Astraea had indeed said those words—yet seeing Hermes perform like this, Xien quietly marked a note in his head:
Even if he's "friendly," he's still a god. And here, divine integrity is… negotiable. Be careful.
"It's good that you think that way," Xien said evenly. "The city won't be peaceful for a while. Please—trouble yourself, and have your familia keep an eye out."
"Oh?" Hermes' smile didn't change, but his gaze sharpened. "That's what you think?"
Xien nodded, unbothered.
"Even if there are successors, until everything truly settles, the people's fear won't disappear. In that state, any spark can trigger a chain reaction."
"And for Astraea… it'll be a hard test. As one of her children, I'd like to carry at least a little of the burden for my captain and my goddess. You understand that, don't you, Lord Hermes?"
Time—more than anything—was what Orario needed. Once the shock faded and people accepted the new order, the hands in the dark would find it far harder to stir chaos.
"Mm. Of course," Hermes said, amused. "So this is your justice?"
"Justice?" Xien's tone stayed calm. "I don't know. For me, it's just… the people in my familia."
"We live in this city. So anyone who tries to overturn it—anyone who threatens the people beside me—is my enemy."
Hermes studied him for a beat, then laughed softly.
"Astraea is lucky to have you."
"No," Xien replied, equally sincere. "I'm lucky to have Astraea."
Hermes' expression warmed, and for a moment the merchant-god looked almost… pleased.
They walked a little farther. At Hermes' direction, Xien set the crate down where it belonged, neat and secure.
Hermes invited him for a drink.
Xien declined, citing other business.
Hermes sighed theatrically and promised they'd do it "next time."
Then, just as Xien turned to leave, Hermes tossed out an "accidental" line:
"Oh, right. The Pleasure Quarter's been… twitchy lately. If you're investigating anything, you might start there."
Xien paused. Then he bowed—clean, formal, respectful.
"Thank you for the intelligence, Lord Hermes. I'll be careful."
Hermes watched him go, the smile on his lips deepening into something with teeth.
Now then… let's see what you choose when the poison digs into the bone, "hero that doesn't exist."
The boy's will had passed the first filter.
Next was capability—whether he could truly bend an age.
If he could…
Backing him wouldn't be a bad bet at all.
Xien kept moving.
The streets were busy, but there was a difference today: when people saw the sword-and-wings crest on him, many faces eased. Shoulders relaxed. Steps steadied.
Astraea Familia's emblem had become a thin shield over the city's frayed nerves.
Xien returned nods as he passed, aware—uncomfortably—that right now he represented something larger than himself.
He reached the Guild and, unsurprisingly, found Eina crushed under a mountain of work.
His arrival pulled her—briefly—out of the current.
"…I'm sorry to my coworkers," she said as she led him into a private consultation room, then stretched like her bones were about to snap, "but you're saving me. Let me selfishly breathe for a moment."
Xien poured water and handed it to her with an easy smile.
"Looks like the shock hit the Guild hard too."
Eina took a small sip, cheeks faintly pink.
"…Yeah. I don't want to admit it, but it's true. Just calming adventurers down has nearly drained us."
Xien didn't comment on her flustered courtesy. He wasn't here to make her feel judged.
"I came to follow through on what I promised you," he said. "But… with things like this, we'll have to push it back a bit."
Eina's eyes widened.
"You mean…?"
"I was going to go with you after the expedition. But right now neither of us can spare the time. Sorry—let's delay it."
"How could I be upset?" she blurted, then puffed her cheeks in protest anyway. "If you came just for that, I'd be angry. Seriously."
Xien smiled. "It wasn't just that. Main reason: I need you to post a commission."
Eina straightened, immediately professional.
"That I can do. What commission?"
"Buy order," Xien said. "Fire stones—and medical formulas."
"Fire stones makes sense. But… formulas?"
"Any kind. Any treatment. Any disease. Quantity—however many they're willing to sell."
"Compensation: if they want, priority treatment from me. If not, payment in valis."
Then, with a small shrug:
"And the reason… I'm a healer."
Eina's expression softened into reluctant realism.
