The raucous symphony of the Hostess of Fertility……..the clatter of mugs, the bellow of drunken adventurers, the warm scent of honeyed ad and sizzling steaks……all abruptly muted, then vanished entirely.
As Ais locked eyes with Draco across the bustling pub, the world around her devolved into a silent, swirling blur.
Even the familiar, affectionate whining of her goddess, Loki, whose arm was intimately draped over her shoulder, beca an unheard whisper against the sudden rush in Ais’s ears.
Five years.
Five long, grueling years had passed since she last saw him.
The passage of ti had changed his features, broadened his shoulders, and deepened the gaze that now held hers captive.
Ais was conflicted, a tempest of emotions warring within her.
Happy, undoubtedly, to see him again, a warmth blooming unexpectedly in her chest.
Nervous, too; a tremor barely perceptible beneath her exterior as she wondered what to say, how to react.
Yet, none of this internal tumult registered on her face, which remained as placid and unreadable as the surface of a still pond.
But beneath that calm, another truth, cold and sharp as a honed blade, began to assert itself.
The vivid mory of a promise made five years ago surged forward, eclipsing all other sentints.
She had sworn, then, to surpass him, to climb the peaks of skill and strength he had already conquered.
Now, with him before her once more, the urge to asure that progress, to test how much closer she had drawn to his power, swelled within her, growing by the millisecond.
Barely three seconds had elapsed since their eyes t, but already, the warrior’s fervor within Ais had overshadowed the fleeting emotions of happiness and nervousness.
Subconsciously, her hand drifted, seeking the familiar hilt of her blade, a silent, instinctual gesture.
It was an action not lost on Loki, whose cheek had been affectionately rubbing against Ais’s.
The trickster goddess’s eyes, usually alight with mischief, narrowed slightly, picking up on the subtle shift in her child's aura.
“Aisuu, what’s wrong?” Loki murmured, her voice laced with a note of concern, her fingers gently squeezing Ais’s shoulder.
On the other side of the pub, amidst the boisterous chatter, Draco stared back at the blonde Sword Princess.
He found her maddeningly readable, even though her expression was a mask of calm.
The mont her hand gravitated towards her sword, a sudden, throbbing headache blood behind his eyes.
He didn't need words to decipher her intent.
He knew Ais, knew that relentless drive, that singular focus that often bordered on obsession.
A duel with her, here and now, would be… interesting, to say the least.
He wasn't particularly averse to the idea of asuring her growth, but certainly not in this particular establishnt.
Draco’s gaze flickered to the figure behind the counter, Mama Mia.
The dwarfess was already glaring in Ais’s direction, a clear, silent warning etched on her face. Breaking the rules of the Hostess of Fertility ant a permanent ban, a consequence Draco was keen to avoid.
This was one of Orario’s top-tier dining establishnts, a sanctuary of good food and relatively civilized company.
He knew how impulsive and stubbornly single-minded Ais could be, especially when her instinct took hold.
She would undeniably act without a second thought.
He needed to intervene, and quickly, for both their sakes.
Before Draco could take a single step, however, a sudden, piercing yell sliced through the din, eclipsing even the rising tension between him and the Sword Princess.
“Geh, it’s Bahamut!” Loki’s voice, now devoid of affection and brimming with disdain, echoed through the pub.
She pointed an accusing finger across the room, specifically at the goddess seated beside Draco.
“Bleh, Loki,” Bahamut retorted instantly, a look of theatrical revulsion on her face.
She rose from their table, her sharp eyes fixed on her enemy.
Ignoring the curious glances of nearby patrons, she strode purposefully into the center of the pub, stopping barely arm’s length from Loki.
The air crackled with a different kind of energy now…..less battle-ready, more… theatrical.
“Fufufu, looks like a lot of fun,” Aasterinian chuckled, her voice a low, lodious hum, totally revelling in the unfolding drama.
From the earlier tension between Bete and Bell, to the silent, charged standoff between Draco and Ais, and now to the impending verbal fireworks between Loki and Bahamut, this enigmatic goddess was enjoying every chaotic mont.
