Along a forest road, a carriage inlaid with silver filigree rolled slowly over fallen leaves.
What truly set the nerves on edge, however, was the escort surrounding it.
Driving was a young cat-man, his posture upright as a pine. Beyond him, seven guards moved with the carriage as their core, spreading into a horned formation as they advanced.
The net of vigilance they formed was airtight—forget monsters; even a single insect beating its wings would struggle to draw near.
Then, the silver gauze curtain on one side of the carriage was lifted by slender fingers.
A beam of sunlight slipped in through the gap, perfectly outlining the figure behind it—no, not a person.
A goddess.
Long lashes trembled like butterfly wings. In those slightly upturned, peach-blossom eyes lay a languid, careless smile. Her skin was white as snow, fine as the best lamb-fat jade, so delicate it seemed it might bead with moisture at a touch.
When the curtain rose fully, her figure was revealed completely—an impossibly narrow waist, supple as a water-serpent, curves so enchanting they could steal the soul from any living thing.
Silver hair spilled down like a galaxy poured to earth, falling casually to her waist. The ends shimmered with scattered light—more dazzling than the stars themselves.
Radiance draped over her, gilding that flawless face with a soft glow. One look was enough to make hearts sway, to make anyone willingly sink into ruin.
"What an interesting desert trip it was, Allen."
Her voice was clear as wind chimes, sweet with a lazy indulgence.
"It's a pity. That child Ari's brilliance was meant to belong to a 'king' upon a throne. If she cast aside her crown and left with me, that dazzling light would quickly fade—until she became no different from the countless ordinary children in this world. Dull. Tasteless."
"Sorry, Allen. All the trouble you went through earlier ended up being for nothing."
Freya stretched, her waist flowing with the same sinuous grace as a serpent. Smiling, she let her gaze settle on the cat-man driving intently ahead.
"Your will is the direction in which we advance."
Allen's voice was calm, giving nothing away. He paused, then added, "But the Guild…"
"It's fine."
Freya waved a hand lightly, certainty in her tone. "Uranus won't take it to heart. He'll understand how I feel."
Allen said no more. He only nodded solemnly, tightening the reins just a fraction. The carriage continued forward, steady and smooth.
"Mmm… how boring."
Like a sulking girl, Freya puffed her cheeks slightly and sighed. "In the blink of an eye, I'm going back to that gilded 'cage.'"
She knew perfectly well that this little "tantrum" of hers had gone too far. Nearly all of the familia's high-tier combat power had traveled with her—Orario was likely already in an uproar.
Still… it hadn't been a total loss.
At the very least, she had seen with her own eyes a green bud of a flower—breaking free of its restraints and blooming into its own brilliant radiance.
And guiding Ari to the true meaning of her life had, for Freya, been a pastime amusing enough.
Freya reclined onto the soft bed Hedin had specially commissioned for her inside the carriage. The brocade quilt was so plush it felt like lying on clouds.
She stared at the wash of emerald green sliding past the window, murmuring silently in her heart:
Does the partner I seek… truly not exist in this world?
Ari really was exceptional.
From an unripe, naive fruit, she had transformed—unexpectedly—into a jewel bright enough to steal the eye. That vigorous life-force had even once ignited Freya's hope:
At last… I've found her.
But, regrettably, it wasn't her.
Ari was not the soulmate Freya sought. Her light could only burn freely upon a king's throne. If she fell beneath Freya's wings, that light would snuff out with alarming speed.
If Freya had insisted on claiming Ari for herself back then, that vibrant girl would soon have become nothing more than a clinging vine—living only to crave the goddess's affection—ordinary and tedious, no different from the innumerable mundane people of the world.
And then Freya would quickly grow tired of her, and once again set out in search of the next encounter.
So the choice she made then… was unavoidable.
An inevitability that made one want to sigh in regret.
Life in the Lower World was certainly thrilling—of that there was no question.
When she listened to the children's colorful tales, Freya couldn't help but curve her lips; when she witnessed members of her familia growing step by step, she felt genuine delight.
Yet the hollow place deep within her remained—unfilled.
And this was probably her last chance to leave Orario. From here on, there would be no possibility of "escaping" again.
At that thought, Freya's mood sank. In her gaze out the window, a faint, irrepressible longing appeared—longing for the forest wind, longing for the freedom of light and shadow.
