Nighttime in Orario was always more vibrant than the day.
Inside "The Hostess of Fertility," the air was a thick, comforting cacophony—a mix of roasting meat, the mellow scent of ale, and the coarse sweat of adventurers. Dwarves slammed their mugs onto tables, boasting loudly of their spoils, while waitresses balanced heavy wooden trays, weaving nimbly through the crowd.
Lynn sat in a corner of the bar. Before him sat a steaming bowl of stew; Syr had personally made sure it was extra hearty.
The meat was tender, and the potatoes and carrots had soaked up the rich broth until they practically melted on the tongue. He scooped up a spoonful, blew on the steam, and ate it with unhurried deliberate ease.
"Is it good, Lynn?"
Syr Flova leaned in, whispering as she polished an ale mug. Her grey twin-tails swayed gently with her movements.
"Yeah. Your skills are improving," Lynn nodded, offering a rare bit of praise. "Next time, try adding more onions; it'll make the broth even sweeter."
"Duly noted!" Syr chirped happily, her eyes curving into crescent moons.
Just then, the heavy wooden door of the pub creaked open. A draft of cold air rushed in, making the adventurers near the entrance shiver. But what drew everyone's attention was the group that stepped inside.
Leading them was a blonde young man dressed in a well-tailored white suit, a sun-and-harp emblem embroidered on his chest. His features were undeniably handsome, his chin tilted slightly upward. As his gaze swept over the messy environment of the pub, he made no effort to hide his disdain.
Behind him followed two equally well-dressed guards, hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Their arrogant expressions were completely at odds with the relaxed atmosphere of the establishment.
The rowdy pub fell eerily silent for a moment. All eyes were fixed on these uninvited guests.
"Apollo Familia?" someone whispered. "What are they doing in a place like this?"
The blonde man leading the group was Hyakinthos Clio, a Level 3 executive and Apollo's most favored child. Ignoring the stares, he walked straight through the crowd and stopped beside Lynn's seat at the bar.
"Are you Lynn?"
Hyakinthos spoke from a height, his voice clear but laced with an unmistakable arrogance.
Lynn didn't even look up. He scooped up another spoonful of stew, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn bit of gristle. He let out a muffled "Mm," serving as his only response.
This dismissal made Hyakinthos's brow furrow. However, following his God's instructions, he cleared his throat and announced in a tone bordering on a theatrical aria:
"Humble soloist, Lynn, listen well! The radiance of the Sun has deigned to notice a speck of dust like you! My Lord—the great Sun God, Master of Art and Light, Lord Apollo—in his supreme mercy and magnanimity, has decided to grant you the opportunity to follow his light!"
He paused and spread his arms wide, as if embracing the glory of the entire pub, raising his voice even higher:
"Lord Apollo formally invites you to join our supreme Apollo Familia! This is an honor you could never hope to achieve in a lifetime! You should fall to your knees and offer your most sincere gratitude for this heavenly blessing!"
The entire pub was dead silent.
Everyone was stunned. The Apollo Familia was personally recruiting a rookie? And in such a bombastic, sermon-like fashion? Adventurers looked at each other, their eyes darting between Hyakinthos and the black-haired boy who was still hunched over his food.
Syr nervously gripped her cleaning rag. Beside her, Ryuu Lion, who had been wiping the counter, stopped her movements. Her pale green eyes shot a cold glance at Hyakinthos.
Under the gaze of the crowd, Lynn finally swallowed his food. He picked up his cup, took a sip of water, and let out a satisfied sigh. Then, he picked up his spoon and scooped another serving.
"No thanks."
Two words. Soft as a feather.
The theatrical expression on Hyakinthos's face froze. "...What did you say?"
"I said," Lynn finally bothered to lift his eyelids to look at him, before his gaze returned to his plate, "I'm not interested. I already have a God I follow."
His answer was so matter-of-fact, so calm, as if refusing the recruitment of a God was no different than turning down a dessert he didn't like.
Hyakinthos felt like his lungs were about to burst with rage. Suppressing his fury, he pressed further:
"Your God? Which 'exalted' deity could possibly hope to rival the sun? Speak their name!"
In his mind, this was nothing more than an excuse. He knew every God with a reputation in Orario, and he had never heard of any of them taking in such a peculiar rookie.
"Hidetaka Miyazaki," Lynn replied casually. He used his spoon to mash a potato into the broth. "The God of Suffering and Smithing."