It didn’t take long for Bahamut and Loki to descend into their customary squabble, their voices rising in pitch and volu.
Their argunts, almost ritualistic in their predictability, invariably revolved around mocking each other’s physical forms.
Loki, tall and lean, possessing a figure that was conspicuously lacking in both the chest and posterior departnts, found it a perpetual sore spot, a chink in her otherwise ironclad confidence.
Bahamut, on the other hand, was more petite, shorter, and equally flat-chested.
The crucial difference, however, was Bahamut now lacked sha or insecurity regarding her humanoid form, well aware that it was rely a vessel, a convenient shell.
Her true essence, after all, was that of a magnificent silver dragon, a fact she never failed to remind Loki, knowing it would, as always, fan the flas of the trickster goddess’s irritation into a furious inferno.
The loud, increasingly vulgar argunt between the two goddesses swiftly beca the undisputed center of attention.
Patrons, abandoning their als and drinks, began to split into vocal factions, egging on their preferred deity, eager to stir the pot further.
It wasn’t every day that one got to witness two goddesses, each presiding over one of Orario’s strongest familia, engage in such an uninhibited, public display.
rcifully, the escalating verbal war between the goddesses served as a potent distraction, effectively disarming Ais.
Her earlier intensity lted away, replaced by an expression of pure helplessness and embarrassnt at the increasingly crude and personal insults hurled by her own goddess.
Draco, across the room, felt a similar flush creep up his neck.
He shared her embarrassnt, though he could do little but sigh inwardly.
Aasterinian, seated beside him, simply continued to sip her drink, her eyes sparkling with amusent, truly enjoying the unbridled rowdiness of the pub.
Then, from the far side of the establishnt, the rest of the Loki Familia elites, having presumably dealt with the unruly Bete, made their entrance.
They dragged the gagged and tied-up werewolf across the floor, a comical sight that drew muted snickers.
Their arrival, however, brought a fresh wave of surprise as their eyes fell upon Draco, a figure they hadn’t seen in half a decade.
He had changed, ridiculously so, since their last encounter.
“Draco… is that really you?” Riveria asked, her elegant high elven features etched with skepticism and genuine surprise as she, Finn, Gareth, and a few other senior mbers, approached his table.
They pointedly ignored their embarrassing goddess, who was still holding onto Ais while trading increasingly personal barbs with Bahamut.
“The one and only,” Draco replied with a warm smile, his voice deeper, more resonant than they rembered.
“Really, when did you get back, kid?” Gareth interjected, his booming voice cutting through the remaining background noise.
He slamd two mugs of potent dwarven spirits onto the table, his intentions unmistakably clear.
He wanted Draco to share a drink with him.
“I ca back yesterday,” Draco replied, accepting one of Gareth’s overflowing mugs with a grin. The strong aroma of the spirit was a welco, familiar scent.
“Nani, Nani… who is this?!” another energetic voice interjected, followed by the clatter of a vacated chair.
Following the sound, Draco saw an Amazoness, dark-skinned, lean, and muscular, yet surprisingly well-endowed, her eyes sparkling with an almost childlike curiosity.
Beside her stood another dark-skinned female, strikingly similar to the first, but with a more serious, almost somber expression.
‘Twin Amazons, huh’ Draco mused, his mind quickly identifying them.
‘This must be Tiona and her older twin Tione.’
Their clothing, he noted, were a tad too revealing, making them hard to ignore even if one tried. Perhaps keenly observing his lingering glance, Tione frowned slightly and subtly turned away, a blush high on her cheeks, making Draco chuckle inwardly.
She clearly possessed questions, having also been observing him for a while, but her reserve prevented her from speaking first.
Seeing the growing pile of unspoken queries and the general confusion amongst the newer mbers of her familia, Riveria decided it was ti for proper reintroductions.
So of the mber had joined the Loki Familia after Draco’s departure from Orario five years ago and had no personal knowledge of him.
“Everyone, this is Draco Black, captain of the Bahamut Familia,” Riveria announced, her voice carrying a note of respect.
