< Ryuu Lion's Perspective >
────── "Ah... Sister. Finally, I will join you." ───────
The Great Conflict seven years ago. That epic struggle lasted seven days and nights between the Evils—who sought to annihilate Orario and spread chaos across the world—and the city's resident adventurers. That war ended only with the defeat of both the Devourer and Silence.
It stood as the bloodiest confrontation in Orario's history since the Age of Gods, leaving behind scars that still mar the city today.
The god Erebus, the god of the underworld who styled himself as "Absolute Evil," led the uprising. During that clash, specifically on the 18th floor of the Dungeon, I—and the Astraea Familia—faced the adventurer known as Silence.
She was a woman with long grey hair, reminiscent of the ash left behind by a fire. Her eyes remained tightly shut, and she wore a long black dress that looked like funeral raiment.
We trembled before her. She was the living embodiment of her title, Silence.
As high-level adventurers who had fought countless battles against superior foes, we felt the staggering chasm between her power and our own in our very souls.
Her magic flowed with an eerie calm, yet it possessed the force of a thundering waterfall. As for the "Gospel" she blew into, its echoes alone made our bodies shudder to the core.
Before that monster, a being whose mere presence forced you to prepare for death, I felt true terror invade my heart for the first time.
She walked with majesty across the flame-swept 18th floor, spitting blood yet appearing more like a "hero" than anyone else present.
Even after falling into the abyss of "Evil," she never lost her pride. She held onto her principles until her final breath; she truly was a hero in every sense of the word. The melodies of the "Genos Angelus"—the herald of doom that leveled everything in its path—sounded like a divine judgment handed down from the heavens.
She was stronger than anything, more beautiful than anything, and she radiated majesty even as she stood soaked in her own blood.
She discarded her status as a symbol of justice and descended into darkness to become the "Wall." She wanted to be the hurdle we adventurers had to clear to become the true heroes capable of defeating the Great Black Dragon. In the end, she cast herself into the furnace of the flames.
As the fire consumed her body, she smiled. It wasn't a smile of joy or satisfaction, but one of quiet tenderness. Amidst those roaring flames, her lips moved, whispering faint words.
I didn't hear everything she said, but her words were woven with sincerity, and my eyes saw them with undeniable clarity.
As she plummeted into the fiery crater, she spoke to someone... someone she loved.
●○●○●
"Right, Meteria... Ah, it's fine. Just think of it as a memento of my family."
Several years ago, before Al became a first-class adventurer, I once asked him about the dilapidated old church he used to visit. This was his response.
His expression then wasn't angry as it usually was. Instead, it carried a hint of nostalgia, a certain frailty and transparency.
Al sighed deeply at the time, his face wearing an expression as if he were caressing a forgotten corner of his memories.
He rarely speaks about himself, but I realized then that the church held a dear place in his heart and contained vital memories. I avoided the subject ever since.
That is why, when the church was destroyed during the Apollo Familia incident, I felt ──────
"Who is Meteria?"
"Huh?"
Al's eyes widened in surprise at my sudden question. I pressed on:
"I realize my question might seem rude. However, I felt I had to ask ─────"
"No, honestly, it doesn't matter much..."
Al averted his gaze, hesitating, and looked out the window. A white-haired boy, looking much like a rabbit, was running down the main street.
I don't know what Al thought as he watched his younger brother, but a faint smile touched his lips, and he murmured softly:
".... She was my mother."
"────!!"
"Apparently, she had been frail since birth. My father was the same. They both passed away right after Bell was born, before I could even perform a single act of filial piety for them."
If this was true... then that "Hero," Alfia, was Al's only remaining relative besides his younger brother.
This truth—one I had been avoiding, even though I suspected it in the back of my mind—hit me now. I felt as if my heart were being squeezed.
Al isn't the blunt, cruel person everyone thinks he is. He is just an ordinary boy who laughs and grieves like any other human.
Yet he avoids getting too close to people and refuses to let anyone interfere in his private affairs.
I knew his way of life was to remain alone at his peak, carrying everything on his own shoulders.
That "Saint" might have been the only exception. That is why no one knew anything about his past.
Even though I have known him since he arrived in Orario and taught him the skills and knowledge of an adventurer, I knew nothing more than the fact that he lost his family as a child.
In our eyes, he was the brilliant, reclusive genius adventurer who transcended ordinary human limits.
That is why I was truly shocked to learn he had a younger brother. More surprising still was that, despite his gruffness, he occasionally showed an affection for him that was unimaginable for someone of his temperament.
The Al I know is the man who protects others, not the one who is protected. He is undoubtedly strong in body and spirit, perfectly fitting the description of a "Natural-Born Hero."