"Miyazaki... what?" Hyakinthos had never heard the name. He scoffed, "A nameless nobody. Listen, rookie, stop posturing with such ridiculous lies. My Lord Apollo's beauty is unmatched in the heavens, and his power is known to all in Orario! To receive his favor is a blessing for ten lifetimes! Do not be ungrateful!"
He emphasized the words "beauty" and "power," trying to use his God's prestige to crush the boy's pitiful self-esteem.
This time, Lynn put down his spoon.
The soft clink sounded exceptionally clear in the silent pub. He slowly turned around, looking Hyakinthos in the eye for the first time. The sharp gaze in his eyes no longer held its previous casualness; instead, it was replaced by a chilling calm.
"I said I'm not going," Lynn's tone was flat, but each word felt like an icicle. "Do you not understand the language?"
Lynn hated people who tried to act tough in front of him more than anything. Does this guy even have a fraction of Blaidd's spirit?
The air seemed to solidify. Hyakinthos's heart skipped a beat under that gaze, a strange chill rising from the soles of his feet. He wanted to spit out a few harsh threats, but he found his throat blocked by an invisible weight.
"Pfft."
A suppressed snicker broke the deadlock. It was Syr; she couldn't help herself after seeing Hyakinthos's frustrated expression.
That laugh acted like a fuse, causing Hyakinthos's face to flush instantly. Just as he was about to explode, a figure silently stepped between him and Lynn.
Ryuu had approached at some point, a clean rag in hand, and began wiping the counter in front of Lynn with a blank expression. She didn't say a word, but her cold aura and untouchable posture carried more weight than any verbal warning.
Hyakinthos felt like a clown who had performed his heart out on stage only to be pelted with rotten tomatoes. The two guards he brought also turned pale with anger, their hands tightening on their hilts.
"Fine... very well!" Hyakinthos squeezed the words through gritted teeth. He gave Lynn a venomous glare, then swept his eyes over the giggling Syr and the expressionless Ryuu. "You will regret this. Reject the gift of the Sun, and you shall rot in the shadows!"
Leaving behind that threat, he whipped his sleeve around and led his guards out of the pub in a state of pathetic disgrace, pursued by the amused gazes of the adventurers.
As soon as he left, the pub erupted.
"Did I see that right? That kid just rejected Apollo?"
"He's crazy! That's the Apollo Familia!"
"Miyazaki? Who has ever heard of that God?"
"Who cares? Things are about to get interesting. Apollo isn't exactly a magnanimous deity."
Lynn, however, acted as if nothing had happened. He picked up his spoon, thanked Ryuu, and continued to finish his cooling stew. It was as if everything that had just occurred was merely a fly buzzing in his ear.
The news traveled back to the Apollo Familia mansion with extreme speed.
When Hyakinthos knelt in the study and recounted everything that had happened in a trembling voice, the expected thunderous rage did not arrive immediately.
Apollo just sat quietly on his velvet sofa, a lazy smile actually lingering on his face.
"He... refused?" The Sun God's voice was very soft, as if he were confirming something impossible.
"Y—yes, Lord Apollo." Hyakinthos buried his head even lower.
"He rejected the invitation of me, Apollo, in front of everyone?"
"Yes..."
"And his reason is that he follows a minor god named... Miyazaki?"
"Yes, my Lord!"
Apollo fell silent. The smile on his face slowly vanished, replaced by a state of total, pure bewilderment.
Refused?
He, Apollo—the incarnation of beauty, the source of light—had been rejected by a mortal? A Level 1 rookie? A beautiful boy from some backwater province?
How was that possible? It was illogical.
"...Ha."
A dry chuckle escaped his throat. Then came a second, and a third. He began to laugh—initially a low chuckle, then growing louder and louder until his entire body shook and his handsome face began to distort.
Hyakinthos was terrified and didn't dare move. He knew this was the precursor to his God's explosive fury.
"Haha... Hahahaha! Good! A fine Miyazaki indeed! What an ungrateful country brat!"
Suddenly, the laughter stopped abruptly.
Apollo stood up violently, kicking over the expensive sandalwood coffee table. Crystal glasses and gemstones spilled across the floor, shattering with sharp cracks.
"A disgrace!" he roared, his handsome face flushed with rage. His purple eyes burned with an intense fire. "This is the greatest profanity against me, against beauty itself! The prey I personally selected, the olive branch I deigned to offer... he threw it on the ground like trash!"
