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Chapter Text

Viery Territory

Near Aszod Break Yards.

Three days after Pillar of Autumn's escape.

Beams of azure light dug gashes into the surface of the planet. The sky glowed a burning scarlet, layers of clouds formed by smoke blocking the rays of star in the Epsilon Eridani system from fully lighting the surface and, in the distance, what looked like sea monsters from old fishermen's tales floated, their plasma weaponry tearing through the ground of the planet and turning all of it from what was once a beautiful, lush landscape to the burning hellscape it was now.

Around him, a hundred craft danced. Covenant Banshee Flyers swooped in, their twin plasma cannons raking his position with superheated balls of energy. His shields flashed as he turned the machine gun on its mount, greeting the two craft with automatic fire. Spent fifty-caliber casings fell to the floor as the gun chattered away, the man wielding it squatting so he could get the elevation necessary.

The rounds tore into the bluish-purple alloy of the Covenant craft's nose, denting and breaking chunks off of it. The soldier swept the gun toward one of the bird's canards and tore into it, chipping of chunks of important alloys until he reached the anti-grav engine supports on the wings. One of them detonated in a flash, the craft banking to the left hard before slamming into the ground and detonating in a ball of blue fire.

The soldier swept toward the other enemy flyer, but found himself in need to dismount from the gun as a boulder of emerald fire struck the weapon, melting its mount and barrel. The Banshee dived toward him as he drew his Assault Rifle off of a magnetic lock on his back and opened up, letting loose 7,62 by 51mm rounds into the thing. He aimed for its canard, but was met by blasts from its cannons and from behind.

Unggoy, the Covenant's stout, short Grunts, fired their plasma pistols at him. Emerald fire washed over the back of his armor's shields, causing them to flare up. He focused on the Banshee, letting the rounds pelt him in the back for but a moment as he scoped in the antigrav generator. Round tore through the plate, the Spartan emptying a magazine of the weapon into the side of the machine's stabilizing wing strut.

It charged its baleful cannon.

And it fired.

He jumped off the platform he was using as a defensive position, feeling the heat and radiation of the Fuel Rod Gun washing over him. His skin prickled, feeling like needles were stabbing into it. He thanked whoever would still be listening for the armor being designed with lead lining as the enemy aircraft pulled away from the gun run to lose the risk of hitting the ground.

Noble Six landed, foot first onto a Grunt's face, squashing it under his boot with a sickening crunch and spilling glimmering bright-blue blood on the ground. He hefted his assault rifle to meet the other grunts and opened fire, each round striking either the Unggoy's greyish, hard flesh or their armor plate. Each round still tore through and did damage, but didn't penetrate out the other side.

Holstering the rifle the moment it clicked empty and drawing his Magnum, he scoped in an Elite Major that was rushing him. The Sangheilli, a double-jointed leg, four-jawed species with snake-like eyes, had always proven to be one of the most dangerous enemy units. Six pelted the target with bullets, each round sparking off the Major's reinforced shielding, his orange armor glistening with each strike.

The Spartan switched the hand with which he held his gun, drawing his knife just as he broke through the shield and the pistol clicked empty. He surged forth, planting the blade of his knife into the belly of the Elite before pinning him to the ground. He did a snap-reload of his pistol, tossing out the empty mag, pinning the monster down as it tried to stab at him and putting two rounds into his skull, flinging the intricately-designed helmet and fully revealing the snake-like head of the damn thing.

He grit his teeth, raising the pistol again. Two Fifty-caliber pistol rounds ripped through the air, striking a pair of grunts and sending them tumbling forward, while another Elite rushed him from the side, effectively blindsiding the man. The creature grabbed him and slammed him through the wall of one of the ruined buildings. It pinned him down next to the corpse of a female SPARTAN whose tags flashed for a moment in front of his eyes.

Six growled, then kicked up with both boots, shattering the creature's shield and its jaws. Purple blood and fragments of teeth filled the floor, next to the spent casings of the dead SPARTAN's weapons. Six tossed aside his empty MA37, grabbing the DMR off the corpse and putting three rounds into the Elite's head for safety. He scrambled to his feet, checked his comrade and whispered, "I'm sorry..." as he pulled the magazines out of the girl's pouches, sliding four of them into his own.

His shields burst and he felt a wave of radiation and heat wash over him. Turning around, he saw a Grunt had fired its pistol on overcharge. He shot a round through its skull, checked the weapon's ammo counter and, upon seeing it nearly empty, he dropped the mag, switching it out for a fresh one. He waited for his shields to recharge, but found himself struck by a needle round.

He grit his teeth, looking at his shoulder, then he pinned himself against a wall and pulled out a biofoam can. The round had punched clean through, thankfully, but he was still bleeding. It meant that he could use his arm at least. He scoffed, slid the biofoam canister back into its pouch and stood to his feet, then gasped, dodging under the swing of a Brute's gravity hammer. The Jiralhanae were giant, hairy apes with some of the most brutal weaponry the Covvies saw fit to allow them.

The Gravity Hammer, a gigantic weapon worthy of the name with a gravity-repulsor head and a massive, brutal-looking blade on its back, both of which were attached to a massive, thick shaft onto which the Chieftain held to swing the damn thing. It struck the wall next to Six with enough force to shatter it into a thousand little rapid-flying shards of stone and broken steel. The blast washed a few Elites outside with the needle-sharp concrete shards and metal rods, one of which deflected off an Elite's shields and between a grunt's eyes, straight into its brain.

Six drew his knife, holstering he rifle and pushing forward. He planted the blade of his knife into the Chieftain's arm as it raised it to defend itself. He stared, wide-eyed, as the Monster grabbed his wrist, twisted it and forced the knife from his hand before preparing to strike him. The Spartan punched it in the face, staggering it, then with drew the knife from the muscle of the giant ape.

He ducked as it angrily swung the hammer sideways, trying to hit him, then rolled off to the side and kicked it between the legs. A low blow, but it was effective, seeing as it seemed to stun the creature and open it up. Six sprang up from his crouch and planted the tip of his blade deep into the lower jaw of the monster, through it and into its brain, causing it to fall limp. He withdrew the blade, sheathed it and lifted the gravity hammer, turning to see two more Brutes charging him.

Hefting it and activating it, he swung downward into the ground, sending a rippling shockwave that knocked the two Brutes off their feet and disarmed them, allowing Six to plant the large blade of the hammer into one's back and stomp the other's skull in, painting his boots the color of its blood. He grunted as a superheated plasma beam struck him and turned to see a Jackal carrying a focus rifle.

Drawing his DMR again, he blasted it in the head before a plasma bolt struck his helmet, a crack appearing in the glass of the visor. He swore to himself, his vision partially obscured and his ammo counter, gone. He took cover behind some rocks as more plasma bolts washed over the area, waiting for his shields to recharge. When they kicked on and the golden blanket of protection enveloped him again, he poked out of cover and blasted at the Elite in blue armor that was firing at him.

Two rounds rang off the enemy's shield. The Spartan had painted him out of a crowd of Grunts, Elites and Brutes that'd gathered ahead of him. He and they were between the fuel pipes and that collapsing building where he'd fought the brute. He looked to the floor, finding the corpses of two more SPARTANs, as well as frag grenades and a shotgun with a full mag. He took cover again, primed his two grenades and lobbed them.

They landed in the middle of the crowd of Elites and Grunts while Six readied his shotgun. Once the detonation and subsequent screaming of the grunts occurred, he surged forward, aiming his shotgun at the nearest Elite Team Lead and pelting him with slam-fire shots from the weapon. Three rounds of pellets tore through shield, armor and skin and the Elite's blood splattered the grunts behind him.

Six jumped, landing with one foot on top of a Grunt's head and crushing it beneath him, before kicking another, stomping onto his gas tank to cause a leak and letting it fly toward his allies. The response fire of a hundred plasma rounds came fast, several missing, but many finding their mark. His shields burst again and he could feel the rounds of Needle Rifles, Needlers and Plasma weaponry striking and tearing through the armor.

Another stray round punctured the bottom left of his helmet, sending shards of glass flying into his cheek and leaving him without a Motion Tracker. He growled, turning his shotgun and putting two shells through an Elite Major whose shields had been burst by the frags before kneeling and firing into the grunts again. When the gun clicked empty, he tossed it aside and grabbed another MA37K off the floor, from next to the corpse of one of his comrades.

He swept it to the right, squeezing the trigger and letting it go off, while with his left hand he fired his M6G, putting down target after target as a swarm of Elites and Brutes charged him. The corpses of Grunts now littered the ground between them, the Covenant stumbling over one-another to get the killing blow on the SPARTAN that had defied them for three long days.

He gasped, watching as a Spirit, one of the twin-prong aircraft of the Covenant swept in, its plasma cannon tracking him. He kept up firing, preparing himself to move, but the concussive blast of the strike, combined with radiation and the splintering of his armor's shields, sent the SPARTAN flying into a rock, back-first. Said rock shattered as the man's armored body slammed into it, blood spewing from his mouth onto his helmet's cracked visor.

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! SPINAL FRACTURES AND INTERNAL DAMAGE DETECTED!

The words blared over his flickering HUD, scarlet-colored and in bold. He pulled up his TEAMBIO, looking over the exact fractures just to make sure he knew what the hell was going on. Explained why he couldn't feel his legs anymore, either. His breastplate also shined on his display, blaring with warnings about collapsed lungs and a failure in the armor's system. His teammates' bios flashed over to the right... All of them black, save for Jun's, which had been disconnected.

He breathed and felt a surge of pain through his side, his throat burning. He tasted copper, gazing down at his chest, which had been opened by the Spirit's concussion plasma cannon. The machine had deployed its own complement of troops. More Elites and Brutes, including one Elite wielding a blade left-handed. An Elite Zealot, it looked like. An angry Zealot.

He grinned a bloody grin, then spoke, "Initiate overload sequence for in-armor reactor..." and hacked up a chunk of his lung. His head fell back against the rock, watching as the system's multitude of prompts appeared. He spoke, "Bypass security sequence and disable the timer, code BLOWN FUZE..." and watched those same prompts vanish in a flash, with only the code-phrase for the detonation appearing. He felt his armor's last actions, the disengagement of the stabilizers and coolant systems to allow the reactor to overload and detonate. It just needed one more catch-phrase, one seemingly imbued into the MJOLNIR system's codes since the start.

He felt the warmth of the overloading reactor on his back while plasma radiation was boiling the skin, as the code-phrase flashed and stabilized on screen, with the machine requesting that he speak it aloud. He grinned, images of the work he'd done with NOBLE playing back in front of his eyes. His skin grew paler and soon, he'd be dead too, with his heart about to burst due to the over-exertion. SPARTANs weren't invincible, after all, but, well...

"... Be... Human..." He recited, then closed his eyes, feeling as the heat of the Reactor grew to the range of a mini-sun. His skin burned, his entire body ached and his mind slowed it all down. He was joining NOBLE now... Back up above, hopefully, where they were all watching his last stand. Following the radiation's cleansing flame, a detonation of massive proportions washed over the entire area, killing any and every Covenant asset in the place, including the enemy's air force...

... To hell with'em all...

Night had fallen over the world, it seemed. Six stared up at the starlit sky above him from between what seemed to be the walls of a crevice, but what was in fact the walls of two houses that faced one-another. He lay there, sprawled out against the ground, blinking. Phantom pains rushed through his body in a moment, causing his muscles to tense up.

He grabbed onto his chest as he stood ramrod straight and upright, swallowing big gulps of air and feeling his lungs in his body. His armored hands ran over the breast plate, revealing no hole, nor damage. Gazing down, he saw that, indeed, his armor's breastplate was whole. His left hand twitched, clasped around something familiar. The SPARTAN brought his hand up as his skyrocketing heart-rate started slowing.

He breathed, letting his right hand slump down onto his lap. He looked at the left, seeing that it was wrapped around his M6. He slid the weapon onto his hip, then felt for his helmet. Once his hand touched skin, however, he realized he wasn't wearing it. Scanning his surroundings and slowly calming down, he found it. Laying on its side in a puddle, but unbroken, the visor seemingly repaired.

He marched up to it, lifted it off the ground and looked at it. The standard-issue HAZOP helmet had a standard-sized visor, though it combined a series of interesting additions into one beautiful and sleek helmet design, with an added respirator system at the mouth, a TAC-LINK on the right side of the head and a reinforcing helmet plate on the forehead. It was painted jet-black with yellow accents near by the mouthpiece and had a standard golden visor.

The SPARTAN slid it onto his head, unwilling to look himself in the eye as his mind wandered. How had he just survived not only a Covenant weapon's blast, but also the detonation of his own suit's power pack, which had for all intents and purposes been a Hydrogen Bomb going off right on top of him? He blinked, then sighed and scanned the surrounding area for other weapons as his MJOLNIR's systems booted up.

As his HUD flashed online in front of him, he let it fully power as he stepped forth, looking around. He drew his sidearm, checking the magazine and his own pouches for ammunition. Still had two whole magazines and had only expended a round out of the current one. Sighing, he slid the weapon back into place and slowly moved forward, keeping his eyes peeled.

His HUD finally booted up by the time he reached the end of the alley, scanning the area ahead slowly. A wide street resembling something out of the books about medieval European villages someone had read to him a while ago resided in front of him. A paved road with wooden stands covered by tarps, sparsely travelled by people at this time of night stood open before him.

He checked his Motion Tracker as it booted on, then hummed as he saw that the only places where there was any movement was within the buildings around him, presumably their inhabitants milling about. He sighed, then stepped out of the shadows, hand hovering over his weapon. He had to find a place to lay low right now, figure out where the hell he was.

Stepping out onto the empty street for but a second, the man checked his front and his rear for any movement, looked at his MT, then marched forth into the streets, making sure that he wasn't followed all-the-while. Stopping at the main boulevard, the man looked up and down it. The distance between the buildings here was more significant than the one on the side-streets he'd walked through, but the biggest surprise for him was the gigantic tower off to the right.

Intricate, beautifully built out of the same stone that the city itself was made out of and standing taller than all buildings within the town, the tower in itself was a skyscraper-sized building that disappeared into the darkness above. He blinked, dumbfound for a moment, before shaking it off and straightening out his posture. He marched down the road, looking around for a way, a place to hide in.

Avoiding civilians on the main streets, as few of said civilians as there were, the SPARTAN proceeded through alleys and side-streets again, keeping an eye on his Motion Tracker to ensure nothing came to meet him. He found the town to be a massive gathering of houses and buildings, all on a large tract of land among mountainous terrain and surrounded by a defensive wall.

The Tower seemed to be the center of the place, so the SPARTAN thought as he crossed another main boulevard of sorts. Split by eight such roads, it seemed, into seven different districts, one of which the SPARTAN saw in the distance due to the lilac lights emanating from it as he moved away. Taking one of the routes that, according to his compass, led west, he found himself again on an open boulevard, marching down it toward a set of Ruins. Ancient buildings, resembling old aqueducts of the Roman era that had collapsed and even older Churches resided around the small section of the district he'd walked into.

He sighed, then approached the church, propping open the doors to find the place completely empty, save for a confessional booth on the left, the stand on top of the stage in the far back and a couple of benches. He figured this would be as good a place as any to bunker down for the night and figure things out in the morning. He could've gone on, but, to be quite honest with himself, Six was tired...

He'd been tired since the start of this entire mess. When Jorge had died taking out the Long Night of Solace, he'd felt lost. When Kat took the needle round through the helmet, damned be Covenant plasma radiation disabling her recharging shields for that moment, he'd felt angry. When Jun left and Carter finally died, he felt the hopelessness... And frankly, when Emile died, that's when the tiredness came.

He sat himself down in a corner of the church, away from windows and possible prying eyes, then removed his helmet and leaned his head back against the wall. He still had his travel pack with him, it seemed, as he felt it and all the supplies within pressing against it. Undoing the buckles holding it onto his back and underneath the camo net that Jun had gifted him, he brought it forth, taking his canteen, undoing the cap and pouring half the contents down his throat before long.

Water had never tasted so sweet and yet so bitter in the SPARTAN-III's entire life. Not even after he'd been given the opportunity to join the Project. Sliding the item back in place after putting the cap back on, the Spartan sighed. He pulled out the bedroll at the top and slid it beneath his head, making sure he had a comfortable seating position. He'd sleep like this, ready for anything and with a hand wrapped around the pistol's grip just in case.

He listened in for a moment, making sure nothing moved around him, but all that echoed was the rumbles of an old, decrepit building about to fall over from the stress of still existing for nothing. He slid his helmet onto his head, looked over the motion tracker, then hummed. He'd eat when he woke up. If he woke up. Part of him had hoped this was just a last hallucination his mind had shown him to make him pious before he fully died, or something as silly as that, but...

He sighed. No point in hoping...

What he didn't realize, however, as he went to sleep, was that a young woman had been watching him for the past minute. Black hair caught in two ponytails, a beautiful face, blue eyes, a petite, but developed form and a white dress with blue accents made up this fair maiden. She was, by all definitions of the word, a goddess. Literally, she was a Goddess, but without what made a God or Goddess one. She lacked a Familia.

She smiled, murmuring to herself from the hidden passageway near the altar, "Hello there, new blood... Maybe you're my ticket to a Familia!" as she slowly, gently slid back behind the wall and closed it so as not to wake up her new unwilling neighbor. She smiled to herself, then marched back down the stairs to her one-person room, preparing mentally to speak with the new armored fella outside come morning.

Chapter Text

Six had slept a dreamless sleep. He thought it better than the alternative, honestly. SPARTANs never much dreamt of things anyway, or if they did, they wouldn't generally tell said dreams. He blinked, taking his helmet off and wiping his eyes as he yawned. That had also been the first time in literally forever since he had let out any noise even remotely resembling yawning.

Sighing, he looked at his helmet, unwilling to turn the visor to face his mirrored image. He slid the helmet back onto his head, stood to his feet and strapped his backpack into place, tightening the straps. He stood to his feet, then looked around the church and thought about departing. It was early morning and the sun shined through the eastward-facing windows of the place, beams of light piercing the thick layer of floating dust around.

The Spartan was thankful he'd worn his helmet. The place looked a right mess when it came to hygiene and living standards.

He checked his body to make sure he had all the rest of his kit, including his handgun and knife, as well as the extra blade strapped to his backpack. He drew the bent knife and spun it around between his fingers, murmuring, "Sorry, Emile... Couldn't exactly bury you with a useful weapon..." and sheathing the blade back in place. He looked around, then at his motion tracker.

Noticing the faintest grey dot caused the Spartan to retrieve his pistol and aim it at whatever moved. He scoped in the wall to the right of the altar, noticing the faint seam and the blue eye staring at him. He spoke, "C'mon out," authoritatively. He thumbed the safety on his pistol just in case, then watched the petite figure emerge. A young girl with black hair and azure eyes smiled at him.

Although he was more concerned over the trapdoor, he figured it best to ask her, "Who are you?" before delving into any other questions.

She calmly said, "You... Probably oughta say hello before pointing whatever that is at a friendly person... Also, I'm Hestia! Hi!" and waved, still smiling. The Spartan scanned her, seeing no place where she could hide a weapon. Her hands were by her sides and she wasn't wearing shoes. The latter was an odd detail-to go barefoot in such a place could prove harmful-but he ignored it for the most part.

"Hm," He noted, thumbing the safety on his pistol back to on and sliding it onto the mag-lock on his hip. He nodded, then crossed his arms and asked, "I presume this is your place, then?"

"In a sense," Hestia nodded, still smiling as she curiously took two steps forward. She then asked, "Who're ya, anyway? I haven't seen someone with that kind of armor before..." and she squinted, "You one of Hephaestus's kids? That armor sure looks like something she'd forge..." To which the confused SPARTAN grew even more so. Hephaestus, Hestia. Familiar names, old mythological ones. Greek, perhaps.

