that stance."
He pointed a finger at how Raine stood—relaxed, but with a perfectly balanced center of gravity, ready to explode into motion in any fraction of a second.
"Are you from the Far East, boy?" he asked directly.
"I grew up in a village in the north," Raine answered honestly, but decided to take a risk. "However, my mother... she said her roots go back to where the sun rises. To where cherry blossoms bloom and the way of the sword is revered."
The warrior's face brightened. He slapped the table with his palm.
"I knew it! Blood is thicker than water; you can see it right away! Sit down! A countryman of my people is a friend of mine!"
Raine carefully sat on the edge of the bench.
"My name is Raine."
"And I am Takemikazuchi," the man introduced himself, taking a large gulp of beer. "God of War and, concurrently, head of the Takemikazuchi Familia. And this gloomy handsome fellow is Miach. Also a God, a healer."
Raine maintained his composure, though internally he braced himself. Two Gods at one table in a cheap eatery. Orario never ceased to amaze with its contrasts.
"It is an honor to meet you," Raine bowed his head politely, signifying respect for their status, but without excessive servility.
Takemikazuchi grunted approvingly.
"Calm, listen, Raine... You mentioned your mom. Did she happen to have a small scar right here, above her eyebrow? And did she like to sing songs about mountain rivers?"
Raine froze for a second. The image of his mother—Livia—surfaced in his memory. The scar above her left eyebrow, which she always covered with her bangs. And she often hummed strange melodies when she cooked.
"She did," he nodded slowly. "She said she got it in childhood."
Takemikazuchi's eyes widened, and then filled with warmth.
"Livia..." he exhaled. "So she made it. So she survived."
He looked at Raine differently now—not as a random passerby, but as his own nephew.
"She served in my temple, back home," the God said quietly. "Many years ago. She was one of the junior priestesses, but with the character of a warrior. During the Great Turmoil, she and several other girls disappeared. I thought... I thought the sea or war had taken them."
He downed the mug in one gulp, as if washing away the bitterness of old memories.
"Glad. Sincerely glad she found her way. And raised such a sturdy son. You look like her, boy. The same stubborn look."
Raine listened, and gears turned in his head.
"Mom never said she served a God," he thought. "She told tales of the east, taught me to hold chopsticks, but not a word about the temple. Why? Was she ashamed she ran away? Or was the pain of loss too strong?"
He saw genuine emotion on Takemikazuchi's face. The God of War grieved for his lost "daughter" and rejoiced at her salvation. By all appearances, their separation had been tragic, and Livia had simply locked that chapter of her life away.
"I'll have to write to her," Raine decided. "Or, when Bell and I get firmly on our feet, bring my parents here. This meeting... they both need it. Mother needs to know her God remembers her. It will bring her peace."
"Thank you," Raine felt a pang of conscience that this wasn't entirely his story, but at the same time felt a strange gratitude toward this God. He remembered his servant's name years later. That said a lot about his character.
Raine shifted his gaze to the blue-haired companion, who had remained delicately silent all this time, allowing them to talk in peace.
"And you," Raine addressed him. "Lord Miach, correct?"
"Just Miach," he corrected softly. "No titles here."
"I wanted to express my gratitude to you," Raine said seriously. "Yesterday, my partner and I purchased a batch of goods at your shop. In that alley by the old church."
Miach froze with his mug at his mouth.
"At the 'Blue Pharmacy'?" he asked again, clearly not expecting such a turn. "A batch?"
"Ten minor healing potions and two antidotes," Raine clarified. "Your assistant, Naaza, sold them to us. We already managed to test one in action. The effectiveness... is beyond praise. Clean work, no sediment or side effects. The best price-to-quality ratio in the city."
Miach's face elongated in astonishment, which was immediately replaced by a touching, almost childish joy.
"So that was you?" He put down his mug and, to Raine's considerable surprise, bowed his head slightly in a sign of appreciation. "Naaza told me. She ran in yesterday all emotional, saying two 'strange guys' bought out almost the entire stock and didn't even disdain the bad rumors. Thank you."
"No thanks necessary," Raine shook his head. "It was a business approach. I'm not interested in gossip, Lord Miach. I'm interested in results. And your elixirs work."
"It's nice to meet someone who looks to the root," Miach smiled sadly. "Usually people prefer to overpay for a pretty 'Dian Cecht' label, even if inside it's the same thing. You... your purchase helped us a lot. Naaza was able to buy fresh herbs."
Takemikazuchi laughed loudly, slapping his friend on the back so hard he almost choked.
"See, Miach! I told you! Karma exists! Here sits a guy—son of my priestess and a client of your shop! Fate itself brought us together at this table!"
Raine allowed himself a light, sincere smile. These two... They broke all stereotypes about celestial beings. One—a noisy, sentimental warrior. The other—a humble, talented healer who hadn't lost his honor in poverty.
"Let's drink!" Takemikazuchi proclaimed, raising his mug. "To Livia! To successful trade! And to new meetings!"
Raine raised his ale, feeling the tension of the last few days release him.
"To the meeting."
The evening ceased to be just about gathering information. Under the starry sky of Orario, in the company of two Gods, Raine realized one important thing: in this city, connections decide everything. And sometimes the strongest threads are tied not in throne rooms, but at the sticky table of a street tavern.