He paced the magnificent study like a trapped beast. His divine power leaked uncontrollably, causing the temperature in the room to rise several degrees.
"Who does he think he is? The Sword Princess of the Loki Familia? Or that boar-man Freya has her eye on? No! He is nothing! He is just a Level 1 rookie!"
This was the first time in his life as a Sun God that he had been so contemptuously and thoroughly rejected. It wasn't a tactful decline or a polite evasion; it was a heartless "No thanks" in front of a bunch of drunks.
Apollo felt as though his very godhood had been defiled.
He locked himself in his room for a full day and night.
The next morning, when he reopened his door, the wild rage had vanished, replaced by a cold and eerie calm. He summoned Hyakinthos.
"Lord Apollo..."
"Hyakinthos," Apollo's voice was so gentle it was hair-raising. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed that my favor alone would be enough to make a lost lamb understand gratitude."
He reached out, gently stroking Hyakinthos's handsome cheek.
"Some beautiful birds have wings that are too green; they don't understand the virtues of a golden cage. The hunter must break their wings and let them taste the bitterness of the wind and rain before they realize who their only true refuge is."
Hyakinthos looked at him, confused.
A cruel and charming smile curved the corners of Apollo's mouth.
"Go, my child. Let him know the price of rejecting Lord Apollo." He said softly, "Does he not have a swindler friend? And those girls at the pub who show him favor... start with them."
"I want him to lose everything he can rely on. I want him to become a homeless stray dog. I want him abandoned by everyone, with nowhere left to turn."
"When that time comes," Apollo's eyes flashed with a feverish desire for possession, "he will kneel, crying and crawling to my feet, begging for my forgiveness and protection. And I will, like a magnanimous God, open my arms and mercifully accept him."
"What I want was never just a beautiful shell," he murmured, looking out at the rising sun. "What I want is a soul that has been completely conquered—a soul that belongs only to me."
There is nothing new under the sun, but there are always fresh idiots.
This was the day after Lynn had rejected the Apollo Familia's recruitment. At the Guild Hall, Eina Tulle encountered just such an idiot.
Two men, dressed in ornate civilian clothes that clashed with the surrounding adventurers, had sun-and-harp emblems embroidered in gold thread on their chests—subtle but present. They walked straight to Eina's counter and tapped the surface politely.
"Excuse me, are you Miss Eina Tulle?" one of them asked with a smile, a smile so standard it looked as if it had been measured with a ruler.
"Yes, how may I help you?" Eina set down her documents and gave a professional smile.
"We represent a God who wishes to remain anonymous, here to inquire about the procedures for establishing a new Familia," the other man spoke, his tone carrying a hint of nonchalance. "We heard you are the most professional advisor in the Guild, so we specifically requested you."
This was standard business. Eina brightened up and began to introduce the process, the required documents, and the precautions in detail. However, she soon realized something was wrong.
"Wait," the first man interrupted her. "You just said the application form needs to be filled out in black ink. Is that a mandatory regulation? The God we serve prefers purple. Will using purple ink affect the approval? Would that not be a sign of disrespect toward a God?"
"Uh... according to regulations, it is best to use black or dark blue..."
"Best?" The second man raised an eyebrow. "Meaning it isn't mandatory? Are your Guild regulations so ambiguous? That really is... quite imprecise."
Eina's smile grew a bit stiff, but she patiently continued her explanation. Yet, no matter what she said, the men always managed to find a way to question her from the most awkward angles.
"Regarding the location for the Familia base, you suggest avoiding the entertainment district. But our God loves art and theater. Wouldn't setting up next to a theater highlight our character better?"
"You say we need background checks on new members; does that not infringe on personal privacy? What if a member used to be... a pirate? Will the Guild discriminate against them?"
"I've heard that some adventurers, despite not belonging to any Familia, can freely enter and exit the Dungeon, and even party with members of top-tier Familias. Miss Eina, does the Guild have no oversight regarding this? Or is it that some advisors are on such good terms with these 'rule-breakers' that they simply turn a blind eye?"
That last sentence was heavy with implication. It was like a cold needle, making Eina's heart skip a beat.
She looked up into the smiling eyes of the two men, a smile that was filled with unabashed malice.
She understood now. They weren't here to consult; they were here to cause trouble.
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Danmachi: My Primary God is Hidetaka Miyazaki? (Simulpub – Ongoing)
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