After a commotion, the gods soon cald down.
A group of gods stood by the window, peering down at the scene below.
Whether their divine eyesight truly pierced the distance or they were just posturing was unclear.
"It's getting lively," Loki said, pressing her face to the glass, grinning.
"Lord Hers, is it really fine for to be here?" an adventurer asked, standing out in the gods-only Assembly Hall.
Only one god could flout such rules: Hers, the premier troublemaker since Loki toned down.
"No worries, these folks won't mind," Hers said, chuckling at the gods glued to the window.
He pulled out his pocket watch, its cracked face showing noon's approach.
Snapping it shut, he looked skyward and bood, "Ouranos, grant us your divine power!"
His voice rippled through space, reaching so unseen realm.
The air quivered, and a steady, ancient voice, laced with divine authority, echoed from the Guild, resonating across Orario.
Every god in the city—whether in the Assembly Hall, their Familia residences, or skulking in taverns and alleys—snapped their fingers in unison.
Hestia joined them.
Instantly, screens materialized in voids across taverns, streets, and corners—not mirrors, but divine mirrors, imbued with clairvoyance to view distant events.
Orario erupted, crowds cheering at the screens.
These mirrors, a rare divine power permitted in the lower world, let gods spectate far-off spectacles like War Gas with their Familias.
The screens revealed the Shre Old Castle Ruins, revamped by Apollo's Familia, showcasing an ancient city under a sun flag, sprawled across endless plains.
Eyes scanned for figures, quickly spotting Apollo Familia mbers on the city walls, their faces grim and vigilant, scouring the plains for hidden foes.
"Apollo's kids look tense," a god remarked.
"Hestia, where's Orsted and his team?" Hers asked, scanning the mirror for the Hestia Familia but finding no trace.
"There! Orsted's right there!" Hephaestus exclaid, pointing at a screen with a smile.
The gods' gazes snapped to it, then froze in shock.
"Hestia, what's going on?" Miach asked, voicing their confusion.
The screen showed Orsted perched on a boulder, one leg bent, the other dangling, his left hand resting on his knee.
He smiled ahead, radiating ease, as if on a scenic outing rather than a War Ga—utterly relaxed.
"Lili and the others caused this ss, so they're handling it themselves," Hestia said, her grin wicked.
"They told Orsted to stay out unless they fail. Then he'll step in."
The gods gaped.
Those unaware of Hestia's Familia's strength—or Orsted's—thought her mad.
How could she let her mbers act so recklessly?
Apollo's Familia numbered over a hundred, led by Level 3 Hyakinthos, with several Level 2s and a swarm of Level 1s.
Hestia's Familia, barely thirty strong, was mostly new recruits.
Only Orsted, Lili, and Tifa were Level 2. Even united, their odds against Apollo were slim, yet they sidelined Orsted, a prodigy Ottar acknowledged.
What gave them such confidence?
Gods in the Assembly Hall weren't alone in their bewildernt.
Across Orario, others mocked Orsted's leisurely pose, deeming him foolish for not joining his team.
Without Hestia's explanation, they saw only recklessness.
"Just watch," Hestia said, her smile unwavering.
She shot Apollo, seated nearby and visibly stung, a contemptuous glance. "I'm not handing my Orsted to that creep."
Apollo smirked.
"Nah, I'd win."
The gods settled, intrigued.
Hestia wasn't foolish—she must have a plan or hidden ace.
They returned to spectator mode, eyes locked on the divine mirrors.
anwhile, on the plains outside the Shre Old Castle Ruins, Orsted sat on his boulder, gazing at the ancient city with a serene smile, murmuring, "Co on, everyone!"
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