"... I'm a stray," The Spartan replied as honestly as he could. And, honestly, it was not a wrong description of his current status.

She smiled, "I see... Well, you must've earned some favor with the other gods if that armor of yours is anything to go by..." and she took another step closer. She noticed the man actively tense up, his fingers once again wrapped around the grip of his weapon. She spoke, "Calm... I swear to you, I'm not here to cause any harm. I live in the place, after all."

The Spartan hummed thoughtfully, staring right at her. He hummed, then sighed and turned to leave without another word. The girl gasped, then called out, "Wait! What're you doing!?" as she rushed toward him. He opened the door to the abandoned church and exited out into the main boulevard. He wanted to figure out where he was, not sit and have idle chatter with someone whose parents thought fun to name after a goddess from antiquity.

He looked to the left, down the boulevard, to see that hundreds of people had started walking through the streets of the place. He wondered if he could buy a cloak or something just so that nobody asked him his name or who he was, sort of like how the woman now clinging onto his arm had. He looked down to see her, staring up at him with two wide blue eyes. She yelled at him, "The heck d'you think you're doing!? You can't go out there alone! You look more lost than a puppy!"

"Hm," He replied, then lifted her with one hand. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the man from his height now, realizing that he was, in fact, a couple of feet taller than her. A world of difference when the girl was now basically hanging off his right hand with nothing but her own strength to keep her there, her feet dangling. She seemed to still cling on for dear life, however, pouting at him.

"You didn't even hear what I had to say! I was trying to talk to you!" She stated, "Do you even know where you are?"

"I'll find out..." He replied, gently setting her down and trying to get her to let go. No chance. She'd dug her fingers into the seams of his gauntlet and was holding on tight for such a small girl.

"You'll get lost! I know this city like the back of my hand! I can help you, whatever it is you're looking for!" She seemed to almost plead, "Just talk to me about it!"

... To be fair, she was offering to be an easy source of information, but Six knew better. "What's the caveat?"

She raised a brow, "Huh?" seemingly confused by the man's words. He sighed. Interactions with people were not his strong suit. He was more of an 'actions spoke louder than words'-type person, but he figured it was best to try and get himself some information before he disappeared from in front of this 'Hestia' for good so he could search for a way to either figure out if this was just a post-mortem hallucination or if he was really alive here.

And if the latter was the case, to find a way home. The UNSC would hopefully still need him, so he hoped.

"What do you want in return?" He then asked, looking Hestia right in the eyes from behind the visor. She grinned, seemingly joyous about having caught him in the open with that question, since it offered her some sort of possibility. Or so Six figured from her smug expression that hid the faintest signs of joy. The Spartan had learned to read facial features through training his own in case he was ever captured and interrogated. A strong Poker Face, as it was called, was needed to survive that kind of situation. And a strong Poker Face, Hestia did not have.

"Well, there's a few things... But let's start out by giving you that info you need. C'mon inside!" She stated, then pulled at his vambrace, struggling to get him to follow her as he stared at her. She certainly seemed excited enough that he'd even asked what she wanted. He sighed. May as well humor the first person he met and that was willing to offer him any answers whatsoever.

So, marching inside, the man powered on his shield and caused the girl to yelp, the electric currents surging through her fingers. She rubbed them as they seemed to have gone numb, then barked, "Hey! What kinda magic was that!?" before she watched the last vestiges of the faint golden blanket that surrounded the MJOLNIR suit vanish into nothingness. He turned to face her, stopping in the middle of the door as she approached.

She poked her index, which had become numb, into the man's back and an electric shock coursed yet again through it, further dampening the nerves within the finger and somehow surging through into the hand itself. She yowled, wrapped her other hand around her wrist and rubbed it, then said, "Okay, seriously, how do you do that? That's gotta be magic, which means you must belong to a Familia already!"

"It's an energy shield..." The Spartan replied, dumbfound, "Also... 'Familia'?"

"... Huh," The girl paused, confused for but a moment, then she smirked, "Right. Let's go!"

The woman led him down through the hidden door in the Church and into the basement of the place, where she'd set up a small cot to live in, including a double bed and a torn-up couch and table. He hummed, then looked around and chose to stay quiet. The girl smiled, plopped herself down on the couch and patted the seat next to her with one hand, the other laying on her lap.

The Spartan chose to sit on the floor instead. She pouted, then said, "You can sit on the bed or couch, you know?"

"I weigh half a ton with the armor. Do you really want me to?" He replied snidely, leaning his back against the frame of the bed as gently as he could, while the girl stared, wide-eyed, at him. She smiled, then chuckled, both awkward moments in their own right. Shaking her head, she leaned back against the couch, slowly growing her confidence again.

She looked at Six and said, "So... What's your name?"

"Six," The Spartan answered with little hesitation. Like hell he was going to give-

"That's not a name," The girl noted, leaning toward him, "I told you mine. It's only fair you tell me yours. And no lying... I've got a sixth sense about this..." and she flashed a toothy grin. Something else must've been afoot with the girl beyond just that.

He sighed, "This is required for me to get the information I need, isn't it?"

"Yup," She nodded.

"Fine..." He sighed. She was probably going to be the only one to know his real name, anyway. Despite the disgruntlement he felt at the idea, the Spartan had chosen openly to share his name in exchange for the information he needed, pragmatism overtaking his usual demeanor in regards to anyone beyond his superiors (and, as recently as a few weeks ago, his former team-mates) being aware of his name.

Looking at her, he said, "Odell. SPARTAN-III Lieutenant, Odell-B312."

"Ooh, military, then..." The girl smiled, "Funny, I thought you guys and gals were disbanded after the Adventurers came into being, but... I guess not..." She shrugged. The Spartan, though confused, let her speak on, which she picked up. Still smiling, she noted, "Well, as I said, I'm Hestia, a Goddess that descended upon this Lower Sphere to spend the rest of eternity with the rest of your kind."

The woman, though she felt like she was speaking nonsense by the sheer words she'd used to describe her upbringing, voiced the sentence in such a sincere and non-pompous way that Six, now Odell to her and himself, could find no reason to snap back at her with any kind of response. Instead, he simply stared on at her, waiting for her to continue. She hummed, cupping her chin, then said, "Well, despite the visor, I can tell you're confused, Odell.. Honestly..."

He nodded.

"Right..." She hummed, "Say... Again, I've never seen armor like yours before. If that 'energy shield' is anything to go by, it's either something made by Hephaestus and her Familia, or... Something else. A relic of some kind," and she seemed to scrutinize every tiny detail, every dent, gash and scorch mark on the Titanium Plating with vested interest, as if she was trying to learn the truth of an ancient mystery.

"It's something else," He replied. A truth that didn't reveal too much was better than no truth, he figured, "It's an advanced piece of technology, made by my people..."

"Ooh... Your people must be quite the forgers!" She smiled, "They with Hephaestus, or have they got her blessing?"

"... Neither..." He shook his head. The girl's small smile blossomed into a full-blown grin as she looked the man's armor over again, then focused on the visor.

"Ooh, Heph is gonna wanna hear about this!" She seemed giddy as she bounced on the couch, causing it to creak and causing her surprisingly large pillows to bounce as well. The Spartan averted his gaze for his own sake, then turned to listen once he didn't hear the creaking anymore. She chuckled, then said, "Sorry. Got a bit excited. Heph always wants to see the kind of stuff other craftsmen can make. It's a thing of hers to always improve upon her own works, though she's... Never really made a bad weapon. Kind of a Familia Pride thing, I guess... Oh, right! Familias! Gotta explain that..."

She stood up, then approached the Spartan and sat down on the table in front of him. She saw eye-to-eye with the tall man now, despite being sat above him. She was aware how tall he really was, seeing as she approached him and tried to stop him from leaving just a few moments ago. Still, she seemed to ignore the height disparity even now, stating, "Y'see, Familias are a thing a God or Goddess forms when they require company, or wish to pass on their knowledge to the mortals in this Realm. When a human or demi-human joins a Familia and becomes a member, they get all sorts of buffs and stuff, including what is called a Blessing, a certain ability provided by the God of that Familia."

"Like entering a pact with said god or goddess," The Spartan observed.

She nodded, seemingly proud of him as she said, "Indeed! Hephaestus is the Goddess of the Forgers, so she provides blessings to her Familia that allow them to forge the finest weaponry in the realm. From a simple dagger to a broadsword and to armor and shields, if it's got a Hephaestus marking on it, it's the best thing one can get with that amount of Valis that it's priced at... Which..." She chuckled awkwardly, "Admittedly, is usually pretty steep."

"Hm. Noted..." He said. Interesting, "Then there must be a lot of Familias around. If Hephaestus exists..." he recalled the tales told by his family a while back, about the pagan Pantheons and the likes, "So must others. Hestia... You're the Guardian of the Flame, are you not?"

"... How'd you... Oh, so you do know about us!" She smiled, "Yes, I... Well, I was the Guardian of the Flame before I descended onto this realm." and, upon seeing a slight confusion in the man's movements, she explained, "We, gods, had to give something up to come down to your world and spend the rest of eternity with you. That was the use of our powers being limited to only offering blessings to those of our Familias. Nothing beyond that, lest we be recalled to Heaven."

"I see..." He let out a deep sigh, "... And where am I? What 'realm' is this?"

"... Are..." She paused, looking with concern at him, "You alright? You're in Orario, the Labyrinth City in which the tower Babel resides, with its dungeon filled with the most dangerous of creatures on our world... The monsters which the Gods had banished there to protect our Children, you..." and she hummed. She then smiled awkwardly, stating, "Guess you ain't from around the bend, right? Newcomer into town?"

"Something like that..." The Spartan remarked absentmindedly, his thoughts locked onto the fact that, if what this girl was saying was true, then he wasn't home anymore. Or anywhere near it as a matter of fact. Sighing, he stood to his feet, then said, "I have to go..." to which she gasped, standing up and raising her hands as if she was asking, no, pleading with him to wait.

She looked him over even more thoroughly, raised a brow, then asked meekly, "Can... You please turn your shield off? I wanna check something..."

He hesitated, hand wrapped around his pistol. She raised her hands defensively, showing him to stay calm. Jeez, was he jumpy, the girl thought as she looked at him. The Spartan remained tense, but his grip on his gun loosened. His hand was still placed on the weapon, so Hestia took that as best as she could. Of course, someone like him would be concerned. The man emanated an air of death. For a fact, the girl could smell the scent of blood on him more strongly than on even the most veteran adventurers...

She pushed a hand onto his chest and felt no stabbing or numbing zap from it. She hummed, closing her eyes and pouring some of her available power into him, sending waves of energy coursing through his veins. Her eyes grew wide as images of battle and of death flashed before her eyes, followed by the brightest white flash she'd ever seen and the blindness that would usually trail such a sight.

She murmured to herself, taking a step back, "Something... Sent you here..."

"I figured that much..." Six murmured, "Can I leave?"

"I..." She paused, "What're you planning to do?"

"... I need to survive in this place..." He replied absentmindedly. Spartans had an overwhelming urge to survive. Even in the three days before his arrival here, Six sought to survive, to kill the enemy continuously until either he ran out of ammo or his body gave in. He hummed, then asked, "One last thing before I go. How do you make... I'm going to guess the Valis you mentioned is the currency here?"

"Yes... And, well..." She hummed, then looked to him, "You can make them by joining the Adventurers' Guild and visiting the Dungeon to kill the local monsters..."

"Point me to it..." he replied, turning to leave.

"It's just down the road from here. You can't miss it... Big, three-story building with an orange roof..." She replied as she thought of what she'd seen and felt emanating off the man. There was certainly something very different about him. Something the Lower Realms hadn't seen since the great Heroes of old... Or the great Villains. She sighed, then gasped and grabbed him by the wrist as he was about to leave, stating, "WAIT! You can't do anything in the Guild unless you're signed up with a Familia, like mine! It's kind of mandatory to have one!"

"Hm..." The man sighed. He turned to face her, asking, "What about beyond the walls of your city? Can people make a living there?"

"I mean... There's still some monsters out there, but-" She stopped, "Oh, what the heck am I saying?! You can't exactly fight monsters without blessings either! Gods can track the statuses of their Children, meaning how powerful and/or proficient they get in certain areas like agility, speed, strength and even vitality! Without a Blessing, I'm not sure you can even level up or gain any special skills! If you joined a family, like, say, mine, you'd get them!"

"Do I need them?" He inquired, trying to move and seemingly dragging the girl along with him. Her bare heels were having the skin peeled by the stone below-foot. She yowled, causing the Spartan to turn about as she jumped from one foot to the other and backed into the table. As she was about to flip over the table itself and presumably hit her head, the Spartan caught her by the arm, stopping her just inches short of falling.

Her gaze locked onto his visor for a moment. He spoke, "Sit down," as he pulled her to her feet. The man had caused her injuries. She was just a civilian. She may've been a goddess or not, but he wasn't going to let her do anything as stupid as walking around with her heels busted up like that. She nodded slowly, gently sitting herself down while avoiding putting pressure on the heels.

The man retrieved a box with a red cross on it from his backpack and opened it, then handed her a tube with some kind of paste and said, "Put that on your heels... It should stop the pain and help the skin cells grow back..." before he slid the rest of the kit into his backpack again. He spoke, "I'll head to the Guild... See what I can talk with the people over there about hunting in the Dungeon for money, then..."

"Like I said, it's-" She watched the man march up the stairs. Sighing as she uncapped the tube and squeezed the thick, colorless and odorless paste onto her heels, she murmured "There he goes... Another one leaves me alone." as she applied the lotion to her heels. She hummed, then said to herself, "At least he gave me whatever this stuff is..." and she smiled as she saw the skin on her heels visibly healing. It was like magic.

... She was pretty sure he was a magician or something. That heavy armor would over-encumber him otherwise. And who was he, anyway? What did the greater Pantheon want with him that they'd dragged him from his own realm anyway? She had seen snippets, glimpses of what he had gone through, including the battle against monsters of some kind that she could not make out.

She sighed. No time to wonder about that. She had to find something to eat for dinner...

As she prepared to exit the place, while sundown was coming, she saw the Spartan marching toward her, arms crossed to his chest. She smirked, then said, "Take it they didn't wanna take in a rando off the street?" smugly. He shook his head, then marched past her. She grabbed him by the wrist and said, "Where're ya going? That's one of the eight gates leading out of town that way."

"I know... I'm going to see if I can't hunt," He replied, "Places outside shouldn't be regulated like this, bureaucrats be damned..."

"You'll get yourself killed!" She protested.

"Happened before..." he replied calmly, shocking the girl.

"... You could find a Familia to join," She said warily, not willing to ask the third time, "I'm sure they'd want someone as stubborn as you around... And as strong-looking, honestly..."

"What's with you and Familias, girl? I don't know what I'd even do in one," He turned to her, "I work best alone."

His own words stabbed at his soul. He hadn't worked alone for six weeks, before his untimely death a mere day ago. He narrowed his lips, running his left hand over one of his pouches and hearing the muffled clink of metal hitting metal. He then murmured, "I'll keep on the look out for word of any sort of technology, anything that could send me home..." They'd need every Spartan for what came next. He knew it...

"What's with me and familias, he asks..." She spoke in a soft whisper, her voice sad. She looked up to him, then said, "I've never really had one. All the time I've been in your realm. Nobody wanted to join this minor goddess nobody had even heard of, with no real known blessings and no other Child to take care of and help. I've been alone for all my time here... I tried about fifty times at this point and all of them failed. Nobody wanted to tag along with me."

So, she was a Lone Wolf like him... And not by choice.

"I asked you about Familias because I've never seen someone so ready to go die out there for nothing but the idea of actually trying to survive. Don't take it the wrong way, Odell..." She spoke calmly, staring him right in the visor with a sad smile, "You seem strong, heck, you are clearly pretty strong if you can drag a Goddess in her human form around with little issue, but... There's things out there that're heavier than me. And there's things out there that hit, unlike me. Hard. I don't wanna hear they found your corpse out there for some reason or another..." Admittedly, because she was interested in finding out what a reincarnated person was doing here in their full old-life attire and at their age, among other things, "... But if you figure you can handle the world alone, okay... I'll just go back to trying to find others."

She let go of his wrist...

Yet something drove the Spartan to grab onto hers. Perhaps it was a faint sense of pity he felt for the woman. Perhaps it was a pity for himself, so he wouldn't die alone out in the wild if push came to shove. He'd died once already, after all. Alone. And it had hurt. He had been the last one out and had hit the lights for himself and his team. His other hand clasped around the pouch from which the clink had come from. The noise echoed again and, though muffled, Odell-B312 could hear them clearly. Both their voices and their Tags.

Wide-eyed, the girl stared at him for a moment. He looked to her, then said pragmatically, "If surviving in this world means I need a 'Blessing' from a god or goddess? Fine... I'm looking for a way home. That will remain my objective for all my time here, finding some way to get back to my people and help them in their fight. But, I'm stuck here for the time being."

He hummed, then said, "And considering you understand how this world seems to work and I don't? Add to that you're the only Goddess that I know out of whatever Pantheon is here and... Well? If you want me along for the ride, seeing as I need you right now, would you care to have your first Familia member be some random fellow you met in the streets of your town?"

She paused, then beamed brightly, "I'd be glad to have you as my first Familia member..."

"Then it's settled... Guess I'm part of your folks now. And you, part of mine," He noted, turning to face her and letting go of her wrist. She grinned, then brought her hand up in a quick salute which the Spartan reciprocated out of instinct. He sighed, well aware what he'd just done was one of the strangest things a Spartan must've ever agreed to, bar none. He had no other choice.

And, honestly?

Seeing the girl smile this brightly was somewhat of a soul-soothing thing...

For some reason.

Chapter Text

"... What?"

"Yup!"

Well, that wasn't exactly what Six wanted to hear. It seemed that direct contact with the back of one's skin was necessary for a Blessing to be given and for that person to register as part of the familia. He looked at the woman, then inquired, "Is it not possible to do this by simple skin contact anywhere?" to which she shook her head, firm in her request. He sighed, then leaned his face against his open right hand. His helmet lay on the floor beside him.

Spartans were never keen on removing their precious equipment, going double for stuff like the MJOLNIR Power-Armored suit. The damn thing not only cost a lot to build, it was partially impossible to remove it without a specialized set of tools in any feasible time-frame. Now, good old Odell had gotten used to modifying his equipment on the fly when on missions and had read the basic 'manual' on MJOLNIR armor when he heard he was being provided one.

It was still going to take him over thirty minutes to remove even just the top part so Hestia could do her thing. Still, he'd agreed to be part of this little Familia of hers, if for nothing else than the idea that it'd give him a boon to survive in this new world while he figured his shit out. He'd, of course, ask a few things about the various other gods after this little ritual was done.

Sighing, he nodded, "Alright... It's going to take thirty minutes to remove the necessary parts."

"Woah, thirty minutes?" Hestia gasped, "How hard can it be to remove that armor?"

"I could tug at it until something breaks, but I'd rather have my full protective suit for when I go dungeon-diving," He remarked snidely, then stated, "You're a goddess, apparently. Have patience as you've had these past few however many years you've been around..." as he pulled a basic toolkit from his backpack and started working. Hestia huffed, then laid herself down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling while listening to the cricks and cracks and snaps and pops of tools and armor.

After a few minutes, the girl had fallen partially asleep as the noise of handiwork faded from her mind, her thoughts wandering. The man was twenty at most, from the look of his face and the seeming voice he spoke with. He had grown well, but had clearly seen enough fighting for his age to be considered a veteran and, much more, to be promoted to a rank like that of a Lieutenant.

She had seen him without his helmet and was about to see him again, she was sure. First time, she was at a distance and unable to fully make out the details, so she somewhat eagerly awaited to see what kind of hot-or-not she picked up and added to her Familia. Add to that, the man was clearly proficient in the art of fighting and that he had that strange item on his thigh that he'd pointed at her when she popped up and the 'energy shields' as he'd called them, which overlapped over the plates of his intricate armor.