"Knowledge like that usually isn't traded easily. But… your 'treatment' is a strong incentive."
She began writing smoothly.
"Long-term commission?"
"Long-term."
The paperwork was done quickly between them.
Then Xien added, casually:
"And Eina—if someone exchanges large quantities of fire stones, can you record their basic info?"
Eina froze. Her eyes tightened.
"That violates policy."
Xien didn't argue. He didn't manipulate. He simply answered:
"I'm trying to trace the previous incident. Help me, if you can."
Silence.
Then Eina exhaled, defeated—by his straightforwardness, and by the city's reality.
"…Fine. But you owe me."
Her eyes sharpened, suspicion blooming.
"And don't tell me you're trying to label me as—"
"Impossible," Xien interrupted instantly. "I haven't even said anything."
"I reject it in advance! Any label you're thinking of is definitely not good!"
Xien spread his hands, shameless. Eina pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…You're unbelievable."
"Mm." Xien nodded. "And there's one more thing."
Eina crossed her arms. "Say it. Depending on my mood."
"I leveled up," Xien said. "Register it."
Eina's palms slammed the desk so hard the ink bottle jumped.
"…You're joking."
"Do I look like someone who jokes about this?"
Her voice went thin. "You're saying… you're Level 3 now?"
"Correct."
"How long since Level 2?"
Xien tilted his head, thinking. So much had happened it felt like a season, not a month.
"…About a month."
Eina stared at him like he'd sprouted wings.
"And you're not surprised?"
"I'm a genius," Xien said cheerfully. "I'm supposed to do what others can't."
Eina looked like she might combust.
Then she stood abruptly.
"…Fine. I'll get the forms. Are you ready to become famous in Orario again?"
"Absolutely."
The Guild predictably exploded—again—but Eina had pre-warned staff, and this time the chaos stayed controlled.
Xien slipped out through a discreet back exit and headed somewhere else:
Orario's Amphitheatrum.
It was nearly empty now—aside from Ganesha Familia's routine guards.
Xien showed his crest, exchanged a few words, and was let in.
Inside was… wreckage.
Not a battlefield.
A cratered ruin.
He looked over the scars and destruction lines, then exhaled slowly.
As expected.
There had been rumors: Loki Familia and Freya Familia had reserved the arena the day before the disbandment announcement. No one knew what happened inside—only that the shockwaves could be felt kilometers away.
These traces were too clean. Too absolute.
He knew this handwriting.
It wasn't a "battle."
It was his teacher carving an answer into reality.
Which meant one thing:
She was alive.
Not only alive—moving pieces.
That conclusion loosened the tightness in his chest.
Then he went to the second place he needed to see.
The "palace" was silent.
No guards. No voices. No pressure.
Just a dead luxury—cold, beautiful, empty.
Xien stepped through halls that once held monsters of an older era.
This was only his second time here, and the contrast was brutal.
He didn't care what the city thought of Hera Familia.
To him, it was simple:
There was someone he cared about.
And now she was gone from her home.
His reason told him she couldn't have died. Not with that power.
But there were fates worse than death.
Homes could be crushed. Proof could be erased. A place could be stripped until only absence remained.
Xien's mood darkened.
Then a voice snapped across the quiet.
"Hey. What are you doing in there?"
Xien turned.
A male catman, posture arrogant, eyes sharp with irritation—no, disgust.
"Who are you?" the catman demanded. "This place is under Freya Familia control now. Who let you in?"
Xien's gaze didn't flinch.
"The door wasn't locked," he said flatly. "And I didn't expect you to be this eager to carve up someone else's last remains."
The catman's fur bristled.
His name rose cleanly in Xien's mind—too many telltale traits.
Allen Fromel.
And with that, the direction of Xien's annoyance crystallized into something colder.
This "empty palace" didn't become empty on its own.
And his teacher's disappearance didn't happen in a vacuum.
Xien took one step forward—calm, controlled.
His tone stayed polite.
His eyes did not.
"Move," he said. "Or speak carefully."
The air between them tightened.
Like a blade being drawn.
....
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