“A pleasure to et you all,” Draco responded, his gaze montarily landing on the petite elf who peeked out shyly from behind Riveria’s tall fra.
‘Definitely Lefiya’ he thought.
“Draco… where have I heard that na…” Tiona muttered, tapping a finger on her chin in contemplation.
Then, her eyes widened, and her expression brightened considerably.
“Ah! You’re the Monster of Orario!” she exclaid loudly, her tone rising in excitent, drawing even more attention to their table.
This revelation, hurled into the suddenly quieter pub, shocked many of the patrons who had entered at a later ti and were unaware of Draco’s identity.
A wave of murmurs, questions, and hushed exclamations rippled through all floors of the establishnt.
“Not an alias I’m particularly proud of, but yes, so do call that,” Draco replied, trying to contain the slight frown that threatened to mar his polite expression.
He had never liked that particular nickna, associating it with a ti of uncontrolled, destructive power.
“Really?!” Tiona pressed, her body leaning precariously over the table, causing her ridiculously large, perky breasts to dangle dangerously close to his face.
‘Ugh, don’t look’ Draco sternly warned himself internally, his eyes fixed on her face with considerable effort.
Aasterinian, beside him, tried to stifle her giggles, clearly enjoying his uncomfortable predicant.
Tiona, oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, then began a rapid-fire barrage of questions about the rumors surrounding him: how he had erased an entire factory district, what his current level was, just how strong he truly was, and so on.
She didn’t even pause long enough for him to answer one question before launching into the next, her enthusiasm infectious and overwhelming.
If Tione hadn’t, with a sigh, gently but firmly dragged her sister away from the table, Draco wouldn’t have had a chance to speak for the rest of the night.
“She’s quite the talker, isn’t she? But she doesn’t an any harm… just a bit too energetic when sothing truly catches her interest,” Finn, the calm and collected captain of the Loki Familia, apologized, speaking for the first ti since their arrival.
“No worries,” Draco replied with a dismissive wave, glancing at Aasterinian, who was still trying to compose herself.
It suddenly felt awkward, talking to the Loki Familia mbers while ignoring his own companion, especially since he had brought both her and his goddess out for dinner.
“Ah, that’s right. This is Aasterinian… a friend of my goddess,” Draco introduced, gesturing to the amused goddess beside him.
After the introductions, Draco, Finn, Riveria, and Gareth settled into a comfortable rhythm, discussing various miscellaneous topics.
Their conversation mostly centered around general, interesting incidents that had occurred in Orario while he was gone: new dungeon floors discovered, particularly challenging monsters, notable adventurers, and the ever-present political machinations of the various familia’s.
Bete, still gagged and tied on the floor near their table, clearly wanted to interject, perhaps to challenge Draco to a fight, but the other Loki Familia mbers simply ignored the werewolf’s muffled grunts and frustrated wriggling.
It wasn’t hard to guess why.
Riveria, knowing Bete's nature and his tendency to pick fights, clearly feared that he would embarrass himself by challenging Draco.
She, Gareth, Finn, Raul, and a few others were keenly aware of just how strong Draco had been five years ago, and there was no logical way he would have gotten weaker in the intervening years.
After what felt like an eternity of bickering, insults, and the occasional thrown bread roll finally drew to a close.
Loki and Bahamut, seemingly having exhausted their reserves of vitriol, ended their public spectacle.
With a final, shared glare, each goddess returned to her respective table on opposite sides of the pub.
The Loki Familia, couldn't very well leave their goddess alone, especially after such a display. They quickly excused themselves, returning to their table.
Riveria, with an almost imperceptible pull, forcefully tugged Ais along with them, clearly having read the girls thoughts.
Ais was undeniably disappointed.
The anticipated conversation with Draco, and more importantly, the opportunity to test herself against him, had been thwarted, first by Loki’s antics and now by Riveria’s foresight.
But against the combined will of her goddess and her vice-captain, what could she possibly do? She could only watch as Draco offered a polite nod before turning his attention back to his own companions, a missed chance hanging heavy in the air.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 1 extra chapter as a free mber.
Reviews
All reviews (0)