She woke up with a start after feeling a firm hand wrap around her ankle and squeeze. "What the heck are you doing-" the girl started, about to protest the kind of rude wake-up the man had just given her. She froze, however, staring at the young man before her in his full glory. Jet-black hair shortened and made into a burr cut, piercing azure eyes and a handsome, seemingly chiseled young face with a five o'clock shadow for facial hair and a small scar on the top right of his head.

He was well-built, fit and lean, bearing several more scars over toned musculature. Stab wounds, impacts, bruises and burns formed on the pale skin of the young man, making him resemble something out of the Epics related to ancient heroes. Gruff, tough and unsmiling, he looked at her and raised a brow. He asked, "You good? Your face is a little... Red..."

She nodded slowly, noticing herself in the visor of his helmet. Despite the golden coloration, she could still make out that her entire face was red as a tomato and she had a hint of drool running down the sides of her mouth. She coughed, then said, "Yep! Yep, totally fine! Hahaha!" laughing awkwardly. She then quickly stated, "Let's get to it!" before jumping off the bed. She saw him sitting there, cross-legged, the lower half of his armor still on, then asked "Ain't ya... Uh... Gonna get on so I can do this?"

"What I'm wearing may weigh less than half-a-ton, but it's unpowered. Even with my augments, I can't particularly move this much weight without a little risk to myself. You're just going to have to do it while sitting behind me..." He replied, then looked at the rest of his equipment, which had been neatly and tidily set up on the floor in front of him.

She narrowed her lips, then said, "Alright..." and locked eyes with one of the two blades the man carried, the one on his breast-plate. She inquired meekly, "Can I borrow your knife, then?"

"What for?" He raised a brow, looking at her.

She blushed, then chuckled and said, "I need to poke my finger. A little bit of blood is needed for the ritual of binding to a God's Familia. Namely a bit of the blood of that God..." to which the man frowned. That was strangely a concerning custom, but if it was only a drop from one of the fingers... He sighed, stretched toward the breastplate and tugged at the knife, releasing it with a click. It was a blade with a single side and a serrated flat back and it was larger than a normal knife by some degree.

He spun it between his fingers, handing it grip-first to the girl and stating, "It's still bloody sharp. Don't nick more off your skin than you intend to for the ritual..." and he looked toward his equipment again. He'd modified his standard armor before arrival to Noble. Painted jet-black with gold accents around the wrist plates, a TACPAD attached to the right arm and an extra shrapnel-resistant plate on the left, HAZOP Knees and up-armored greaves, a secondary medkit on his thigh left, COMMANDO pouches and a ghillie cloak draped over the shoulders, one of which was a COMMANDO right while the left was EOD and, add to that, a holster for a flare gun.

Not much use, that last one, he thought as he heard a deep whoom echo from behind him and felt a warmth, like that of an open, welcoming flame course into his soul. He looked back and gasped, watching as a bubble of energy formed around the girls hands. She smiled, then said, "And it is done..." as he felt something burned into his skin. She hummed, then ran her hands across his exposed back for a couple more seconds and... Staggered. She stumbled back and doubled over, crying out, "HOLY...!"

"What?" He asked, the faintest tone of concern in his otherwise calm voice, "Did something go wrong?"

"No..." The girl stared at the man's back, wide-eyed, "Your statuses..."

He recalled she'd mentioned that Gods who get 'children' into their Familia through this ritual could utilize whatever happens to check their stats, like Agility, Strength, that kind of thing. To be quite honest, Odell found some similarities to things from his childhood that he remembered somewhat more clearly than others. Squelching thoughts of home for now, he asked warily, "How bad are they?"

"... They're not bad, you dummy..." She murmured, "They... They're... It's almost like I'm staring at a seasoned adventurer instead of a Soldier... Several S-Ranks, multiple more A-Ranks," and she swallowed nothing but air, "You sure you didn't have a Familia before? Or that you didn't gain any Levels? Or, heck, that the Guild doesn't know about you?! Because..."

"So, they're good..." The Spartan remarked, slightly slouching forward and breathing a silent sigh, before stating "And no... I didn't have any relations to Gods before this, remember...?"

"Odell... You..." She paused, then sighed too, "Yes, they're incredibly good for what is a Level One Adventurer in any and every sense of the word, seeing as you say you had no link to anyone or anything..." before she stated, "Lemme do one more thing, then you're free to put your armor on and we can go to the Guild to sign you up as part of my Familia..." and she retrieved a piece of old, brownish-colored parchment paper. Six could feel it laying on his back and the woman running her right index on his back, forming the shape of a circle in the paper. It flashed, then appeared. She narrowed her lips, eyes wide, "... Man... You could actually go up to Level 2 right now if we reported this..."

"Let's keep me as Low Profile as possible for now," The man replied pragmatically, then looked over to his armor and said, "I'm gonna get dressed..."

She nodded, sitting back down on the bed cross-legged as she read the paper. He had no actual Skills yet, unless something was hidden that even she couldn't see yet. Still, she smiled and giddily bounced up and down as the shock of the realization finally waned and the joy had time to come to her. She'd gotten the finest damn kid possible for her group and she wasn't gonna let him go.

Some thirty minutes of assembly later, the man donned the last of his armor:His helmet. Standing to his feet and feeling it fully power up, he watched as his HUD rebooted and the shield systems flashed to life, draping him in a blanket of golden light. The girl smirked, then stood to her feet and said, "Alright! Let's go getcha signed up in the Guild! We can start earning some cash if we hurry along!"

He nodded, letting her take the lead. The two climbed out of their little hidey-hole below the church and marched onto the streets of the Town of Orario, with the Spartan at the ready and tense as he watched crowds starting to form around the place. Going down the main road and passing several seemingly-important buildings, including a Restaurant, the two finally found the Guild.

Entering its halls once again, Noble Six found himself staring at the wide room where multiple adventurers picked up info on their objectives or handed in their spoils for money. Approaching one of the counters with Hestia, the man caught a glimpse of a familiar face. A young woman with knife-sharp, pointed ears, emerald eyes, straight brown hair and glasses was operating at it. She was clad, like the others in the room, in the Guild's standard attire. A white collared shirt was worn beneath a black vest, complimented by black pants and dress shoes.

She hummed a tune as she worked on some sort of paperwork, then looked up. She smiled and said, "Goddess Hestia! Long time no see!"

"Hello, Eina," She greeted, "Guess what! I got someone in my Familia!"

"Oh. I'm happy to hear that, Goddess. Who's the lucky gentleman or lady," Eina offered, then paused as the familiar shadow of a very familiar man loomed over her. She still stared at Hestia, though her gaze had grown into one of worry, rather than joy. With sweat suddenly running down her face, the woman looked up at the seven-foot-tall War Machine that had once before come into the Guild.

"... H-H-Hello..." She whimpered, "N-Nice to see you again...?"

"Hello, miss Tulle..." The Spartan greeted politely. Eina looked over to Hestia.

"... This is your new member...?" The girl asked worriedly.

"Yep!" She beamed, then paused, "Why... What did he do?" and looked to him, concerned.

She shook her head, "Oh, nothing... It's just..." She leaned over and whispered, "This is the biggest human I've ever seen, Goddess Hestia... I was and still am a bit taken aback..."

Hestia smiled, "Eh, it's fine. He's a big guy, but he's nice. Right?" She looked to him.

The Spartan gave a light shrug, then a nod. Eina seemed to become a little less tense. She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful to her patron God that she wouldn't get torn apart limb for limb, then asked, "Very well... I take it you're here to sign up for the Guild properly?" and she got a nod. She hummed, then said, "Very well. We have a few forms to complete, but it's... Really formalities. Goddess Hestia, would you like to complete them alongside him?"

"Sure!" She smiled. The two were handed two sets of three papers each. Directed to a booth to sit at, the two were also handed quills and ink by another worker in the place. Slowly, the Spartan started putting in details, with Hestia correcting him and adding more as she saw the Spartan had left stuff behind. The two had finished their respective papers rather quickly and Hestia pulled the last file needed for him to be signed up. She smiled at the Spartan, then said, "C'mon!"

The two moved in and handed the files to Eina, who gave them a quick once-over and said, "Very good!" flashing a smile to the two of them, "That'll be all. You're on the Guild's payroll henceforth and will receive money for any magical gems you retrieve after killing monsters in the Dungeon. Now..." She paused, then watched as a man approached. He leaned in, whispering into her ear, to which she jolted up, "Wait, what? Really!?" She whispered.

"Afraid so..." He nodded. He turned to Six and Hestia, then smiled and waved goodbye, whispering to Eina, "Good luck..."

"Awwh..." She sighed, arms slumped by her sides. She frowned, then turned with the most apologetic look ever toward the Spartan and Goddess and said, "I'm so very sorry... It seems there's been a mixup in regards to some of the Guild procedures... You see, all Adventurers get a personal advisor to help guide you through the process of working in the Dungeon itself and introducing you to all the rules and such... It... Seems there were no other free members of the guild beside myself, so," She bowed respectfully, "If you will allow me, I shall be your Advisor for the duration of your work with us."

The Spartan hummed, then looked to Hestia. The girl gave a thumbs up and a smirk to confirm her approval, to which he turned to Eina and said, "Suits me fine, miss Eina," calmly. She looked up at him, surprised for but a moment. Then, said surprise was replaced by relief and a warm smile. The two shook hands, then Hestia shook Eina's hand too, if a bit more tightly.

"Well..." Hestia stretched and yawned, "I'll be at home while you two go through the motions. That alright, Odell?"

He hummed, "Can't you fight?"

"Oh, me? Sadly... Not really..." She chuckled awkwardly, "See, I'm a minor goddess. I'm not like Loki or some others... Anyway, gotta go right now! Bye!" and she dashed out of the place. Odell sighed, then shook his head and turned to Eina. The girl hummed, then motioned over toward a private booth. Marching inside, the Spartan and woman were met by a table and two chairs.

Looks like an interrogation room, though the Spartan. He hummed, then said, "Apologies, but I'm gonna stand..." as he watched Eina sit down. He clarified, "Armor weighs half a ton. I sit down, that chair breaks..."

"... Incredible..." She murmured, then said, "Very well... If you're not uncomfortable. I'll make a note to get mithril chairs, perhaps, for your next visit. Anyways... Let's begin, shall we?" and she settled a dossier of sorts in front of him. She began her explanation in regards to how the Dungeon works, that monsters respawn, that the magic gems he collects are his source of income and the more he collects, the more money he earns on the trip back, but that he should stick to the areas where his skills and level would generally fit, so the upper floors for the 'Level 1s' like him and only to advance after their stats grew. He sighed, then nodded. That meant levels One through Twelve.

Best to keep a low profile, as he said. No advancing in levels too suddenly, meaning no advancing just by arriving in town...

After that briefing was over, the man had departed with full intent toward the Dungeon below Babel. He caught sights of other Adventurers both returning and entering the Dungeon as he reached the door, then began his descent, at first down to the first sublevel, then down stairs that ran around the walls of a giant borehole in the middle of the place, all of it lit by blue gem-based lamps.

Entering the first floor properly, the man paused, looking around. Lamps stood every ten feet, washing a series of winding hallways in front of him in that same azure light. A gut feeling told him he was entering the lion's den as he walked, so, he drew his knives. Looking at the Kukri he'd drawn from the sheath on his back and that he currently now brandished in his right hand, he murmured, "Guess we're not done, buddy..."

He slowly began his advance down the winding corridors, blades at the ready, his fingers tensely wrapped around the weapons. He kept one eye ahead and one eye on the Motion Tracker as he marched forth, listening to the distant sounds of slashing swords and clashing metal, presumably from other Adventurers engaged in a fight against the local Fauna.

He paused in the middle of the corridor, listening. Trampling feet, perhaps a dozen of them, coming his way. Not human, not armored. Just plopping feet and dozens of pairs of'em to boot. Coming straight ahead, from the dark, they were short, green and with big golden eyes. They charged at him, the first one jumping and pouncing. The Spartan's first kill came.

Blood splattered across the floor, followed by a cloud of black ichor and smoke that dissipated in front of the Spartan, a tiny purple magic gem dropping on the floor. He hummed, then watched the other little monsters begin their attacks. He swiped left and right in wide intersecting arcs, cutting down several with one double strike, before spinning on one foot and kicking another across and into the wall, snapping its spine.

One of them grabbed onto his armor, only to be zapped by the Energy Shield and drop to the floor, surprised. The Spartan brought down his foot, which was still raised after the kick, stomping the creature's skull and popping it like a zit. It dissipated below his boot as he continued, dancing a dance of death where his blades drew wide arcs in the air, slashing into sickly green skin and slitting throats, cutting through hearts or outright decapitating some of the creatures.

He moved, dodging to the left as one of the creatures tried to pounce on his face, plunging his Bowie knife deep into its chest while using the Kukri like a small sword with which he slashed at the other little monsters. He charged forth, shoulder-checking and kicking several of the little bastards off their feet by sheer speed alone before pummeling one of them against the wall hard enough to feel the bones liquefy beneath his strike.

He spun about and, with another horizontal slash from the Kukri, decapitated six more of the monsters. He then dodged as a projectile-a tongue of all things-snapped by him. He grabbed it before it could return to its sender and pulled. A frog-like, one-eyed cyclops monster appeared out of the shadows. He killed it by putting his Bowie clean through its gut, letting its gem drop to the floor.

From above, something dropped. Without even looking, Six gutted it and let it vanish, then he surged forth as his Motion Tracker picked up another target. Dog-headed humanoid monsters with long nails met him in the darkness, two of which immediately found themselves lacking said heads. The toe of the Spartan's boot made contact with the jaw of a third, shattering it and caving in its skull. He followed up by grabbing the fourth, snapping its neck and throwing it into its palls. His shields flickered.

A tongue had latched onto his right shoulder, He grabbed it, wrapping it around his fingers and the knives and dragging the cyclops frog out of hiding before plunging his knife into its eye. Following it up, the Spartan then slaughtered what was left of the dog-headed creatures with little remorse, his blades never dull and his moves fast and agile, almost like a Ballet of Murder. This was just too fucking easy.

Delving deeper into the First Level yielded several more monster kills. The Spartan had to take a break to collect all of the gems he'd left behind and stick them into his backpack. He returned to the slaughter of tiny creatures with a smirk on his face that he hadn't even realized he was wearing as he fought and fought against them, inch by inch, meter by meter.

The thickness of the Monsters in the place was weird, though, honestly. Weren't there supposed to be fewer monsters for the First Level? Eh, it didn't matter.

He pinned a greenskin down with his boot, then pressed down until he felt its ribcage break. Following up, he gutted a few more of those frog things with sideswipes from his knives and with thrusts and stabs, all the while utilizing his legs for anything that was close to him and lower than his knee in height, kicking, stomping and otherwise debilitating and outright killing the monsters that he met.

He'd gone so far, it seemed, that he hadn't realized when the place had changed colors. Emerald lamps lit the way this time instead of the azure ones from before, shining a light that shimmered a yellowish green around the place. He continued cutting down creatures remorselessly, his blades staining with the black magical ichor that they were made out of, not to mention their blood.

His visor displayed his motion tracker which had been filled with creatures in intervals at the start of this little run through the Dungeon, now dwindling to the last few on whatever floor he was. The Spartan had, according to an internal timer, spent over thirty minutes, damn near an hour in fact, fighting. He hadn't even broken a sweat. He grinned, watching the number of monsters drop down to zero, finally, as his boot crunched a one-eyed Frog.

He wiped his blades off the walls, then picked up the dozens of magical gems laying on the floor, turning to follow the corridors. He wasn't stupid enough to advance without memorizing where he was going, of course, so he was able to quickly return to the First Floor. He had cleared a lot. If he'd counted the number of descents right, he'd hit floor five when he got to that greenlit place, so that gave him a fair number of gems to collect.

He paused only as he saw something else. A fairly colorful bird staring at him from a distance, it in and of itself having a gem it seemed. He hummed, looking at the curious big bird as it scanned the place. He looked over to his Bowie Knife, slowly and gently removing it from the sheath. He could make the throw without a problem... But the creature seemed to be catching on. It got unnerved, clawing at the ground with one of its spindly bird legs.

The Spartan hummed, narrowed his lips and stared eye to eye with it, gently setting up the Knife throw. He eyed the creature as it, too, finally locked one eye on him... It stared and he stared back, for but a moment they themselves being the only two creatures in the whole dungeon. He settled the knife, his line of sight clear... He smirked behind the helmet, a devious, almost sadistic smile.

He threw. The creature squawked and fell.

Then it vanished, dropping a gem and a golden egg...

A good hunt for today, Six thought as he put the stuff away and sheathed his blades. The march back to the surface found the Spartan staring at a sunset in the distance as he marched down the boulevard he'd come from, watching as several dozen other Adventurers had come out as well. A few of them stared at the odd Superhuman with a bit of concern, then noticed his backpack and his weaponry.

Delivering the spoils to Eina and revealing the golden egg, the man was greeted by several surprised call-outs from Adventurers and from the girl as well. Apparently, the egg of the Jack Bird was a very rare item drop that one would find upon killing the aforementioned bird with a strike. It was also worth around A MILLION Valis according to information. With what he'd made today...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAT!?" Hestia jumped to her feet, looking at the massive coin purse that the Spartan had brought home.

"Around a million four-hundred fifty-three thousand six-hundred-seventeen Valis..." The Spartan replied calmly, setting the purse aside, "... Is it a lot?"

... The moment Hestia fainted with the most blissful look on her told the man that, yes...

It was in fact a decent amount of money.

Chapter Text

The Spartan had been, to utilize terminology that was more ancient than even this place, 'Grinding'. He'd cleared the levels up top several times over and gotten cash to expend on gathering supplies, although he didn't find another one of those creatures. He was making a steady sixty thousand Valis with each day, meaning he was acquiring just enough to keep a steady flow of proper food and water into his belly and the belly of his supposed 'Goddess'.

He'd had some time to consider if what Hestia even said was true. To be fair, the place seemed to be rife with all kinds of weird shit, ranging from Demi-Human creatures to humans proper, to Elves and to other such weird Fantasy crazy. He wasn't too fond of the Demi-Humans or other races, he had to admit. Bad experiences with aliens would not be easy to forget and so trust for anything xeno would be hard to reach. Anyways, to the point of there being Gods.

Gods and Goddesses descending to live with man didn't seem so far-fetched in the grand scheme of things. Hell, he'd seen weirder items in his own world, like the Forerunner tech below SWORD, but still, this was well and far beyond that.

Still, at least he could have his catharsis any time his mind wandered too far when he walked into the battle for the day's second or third dungeon strike. He was pretty sure he was dulling the knives at this point with the amount of creatures he was gutting. He had been here for less than a month and had already gotten into the standard dayjob grind that one would normally find civvies and desk jockeys doing... Well, not really. He was pretty sure they never ventured into ancient dungeons to kill respawning monsters with knives and guns

He hummed, rolling his Bowie knife between his fingers as he looked at the disappearing corpses around him. He'd gone into the fifth floor directly with a plan to clear out anything that respawned on one through four later on. A half a month of business as usual for the Spartan, honestly. He started picking up the gems dropped by the creatures on this floor, stowing them away in his now-empty backpack, which contained nothing but gems, an MRE he made out of some of the food they'd gathered and his water canteen. Good enough.

Picking up one of the gems, the Spartan hummed, examining it for a moment. He hummed, then sighed and slid it into his back pocket, standing to his feet. Haul alone should bring at least fifteen thousand Valis, but he'd have liked to get a little extra. He saw a restaurant on the way over. He recalled having eaten at one once, a while back. Turning to leave, the man had noticed the new contact on his Motion Tracker, just in time.