Just as her thoughts drifted without direction, those peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly, her attention locking precisely onto the depths of the forest ahead.
A flock of birds that had been resting there suddenly burst into flight, the beating of wings shattering the quiet—clear proof that something was happening.
Almost at the same moment, Allen at the reins—and the guards encircling the carriage, including Ottar, Hegni, and the others—furrowed their brows in unison.
Their senses far exceeded those of ordinary people. They had already noticed the anomaly ahead; they just hadn't expected Freya to catch it as sharply as well.
Among them, Hedin—whose perception was the keenest—had already confirmed the situation.
His expression remained calm, as if the disturbance ahead were no more than wind in the grass.
Freya lightly tapped Allen's shoulder, signaling him to stop.
Then she turned to Hedin at her side, her voice gentle yet carrying unquestionable authority.
"Hedin. What's happening up ahead?"
At the goddess's question, Hedin turned at once and answered respectfully, "A battle has broken out, Lady Freya. Shall I go handle it?"
He assumed the commotion had simply annoyed her.
"No…"
Freya lifted her brows. A trace of playful curiosity surfaced on her face, and a faint smile curved her lips.
"Let's go take a look."
They were already close to Orario. Delaying for a moment wouldn't hurt—she could treat it as a stroll, see if the forest held anything interesting.
Hedin hadn't even recovered from his surprise—his words of caution still unspoken—when Freya was already rising, placing her hand in the one Allen offered, and stepping lightly down from the carriage.
"Lady Freya!"
Hedin hurried after her, urgency in his voice.
Before he could finish, Freya turned her head, smiling at him.
Warm light filled those peach-blossom eyes—yet the aura around her left no room for disobedience.
After a brief gaze, Hedin could only nod. "Understood."
The other members of the familia, seeing this, also swallowed their objections.
Their loyalty to Freya ran to the bone. They would obey any will of the goddess without hesitation, never daring a hint of defiance.
Allen remained to watch the carriage. Ottar, Hedin, Hegni, and the four Gulliver brothers stayed close behind Freya, their eyes sharp as they swept the surroundings, alert to any possible threat.
"Please watch your step, Lady Freya."
Hedin maintained his position half a step to her side, tracking the ground and reminding her softly, "There are many depressions and pits ahead. Be careful not to trip."
"I know, Hedin."
Freya sighed lightly, her tone helpless yet not the least bit displeased. "You always treat me like some naive little girl. I'm not so foolish that I can't even walk a road properly."
She was long used to Hedin's near-excessive protectiveness. It was only a casual complaint—nothing more.
After pushing through a tangle of interlaced branches and shrubs, the view opened abruptly.
A ravaged "battlefield" lay before them.
"Gray Wolves. A pack."
Hedin's eyes swept the scene quickly as he stated flatly, "Even for a Level 1 adventurer, monsters of this sort are troublesome."
He paused, his gaze settling on the figure at the center of the battlefield. "Let alone… when the one fighting them is a human child."
Everyone followed his line of sight.
In the center stood a black-haired boy.
He looked twelve or thirteen at most.
In his hand was a jet-black tachi, the blade glinting with cold light. The hilt was already soaked through with blood, his grip so tight his knuckles had blanched white.
He wore a dark outfit washed pale with age. Dozens of tears crisscrossed it—some so deep the turned flesh beneath was visible.
Shallower wounds had already crusted into dark brown scabs. The bracer on his left arm had shattered; blood ran down his forearm, dripping steadily and striking the scabbard with soft, rhythmic taps.
"Drip. Drip."
Three more Gray Wolves surrounded him, baring their teeth. Their blue-gray fur was smeared with gore, and their green eyes burned with savage malice.
On the ground lay a wolf's corpse. Black-red blood crawled along the grooves between stones, pooling into a thick, sticky puddle at the boy's feet, reeking of iron and rot.
Hedin fell silent. Ottar and Hegni only spared the scene a brief glance before withdrawing their eyes, standing at ease to await Freya's next order.
But Freya's peach-blossom eyes remained fixed on the boy.
To a goddess like her, surface appearances meant nothing. She could see clearly the colors and contours deep within a person's soul.
A moment later, a faint trace of disappointment slid quietly through her gaze.
She watched the boy still struggling in a dead-end desperate enough to crush the spirit, and her thin lips parted.
"What a turbid, filthy soul."
-------
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