Hephaestus had talked to Welf about this before, but with little effect.
Now that Welf had co to understand it on his own, that was honestly the best possible outco.
As a blacksmith, it was natural to cherish the weapons he forged—even to the point of treating them like his own children. But a true craftswoman also had to put the needs of the user first.
If he always prioritized himself, he’d never beco a fully-fledged blacksmith.
That kind of truth wasn’t sothing Hephaestus would explain outright. All she could do was give her children the freedom to choose, without interference.
If they figured it out on their own, then they had what it took to stand on their own as craftsn.
If they didn’t, then their potential was limited from the start.
"Hephaestus."
When Hephaestus saw Hers approaching with his captain, she smirked and teased,
"Addicted to getting punched, Hers?"
"No, no, I don’t have any weird kinks like that."
Hers waved it off quickly. He was well aware that so gods were into that sort of thing—but he definitely wasn’t one of them.
"Your hands are always getting you into trouble. I figured you might’ve developed a taste for it."
Hephaestus’s jab left Hers speechless for a mont, but thankfully he had thick enough skin to brush it off.
"Ahem, so... Hestia and Bell-kun aren’t here yet?"
The subject change was clumsy, but Hephaestus didn’t feel like pressing him about it.
"Loki and Hestia are still arguing over the dresses. Until that’s settled, they’re not showing up anyti soon."
Honestly, it was hard to imagine Loki ever winning those argunts.
Hers had seen it enough tis to know—whenever Loki and Hestia argued, Loki always ca out looking worse.
That was mostly thanks to her biggest weakness: her less-than-impressive figure.
And Hestia never hesitated to exploit that fact. She always went straight for the kill with those jabs—real, ruthless damage.
"Hmph~"
"Loki, I told you not to compare your puny fra to mine. You’ll never be a match for !"
Just as Hers was picturing their usual back-and-forth in his mind, Hestia’s voice rang out.
Looking over, he saw her—nothing like her usual frugal self. She was dressed in a stunning blue gown that truly brought out her divine presence for once.
Head held high like a triumphant phoenix, Hestia radiated victory. Behind her, Loki followed, slouched in a red dress, looking completely defeated—like a sulking dog who’d just lost everything.
Her eyes burned with the fury of soone staring at their mortal enemy, glaring at Hestia with venom as she growled under her breath:
"Damn cow... Just you wait. I curse you—may you sag one day!"
It was as vicious a curse as any woman could throw.
Too bad for Loki, the one she was cursing was Hestia—another goddess.
"Ahem, Loki-sama, I must remind you—gods like you and Goddess-sama do not possess growth. Naturally, without growth, aging is also impossible for either of you."
"...Did you really have to say that!?"
Loki looked like she was about to cry.
As a goddess, she didn’t age or change. From the mont gods were born, their appearances remained fixed. Of course, Loki knew the curse she threw at the shorty was just empty bluster.
But even so, she didn’t want anyone pointing that out out loud.
"Are you trying to pick a fight with ?"
Bell looked genuinely innocent—he had only stated the truth. But it was a truth Loki just didn’t want to hear.
"I’m not trying to provoke you. I was just stating a fact."
’Isn’t that exactly the sa thing!?’ Loki grumbled to herself, clearly irritated.
"Also, please try to calm down. This is the Loki Familia’s banquet. As the host, you can’t look so down."
Bell understood Loki-sama was seething, but he still hoped she could hold it together for now.
Loki felt absolutely miserable.
She’d tried to get a jab in at the shorty while changing, only to be humiliated in return. Thinking back on it now, she couldn’t believe how foolish she’d been to even attempt it.
She knew perfectly well that her figure was her greatest weakness—yet she had basically handed it over for soone else to mock.
’Was my brain fried or sothing? Or did Finn and the others ranking up make so happy I lost my mind?’ Loki regretted ever trying to ss with the shorty. All she’d done was invite trouble for herself.
Still, no matter how bitter she felt, she had no choice but to swallow it.
...
"Hestia!"
In high spirits, Hestia strutted over in blue high heels, her radiant blue dress flowing elegantly behind her.
"I’m seriously dying over here! That dumb cow Loki actually tried to mock !"
"Hmph, she really ought to take a look at that flat, underwhelming body of hers. What kind of delusion gave her the confidence to mock ?"
Hephaestus gave a glance at Loki’s thoroughly darkened expression. Honestly, it was hard to imagine what had possessed Loki to think she could win that exchange.
"Yo, Hestia."
"...Hers?"
Hestia, who had been laughing just monts ago, instantly dropped her smile when she spotted Hers. Her expression shifted into sothing resembling suspicion as she narrowed her eyes at him.
"So you’re here too."
’Seriously?’ Hers gave a bitter smile.
He knew Hestia would hold a grudge, but he hadn’t expected her to treat him like a wanted criminal.
"Hestia, I didn’t an to cause a scene with Freya."
"But you’re the one who brought her in."
Because of that, Hestia figured she had every right to hold a thirty-year grudge against Hers—anything less would be too lenient for what he’d done.
Thinking of it made Hestia’s gaze flick around the room, scanning for another familiar—and problematic—presence.
Just then, noise from outside signaled a new arrival.
"Goddess Freya, welco."
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