He heard the thunder of hooves smashing against the floor and turned a full one-eighty, drawing his twin knives just in time to block the first strike. Standing on two triple-jointed legs that ended in hooves instead of feet, twice Six's height, with a body full of hair and muscle and with the head of a bull, one of the tougher monsters of the Dungeon, a Minotaur, stood before Six, its eyes shimmering scarlet with hatred for the life of any sentient being.

Instead of being afraid for his life as many Level One adventurers should technically be at the sight of a monster that was more powerful than them, however, the young Supersoldier simply stared down the animal, blades drawn and ready to kill it for even trying to go up against him. He shifted his footing, watching as it roared at him in pure, spit-filled anger. He hummed, then thought to himself this was as good a test as any to make sure he hadn't freaking lost it...

After rolling out of the way of another strike, he rolled off to the side, then surged forth with both blades drawn. Steel made contact with hard, leathery skin and dug deep, drawing the dark ichor that was the creature's life-blood. He dodged another strike, planting the tip of the hooked-knife that was the kukri into its skin and dragging it along its waist, blood splattering the walls.

It managed a hit on the Spartan with a clenched fist, sending him skidding across the Dungeon's stone floor, causing a ripple through the man's shields and dropping them to sub-optimal levels for taking another hit. He had felt the punch in his gut, but didn't take any major damage thanks to the armor. He grit his teeth, catching the creature's second attempt at a punch with his open right hand before digging the tip of the Kukri into its wrist.

He then jumped off to the side as the creature howled in pain, bringing its weapon down upon where the Spartan had once been. Chunks of the floor shattered, but the Spartan continued his onslaught of strikes. Slashes and gashes appeared in the monster's body as the Spartan deftly struck with both of his blades. He could've easily gone for the pistol and killed the thing in a headshot...

He dodged a weapon side-swipe by jumping, then landed on the monster's wounded hand and dug the twin knives into its wound again. He felt the tearing of sinew and blood vessels beneath the sharpened blades, slashing away at it in a masterclass, if reckless and dangerous display of knife-wielding skills learned during the early days of training within the confines of Onyx. He needed to disarm the thing before it got a good swipe on him. He dug the Kukri into the monster's skin as it flailed its arm around, trying to get him off of it. He then continued cutting until its left hand was hanging by a thread of skin.

Kicking off, he removed the monster's hand, causing it to howl in pain. A resounding, beastly roar that filtered throughout the corridors of the Dungeon's fifth level. The Spartan landed in front of it, glaring with a barely-suppressed anger at the monster. His adrenal glands kicked into high gear, allowing the Spartan to start entering what was familiarly nicknamed 'Spartan Time', akin to a moment of heightened awareness in which time seemed to slow around him.

His blades once again met flesh. This time, he slid under the minotaur and cut at its knees, causing it to stumble. Turning around and still bleeding from the stump of its right hand, it swung at the Spartan just as he emerged out of the slide. its club, or whatever it was, made contact. The shield flared, then snapped and shattered upon the heavy weapon. It made contact with Six's plate and stopped him dead in his tracks, somewhat staggering the soldier.

The boy, however, quickly recovered, staggering to his feet and scoffed, coughing out spittle onto his helmet's inside. Thankfully, that didn't obstruct his vision, but the SPARTAN soon realized he was fighting far more recklessly than he should've been, especially with his damned training. It was, however, not the moment to think about his own mental faculties as jumped back to dodge another of the creature's strikes, which shattered the ground.

He'd have time to ponder that after he killed this thing, though.

He advanced, a hint slower than before. It raised its weapon and struck toward him. Dodging, the Spartan judged the creature's attack speed and its strength by the amount of reverbs he felt through the floor of the Dungeon's Fifth Level. He pushed himself forth, time slowing down around him seemingly out of nowhere as his enhanced reflexes and finer motor controls kicked in again.

He dodged below a swipe to the left, then hummed again. A surge of adrenaline kicked him into high gear. Bouncing from his left foot to his right, the Spartan jumped up like a coiled spring from the low dodge, then brought his knives up. Both blades pierced the skin of the chest, followed by the sound of a third blade tearing through the back of the monster and poking out the other side.

Blood washed over the Spartan's armor as he pulled down on the twin blades while the person on the other side cut upward. Together, the two split the monster in twain, letting its two halves fall off to the side as it screamed a bloody scream of death. Without so much as having broken a sweat, the Spartan looked past the Monster's vanishing corpse to see his timely reinforcement. He hadn't been sure if his two blades would've been enough to kill the damn thing, but whoever it was had just saved him the trouble of having to go through the motions again.

He looked up through his blood-soaked visor as the shields started boiling said blood away and gazed upon... A beautiful blonde.

Shorter of stature than him by a foot and a half, maybe two, with piercing amber eyes and a beautiful face that resembled a mask of porcelain, the girl was clad in a light armor set. A breastplate with an expanded left side, presumably to protect the heart, a plate in front of her throat to protect against stabbing and a crown of sorts made of the same matte silver metal. In her hand resided a thin double-edged sword with a strange handguard, the back of which seemed to protrude above a section of the blade, probably to act as a hook.

Below the armor plate, she wore a white, form-fitting sleeveless dress with blue accents and a pair of black arm gloves that were also covered over with armor plating. Her skirt also had two plates off to the sides, to protect her hips and the upper thighs and, over a pair of blue thigh-highs, she wore knee-guards. Her shoes were also armored and fit for combat duty, with a steel toe.

He averted his gaze. He'd been staring like a moron for half a minute there... He had to at least be honest with himself. He found her a little cute.

And SPARTAN-IIIs weren't as lucky as the IIs, who had those damn hormone suppressant implants in their thyroids...

She seemed to stare with a hint of bemusement at him, though he couldn't tell much behind the proper, steely poker face she wore. He sheathed his blades, then said in as calm a tone as his elevated adrenaline levels allowed him, "Thanks... Let's keep what just happened here between us. I'd rather nobody knew I went toe-to-toe with something over my own level," before, much to her seeming surprise, he walked past her. He wasn't going to interact with anyone today.

"... Was that that new level one...?" The girl murmured to herself, sheathing her blade. She looked over to the right, beside her shoe, to see the gem dropped by the horned monster the two had slain together. Kneeling, she picked it up and slid it into her gem pouch, considering heading to give it to him and apologizing for her failure to contain the monster before it came to face him.

She sighed. She'd do so after her party came out of the Dungeon's lower levels...

... Outside, Six marched with a full pack of gems toward the Guild as nonchalantly as his mind allowed him to. Now that he was out of the dungeon, he had the time to process what'd just happened. A Minotaur slipped past some adventurers down in the lower floors and attacked him while he was out doing his clearing job on the upper floors. It attacked him, he fought back and it met its gruesome end at the blades of his knives and that blonde's sword.

He had to admit, she must've been pretty tough if she managed to penetrate the creature's back, slice up and split it in half from that point up. Respectably strong, to note. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why the hell she was upstairs when Level Ones are usually supposed to be the ones grinding things out there. She could've been one of the adventurers that had fought the damn thing before it gave them the slip.

Eh, it didn't matter. Six'd had a bit of a conniption down there, too. He could've easily taken the thing down if he had spent a single moment to think tactically, to utilize the very weaponry he was saving specifically for something of that size. He didn't know why he would've pressed himself this hard, just fighting the damn thing in melee. It was bigger than him, but only slightly stronger.

He could've drawn his gun, but he felt like that'd have been a waste of bullets, anyhow, considering he did nearly kill it with just his knives...

"WHAT?!"

Eina didn't seem too pleased with him, though.

"I told you. I'm fine," He spoke with a deadpan, "I nearly had that thing dead to rights. Someone just decided to steal the kill. Didn't wanna bother hauling the gem with me, either, so I left it for her..."

"That's not the point! A Level One should not be facing a Minotaur alone!" The girl balked, then sighed and fell into her couch, covering her face with her hands. She sighed, then murmured desperately to herself to see if she had an answer, "What was a Minotaur even doing in a Level One area anyhow...?" before she looked at the Spartan. Right, he was standing. Letting out a breath out of annoyance, she asked, "Aren't you gonna sit down?"

"Saying what I said to Hestia... Do you want me to? I weigh half a ton in this thing..." He noted, motioning to his armor. The girl winced.

"Huh... Fair, I guess..." Eina shook her head, then looked to him. She slowly turned her frown into a smile, stating openly, "Still... Glad you're alive, Lieutenant. Not a lot of people can say they went up against a Minotaur and survived, especially Level Ones," and she looked toward his back, specifically the purse he carried all the other gems in. She asked, "Other than that... Good haul today?"

She'd chosen to utilize his rank over his name. She must've noticed it was making him uncomfortable.

"Another twenty thousand in the bank, I think," He replied, crossing his arms to his chest, "Now... If you don't mind me asking, what do you know about the blonde?"

"The girl... You said she had blonde hair, amber eyes and wore a light set of armor, right?" Eina raised a brow. He nodded, to which she smiled and said, "That'd be Ais Wallenstein, then. One of the highest-level adventurers currently in Orario. She belongs to the Loki Familia and currently stands at... I believe level five or six, so some tiers above you. Was given the title of Sword Princess by the Gods because of her skills with a blade."

The man hummed, then said, "Fair enough."

She had the strength of a Spartan. And she was... Cute.

He sighed after, "So, Loki... Like... The God of Mischief?"

"Goddess, yes. She and her family are one of the strongest contenders in Orario," the girl corrected, to which he hummed. Of course, another Goddess to deal with. Nordic mythological one, who based most of her escapades on Mischief. The fact that it was still less surprising than it would've been to him told Six just how acclimatized he'd gotten to the place. He scoffed, then leaned his chin into his chest as he took a moment to consider the situation. Eina offered, "What's the matter?"

"Just considering how little I still know of Orario," The man stated, "I should've been spending time, gathering intel..." he then murmured. Instead, he'd gone to play Dungeon Crawler and kill monsters that would respawn in that cesspit anyway. He was probably doing them favors by killing them. It gave them some respite from hanging out with their comrades and themselves.

"Well," Eina hummed, then stood to her feet, hugging a stack of papers, "I'd suggest you go around to a tavern. You have the funds and taverns and restaurants are usually the best places to eavesdrop. Latest gossip in town usually goes through several times in those places," and she stepped up to the man. He still towered over just about everyone he'd met so far, with Eina being in the middle height class of all of the two or three people he actually knew in the place. Three, because Wallenstein was around now.

Then again, he didn't know her.

He nodded, "I'll see..." then he took his pouch of gems and walked up to the counter, with Eina close behind him. Selling the gems netted him the expected amount, which he quickly slid into the other purse he'd brought with him and set in his backpack's side pocket. He turned to Eina and said, "That'll be all, then. I wanna ask you to tell miss Wallenstein not to start talking about what I did to the Minotaur. I'd rather nobody finds out about it."

"I'll pass the message along, though," Eina nodded, then squinted, still smiling, "I still don't believe you actually fought toe-to-toe with it... It'd be impossible for a Level One..."

The man replied coldly, "Let's keep people thinking that way, shall we...?" before turning to the door. He spoke, "Thanks for the help, as usual, miss Tulle. Be seeing you next run," then departed. He needed to train a bit. Run through a course of Physical exercises. He needed to get his mind off the situation at hand. Upon reaching his co-opted home, the man watched as Hestia jumped to her feet.

She smiled, greeting him with, "Odell! Welcome home!" before watching him drop the bag full of coins on the table. She smirked, "Another twenty-k?"

"About," He replied, then stated a firm, "Hello to you as well..." before noticing the stuff on the table. Potato balls. She'd gotten potato balls. He looked to her, then asked, "From where'd you get these?"

"Oh, well," She smiled, tiptoeing toward the table, "I got a part-time job so I don't feel completely useless... At one of the food stalls nearby. They gave me some of the left-over full potato balls."

"Right..." he hummed, then sighed. He undid the seal of his helmet, lifting it up and setting it aside before taking one of the items in a napkin. He spoke, "Surprised you'd go to work, but good on you, I guess..."

"Like I said," She chuckled, picking up one of the potato balls, "I don't wanna feel like I'm useless. I'm contributing a little, because most of our income's on your shoulders."

"It's appreciated," He noted, looking at his own potato ball. He watched her pour a bit of salt on the top from a napkin and gently did the same before he took a bite of it. They had a small pantry full of food, including some of his left-over Meals-Ready-to-Eat, but he wasn't going to deny it. It wasn't bad. Hell, it was actually good. A giant crunchy ball of mashed potatoes fried in a ball of breadcrumbs.

"So..." She chewed, "How'd today go?"

"Fine," he replied in a murmur, "Fought a Minotaur. Damn near won before someone stole the kill."

A bit of the ball got caught in her throat. She violently coughed it out, then looked at him with wide eyes. He hummed, nonchalantly biting into his food again and stating, "Relax. I took no damage whatsoever..." before he continued eating. Slowly, the man finished up his food and stood up. He looked over to her, then said, "I'm going to exercise outside. You can go to sleep."

"You sure...?" She asked, raising a brow, "You ain't tired at all?"

"No. We can do the next skill checkup tomorrow when I come back from the first run..." He replied in a deadpan. He would still rather keep a distance from anyone and everyone here, Hestia herself included. Putting the helmet back on, he stepped away, marching up the stairs to avoid having to look at her pout. It wasn't a good idea to get involved too deeply with anyone here, no matter what. He'd go home as soon as he found a way to. Hell, it might've just been better to listen in around the bend. Some of the local adventurers might've known a few things.

He marched up to the courtyard of a destroyed house in the district and picked out a pillar of stone. After a quick warmup, the man started throwing punches into it with precise, mechanical ease. Every time Six trained, it brought him to a state of calm that he could not achieve otherwise. His fists clashed with the stone, chips flying off as his shields flared with each strike.

The world around him was not his own. it was alien. He had no reason to be here beyond some form of cosmic mistake. His fight was home, he thought as he pummeled the body of the sculpted rock, presumably marble, digging uneven cuts and holes and trenches. Half a month of doing jack shit to get home. Six tasted the recycled air in his helmet and, for the first time, it tasted sour. Beyond the metallic tang, it tasted awfully sour.

He'd wasted his time...

... For but a moment, he wondered of that girl, Wallenstein...

And his fist seemed to slip off the surface of the stone, taking with it a large chip. He sighed, feeling a slight warmth in his cheeks. Narrowing his lips, he thought to himself that he should perhaps learn to control that bit. Inherently, falling for a local was as dumb a thing to do as they came, not to mention the fact that SPARTANS didn't date... Why was he still thinking about it?

He squelched the thoughts and got back to work.

Early morning had caught the man still practicing his martial skill, this time with his blades. He'd been carving up a rock with precise swipes and strikes, ensuring that the weapons had been properly sharpened. They cut into the rock perfectly, leaving neat marks and probably boosted by the Spartan's own strength. He let out a series of shallow, heavy breaths. He'd been working all night. Removing his helmet, the boy spat some of the salty sweat off to the side, then wiped his brow. An entire night's training helped him.

Sighing, he stowed the blades in their sheaths and marched back into the church, descended and started greeting, "Mornin-" before cutting himself off. She was still fast asleep, meaning her work either wasn't until later, or she had just slept in. Sighing, he approached his bag and retrieved it from the floor, cleaning out and filling his canteen and packing a potato ball and a can of SPAM from his MREs into the pack for later.

Before he turned to leave, his helmet still off his head, he turned to see the girl fast asleep. Her blanket, however, was not fully covering her and she trembled as a slight breeze filled the room. Walking up to her and narrowing his lips, he pulled the blanket over her shoulders, then paused, watching her turn and curl up. She murmured a groggy, "Odell, you dummy..." before seemingly resting her head against her pillow properly.

He hummed, then narrowed his lips. Dreaming of him, huh? Weird.

He stepped away, climbing back up the stairs and heading toward the Dungeon for the first run today. He only paused when he heard his gut rumble. Gritting his teeth, he murmured to himself, "You got fed last night..." as he willed his gut to be quiet. He had been living on one meal a day for his own sake. Been too busy to eat anything, so he'd taken his lunch with him today. Last night had been the only night he'd eaten in half a month.

The Spartan suddenly felt a chill up his spine... Like... Like a pair of eyes gazed upon him for the first time... And not with any particularly good intentions.

He hummed, frowning. That was weird.

"Hello, adventurer!" He heard a young woman greet. He turned to the left, to see a silver-haired young beauty with blue eyes smiling at him. She was wearing a maid's out fit, though colored green and white instead of the usual black and white. She looked right at him as her cheeks glowed red. She stated, "I haven't seen you around before... Are you new?"

"Yeah..." he nodded, then looked behind her, to see the sign of the larger building behind. It read 'The Hostess of Fertility'. The building itself was a large two-story house-like place with a bunch of wood accents, but a quick peek inside revealed it to be a pub with several tables, as well as an inn, presumably. He hummed, then asked, "New place?" somewhat dumbfound.

The girl shook her head, "No. The Hostess has been open for some time now... Oh, yes, where are my manners! Hello, I'm Syr Flova, one of the Hostess's staff. What's your name, Adventurer?"

"Six..." he replied firmly, hopeful that would work.

"Interesting," The girl's smile seemingly grew, "A pleasure to meet you, mister Six."

Good. She took it at face value. Fewer people that knew his name, the better.

"Likewise," He nodded, "Anything interesting happening in the Hostess?"

"All the time," The girl chuckled, "We're a pub that serves everyone from common folk and merchants by midday to adventurers during the evening."

"I see," Six hummed. He'd just found his target for the evening's information hunt. He then stiffened as his stomach audibly growled through his armor. He looked down at his gut, then murmured to himself, "Well, damn... Guess I shouldn't have skipped breakfast..." before waking up with a neatly-wrapped box in front of him. He staggered, both brows quirked up and his hand hovering loosely around his handgun. He saw it was Syr that was handing him the box.

She spoke, "Here. I can tell you're hungry. It's a breakfast box that I made."

"I... isn't it yours?" He inquired, incredulous. She nodded.

"It is, but don't worry. Once the pub opens, I can eat," then she handed him the box, which he took as gingerly as he could, still staring at it with surprise. She still held a smile, tilting her head off to the side, "However, there's a caveat..." and, of course, he was right. There was always a caveat. He tilted his head, as if asking what it was. She promptly answered, "You have to come eat dinner at the Hostess!"

That was it?

"Okay," He nodded, "I was planning to come anyway... Need to hear the talk of the town."

She beamed, "Happy to hear that! We'll see you then, mister Six!"

"Mhm. Safe day, miss Flova," He spoke, then stepped away. His next objective was the Dungeon. And this time, he was gonna hang around for a bit, honestly. He needed the exercise and he had the food to boot, so he walked in and just started clearing the place again. He'd met a few harder creatures this time around, but still stuff that you'd find in the Upper Levels. No more luck or big monsters. Good. He needed the easy battles to clear his head this time around.

Somehow, he felt a bit guilty for leaving Hestia alone as he did. He could easily make it up to her, though. And he knew just how...

Helmet off his head as the evening breeze blew in their faces, Six marched beside a skipping, happy Hestia toward the Hostess of Fertility. The girl had the biggest, dumbest grin on her face as she bounced from one foot to another and sang "To dinner with Odell~... I'm going to dinner with Odell~..." rather jovially, if a hint whispered. She didn't have a bad singing voice, Six thought.

He saw Syr waiting for him in the doorway. She bounced up, smiling, then paused for a moment as she saw Hestia, but regained her smile, though it seemed a tad forced now. She greeted, "Hello, mister Six! And hello to you, miss!"

"Hello, miss Flova. This is the Goddess I'm in a contract with. Hestia," The man stated.

Syr paused for a moment, then hummed and the old, normal smile returned. She nodded and said, "Of course. Welcome to the Hostess of Fertility. Right this way," and she motioned to the inside with her right hand while holding an empty tray close to her chest with her left. The two stepped inside and, for a moment, the entire restaurant went quiet. Six scanned it and saw them. Several gruff faces, blades at their hips or on their backs. Beer, ale or other various alcohols on the tables in pint cups made of wood that resembled barrels in their shape and design. Food also lay on the tables.