But isn't it likely that Al, having lost his parents at such a young age, had no choice but to become strong?
Al, a boy only sixteen years old, is an undisputed "Hero."
..... But he is a hero who had no other choice, a hero forced into the role.
Thus, he always had to look forward; he never had the luxury of looking back to lament or mourn.
He realized that if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep moving. To me, this seems incredibly sad and cruel.
The world expected him to live as a hero, and he acted as if he desired it.
Perhaps that behavior stemmed from the fact that he couldn't choose any path other than that of heroes.
I looked at Al's face again. The cold stagnation he usually projected was gone, replaced by a boy with a very calm expression.
This made me feel a deep sense of guilt. Even though I don't regret a single moment of fighting in that Great Conflict, I couldn't help but think... if Alfia hadn't died there and had stayed alive, she might have been like a mother to Al.
Of course, regardless of how noble her goals were, she remained part of the evil faction that threatened Orario. My thoughts were purely emotional, yet I couldn't stop them.
Imagining that possibility, I found my tongue moving on its own:
────── "Can you tell me about your family?"
I knew this question might reopen Al's wounds. He hates talking about his past—not because he distrusts us, but because he tries not to show others the psychological scars he suffered in his childhood.
I understood this implicitly and had always avoided the topic to spare him pain.
But I felt I had to know. I felt someone had to ask.
I, too, know the bitterness of losing irreplaceable loved ones. I understand that pain better than anyone.
For that reason, the sorrow lurking in the depths of his heart should not be left unattended. Just as I once lived only for revenge, the current Al can only live by being strong.
He is a boy so strong it evokes pity. To stay by his side and support him, I had to dare to enter his past.
Even if it provoked his intense anger, I had to ask.
Facing my question, which I asked with this resolve in my heart, Al remained silent for a while before he began to speak slowly.
●○●○●
Wait, what is this?
What is wrong with you, and what is wrong with Riveria too? Why do you all want to talk about my family? Even Loki has been suspiciously kind lately; it's disgusting.
Well, since it concerns Alfia and could serve as a foundation to stir up some future drama and pain, I might as well use this opportunity.
I didn't come to Orario to soothe my loneliness; I came simply because I hated that old man Zeus.
Every time he opened his mouth, he'd say: "You must become the Final Hero." That lecherous, fake old man.
No, the Final Hero is Bell, whom everyone loves, right?
I'd rather be the person who stirs up drama and sorrow than the one who saves the world as a hero.
But where did you even hear the name Meteria in the first place?
Ah, right. That church.
I remember Riveria and Cassandra were talking about the church too.
..... Hmm?
... Hmm?
..... Strange.
I recall telling them that the church was a memento of my mother.
Is that why they've been talking to me with such concern and pity?
Wait, did I mess up?
──────── Could it be that the church's destruction was actually a golden opportunity to evoke sorrow and drama, and I only just realized it?
●○●○●
It took seven years ───── for the King, Ottar, to reach Level 8.
This news, following Al's own level up, spread like wildfire through Orario, sending shockwaves through the common folk and adventurers alike.
Since the departure of the Zeus and Hera Familias, Ottar had sat upon the throne of the city's strongest adventurer for over a decade. Everyone knew his power.
He was the one who shattered Orario's thousand-year wall and finally surpassed Zeus and Hera, the ones nicknamed the "Symbols of the Age of Gods" and the "Peak of Divine Followers."
He is the captain of the Freya Familia, one of the city's two largest factions, and the strongest of their Einherjar.
As the other pole balancing the rising star Al, Ottar's name represented a dream and an aspiration for all of Orario's adventurers.
Many received the news of this titan reaching a new level of power—after a solo expedition into the Deep Floors—with a mix of awe and sheer joy.
It was a magnificent achievement, an entry into the territory of true heroes—territory that many wondered if even so-called heroes could ever reach.
The steadfast veteran who knew the greatness of the past, and the shining star who had equaled him in less than five years of adventuring.
People grew excited at the monumental feat achieved by both the King and the Sword Saint, as they reached their new levels almost simultaneously.
Opinions were split on who was truly stronger between the Freya Familia's King and the Loki Familia's Sword Saint. However, everyone believed one thing: if either were destined to be defeated, it would inevitably be at the hands of the other.
The relationship between the Freya and Loki Familias had always been tense. The Freya Familia focused on absolute individualism and the superior skill of its members, while the Loki Familia relied on teamwork under the leadership of Braver and excelled in organizational strength.
Until now, the two sides had watched each other warily, and no major issues occurred due to the balance of power... but with these first-class adventurers leveling up, that balance began to tilt.
They weren't the only ones who had leveled up recently.