There was an empty table in the middle. Six ignored the stares, which soon returned to their own tables as they began laughing, talking, drinking and eating again. The Spartan, helmet under his arm, approached the counter with Syr and a still-happy Hestia. Behind it, the two saw a tall woman, just about Six's height, surprisingly enough. She was buff, well-built and certainly had handsome features. Her brown hair was caught in a ponytail and she wore a blue comfortable dress with a white apron. Turning to face the Spartan and Hestia, she paused for a moment, then hummed and squinted.

"... You Syr's friend?" She then asked.

He paused and hummed. Friend, huh? "... I guess you could say that, yes. Name's Six and this is Hestia, the Goddess I work with," The man introduced himself. Beside him, Syr beamed brightly.

She turned, then hummed as she gave him a once-over... And she smirked and extended her hand, "Pleasure to make yer acquaintance, lad. I'm Mia Grand, though most folks call me Mama Mia because of the amount of strays I take in as my own kids," to which the Spartan firmly gripped and shook. She had the strength of a Supersoldier behind that hand, if he felt it right. She motioned to the seats and said, "Syr told me you may be coming with the armor on, so..."

The Spartan looked at his own stool and saw it was... Metallic. He knocked on it and heard the telltale ring of probably steel or some other resilient metal.

Mama Mia smirked, "Like it?"

"It's... Interesting..." The Spartan remarked, "What kind of metal is it?"

"Eh. Random steel," She shrugged, watching as the man actually sat himself down and set his helmet aside. Turning back, the woman hefted two plates full of what looked to be noodles in a red sauce, setting them in front of the Spartan and his Goddess. The man looked at the massive portion, his stomach rumbling, then looked to the woman who gave a thumbs up.

"... I... We... Wha-" He doubled over.

"Don't worry, pal," She smirked, "We know how much big folks eat," and she patted her own gut, then let out a hearty laugh before she gave him a thumbs up, to which he sghed and turned toward Hestia... Who was already devouring her plate. He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Of course, she'd do that. He surrendered for the moment, took his own fork and started digging in, ever-protesting the arrival of more food on the counter.

It seemed that being friends with Syr was a great boon for getting good service. Still, he had to pay.

Some minutes later, the Spartan had finished three plates and a shared platter full of random meats and was making calculations in his head over what he had to pay. He spun Emile's Kukri, balancing it on its tip and on the counter as he calculated. He looked to Mama Mia and said, "Apologies, but it helps me focus on my calculus..." to which she smirked.

"It's fine, lad," She waved it off, "It's a nice knife."

"Thanks... Belonged to a friend..." he sighed, then stopped its spinning as his calculations reached somewhere around ten thousand Valis for the entire meal plus the multitude of ale pints he'd drunk. Lifting the knife and looking at its curved blade, he murmured to himself, "Whenever this thing came out, someone fucking died... Sorry now's not the case, Emile..."

He sighed, then ran the knife gently across his left gauntlet's fingers, before doing a flourishing trick and sheathing it quickly, then he heard someone call out, "The reservation's here!"

Turning, he saw a redhead woman with a proud smirk and a rather revealing adventurer's blue and black outfit appear through the door. She waved, "Hello, Mama Mia! We're here!" and she stepped forth. Several other members, including two tanned, beautiful girls, one with shorter hair, the other with long, both wearing revealing outfits as well, as well as a grey-haired cat-person of some kind that walked in with a chip on his shoulder. Behind him was a small boy with short blonde hair and, finally, behind him, was a familiar face, side-by-side with a green-haired elf in a mage's outfit.

Ais Wallenstein.

"Welcome, welcome! Glad to see the Loki Familia swinging by again!" Mia laughed, somehow shutting up some of the more lecherous pigs in the group that were shouting all kinds of obscenities... Until they realized that was the Loki Familia.

Six hummed, then slowly turned back to what remained of their dinner and started eating again. Hestia stared for a moment at the Familia. Loki, huh? He saw her frown for a moment, before turning back to her food. That was strange, but better ignored. Again, getting too involved with any local, even the Goddess that provided him her Falna-her blessing-out of an idea that he was going to go home.

He sighed, lifted a freshly-poured mug of Ale, then said, "Mama Mia, please. I think I've had enough alcohol for the day," and he flashed her a somewhat forced smile.

She chuckled, "Sorry, kid. You just look like you need it."

Well, she wasn't wrong. He shrugged, then nodded and sipped the drink, his ears focusing on the Loki Familia table. He hadn't heard anything interesting beyond the standard gossip the entire night. Even some words about the 'lucky new kid'. Him, presumably. Not a lot of them were bad, but not a lot of them were good, either. He felt an elbow hit his own and turned to his left.

"You okay?" Hestia asked, seemingly worried.

He nodded, "Just fine. Listening for info..."

"On?" She raised a brow.

"Anything weirder than the usual of this town," He replied calmly, "A way home... That kind of thing..."

"Ah..." She hummed, then turned to her food and continued eating, seemingly bummed. They'd talk at home. Right now, though? His ears picked up the catboy's words.

"... And then our Sword Princess over here," He clapped a hand on her shoulder, grinning a toothy, fang-filled grin, "Tells me she ran into that rookie that's been talk of the town, armor and everything! Bastard was mad enough to go toe-to-toe with the Minotaur and kept it occupied just enough for our lady over here to put a blade through its back and finish it off!" and he then laughed, "I'll be damned, new kid must be suicidal!"

The entire table, save for the green-haired elf, Ais and the blonde boy let out a laugh.

"Bete," Ais spoke, pushing his hand off her shoulder.

"C'mon, Ais! You saved the guy's backside!" The man laughed, "You can be proud of it! He owes you!"

"He owes me nothing," Ais replied, "I saw him fighting."

"And?" The youngster asked, looking at her.

"He'd removed one of the Minotaur's hands. Put several wounds into it," She stated, crossing her arms to her chest, "And seemed just about ready to finish it himself."

"He's a level one, Ais," Loki, presumably, remarked, "He can't be that tough."

"There's something about the way he fought..." She sighed, then started, "Never-" and she froze. She and the Spartan had locked eyes at just that instant and she seemed stuck for a moment, taking the sight of him without a helmet in. He hummed, somewhat surprised, then nodded calmly and turned to eat. Bete looked over to her, then tracked her gaze to the man himself.

He grinned, "Well, speak of the Devil..." and he stood up.

"Bete," Ais started annoyedly, glaring at the boy despite her deadpan face.

"Bete, sit down and let the man eat," The young boy seemingly ordered, turning to see him himself. The eyes of the entire place were on them.

"Oh, calm down, folks. I'm just gonna go talk to him," He said smugly. He approached the Spartan, starting, "Hey, buddy! You the new kid?" and Six felt like the girl didn't get the message about not talking about him to anyone. Sighing as he felt Bete's hand slam against his shoulder plate, he looked over to the catboy with a stare that somewhat surprised him. He chuckled awkwardly, then asked, "You good there? You look like you're one too many ales in for the night."

He looked at his cup, then said, "Looks like it to me, too..." Then he set the cup down on the table. He turned to face him, then stated, "Bete, huh?"

"That's me, yeah," He grinned, "So, is what Ais is telling us true? You went toe-to-toe with a damn Minotaur?"

"I was on level five... Aren't they only in the lower levels?" He inquired nonchalantly, , staring the catboy with silver hair square in the eye and not budging. He raised a brow at the Spartan, about to ask something, but he started, "I'm not accusing the Sword Princess of lying. It's just a statement of fact that Minotaurs have nothing to do on the Fifth Floor..."

The boy hummed, then stated with a hint of irritation in his voice, "May be so, but you had the bad luck of actually running into one."

The tension in the room was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife. Six hummed, then said, "Don't know what to tell you, friend... It's not likely that it happened. Maybe she saved some other guy."

"Nah, nah, nah," The man started, "She described the armor you wore, too..."

Six sighed, "Like I said. Don't know what to tell you..." Before he stood to his feet. He slid a purse full of Valis to Mia, then said, "The food and drink were amazing, miss Grand. Thanks. Goddess, let's go..." and put his helmet on, seemingly to the chagrin of the girl sitting at the Loki's table. The Goddess of their Familia stared, interested, before she gasped.

"... Hestia...?" She murmured, grinning ear to ear, "Oh, you gotta tell me about this at the upcoming Gods' Party..."

Hestia huffed, "Oh, no... You're right. Let's go... Thanks, mama Mia! Food was delish!"

"Hah. Happy to hear, Goddess," She nodded, smiling. She nodded to them, then turned back to work, cleaning the mugs.

Bete growled, then clapped a hand down harshly onto the boy's shoulder and started, "I was talking to you, New Kid!" and he gasped as the Spartan's armored hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. He turned slowly, staring the man in the eyes while he looked at his own grimacing reflection in the visor. The crackle of stretching ligaments and slowly-breaking bones echoed as the Spartan twisted his arm off to the side.

"And I think we were done the moment you came over..." He replied, his voice a deadpan. He growled, trying to lift his other hand and free the left, but the Spartan squeezed harder, stating, "So, I'm thinking we do things this way... You leave us alone... And you never have to see me again. Otherwise, if ya don't, I know humanoid anatomy well enough to rip someone's arm out of its socket... Cat-Boy..."

The man growled, "You'll-"

"That's enough," Hestia protested, grabbing onto Six's arm and pleading, "Please, let's go home..."

He looked over to see Loki coming. The redhead goddess ordered, "Bete, leave'em be. Ais's reque... Y'know, to Hel with it, it's an order..." and she turned to Six, stating calmly, "If you let my guy go, I won't declare a War Game and wipe your lil' Familia out, pal," Words to which Six hummed. New term to learn about at home, then. He scoffed, then let Bete go and glared at him from behind the visor as the man rubbed his wrist. He turned to Loki.

"Don't worry... You won't be seeing us any time soon,' He stated, then turned to leave, taking Hestia with him.

Loki turned to Bete, then said, "Nice going, dumbass. You pissed him off."

"How's that my fault...?" The man murmured, rubbing his hand. He glared at them, then growled...

This little humiliation wasn't the end...

Chapter Text

The screech of metal scratching a specialized stone filled the hidden chamber within the abandoned church as the SPARTAN sharpened the edge of his weapon. Beside him, Hestia stood, watching as the man meticulously brought both his straight-edged blade and the curved one to proper fighting sharpness, small flakes of metal flying off like burning sparks due to the friction between the weapons and the whetstone.

He hummed, setting aside what he called the 'Bowie Knife'(whomsoever that Bowie may have been to have had Odell's knife named after him, Hestia thought to herself) and then switched to the Kukri again. Drawing it out of its sheath for proper sharpening once more, the boy pressed it against the whetstone and scratched multiple times, to the point the blade looked like it had been polished on both sides. He spun the Kukri between his fingers, then looked at the blade.

Hestia remembered when he'd appeared a mere month or so ago. The small, uneasy truce she found with the man before her about him joining her Familia, her discovering his skills(and subsequently being absolutely gobsmacked by the sight, seeing as that high a set of numbers was nigh impossible without prior attachment to a God or Familia) and the almost two million Valis the man had raked in since.

Now, a million Valis was nothing to scoff at. Hell, two was very good, especially for a Rookie. It was a lot of money, but it also was pretty much the 'basic' money of any local adventurer above his level, he figured. That, or it was the case, anyway, with the Loki Familia's most elite. The rumors the man and Hestia had been able to overhear about the Sword Princess and the team behind her were nothing short of intriguing to the Supersoldier, it seemed.

Meanwhile, Six could only think of continuing his little bouts. He needed to keep his skills sharp, just in case something or other caught him off-guard. It was never a good idea to just simply venture headfirst into anything and everything he faced in the Dungeon under Babel. Sure, he mostly fought fodder, weak enemies that one could literally take out with a pocket knife if their skills were even somewhat above mediocre. He looked at the Kukri in his hand, noting the slight indent on the tip from when Emile must've carved the demonic face into his EVA helmet's visor. He wondered if he should sharpen it out for a moment, but decided against it. It was a sort of last memory of Emile, plus, the damn thing stabbed well enough.

He sighed and sheathed the blade. He'd draw enough blood on his next outing to the corrosively claustrophobic battlefield that was the Dungeon's halls to sate the thirst of his friend's blade. Attaching both blades to his armor and ensuring all systems were operational via running a diagnostic, he noted to himself that he only had enough Hydrogen for the microfusion reactor in the MJOLNIR for about another two, maybe three years. After that point, he'd either need to find an immediate source of hydrogen and some way to make it into usable power cells, or ditch the armor entirely.

Latter wasn't likely, though. He wasn't losing one of the advantages he had over anything in this place. He looked around, his mind still locked on any way to gather proper resources and make himself new power cells. Sure, three years was a long time in the grand scheme of things, at least it sounded like a long time on paper, but with as busy and mundane a life as the SPARTAN had found for himself here, it would be like a drop of water.

Dangling her feet off the bed, Hestia looked at him and asked, "Is everything alright, Odell?"

"Just checking something in regards to my armor..." He spoke, then scratched the back of his neck just below the connection point that allowed him to run the armor. He turned off the diagnostics after getting a full green across the board and added, "I should go..." before standing up. Hestia was about to ask him to wait for a moment so they could talk, but she sighed and sat herself back down.

She said to him, "Take care, Odell. I may be gone for a couple of days..."

"I'll be sticking to the floors I know are for rookies..." He replied, some hint of dismay behind the stoic demeanor, "Take care, Goddess..." And he walked off. She smiled at him, then took a bite out of a cooled potato ball. She did enjoy his presence, even if he was never very talkative. It was nice to know he did care enough to tell her to 'take care', though. Almost as if he was actually there for more than just 'Oh, I guess I'm part of your Familia now, because I have to be'.

It was nice to think about. The guy had done a lot to improve their well-being, too, considering everything that was going on around them. She sighed, then stood to her feet, wondering just how she could help him, however, to repay him and lessen his own workload. Aside from working as well, that was. She was already helping run one of Hephaestus's shops alongside a few other part-timers to earn some Valis of her own.

Hephaestus... Hm.

She knew Six wielded those big ol' knives of his, but she wondered just what she could do to help improve them. One of them was already chipping itself, it seemed. The Bowie Knife. Meanwhile, the other seemed to be holding on nice and tight for its life, meaning it was still gonna be useful to her SPARTAN child for the foreseeable future. He did mention it had belonged to one of his friends once upon a time.

She wondered if friends of his would also come by. Sighing, she put on her work shoes(Which he had gotten for her!) and stepped out as well, smiling ear to ear as she slowly began to formulate a plan for what she could get him as a thank-you gift with her own money. She wouldn't spend anything from their coffers just yet, of course. No point in doing it.

Maybe Heph could help with the gift, she thought. Departing for her workplace, Hestia marched down the road toward Babel itself, listening in to the whispers of the city as she passed by. The people around her spoke of the 'soldier in the heavy armor' that had just recently gone through this place. Whispers of what he had done to one of the Loki Familia's members at Mamma Mia's place filtered to her as well, with a somewhat prideful grin taking place of her usual warm smile.

That people were talking about that Bete fellow getting his arm twisted into stopping himself from being a pain in the behind was nice. Add to that the fact Loki couldn't really do a thing about it because Bete really started the altercation, with the witnesses to prove it, and it was just all-in-all a pretty funny, good day for one to be part of the Hestia Familia. Sure, they may get challenged by people and Bete might've been planning something or other for revenge, but that wasn't gonna be a problem.

Walking into Babel and taking the elevator to the shopping district of the tower, the girl marched through the crowds and into the Hephaestus Familia's shop. She greeted, "Hey, Tania," as she walked past the counter. The girl there greeted her with a smile and a nod, before Hestia stopped, looked around at the shelves of weaponry and asked, "Uh... Where's Heph?"

"Oh, she's out for the day. Prepping for Ganesha's party and Monster Feria, y'know?" Tania replied as she walked up to her. For a moment, the small Goddess seemed stunned, turning to the blonde-haired girl with wide eyes. Tania paused, scratched her chin and said with a tone as awkward as possible, "I take it you didn't get invited, Goddess Hestia...?"

"No, I did," Hestia stated rather loudly, "I FORGOT ABOUT IT!" before she grabbed her head and screamed loudly toward the sky, garnering the attention of patrons and fellow employees alike. Tania patted her on the shoulder, speaking some recomforting words that presumably fell on deaf ears. The girl then turned toward Tania, grabbed her by the shoulders and begged her, "Can you please cover my shift while I go find a dress?!"

"Y-You didn't..." Tania hummed, then sighed deeply, "Sure..."

Hestia then hugged the girl tightly, bringing her face into her chest and nearly smothering her as she cried out, "You're the best!" and then skipped off to go find a proper dress. Tania breathed, finally, after having been kept in-between those 'things' of Hestia's for the better part of five seconds. She sighed, then turned back to work. All this happened under the watchful gazes of someone who wasn't as much a customer as she was... Eerily familiar with the situation.

Within the confines of Babel's upper levels, where she and her Familia, one of, if not the most powerful in the city of Orario, resided, the Goddess stared at an orb through which the audio and visuals of a small scouting creature had been playing. She hummed, smiling, then said, "Perhaps I should attend Ganesha's party, after all. If only to understand how Hestia got our little champion into her ranks so easily... In the meanwhile..."

Her hand hovered over a strange device. Familiar, yet so offputtingly strange to her, she had used it once before... And she smiled, "Let's see..." before she thumbed it to activate it, "What you bring this time..." and let the blue light of the device dance in front of her face as a whirlpool of black energy formed inside the central sphere, lightning sparkling into the walls made of an alien glass...

... Meanwhile, elsewhere, the SPARTAN himself was dealing with the usual grinding as he put blade and fist through the creatures of the cave. He spun the Kukri in one hand, mostly utilizing it to do right by his silent promise. He had been hunting on Level 5 again, keeping to himself for the most part as evening approached. He had updated the armor's internal clock to the place's time.

He wiped the blood of one of the taller, lankier beasts of the place off the knife, then slotted it back into its sheath. It was going to be an interesting few hours of grinding, taking into account that(if she even remembered) Hestia was supposed to be going to the party of another of the Gods pretty soon. Ganesha was the man's name, if Six remembered correctly. One of the Hindu gods, perhaps the god of parties himself? Six wasn't sure, he had not met him.

He was pretty sure that the only other god he had 'met' was Loki. And she seemed like the brash, annoying type of goddess, high and mighty and up her own behind because of her Familia's advancements. They, however, hadn't had problems after the thing at Mama Mia's place. That was a good sign, maybe they scared off that annoying Goddess's little posse and the 'Sword Princess'.

SPARTANs didn't need distractions, especially not something or someone like that Wallenstein girl, Six thought as he pushed on through the place, seeking out other targets and yet more gems to exchange for Valis and provide them some extra food for the rest of next month. He hadn't had much time to think, however. Reflect on what had truly happened to him all those days ago. That he had truly died and was now in another realm, a world as strange as could be.

He remembered now that Hestia had mentioned something about him. That something had sent him here. He had gotten too distracted with his work as an 'adventurer' and earning himself enough money for him and her to stay alive that he'd forgotten to ask what she had meant by that. Alas, he would ask once she was home from the party and he had finished his grinding for the day and evening.

Climbing out of the place, level by level, the man sheathed his blades and marched forth out into the town. By all intents and purposes, Hestia would presumably be gone for the next couple of days, visiting the Ganesha family for that party. He could spend time all evening, gathering more gems. Or, he could do the smart thing, go deliver the kills he had so far, then go around town and listen in.

He wondered if-CLANG

He stopped as his foot caught something. Said something rolled forward a couple of feet, undented and undamaged as it seemed, but with a familiar hue shining through the dim lights of the place. He was stunned for a moment, watching as the item's holographic display flared upward, revealing an image of a humanoid figure in the middle of a circle, half-vanished and leaving only its outline.

He took a knee in front of the device, which resembled a bulbous, specialized attachment that strapped itself to the rear of his armor. Lifting the device, he murmured to himself, "A camouflage field...?" as he thumbed it. The holographic display disappeared, then the device itself seemed to vanish slowly behind a thin veneer of transparency, followed by the SPARTAN's very hand slowly vanishing behind it, until nothing was left of the SPARTAN.

He hummed, standing to his feet and clipping the device to the rear of his MJOLNIR, then thumbed its activation button again as the firmware update re-started. He'd used this kind of thing once, during the Night Op with Jun, as they were working on dealing with the concealment canopy system that the Covvies had brought in to mask the Long Night of Solace's troop complement deployment zone.

He looked around, hand hovering over his pistol as he scanned the claustrophobic corridor and the three branch-off points with killer intent. With a malcontent-filled hum, the SPARTAN deactivated the camouflage field to let it recharge and walked out as the firmware finished updating. According to the key notes, the device was usable for hours if power was allowed to be shunted from shields and into it, but it'd eat away at the power cells relatively faster than normal, with the remade calculations showing that the armor could last for up to one-point-five years of continuous operation with the device at full power and constantly on. One-point-seven with it being used sparingly, by activating and deactivating it as needed. Idling it also seemed to consume very little in the way of power.

Odd, but Six felt good knowing that the item wouldn't draw that much power when not in use. He eyed the cloak notification that appeared to the top-left of his motion tracker and the timer with it. Marching forth and out of the dungeon, the man set his sights on doing something he should have done earlier:Gathering intel. He activated the camouflage device just as he emerged, seeing it engage the strange effect of painting multiple dots on the motion tracker.

He needed to get an update set up so that it didn't do that to him. It was also of no use. There were no real enemies out here using motion trackers, or at least not electronic ones. Magic was a thing, though, so, maybe they could. So was Perception, apparently something that could be upgraded and/or trained to be much better, akin to how a SPARTAN's perception was well above a normal human one.

He wanted to also understand the whole 'Falna' blessing system, the magic, skills and other such things, but he figured he'd find a book or two about it in a library, or he could just ask Hestia when she came back. For now, though, the man pushed on into town slowly, as for the active camouflage not to fade out. He made sure to stay out of sight of crowds and stick to the shadows.

He was a SPARTAN. He was good at being stealthy despite the half-a-ton's weight worth of titanium battle plate on his body. Continuing his trek through the town, the man stopped to eavesdrop on several conversations. Some of them spoke of the Dungeon's penchant for spawning more monsters as of late, though with no real explanation as to the 'why' of the matter.

Going further down and to the next conversation, the man listened in as men spoke of an upcoming festival hosted by the Ganesha Familia known as 'Monster Feria'. Something about fighting monsters in the big Colosseum in the city's entertainment district? He assumed that Ganesha would be running the place, to nobody's surprise. Other than that, not much talk between the Adventurers. He stepped away, as if he had never been there, silently thanking whatever silent benefactor handed him the cloak.

The SPARTAN would do this well into the evening, seeking out new information on the proclivities and matters of the city, as well as seeking out information on the various Familias that inhabited Orario. Sadly for him, there were no rumors of new artifacts like the cloak he'd found, or anything like that to bolster his chances of going home to help in the War Effort yet again. He had realized long ago that the UNSC would need every SPARTAN they could get, so, finding a way home was still paramount. And it was good he got to start his search now, but...

This was gonna be a long couple of days...

The Gods' Party.

As night fell and the crowds of Gods gathered, Unsurprising Extravagance was the play for the Ganesha Familia's usual party tricks. Held in the Ganesha Familia's large estate, simply known to all as I am Ganesha, the massive elephant humanoid statue with an entrance in the crotch, the home of the god Ganesha was as incredibly luxurious as it was strange. Kind of like the man himself, who now greeted the coming gods, both great and minor, to their party, clad in nothing but his elephant mask, a strange cloth that covered his lower body and an exposed top, revealing the musclebound god, his luscious black hair flowing in the wind.

Fancily dressed in suits, dresses, or attire matching their specific culture, each god and goddess mingled, chatting, laughing and enjoying each-other's presence(or planning to stab one-another in the back, depending on relationships) as they moved about the grounds of the multi-story statue-house which had a fountain in the middle with two sets of stairs that converged at the base of said fountain, which was an elephant.

A great deal of beautiful goddesses presented themselves to their fellow gods, to the indignation of the other minor and major goddesses and perhaps even some of the gods, as they flirted with, or acted cordially with the gods that were an object of affection to those scorned. In the background, music played, a combination of percussion, strings and even woodwind filling the air with harmonious melodies at just the perfect speed for a semi-alert dance routine. There was a certain eastern flair to the whole thing, as was fitting for a god related to the Hindu pantheon.

Some men whispered to one-another, "Hey, how long's it been? How many centuries?"

"About four days," Another replied from his seat, watching as the gathered crowds continued to mill around each-other, laughing and just enjoying the various foodstuffs and drinks being served. The man added, "Ganesha really went all-out for this one..." as he looked 'round at everything, including the entertainment on offering. The other chuckled.

"When doesn't he?" He then quipped.

"Fair... Is that Takemikazuchi over there?" His friend asked, pointing a finger toward two men, one of them clad in what looked to be a Yukata or some kind of Eastern attire as well. Beside him, a boyish-looking fellow with a peacock-feathered hat and fancy, if eccentric clothes poked fun at him, laughing at the God that was eating a lot more than one thought possible, "And that's Hermes..."

"Woah, I didn't know he came back from his trip," Stated another, "And... Oh, heavens, there she is!"

The men all gazed upon a woman that was descending one of the stairwells, flanked by two bodyguards clad in suits. She wore a fancy gown, a dress made to order for her specifically with floral motifs. In her short hair, she wore a laurel wreath made of a beautiful gold and even her haircut seemed made to accentuate her face, like her dress was made to accentuate her form.

"The Goddess of Beauty... Freya..." The men all spoke in reverent whispers.

The woman paused for a moment on the stairs, meanwhile. From the sea of otherwise familiar faces, the very woman who seemed to be the undisputed 'ruler' of Orario's Familias, with her own being the most powerful to date, caught sight of one familiar face among the crowd that intrigued her for a multitude of reasons. Smiling, she graciously descended down the stairs toward said figure, who was currently hunched over, hidden and stuffing a bowl of some kind full of various types of food, while also sneaking one or two bites in for herself.

The twin-tailed girl was clad in a bright blue dress that accentuated her own chest area, as well as a dark-blue, short jacket to keep herself warm. Freya greeted her with a smile, "Oh, Hestia!" which seemed to stun the girl enough to cause her to double over. She turned to face the beauty, eyes wide and with a dumpling caught in her mouth. Her two big blue eyes welcomed Freya's own cold lilac eyes with a hint of fright and a hint of indifferent surprise. Freya chuckled, "Am I interrupting?"

"Freya..." The girl spoke with her mouthful, then bit down on the food as she had to stare up at the woman. She stood about a head over her in height and she was certainly in a league of her own when it came to beauty, but alas, "I just don't know how to handle you, exactly..." was the only answer Hestia could give to her friendly neighborhood 'leader in all but name'.

"And I like that about you," Quipped the woman, "We haven't talked in so long."

"True," Hestia hummed, "Though you never really did pay attention to me... Admittedly, I didn't have anything to show for my name of 'Goddess' before."

Freya snorted, "Oh? And what may you have now?"

"A Familia," She replied, then sighed, "At least the start of one."

"I see," Freya nodded, "I am happy to hear your Familia was finally joined by someone, Hestia. Genuinely... We were all getting a little worried."

Hestia considered backsassing Freya, but she rather enjoyed her eternal life in the Realm of Humans so far. She simply answered, "Well... it could always be worse. Could be..." and she looked past Freya, scowling for a moment, as a familiar, flat-chested face with short red hair and a fancy black dress strutted down the stairs, eyes narrowed and smile wide.

"Freeeyaaaa~!" Loki greeted her, jumping onto the Goddess's back with a smile, then turning to Hestia and adding, "And Buttflea, of course! I was actually lookin' for ya!"

"Loki," Freya commented, "You certainly look interesting."

"Hehe~!" The redhead smiled awkwardly, "Thanks, Freya. You look great, too."

"You were looking for me, then, Loki?" Hestia crossed her arms to her surprisingly more voluptuous chest, bringing them to the forefront, which seemed to irritate the goddess of one of the strongest Familias enough for a vein to pop out. Freya chuckled at the little tit-measuring contest between the two, then took a step back and grabbed some food off the table to watch the exchange. Perhaps she wouldn't even need to ask Hestia about the newcomer herself.

And her suspicions were correct as Loki leaned forward, stating, "Bete's still pretty pissed at your child for the twisted arm. Who was that guy, anyway? Ais stunned us with her stories about him duking it out and somehow almost killing a freakin' Minotaur at his level, so I figured I should ask what kind of crazy bastard you managed to conjure up with your powers."

Freya chuckled, but covered her mouth. Oh, poor, poor Loki...

Hestia took a moment, wondering if he should speak the man's real name at all, considering the annoying catboy and, presumably, the rest of Loki's Familia knew him as his number. She smirked, then said, "Six is a really strange case, I'm gonna be honest. He's a level one, but he's got some skills here and there that are a bit above your average Rookie, so..."

"Any hints you can give us?" Loki grinned.

"Sorry. Told Six I'd keep it a secret," She jabbed back, also grinning. She paused for a moment, then hummed and sighed, "But he's very alone..."

"Oh?" Freya and Loki raised brows, curious. What could the Goddess even mean by that? Of course, it was of interest to the two of them. For Loki, it was because Ais seemed to be stunned by the fact a Rookie had been able to stand toe-to-toe with a monster twice his size and almost win. For Freya, it was because she wondered just what kind of man had come to their world from beyond the Veil, to break the usual peace of the place.

"It's a long story," Hestia sighed deeply, deciding not to add too much, "Let's just say he isn't from around the place. And he looks like he's lost a lot... Got that stare all soldiers had after many battles. I tried to get him to open up, but he's mostly keeping to himself, processing it on his own, it looks like. That, or acting like it doesn't exist and that he's fine."

"Sounds like ya got your hands full," Loki commented, leaning back with a bit of a strange expression on her face, one of compassion. She recalled just how Ais had been when they'd gotten her inducted into the Familia. She was a bit of a mess, though nobody in the Familia would ever say it to anyone without miss Wallenstein's express permission in the matter.

Freya, meanwhile, seemed to take a moment to process just how broken the Lieutenant could be...

Loki sighed deeply, then said, "I'll get Bete off his ass once the Party's over. Guy still wants a bit of payback for what happened at the Hostess, but he should cool off. Consider it a gift from the Loki Familia to your started party," And she smirked. Hestia nodded, smiling back, which seemed to actually surprise Loki. She asked, "Uhm, everything alright, Hestia? You'd've taken a jab at my chest or something by now."

"Just worried, I guess," Hestia shrugged, "The first person to want to join my Familia's a soldier I don't know if I can help and it just kind of hit me..."

"Give it time, Buttflea," Smirked Loki, "He'll open up."

Hestia rolled her eyes, "Sure, sure, Flattop..." And that actually got a slight snort, then a growl out of Loki. Hestia hummed, looked around, then asked "Hey, has anyone seen Hephaestus? I wanna talk to her about something..." and noting the incredibly tall, messy-haired shadow standing behind her. The girl swiveled about and let out a sharp screech, before she gave the woman a once-over. Clad in a long, red dress and wearing gloves that went up to over her shoulder, as well as a black eyepatch, the redheaded woman she sought stood in front of her now.

"I'm not lending you any money, Hestia," She said, blunt and direct, her face impassive, words which seemed to 'deeply wound' the shortstack goddess before her as she doubled over. Freya and Loki chose to watch the upcoming discussion out of the pure amusement of seeing it unfold. Hestia was about to reply to Hephaestus, Goddess of the Forge, but was stopped by Heph herself adding, "I was actually looking for you, too."

"Oh?" Hestia paused, "Were you, now?"

"Yes," Hephaestus nodded, "Your Rookie's the talk of the town. Big, armored fellow, bigger than a lot of the local adventurers... Wanted to ask about him, but I wanna find out what you want from me first."

"Right," Hestia nodded, "Well, favor for a favor for an old friend, then? I tell you a bit about Six and you listen to my request...?"

Hephaestus sighed audibly, annoyed and well aware that this could lead into another of the Goddess's requests for money. However, she chose to humor her, just this once, because the Rookie was, in fact, talk of the town for multiple reason. "Fine," She replied, then took a sip of the red wine in her glass, "But if it's anything relating to money, you're on your own. You freeloaded off of our Familia long enough before. Not again."

Hestia chuckled awkwardly, then nodded. She understood Hephaestus's little cause for... Distrust.

She had had a long, bad day when she came into Heph's care.

Chapter Text

The SPARTAN continued his eavesdropping, listening in to the bigshot adventurers, store owners, clerks and leaders as they chatted with one-another. It was the second day of the operation and, for now, the only bits of information he acquired were some items regarding strange symbols on the Middle Floors and the fact that he had, in fact, become the real talk of the town somewhat due to a few matters, including his equipment.

He really needed to keep a lower profile, just so that people didn't start looking at him funny or asking to fight him. This was gonna be an annoyance for later on as he sought more information. Especially in regards to why a piece of kit like active camouflage dropped in the middle of the Dungeon as if it was some kind of loot from an event in one of those weird 'video games' he heard normal kids played.

He hummed, then sighed and dropped into a dark alleyway, decloaking as to conserve power for the device. Walking out onto the paved road of the main boulevard of the city, he looked toward Babel and wondered if he should try a run today. He could expect a decent enough payout from it, but he still needed more information. Nobody, not even anyone with possible Black Market connections, seemed to have anything new to say or for him to listen to.

He sighed, then marched toward Babel, hoping that he could potentially find out more information from the Dungeon itself. Maybe it'd drop more supplies for him to be able to accomplish his mission and finally find a way home. Or, maybe, it'd drop him a piece of tech that could just potentially send him home with the flick of a switch. Starting to walk, he was soon cut off by a pair of cat ears standing at about chest height.

"I was looking for meow, big man!" He heard a voice speak, then looked down to see one of the Hostess of Fertility's barmaids. A catgirl with brown hair, cat ears and a tail of the same color and amber, catlike eyes. She smiled at him, then said, "We need your help, mew."

"What happened?" He asked, somewhat concerned.

"Meow see, Syr meowst've forgotten her wallet here, mew!" The girl spoke, lifting a purple coin purse with a golden zipper on the top. While Odell could partly make out what the catgirl was saying, it was incessantly annoying, even as she continued, "Could mew take it to her? She went to see Monster Feria in the town square, meow!" and only stopped as another of the barmaids walked out, carrying a box.

An elf, blonde-haired. Ryuu, he recalled. She spoke to the girl, "Anya, settle down and explain it properly to him. I do not think he can fully understand what you're saying..." before sighing as the catgirl started protesting and told him "Apologies, Lieutenant. Let me explain... Syr has gone to see Moster Feria at the Orario colosseum, but she forgot her coin purse with us after changing."

"I understood that much, miss Ryuu," He replied, then hummed and said, "Well, that and that you want me to take her purse to her. I assume some of the stands there sell food and items that need Valis to buy," to which the two nodded, Anya with a smile on her face. He sighed deeply, seeing as he had nothing better to do. Plus, Syr had made lunch for him twice so far. It would have been the least he could do for the girl. He looked to Anya and extended his open hand, to which she chuckled and handed him the purse.

Ryuu nodded, stating, "Many thanks, Lieutenant."

"Least I could do for Syr and you girls," He replied absentmindedly, slotting the purse into one of his chest pouches. Ryuu offered a small smile to him, then watched him depart side-by-side with Anya. Monster Feria, Six reminded himself, was a major event headed by the Ganeshas immediately after the big Gods' Party of theirs, wherein monsters brought from the Dungeon were fought in a blood sport of sorts by highly-advanced adventurers for the pure entertainment of Orario's citizenry, both Adventurer and basic civilian.

It would've been interesting to fight in, had the SPARTAN any wish to fully expose himself to Orario. He did not. As it was, he was doing a poor job hiding himself, apparently, by going into the dungeon time and again and killing more and more monsters. That random find at the beginning, the bird he killed that dropped that super-rare Loot, helped boost people's knowledge of him a bit when he went to the Guild with it. Then, the Loki Familia talking about him thanks to the Sword Princess...

He felt like he might not be able to avoid rumors circulating about him. The most he could do about those is make sure there were as few of them as possible as he lived his life here in Orario. Gathering in with the crowd of diverse adventurer-like folks going toward the Colosseum in the Entertainment District, the SPARTAN suddenly felt as if he was being watched again. He looked up at the buildings around, making sure nobody was scoping him in and trying to look at the road, as well.

... However, his suspicions were correct. Despite her current attention being on Loki, rather than him, Freya herself still regarded Noble Six through a specialized magical device of her own creation, one with high enough perception to see him even through his cloak. Ahead of the woman who was now clad in a cloak, meanwhile, resided Loki, of course, and the Sword Princess, Ais Wallenstein, all of them sat on the top floor balcony of a fancier local pub that the Freya Familia tended to frequent.

"... Who're you looking for this time, then, Freya?" Loki inquired, seemingly suspicious, "Because most of the time you called me was when you wanted info on someone..."

Freay chuckled, "Oh, is that so? Can we not just catch up? We hadn't had much time last evening after Hestia made a small fool of herself in front of Hephaestus. I'm pretty sure she is still bothering our forging sister for something..." And that last bit, she seemed to say almost knowingly. Loki never really knew how to take Freya's jabs, honestly. If Hestia had trouble with it, Loki was barely sure what Freya meant half the time.

Even Ais seemed slightly distraught, but the girl was distracted by something for now. She seemingly scanned the flowing crowds for someone, as Freya had been until recently. Loki looked to her and said, "Fair enough...?" as she picked up her clear glass, which contained a red cocktail she didn't know the name of, but picked because it sounded fancy, then took a sip from it, feeling the sweet tinge of fruit mixed with the burning alcohol's slightly bitter taste as it went down. She hummed, then said, "So, what is it exactly?"

Freya hummed, then said, "I guess you were somewhat correct. This is about a certain someone."

"Oh, boy," Chuckled Loki, "Lemme guess, you want them in your Familia again. What's got your eye this time?"

"Oh, no. For now, I'm merely observing him," She replied, smiling, "Let's just say that he was brought here under special circumstances, from what I can tell. And he is a rather infamous person right now," words which Loki immediately understood in this whole context. It was about Buttflea's first recruit, wasn't it? About that guy, Six, that Ais had seen fighting a Minotaur alone.

Loki paused, then said, "First time you've ever admitted you're just lookin' at the guy. And I'm not sure if it's because he's already taken, or because you wanna make sure he'd be a worthwhile investment... Seriously, what is it that caught your eye?" as she swirled the drink in her clear glass. Ais herself seemed to catch onto what her patron was saying, but chose not to comment, simply eyeing the crowd and noticing the SPARTAN among them, standing out like a sore thumb.

"Hm," Freya chuckled, clearly noting that Loki must've gotten the hint without any extra information. Similarly, she had noticed the worry that now permeated the otherwise steel gaze of the Sword Princess. She squinted at Ais, then looked to Loki and explained, "He carries a weight on his shoulders, as if the very world around him had been set on them. Like the legend of Atlas... He bears a responsibility, a shame that seems hard to mend, as well as a fury that he attempts to contain," and she paused, taking a moment to think as Loki and Ais both seemed surprised. She added, "But, behind all that, there is a form of innocence, a youth, hidden behind the layers of his stolen life. It's something I'd like to see if I could... Bring out. Much like that aforementioned Fury, in fact," And she smiled, nursing her own, green-colored cocktail.