Four first-class adventurers—core members and leaders of the Loki Familia—jumped from Level 5 to Level 6. This level made them candidates for the strongest in the city. They achieved this after grueling battles in uncharted regions and lethal fights against Deep Floor bosses.
Previously, the Freya Familia was thought to have a slight edge because Ottar was the only Level 7 and because of their individual skills. However, thanks to the rapid catch-up Al had achieved in the last two or three years, the scales had balanced. With the recent qualitative leap made by Ais and her companions, the balance of power finally tipped in favor of the Loki Familia.
Voices rose claiming that the Loki Familia, which now boasted seven adventurers at Level 6 or higher (Finn, Riveria, Gareth, plus the four new ones), stood at the vanguard of the Labyrinth City.
If accepting equality was difficult, the Freya Familia—which worships its goddess and believes every member must strive to be the strongest—could never accept being treated as the weaker party.
However, if Ottar could defeat Al—Loki's strongest follower—that reputation would undoubtedly change.
Many predicted that sooner or later, Ottar and Al would have to face off in a decisive battle to determine who deserved the title of the strongest in Orario.
But the individuals involved seemed indifferent to such talk. In truth, neither Al nor Ottar desired it.
Each only sought to develop himself to achieve his own goals.
Ultimately, an adventurer's primary mission isn't to serve the interests of their Familia, but to exterminate monsters and explore the Dungeon.
The arrival of an adventurer at Level 8—an event that had only occurred a handful of times in Orario's thousand-year history—gave hope to all the city's inhabitants.
After the defeat of Zeus and Hera, it was believed that slaying the One-Eyed Black Dragon had become impossible.
Although the current power had not yet reached the level of the Empress—the strongest and fiercest follower at the height of the Age of Gods—the ascension of Al, who would reach that peak in the near future, and Ottar, who knew the ancient eras, made people feel the return of a new Golden Age.
Many held this hope in their hearts. Even eccentric adventurers offered sincere praise this time, regardless of their Familia affiliations, to the great man standing at their peak.
Praise, joy, awe, admiration, and envy... a variety of emotions mixed together. Naturally, this included negative feelings such as malice, hatred, and resentment.
Regarding the level ups of Al and Ottar, a significant number of adventurers harbored complex feelings toward this great achievement.
The members of the Freya Familia themselves were no exception.
On the contrary, for those who had sworn to reach the top themselves, Al represented an annoying obstacle, and even their own captain, Ottar, was seen as a wall to be cleared.
Among all of them, negative feelings were most apparent in one person ───────
"Don't screw with me!!"
An angry shout echoed in Folkvangr, the headquarters of the Freya Familia. Among the members who were incensed by Al and Ottar's level ups, one follower felt an indescribable rage.
It was the young Catman, Allen Fromel. He was also a famous first-class adventurer in Orario and served as the vice-captain of the Freya Familia.
Allen struck the ground with the butt of the long spear he held, directing a sharp gaze toward the tip of his blade.
Gritting his teeth, he stared at his reflection in the polished silver spearhead as if he were looking at a mortal enemy.
His face, framed by black and silver hair, was distorted by a mix of humiliation and malice, and the light in his eyes was dark and murky. Deep in his heart, powerful emotions boiled like a cauldron.
"I am the one who will strike that bastard down────!!"
Though everyone leaned toward the idea that Ottar would face Al, some refused to accept that reality.
Allen had always lived his life alongside his younger sister.
By the time he began to understand the world around him, "everything" had already been destroyed. That great kingdom, the largest on the continent, was annihilated in a single night. Its streets, which bore the marks of greatness, turned into piles of rubble. Its citizens were killed, violated, and devoured.
In that homeland, which had become a forsaken world, the young boy and girl could do nothing but wait for death.
Amidst that, the two miraculously survived, clinging to each other to stay alive.
Allen protected his sister, who was a burden to him. While his body was covered in wounds, he walked without stopping over the ruins.
The little kitten searched for food for his "clumsy" sister, throwing his primitive weapons with all his might to hunt monsters. He wandered through the ruined city without a destination, trying to protect her from the violence that occasionally ambushed them.
She was weak, clumsy, a crybaby, and a coward who always hid behind her brother's back.
Yet, despite hiding behind him, she never left him. She followed him while shedding tears, making Allen think about abandoning her countless times.
He even thought there would be no harm in letting her die so he could survive on his own.
But in the end, Allen could not abandon his weeping sister.
One of those days, Allen met the Goddess.
───── She was breathtakingly beautiful.
That beauty, which seemed to gather every definition of grace, struck Allen's young heart with indescribable force.
His heart, his mind, his soul... everything in him was stolen by that woman standing before him.
The silver Goddess had visited the two children in the depths of frozen despair. That meeting, which Allen felt was destiny itself, brought an unquenchable heat to his heart.