"Uh-huh..." Loki paused. She could actually feel Ais getting slightly incensed at it and she wasn't sure if the girl's malevolent aura manifested through the Falna, or if it was just her being somewhat angry. Her curiosity about the man was also present, of course, so she probably worried about what Freya'd do to him to drag out the things she wanted to drag out. She hummed, then said, "And what can we do about it?"

"Keep an eye on him, if you can," Freya requested, "I'd like to know how he fares in the Dungeon. I cannot keep my eyes on him at all times."

"... And what're you going to do if he already has a Familia?" Loki asked. Freya's smile remained, but she felt the air around them suddenly drop a few degrees centigrade. Or maybe it was just Freya, she thought. She waved it off and replied, "Nevermind, nevermind... I gotcha, Freya. No need to stare daggers into my freakin' soul. If our party ever meets his out there, we'll keep an eye on him."

Freya nodded, her warmth returning as she said, "My thanks, Loki... Oh, and one more thing... Let Bete be. I want to see how he deals with someone of a higher level than himself..." just as someone exited onto the balcony and whispered to her. She sighed, then said, "You'll have to excuse me, ladies. I have something I need to deal with..." Before standing up. She smiled at Loki and said, "Thanks for the drink, Loki. And keep what I asked you to do a bit secret, understood...?"

"Yes, ma'am," Loki murmured, then watched Freya depart. She sighed, then whispered to herself, "Buttflea's got it coming now if it is her boy Freya's after..." before looking at Ais and asking her, "Everything alright, Ais? You look a little bit lost..."

"I'm fine..." She replied absentmindedly, looking at the crowd again to see that he was gone. She sighed. Curiosity was a strong motivator to meet a person again. Even to Ais Wallenstein, the ice-cold Sword Princess, life drove her to the thought of encountering this man again. She did not know if she should trust Freya's words, that the man that had gladly fought close quarters with a beast above his level carried something like innocence. He was a soldier. An effective killer, as it seemed.

She sighed. Perhaps it was best not to think about it too much right now. They had their own business to attend to that did not involve the SPARTAN and Hestia. Still, she wondered just what Bete would do if given the chance to fight Six. Part of her wanted to say Bete would win, because he was a high-level adventurer, versus the level one that was Six.

"Let's go, Ais!" Loki yelled, "Can't believe Freya left the frickin' bill to me again..."

... Truly, no time to think about it now. She wondered where Hestia was, though.

Hephaestus Familia Estate

Hephaestus, Goddess of the Forge, creator of the greatest weapons ever wielded by both Adventurers and the Gods in the millennia prior to their descent to the Mortal Realm, was sat in her leather chair, rubbing her temples and leaning against her desk as she was dealing with a little familiar friend/pest that was currently face down and ass up, seemingly begging to her with her forehead planted against the scarlet carpet.

"Please!" Hestia begged. She had been following Hephaestus around since the end of last evening's Party at the Ganeshas. Heph rolled her eyes, then leaned back into her seat.

"Remind me what you want me to do?" Hephaestus asked, "And the reason you're in that position of all of them?" and she started writing something with a quill and ink. She liked Hestia, genuinely, she did. The girl was fun, a great drinker, a great listener. All she had needed was the push of having her own Familia to take care of. Thank goodness, whoever joined her Familia seemed to be doing wonders, seeing as the girl was actually wearing shoes.

"I need a weapon for..." Hestia seemed to stop for a moment, thinking. She sighed, "For Odell. My first Familia Member... He's been fighting tooth and nail since he got here, for both of us. I tried to help by getting some money, working at your store and all, but..."

"Pause," Heph said, then pulled out a file from one of her drawers and read it. She blinked, "Huh... Must've skimmed over your name by mistake..." before letting out a short laugh. She looked to Hestia, then said, "So, I'm guessing you want me to build a weapon for him, to make up for not exactly being able to assist him in his battles. I'll say, Hes, you changed a bit..."

"I tried..." She replied.

"... You do know you can get up, right?" Hephaestus asked, "Why are you in that position, anyway?"

"Takemikazuchi told me that, in the Far East, this is the ultimate form of apology-slash-request..." Hestia said, looking up as her own forehead seemed to glow red due to the pressure she put on it. Heph swore, if she didn't know this girl any better, she'd think she actually gave enough of a damn not to try and swindle her out of money again. No, that was a horrible thing to think. Even millennia later, she and Hestia were friends and she could forgive what was, in truth, a speck in her lifespan where Hestia had been a guest.

"Right..." Hephaestus nodded at her, then thought for a moment and asked, "You want to get him a weapon, then? This 'Odell'?"

"Yeah," Hestia replied with rapid nods as she was now sat on her knees, "I want to help him somehow. He's the reason we don't have to worry about food, or water, or anything of the sort. We have what we need to survive and more. I've not really been able to do anything to lessen that burden of his, though..." and she sighed dispassionately, "I don't know what else to do but get him a better weapon."

"Hm," Hephaestus nodded, "I get it... It's nice to see you acting this way."

"Huh?" Hestia looked up, confused.

Heph smiled, "Having a Familia changed you a bit," And she stood up, walking to Hestia. She lifted the girl to her feet, then added, "I'll consider it. What're you asking me to do, though? What kind of weapons does 'Odell' use?" Words to which she saw Hestia's face light up, her cheeks glowing red instead of her forehead. Hephaestus noted, "However, it's going to cost a lot."

"I know, and I'll work to repay it!" The girl smiled.

"... Hm. What kind of funds do you have right now?" Hephaestus asked. No matter the friendship, she was still a businesswoman. She needed money for her own Familia, too.

"... Two, maybe three million Valis on last check?" Hestia said.

"WHAT" Heph staggered, then grabbed the girl by the shoulders and demanded, "HOW?! HOW DID YOU-" she paused, breathed in, then out and settled down. Adding, "Y'know, I don't... It's gonna cost one million to make any weapon worthwhile if you want it to be a Top Class one," she walked back toward her desk to think things over. Hestia chuckled awkwardly.

"See... That's... Odell's money," Hestia replied, "He earned it..."

Heph blinked, somewhat stunned by her Goddess friend's words, "Isn't it a common fund of your Familia?"

"Yeah, but... I don't want to use his money for it," She said, clearly not understanding the term of a 'common fund'. Still, that also stunned Hephaestus. For the woman who once borrowed enough money from her and her Familia to owe them that twice over, Hestia sure was making it seem like she actually changed. Admittedly, a lot had happened since then.

"Huh..." Hephaestus paused, then stated firmly, "Common fund means you both have access to it, you know? It's... Kind of why it's common."

"Yeah, but there's also the fact that I don't want to use the money he earned to buy him a gift... You understand?" Hestia shrugged. That somewhat made sense if Heph really thought about it, but it was still a stunning change of events. She chuckled, which caused Hestia to ask, "What? What's so funny, Heph?" before the Forge Goddess sighed, still smiling, then stood up.

"Do you know what kind of weapons Odell would like?" She asked.

"... Well, he uses Knives, mostly, though I don't know his exact preference for equipment," She replied, slowly standing to her feet. Hephaestus looked at her with no particular reason behind the stare other than to find out what kind of weapon the man could use. A simple answer to that would be bringing him over for it to ask him face-to-face, though...

"How about you find him, bring him here and we find out what kind of weapon he wants?" She offered.

Hestia paused. She was about to reply, but she watched the woman pluck a specialized hammer from her office's tool wall.

The SPARTAN, meanwhile, sought out Syr throughout the crowd of people around the Colosseum, walking past stands of food and various trinkets as made by Ganesha Familia's artisans. Some stands even sold weapons built by the people from the Hephaestus Familia, the best of the Goddess of the Forge's artisan weapons being pretty pricy, somewhere in the million Valis range.

His knives served him just fine for the moment. And he still had his handgun for when the tougher enemies swung about to try and kill him, but he had a very finite amount of ammunition for it. The knives, he could sharpen again, re-forge if need be, with some help. He'd try not to have to, because Emile's was still an important piece of history, something that NOBLE would be remembered by. That one crazy teammate who carried a knife the length of a female Marine's forearm.

He let a faint smile play on his lips, hidden by the helmet, while he walked forward. He was sure Emile would've enjoyed this place, considering just how many times he had had to go CQC with knives instead of guns. Then again, that was also because of the combination of lacking firearms and lacking ammunition for the only one he currently had. And the Fifty SAPHE rounds he had in his pistol were hard to manufacture.

He'd get new equipment as requested, however. Perhaps he could even acquire a sword as a main blade. One-handed, a longsword, maybe, for him to use. It could prove quite useful, he thought, for the simple fact that a melee weapon with a longer reach like that would provide him plenty of opportunities to dodge, compared to the knives' shorter blades.

He could go get one custom-made from the Hephaestus Familia with the money they had, though he felt like keeping their economies in check was a better idea. He'd acquire a weapon when all else became unusable. He hummed to himself an old song he faintly remembered from his childhood as he strolled on, scanning the crowds for any chance to find Syr.

With a sigh, the SPARTAN stopped near by a stand, looking at the Colosseum and wondering just how much fun blood sports like that could be. He could potentially make some extra money and maybe a few contacts to help him in his quest of finding a way home by fighting in there, but that would mean exposing himself. The quickest way home for the SPARTAN seemed to be exposing oneself to the world properly...

He didn't like it. As a Wetwork operator and as a SPARTAN, he didn't like it at all.

But what he liked mattered little when the good of mankind was at stake. He still held onto the hope that every SPARTAN was needed for the fight and would hence continue looking for a way home, even if it meant exposing himself to the locals in some form or another. However, that was still a ways away. He had not expended all of his other options for finding a way home, which he felt now included clearing out the Dungeon.

He was also being followed. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Bete was trailing him. The catboy seemed pissed enough, probably thinking he'd corner the SPARTAN in some secluded place and try and kick his ass there. He'd actually wind up with broken bones if he tried, though. Though, right now, the hairs on the soldier's neck stood on-end. He was not afraid, but he felt something was gonna go wrong.

Really wrong...

He paused as the screams of civilians became audible, followed by the roar of some sort of beast and the thumping of fists against a bare chest. The SPARTAN turned to face where the noise was coming from and saw it. A gigantic white-haired ape, scarlet eyes glowing behind a pair of uneven goggles. It was armored on the arms and had shackles around its wrists, the chains torn apart.

He blinked, glaring at the monster as he instinctively went to draw his pistol. He could snap off a shot and kill it at this distance, but there was a risk of hitting civvies. He drew the gun, aimed, but was stunned by the monster charging forward, toward him and past all others as the locals scrambled out of its way. It then cocked its fist back as Six tried to zero in...

And the armored fist of the beast slammed into him like a freight train, sending him into a wall hard enough to crack the stone face of the building. Six dropped onto the floor, his armor screaming in various pitches at him about his shields having failed as he eyed the monster. He stared up at the ape, gritting his teeth, then turned to Bete and barked, "Bete, get the civilians out of here!"

"Huh...?" The Catboy staggered.

"I'll distract it! GO!" The SPARTAN barked, then rolled out of the way of a fist strike from the beast that broke the road and sent a rippling shockwave into the building behind it, causing yet more debris to fall. Bete stared with awe at the boy before him as he dodged over and under the beast's attacks. Six stowed his pistol on his thigh, then rolled back and away from Bete and taunted the monster silently.

The beast turned away from Bete, the young man sitting there, stunned, as he watched it chase after Six. Bete murmured to himself, "He's a lunatic..." before shaking his head to clear it and calling out, "Everyone! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE SQUARE! If that thing got out, the Gods only know what else broke out of its cage!" and he drew his weapons as he turned toward the Colosseum. Other adventurers joined him, drawing their weapons as the screams of people were muffled by the war cries of angry beasts...

Bete sighed, then grit his teeth and said, "Had to jinx it..."

"Bete!" A voice cried out. The boy turned and saw Hestia running toward him. She demanded, "Where's Six?"

"... He distracted a monster! Went that way!" He motioned toward the alleys. She nodded in thanks, then dashed off just as Loki and Ais caught up.

"The Hel is Buttflea doing!?" Loki demanded, "Is she nuts!? Ais! Let's go, before she sends herself back to fricking heaven!"

... Six, meanwhile, dashed through the narrow alleyways of the city of Orario's ass-end as the beast chased after him, jumping from roof to roof and glaring down at him with killer intent. He took a hard right, veering by planting his hand into the ground to turn on a dime, before pushing his augments and armor to the maximum, a wave of air trailing behind him as he ran.

He saw a basket ahead, where a bunch of swords lay. Surprisingly enough, they looked like commonplace military swords, forged for what one would've expected to be the local guards. He stretched out his arm, grabbing one from the basket and tossing a few Valis to the owner, who didn't seem to mind as he saw the massive monster bounding above him and Six. A sword was good enough for this, he figured.

The SPARTAN blew through to another opening, feeling as the Ape seemed to catch up to him. He went through an open archway whose writing he could not read in time and saw the massive pagoda-style buildings built around him, all made of wood. He shook his head, then pushed forward, past all of them and into another alleyway, before feeling the creature's breath on his back.

A hammer-blow from the beast's fist sent the SPARTAN flying into another wall, in the middle of a square among buildings with only two entrances. He slammed into the wall again with enough force to crack it, but doubled over and recovered as he saw the beast landing in front of him, in this makeshift arena. He faced the beast, the sword at the ready, as it glared at him.

It roared into the sky, slamming its fists into its chest, before gritting its sharp teeth and yet again locking eyes with him. He looked between them as something flickered, then saw that his helmet had been knocked off his head, somehow. The cheap shot he had tanked must've been a hard enough hit to send it flying off. He brushed his fingers against the attachment points and was thankful to see and feel nothing had been sheared off.

There was a gate behind him. He could keep running and get it away from any place that was populated, but, once he looked up, he saw that some of the windows of the place were boarded up, meaning there were probably no inhabitants. Good enough, he figured. And the Arena favored movement, which he was good at. He still needed to be careful, his shields being down due to him not having his helmet on.

And the beast was a giant, dumb ape. He could probably handle it alone...

He paused as he saw people appear above. Loki was one of the first to climb up onto the roof, followed by... Wallenstein. He sighed. Of course, she'd be right behind her Goddess. And, behind him, footsteps thundered. It was Hestia, calling out to him, "Odell! Odell, run! That thing is a Beast from the Middle Levels! You need to-" but she was stunned as she saw the boy shut the gate in front of her and lock it. She was about to protest...

He turned toward her, straight-faced, then said, "It'll be fine..." before turning to face the beast. He ordered, "You stay put for now, Goddess..."

Ais watched him with Loki. She gripped the hilt of her sword, preparing to go join him, but Loki put a hand on her chest. She looked to Ais and said, "Remember what we promised Freya...?" with a heavy sigh. Ais looked, somewhat stunned, at her Goddess, to which Loki added, "I wanna see how this goes. If Freya is wrong about him and what you saw with him in the Dungeon's just a fluke, feel free to help him... Otherwise, ain't ya a bit curious, too, Ais?" She smirked mischievously, "To know if this guy's really a rising equal to you...?"

Ais hesitated, then looked down at the man. A handsome young fellow stood there, a blade in hand and staring down a beast like that. She blinked, then squinted. Even from this distance, she could see it. The faint outline of a smile on his lips and the eerie calm with which he stared down a gigantic monster, two or three times his own size. Slowly, she lifted her hand off the hilt of her weapon, to which Loki smirked, "I knew it..." then turned back to watch.

Odell had a crowd now. His Goddess and two members of the Loki Familia were about to watch his little side-show. He could now snipe the creature, seeing as it was sitting still, but he figured it'd move the moment it saw him move. It was staring him down, like a gorilla would stare down a competitor. He needed to make his first move count, because the moment he did anything, the creature would definitely retaliate.

So, he quickly made up his mind. He took one step forward, which had, as expected, been enough to trigger the massive ape. It charged at him, trying to clock him with another hard punch. Bad news for it was, the SPARTAN was prepared this time. Pushing off his own two feet and to the left, the SPARTAN dodged the strike which shook the foundations of the place like a bomb, before he adjusted, spun and slashed at the beast's exposed arm with the blade.

The skin was thick and the hair provided some degree of protection to it, too, but it was a decent enough first strike to draw some blood and stain the beast's white hair scarlet. It growled at him, baring its fangs, but the SPARTAN stared it down, unfazed, that faint smile present. The beast turned on a dime, too, grabbing onto the floor with one hand and delivering another punch to the SPARTAN.

A punch he blunted by crossing his arms in front of his body and face. The strike sent a rippling shockwave through the air as the monster readjusted and the SPARTAN landed, skidding to a halt on his own two feet. He took the initiative as the beast recovered, pushing off of the surface he was on and charging it. He sliced upward, catching the beast off-guard and scathing the exposed skin on its abdomen. Again, the hide was thick, but not thick enough to really blunt a deeper strike.

The beast swiped at him with its fists, but the SPARTAN ducked under the attempted grab and rolled back, before dashing to the right, keeping his eyes locked onto it. It tracked him, too, then grabbed onto the elongated steel chains of the shackles and whipped them his way. The metal screeched as it struck and chipped the pavement behind the SPARTAN.

The beast continued the slashing whip strike of the chains with a diagonal attack aimed at Odell's head. The boy dodged the strike with mere millimeters to spare, close enough that he could feel the cold of the steel chains. He pushed forward again, slamming into the creature's chest with his shoulder, steel plate colliding with Titanium and, to everyone's surprise, shattering on impact with a thunderclap.

The beast roared, angered, as it staggered back two steps. It glared at him, then threw another punch which the SPARTAN dodged past, all while slashing across under its forearm, from pinkie up to the elbow. It roared, then swatted him aside, sending him flying off to the left. The SPARTAN hit and broke a bunch of boxes, but managed to stop and get back onto his feet as the crowd around him gasped.

He grit his teeth, then glared at the beast, still holding that small smile, much to everyone's surprise. He needed to reactivate his shields, but the beast kept blocking him from getting the helmet. It was right in the middle, between him and the beast. He could probably reach it now, as he watched the beast charge at him in Slow Motion. He charged, pushing himself forward, blade ready.

He watched the creature whip one of the chains upward and come down with it, toward his head. Raising his sword, he locked the armor servos in his arm tightly, feeling the weighted impact of the strike. A thundering shockwave rippled and the ground beneath the SPARTAN cracked, but he pushed on nonetheless, unlocking the armor plating as the creature doubled over to try and slash at him again.

He slid, grabbing the helmet, then donned it in an instant. With a flare of golden light, his shields enveloped him, the armor's systems kicking to maximum output once more as the beast tried to swat him with both hands. He charged forward, stabbing into its chest with the force of a tank shell, before withdrawing the blade and pushing himself onto its knee, using it as a platform send a flying roundhouse kick into the beast's face, shattering its glasses and discombobulating it.

As the SPARTAN still spun, time slowing down around him once his instincts fully kicked in, he drew his pistol in a flash-motion, aimed utilizing the SmartScope...

And ended the fight with a bang.

The SPARTAN landed on his feet, breathing somewhat heavily and watching as the creature fell to the floor, a bullet hole between its eyes. Its corpse dematerialized, leaving a rather hefty gem on the floor that glimmered purple in the light of the midday sun. The SPARTAN stood in the middle of the small square, a dozen eyes upon him that he had just now registered, not just those of the Loki Familia or of Hestia.

He looked to his Goddess, who had stood there, stunned until just now. From shock, her face quickly morphed to a wide smile, her eyes glimmering like stars. She raised her hands up into the sky and let out a shrill cheer that his armor had had to tone down as he holstered his pistol. Above, he saw the Loki Familia, all of them awed at the sight of the Level 1 Rookie that had just defeated a beast many times his supposed strength level.