His clumsy, cowardly sister was shrinking from the awe of that beauty, but Allen didn't care about her.
The Goddess said:
──── "Become my followers."
The words she whispered as she looked at him with her silver eyes seeped into his body like poison. He couldn't resist; in fact, there was no meaning in resisting.
Allen grabbed the hand extended to him without hesitation and gave her his entire life.
From then on, the days of fighting began.
Every day was a battle against monsters, risking his life. He crossed the lines of death, defeated powerful enemies, and snatched victory after bitter struggles.
Though he was soaked in blood, drank foul water, endured pain, suffered aches, was torn by agony, and nearly crushed under the weight of terror, Allen never broke.
The battlefield wasn't limited to the Dungeon. In Folkvangr, where followers aspiring for the top for their goddess underwent grueling daily training that could reach the point of killing, Allen was constantly losing back then.
He was soundly defeated by members of the Familia who were older than him.
He was hunted and tormented by followers who outranked him. Sometimes he was beaten until he spat blood and became like a worn-out rag.
It was a humiliating disgrace.
It was a feeling of misery.
He felt rage and pain.
But at the same time, that feeling was comfortable. The more power he gained by feeding on the humiliation of defeat, the more his heart filled with satisfaction. With every blow he received, he felt himself growing stronger.
At that time, the Freya Familia ranked next to the powerful Zeus and Hera Familias in Orario.
Faced with the "Wall" that had to be cleared at any cost, the "baptisms" the members gave each other grew harsher.
For Allen, who was just a child then despite having received the "Blessing," those tests were never easy.
Though he groaned under the weight of those hardships, bled, and fell to his knees again and again, he always rose. Then, the strong—whom he couldn't face at the time—would crush him as if mocking him.
There was no mercy, no pity. To them, Allen was just a weakling, a mere step on their ladder. Yet, Allen never surrendered.
He continued his violent charge to defeat those who had crushed him and inevitably reach the throne of the strongest.
Indeed, Allen was an undisputed genius. His genius perhaps even surpassed Ottar, his more powerful predecessor.
Thanks to his strenuous efforts that cost him spat blood, his strength grew with amazing speed. Year after year, he achieved remarkable growth.
He cut ties with his clumsy sister who always followed him and fought battle after battle until he reached Level 6 at a young age. He became a candidate for the title of the strongest in the city and earned the epithet "The Fastest in the City."
To Allen, both Gulliver and Braver were just "walls" to be cleared. He possessed the talent and resolve to surpass them.
Three years after reaching Level 6, his revered goddess ordered him to fight a certain boy as a test.
Allen thought then it was just ───── just another way for the goddess to pass the time and kill boredom.
He didn't care that the child had a good relationship with the "sister" he had abandoned long ago.
───── But then, Allen saw "talent" that transcended all logic.
The boy was incredible, with hair as white as virgin snow and eyes as red as blood.
Just by seeing him, Allen realized this boy was his true enemy, and no one else.
In that moment, something moved in the depths of Allen's heart. His instinct screamed loudly: "Kill him with your own hand."
Following his instinct, and before he could kill the child, Allen saw something that amazed him. He saw the swordsmanship the white-haired child used, even though he was supposed to be far inferior to him.
It was truly magnificent.
It was swordsmanship so incredible it made one hold their breath and be captivated. His strikes, delivered with lightning speed, outpaced sound and left behind trails of light.
Those flashes, which looked like a completed piece of art, were enough to charm anyone who saw them.
It was the prowess of a "Sword Demon" polished to the absolute limit. Was what coursed through Allen's body then joy, or hatred? Allen, who had dedicated his life to the path of combat, thought from the bottom of his heart when he saw that ───.
───── How beautiful it truly is.
On one side, a boy at Level 2; on the other, a warrior at Level 6. Despite the vast gap in power that guaranteed Allen would kill him, he was fascinated by that "Sword of Death."
When he came to his senses, he found that the child's image never left his imagination even after the battle ended.
When he met the child again, that feeling turned into a certainty. There is no doubt this is the enemy I must kill.
"I won't let anyone else defeat him."
"And I won't let anyone else kill him."
"I won't give him to Ottar, or the Sword Princess... not even to the Goddess."
Allen swore fiercely that this was his prize and that he would hunt him down no matter the cost. The fangs of the raging cat, polished throughout half his life, had finally found the opponent worthy of sinking into.
That is why Allen cannot forgive Ottar for acting like his destined opponent, nor the Sword Princess for chasing him, nor his sister for being friendly with him ───────── and above all, Allen could not forgive himself for finding beauty in someone other than the Goddess, nor his weakness that keeps him far from being the strongest.
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