He sighed, then cleaned the blood off the sword, then lowered it. Ais, meanwhile, could do little but smile herself at the sight, while Loki chuckled, "I can see why Freya wants him. That was incredible for a rookie..." then she looked to the stunned Bete and asked, "You still wanna mess with him, Catty Cat?" words to which the man shook his head. The trio and the rest of the Loki Familia looked down as Hestia somehow unlocked the gate, then charged and hugged the young man by the neck, laughing happily.

... Innocence? Perhaps some childlike glee, hidden underneath. But fury and strength, Noble Six had in spades.

That was all Ais could think as the tension she felt during the fight left her body.

That tool of his, however... That weapon on his hip...

Chapter Text

The very next day after the Monster Feria festival, something that was supposed to have been a nice party to commemorate the attempts of the various sentient species inhabiting Orario at reducing the hatred and stigma toward the Monsters they were facing in the Dungeons. If Six was able to figure this out correctly, it was less about ensuring integration and more about making sure people weren't exactly afraid of these creatures going in.

Admittedly, that didn't really work out, considering what he'd had to do. He continued sharpening the edge of his knife while sitting outside the church so he could let Hestia sleep. When he was sure it was properly sharp, he flipped it over and slid it back into its sheath, then checked Emile's Kukri. It was still surprisingly sharp.

His pistol felt lighter, though. That was the problem for him as he took it off of his thigh and looked at it. He clicked the mag release and watched the magazine drop, looking it over before sliding it back in and stowing the pistol on his thigh. Everyone had also seen what he could do with a firearm, meaning everyone knew or would soon enough know some sort of 'new magical device' was out and about. One wielded by the 'Rookie'.

He sighed, making sure the gun was stowed away safely before standing up and looking around. He could go for a deep dive into the Dungeons while Hestia slept, add more to their finances right now for the sake of future development, but there was still a boatload more issues that were seemingly cropping up, including the Loki Familia's scouts.

Speaking of one of them. The Spartan's motion tracker pinged her, but he could tell who it was based simply on the rattle of her equipment. He called out, "I can hear you, miss Wallenstein," in a flat, simple tone. Her foot scraped the stone thanks to her twitching, but she stood up slow and steady, face as impassive as ever.

"Am I that easy to spot…? I trained my Stealth a bit," She confessed, crossing her arms below her breastplate.

The Spartan turned to face her fully, exposing the thickest parts of his armor to her as a means of defense. He told her, "Your equipment rattled. I could hear you move," as he thought that it was probably better not to fully reveal his capabilities. Never playing one's full hand and all that. He wondered, however, why the blonde stared at him. He told her, "... You're here for this, I assume?"

He patted the gun on his thigh. She hesitated, then shook her head, telling him, "Just to talk."

"Did Loki send you, or did you come of your own volition?" He inquired, crossing his arms. Hers lowered to her side as she pointed at herself. He understood she couldn't directly tell him she came here by Loki's orders and thus chose not to ask again, instead telling her, "Doesn't matter. This thing's staying with me."

"I know," She spoke, then looked at him again, "I wasn't here for your weapon. I'm here to ask a question."

He hesitated, but figured no harm could come of it. He gave her a nod and said, "Shoot," as his hands fell by his side, too. She visibly relaxed when she saw him do the same thing.

"... Who are you exactly? She inquired, "A name would be nice."

Again, hesitation from him, this time visible. Ais made it out the moment she saw a faint twitch of his right hand's fingers. He stared right at her, thinking, deciding. Spartans never really shared their names with anyone beside their own and even then, it wasn't a rule, considering his teammates did not refer to him by his name before they all perished in Reach's defense.

She saw the slight conflict, then offered, "If you don't feel like telling me, that is perfectly fine. I… Suppose I should also apologize for my team-mates' behavior before I leave, however," as she gestured faintly with her hands. The Spartan nodded, then raised his right hand up in front of him with an open palm, a sign that it was fine.

He then replied, "... Odell," which caused Ais to pause. He nodded and continued, "Call me Odell if you want. Odell, or Six," while considering and wondering if he did the right thing. There was probably no harm in telling her about it. Accessing ONI databases was going to be impossible for any person in this world for a multitude of reasons, not just tech illiteracy.

She actually cracked a smile and nodded, "Good to meet you properly, Odell," before she bowed and apologized, "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything important. Farewell," before she turned and began walking away. The Spartan hummed, then sighed and sat back down on that stone chunk he'd used as a chair beforehand, returning to checking his equipment.

He sighed, then paused as he heard a familiar sound of skipping. Namely, Hestia coming out of the Church, giggling and climbing out from the Church's basement before greeting him with, "Heya, Odell~! You mind following me?" to which he tilted his head. She smiled, "I got something I need ya for. A small errand."

"... Okay?" Six seemed confused, but he chose to stand to his feet. His armor's system diagnostics were still running in the background as they walked out down to the main roads of Orario. The city had remained the same, despite it feeling like he'd been gone for ages after that little fight. Nothing had changed.

As they continued their stroll, passing crowds of people, some of which cheered him on with smiles on their faces, he asked, "Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see!" The girl replied cheerfully as they approached what looked like a blacksmith's shop. It bore another Familia's marking. He recognized Hephaestus, The Goddess of the Forge, by the emblem. The Two Crossed Hammers in front of the flames of the Forge. He blinked, wondering just what the hell they were doing at probably one of the most expensive Smithies in the city.

Sure, all of the Blacksmiths in Orario and probably beyond worked under the emblem of Hephaestus, but that didn't really mean much when one was to go straight to the source. That was to say, the Spartan felt just slightly awkward about being among the crowds of people buying, living and working with Hephaestus herself.

Hestia didn't seem to mind, though, leading the Spartan right up to the main room and knocking. A female voice echoed, "Come in!" to which Hestia swung the door open.

Walking in with a beaming smile, the Goddess of the Flame declared, "I brought him over, as you asked!" And the redhead, one-eyed goddess in a fancy outfit who was looking out of a window immediately turned around and froze, eyes wide. For a moment, Six wondered if they'd somehow offended her.

Instead, the Spartan woke up with her immediately springing into action and closing the distance as various words escaped her mouth, questions about his equipment, his armor, his abilities in it and so on. Hestia, who had clearly not expected that kind of reaction, looked mildly embarrassed for her friend, face tinged slightly red as she rubbed the back of her neck.

His 'Goddess' then stopped the rambling Forgemaster Goddess and said, "Heph, Heph… Slow down, please. Odell isn't exactly the most social person."

Hephaestus paused again, a grimace on her face. She straightened up, pulled down her shirt to remove the wrinkles and cleared her throat, before bowing her head, saying, "My apologies," and extending her hand, "I'm Hephaestus. Patron God of the Forges and leader of the Hephaestus Familia…" as she smiled, "I must say. I'm glad to know Hestia finally found someone to take care of her, especially considering the ways she speaks of you."

The Spartan looked at the hand, then gripped it as firmly as he could–as in, he couldn't really squeeze it due to the strength difference–before he replied calmly, "A pleasure to meet you. And thanks for having us."

His gaze settled on Hestia as he asked, "Any particular reason we're bothering her, though?"

Though the embarrassed Hestia scrambled to answer, it was Heph who told him, "She asked me for something, but neither of us made a decision," as she waved him and his Goddess over to the desk, motioning for them to take a seat. Six waved it off, but gave another thankful nod, to which she told him, "Okay. Suit yourself…"

She opened a drawer on her desk and retrieved a parchment paper of some kind, setting it on the flat surface of the desktop and pointing at it. The Spartan leaned over, his Heads-Up Display picking up the outlines of a blueprint immediately. A weapon blueprint. Hephaestus told him, "Your Goddess was insistent on getting you a gift of some kind. A new weapon to augment your small loadout," then her attention turned to Hestia as she jabbed, "Buuuut, our beloved little stowaway didn't know what you'd prefer."

Odell's head turned toward an extremely embarrassed Hestia, then he looked at his own equipment. The pistol and the blades. He asked, "I don't suppose you know how to make ammo for this thing," as he patted the gun, then sighed and said, "Maybe a new knife could work. My old Bowie is chipping and dulling from overuse."

He unclipped the blade from its sheath and handed it, grip first, to Heph. The woman took it gingerly into her own hands, feeling the balance of the blade, the weight, the weapon's firm but comfortable plastic grip and the scrapes where the sheath's clips clicked into place to hold it in. She smiled and whispered, "Expert craftsmanship," as she stared down the blade's length. She nodded and said, "But yes, I can see a few chips. Who forged this weapon? Is he local, or one of my followers from far away?"

"... It's… Been made in a factory, ma'am," The Spartan replied, causing her to pause. He continued, "Standard production for… Just about everyone who serves in our military."

Heph took a minute to register that, then pointed at him and asked, "W-What about your armor?"

"Also built and milled in factories, although it's a lot more specialized than a combat knife," He replied. The woman stared for a moment, clearly both stunned and intrigued by what she'd just heard. He spoke, "I'd appreciate something like that knife, if possible. I'm used to it," and that seemed to snap Heph out of her stupor. She nodded quickly.

"I will make it with all due haste. If you wish to stay and watch?" She offered.

"Wait, you're making it?" Hestia perked up, beaming.

"... I believe you asked me to, did you not?" Heph asked with a smirk. She continued, "Plus, it's to celebrate your first Familia member and provide him proper equipment to fight in the Tower, so…" before she pulled down a torch holder. It clicked down and a mechanism of gears and metal groaned to life, starting to turn. The fireplace in the middle of the room slid open, revealing a massive Forge in a separate room.

She spoke, "Enjoy the show," as she retrieved her hammers, slim, beautifully-designed tools and claws and tongs to use in the forging of a new blade. As she brought out what looked to be some of the best metal available, she began her work. Melting the ingot first in a blazing fire to the point it was malleable, before beginning the full process, from hammering, to molding the knife, to cleaning out imperfections in the blade and sharpening it.

The Spartan watched with a degree of awe hidden by the opaque visor of his helmet. The Goddess of the Forge had earned her name and profession, going by how handily she went about creating the item before him, hammering it at the anvils to further straighten it out and finally sharpening it at a grinding wheel.

When the blade, a cold steel implement, was finished, the woman handed it to him the same way he'd handed his Bowie Knife to her:Grip-first. He gingerly took the weapon, feeling a touch of something as he lifted it out of her hand, then watched symbols flicker to life on it, a dancing white light mixing two things. The familiar, polygonal eagle emblem of Noble Team, with the burning flame of a Certain Goddess being held in its claws, plus engravings in some ancient symbols he didn't understand.

Hephaestus told him, "And that'd be it. You can name the blade if you want," and watched him move it between his fingers, the micron-sharpened tip tracing beautiful arcs in the air. She continued, "And it will level up with you. That's what these symbols are," and tapped the glowing writing as the white light began to fade.

"... Wow," He whispered, then looked at his Bowie's sheath and compared it. He hummed, sliding the blade in and hearing it click into place. He added, "And you eyeballed the sheath to perfection," in a mumble, impressed. The Goddess of the Forge smiled, arms crossed to her chest, then gave the man a quick salute.

… Well, time to test it.

Some time later

Blood stained another tunnel's floor as Six towered over several dead monsters. They began to vanish as he spun the blade on his index, mumbling, "Great balance, amazing sharpness… Man, Emile would've loved this thing," before he slid it back into its sheath quietly. Moments later, the man was out of the hallways and back out into the Plaza while looking around.

The crowds around the place were still made up of adventurers going in and out of the place. It was about midday, so it was natural that work was ongoing after that event. He saw the marks left by the fight from a couple days ago. He wondered what else he could do. He had yet again gotten a decent number of monsters and the items he recovered weighed quite a bit. Not a problem for him, save for when he had to go into combat, but-

"Hey, tall mister," He heard a young girl call out to him. Turning around on his heels, he looked down at the source of the noise and saw a young woman with nutmeg hair and dark-brown eyes staring up at him, a smile on her face and a massive backpack on her back. She raised a hand and beamed, "You must be the Rookie that took down that Silverback!"

He stared at her, somehow surprised the top of her head barely reached his waist. As he looked down at her, seemingly obscuring the sun, she stared right back up at him, face suddenly glowing red. She whispered, "... I guess the stories are real… You're massive…" while looking him up and down, her voice audibly cracking.

"... But not hostile," He replied, eyeing the backpack that was several times her size. He asked, "Can I help you?"

"U-uhm," She blinked, then shook her head and cleared her thoughts, hair flopping around all over the place in her hood, "Y-Yeah! More like I can help you!" as she put on a bright smile, "I can tell you feel like you need a lot more storage to carry your loot around," and she gestured to his own bag, which occupied one of his two hands.

He looked at it, then at her and asked, "And you can help with this by… Stuffing it in your backpack."

She nodded, then said, "I'm just offering. You look like the type who dual-wields, so…" and she tilted her head toward his curved blade. She then extended her hand and said to him, "I'm Liliruca Arde! Nice to finally meet the Rookie, by the way. You're really talk of the town," as if that was a compliment. The Spartan sighed, shoulders sagging slightly before he very gently took the girl's hand and shook it.

"Call me Six," He answered, then asked, "How much do I owe you if we're doing this cooperation thing and can you fight?"

She lifted her hand up, revealing a concealed crossbow whose arms extended out, then pulled her robe aside, revealing a dagger clipped to her belt. She told him, "I'm also a great scout. Don't worry about it, Master Six, I have your back!" to which he nodded. He showed her to turn around, then slid the items into her bag.

Afterward, he told her, "I guess another run can't hurt. Stay close and stay safe… Last thing I need is someone else dying on my watch," and that last part, though mumbled, sounded almost like a confession. Liliruca paused, something perking up under her hood, but chose not to comment on it. Despite the fear, she figured it'd be alright.

Right…?

… Well, yeah. In truth, Liliruca was just watching the man go about clearing everything around them. Blades in hand, he cut down some of the lower-level monsters around them like they were nothing. Part of her wondered what his attributes were, considering what she was seeing, but, at the same time, she was fighting and trying to back him up by nailing creatures with her own crossbow, dodging and distracting them.

Whenever they took out a large horde and got some breathing room, Six also shared with her the spoils of their victories. Each gem was worth a pretty Valis, considering they were fighting larger monsters than she'd have expected a newcomer adventurer to be able to face off against. It was sort of scary, but… Hey, she wasn't complaining.

The fact he was sharing, though…

As they sat down by a campfire in the middle of their raid, she eyed his equipment. She'd learned a lot just by watching him, too. The man barely ever tired, considering how often he engaged in combat. He was sitting there, looking at the fire as it crackled and burned, before pulling out what looked like a croquette. The girl visibly perked up, staring at the food item as her stomach began to growl.

She covered it with her hands, embarrassed as she hugged herself. In the very next moment, she nearly jumped out of her skin, watching the man extend to her his food. She blinked, looking up at him with clear shock strewn across her face, mouth slightly agape and drool slipping from between her lips. He shook the item slightly in front of her face and she grabbed it, scarfing down half of it before immediately throwing her head back as the taste of fresh, somehow still warm food hit her tastebuds.

She watched him hesitantly undo whatever seals held his helmet in place, setting it beside him. He retrieved a canteen with water, took a quick swig, then offered it to the girl. She stared at the deadpan-looking, handsome young man before her with a mouthful of potato. He told her calmly, "I don't really like repeating myself."

She swallowed the food she'd half-chewed, then took the canteen. She also noticed the symbols, the dents and even the black, burn-like marks on its frame and asked, "... You seem like you've seen a lot of action," to which he nodded, taking a bite of his own croquette. She looked at him, taking a sip from the canteen and setting it aside before asking, "... You tell your Goddess about it?"

The slight frown the Spartan now wore seemed to tell her enough. No point in asking any more questions, she thought as she shied away, going back to eating her food. He sighed and continued eating, too. About ten minutes later, they were back on their feet, doing a fair bit more grinding in killing monsters.

The Spartan paused as he saw a familiar ugly-looking bird. He scoffed, drew his new blade, spun it around on his fingers, then threw it like a throwing knife right at the alien creature. He heard it squawk its last breath as its head fell off its body. It collapsed, dead, before dissipating and dropping another egg.

He approached the egg, picking it up and turning back toward a stunned Liliruca. The girl stared at the golden egg like a deer in headlights. Understandably, the Spartan thought, considering the thing was worth several million Valis. They'd gathered a fair amount of cash already, so this was a wonderful icing on the cake of today's little grinding session.

His armor pinged with the notice of night-time approaching. He told her, "We're done for the day," as he handed her the egg. She gingerly held it in her arms, treating it with all the care anyone would treat such an expensive bauble. He mumbled to himself, "... I remember reading a guide saying that the Drop chance is incredibly low… How am I two-for-two on it…?"

"Wait-WUH?! TWO FOR TWO!?" She blanked. He nodded.

"Long story," He answered as they walked out from the Floor and to the top. Back out into the city, by the Plaza, the two stopped and sat themselves down outside, counting out the loot. Six hadn't said it, but he did think it:The girl was weak. Not in a combat sense, she was very proficient at stealth and ensuring their enemy never got the drop on them, but she was thin and frail enough underneath her coat that he could see it.

He watched the sun start to go down beyond the buildings and walls of the Labyrinth City, then told her, "Keep the egg," which caused her to nearly choke on the water she was drinking. She started coughing audibly while watching him stand up and grab his half of the loot. She was about to protest, but he told her, "I and my 'Goddess'," using air quotes, "already have two million Valis from the first Egg. You look like you need it more."

… For a minute, Liliruca Arde had almost wanted to cry. She stared at the golden egg in her arms like it was a savior. As tears welled in her eyes, she was about to speak, to thank the man and apologize for even targeting him, but he told her, "Same time tomorrow," to which she stared at him, stunned all over again. He told her, "You offered to be my Supporter, right?"

She nodded. He replied to that with, "Then… Same time tomorrow. Take care, Liliruca," and nodded before departing for the Church in their part of town. As he entered and started exchanging small-talk with Hestia(that being her asking a lot of wild questions like 'where he'd been until this hour' and 'who the girl was' after he mentioned Liliruca), then he told her what happened.

"WHAT?!" She jumped up from the bed, "YOU GAVE UP THE NEW EGG?!"

"... She needed it more than we did," He replied after a minute, staring at his two blades as he set them on the table beside the bed. She visibly deflated.

"We needed the Money, too!" She then protested, flailing her arms like a kid who'd just been told no.

He turned his gaze toward her and she immediately turned meek. With a sigh, he asked her, "Do we have any outstanding debt I should know of?" only for her to shake her head. He shrugged and asked, "Then? She helped me carry out a lot more gems than I would have carried otherwise… Even miss Eina seemed surprised by the carry-on when I went to deliver them."

"Y-Yeah, but…" She sighed, "You know, she's a stranger. Do you even know what Familia she's from?"

"I didn't get to ask," The Spartan retorted, then asked, "Does it matter to you that the kid looked malnourished, though, o' great Goddess?" with a half-cocked, somewhat sarcastic tone hidden underneath his usual flatness. She frowned, then nodded again. He told her, "Then please, don't question my choices."

"... Sorry," She replied meekly, then smiled, blushing a little, "Although that's rather sweet. The guy with the hardest exterior, both metaphorical and literal, being a big softie for random kids in our little town? Heh… I picked well, I guess," and she saw the Spartan pause as the words floated up to his ear. He seemed to relax a little, while she asked him, "Should we just get some rest? You got another run tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm," He replied, then sat himself down. She hugged him next, causing him to freeze. For a moment, he wanted to push her away and tell her to calm down. He didn't, however, no matter how his instincts told him to. He decided to simply let her enjoy the hug, glad that he'd shut off his energy shield before the hug. He looked at the knife and said, "I should thank Hephaestus again for the knife."

She chuckled, "You can do it tomorrow."