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Raising Hel, in Danmachi.
- Thread starter Common
- Start date
AHHGKS
Well worn.
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- May 27, 2022
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While Loki might call Hestia, 'Itty bitty'. I'm sure that if Hestia was willing to hit back stronger, then she could say that at least she (Hestia) isn't part of the itty bitty titty committee. That would instead be Loki, after all Loki was identified as a /man/ throughout myth and legend. Though Hestia is short.
tftc!
tftc!
Chapter 80
Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
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The 19th floor—the true beginning of the Great Tree Labyrinth. Down here, the cold stone of the upper levels vanished completely, replaced by an oppressive, suffocating forest of colossal, twisting brown tree roots that served as the walls, floor, and ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and thick wood sap, and the layout was a vertical nightmare of tangled branches and sudden drops. It was a massive spike in danger; the paths were tight, the terrain was uneven, and the monsters here were built to ambush from the shadows.
Blake Belladonna squinted, her Faunus night vision allowing her to compensate and see through the heavy gloom cloaking the floor. Her hand rested tightly on the hilt of Gambol Shroud. "The air is completely different down here. It's thick, and the smell of the wood sap is throwing off my scent tracking. It feels like the entire floor is breathing."
"Hn," Fran hummed, her small fingers tapping rhythmically against Teacher's scabbard.
"Sorry, Fran. I do not have access to the magic I used to have," the sword intoned telepathically, his voice echoing cleanly in her mind. "I am unable to map out the floor for you."
Blake shivered, her cat ears flattening slightly beneath her bow as she glanced over at the companion who had been keeping pace with her. "That sword is so creepy."
"Take that back," Fran stated, her golden eyes narrowing as a rare hint of anger flared in her voice. "Teacher is Teacher."
"I apologize," Blake murmured quickly, raising a hand in defense as she kept her eyes on the surrounding canopy. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... back in Remnant, weapons don't talk back unless you've had way too much coffee."
"No offense taken, young lady," Teacher's voice echoed in Fran's mind, though he remained silent to Blake. "But we have much larger problems than my conversational skills. Look up."
From the shadows of a massive, overlapping root above them, a monstrous form detached itself. It was a giant insect—a vicious, armor-plated Beetle-type monster unique to the upper mid-floors, easily twice the size of a carriage. Its compound eyes glowed a sickly, iridescent green, and its massive, jagged mandibles sheared through a smaller branch like a pair of hedge clippers.
"That's a lot of legs," Blake said, her eyes tracking the creature's massive, twitching limbs. "Fran, you want it?"
"Hn," Fran responded.
She gripped Teacher's hilt, and a violent explosion of crackling, blue-white energy erupted from her body. The Lightning Cloak snapped into existence, wrapping her small frame in a roaring aura of pure electricity that smelled heavily of ozone.
Before the monster could even finish its predatory screech, Fran vanished.
A blinding blur of black and blue lightning tore across the forest, and the insect was simply gone. The strike didn't even pause at the creature's armored shell; it tore right through it, carrying Fran deep into the background until she collided with a colossal tree root off in the distance with a booming echo.
Blake sighed to herself, fran stopped caring about possible damage when they unlocked her Aura an instead of being a quiet sneaky rouge cat she was the epitome of fast and loud.
===============
Back on the surface, the twilight air of the Twilight Manor's auxiliary courtyard was exceptionally biting—mostly because Weiss Schnee was currently occupying it.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Myrtenaster flickered in the evening light, a flurry of precise, silver thrusts that left faint trails of frost hanging in the air. Across from her, Ais Wallenstein moved it was rather clunky and unrefined but the speed an power spoke for itself, it was no wonder she kept breaking rapiers.
"You are strong." Ais states getting into a stance Weiss had taught her about to launch herself.
"Strength without control is just a spectacular way to break expensive equipment," Weiss chided smoothly, though she couldn't completely hide the small, proud smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She brought Myrtenaster up, the blade catching the dying twilight as she settled into a textbook high guard. "And keep that lead shoulder dropped! If you tense your neck like that, you're going to telegraph your trajectory before your boots even leave the cobblestones."
Ais didn't answer, but Weiss could see the subtle adjustment immediately. The Sword Princess's golden eyes narrowed, entirely locked onto Weiss's stance.
Clang!
Weiss didn't try to block it head-on; doing so would have probably shattered her wrist, given the raw, unrefined power behind the blow. Instead, she executed a lightning-fast parry, her rapier sliding along the edge of Ais's blade, using a minor gravity glyph beneath her own heel to pivot her body entirely out of the path of the strike.
As Ais flew past, her momentum carrying her forward, Weiss didn't counter. Instead, she used the flat of her blade to lightly tap the back of Ais's left thigh.
"Too much forward lean!" Weiss called out as Ais skidded to a halt, turning back around with a slight pout on her usually blank face. "If I had been a monster with a spiked hide, you would have just skewered yourself on pure momentum. Recenter your weight, Ais. Again!"
===
"Fascinating," Finn murmured, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry down to the two girls. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone successfully lecture Ais on her footwork without getting a blank stare in return.
"Her skills speak forthemselves Fin, I mean Ais vastly over powers Weiss yet our sword princess is on the backfoot regardless." Reveria states
Down in the courtyard, Ais adjusted her footing yet again, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to internalize the rigid balance Weiss was demanding.
"Again!" Weiss commanded, her voice crisp and uncompromising as she snapped Myrtenaster back into a defensive guard.
"She's a strict teacher," Finn chuckled softly, leaning his chin on his hand. "But a highly effective one. If Ais can actually master this level of spatial control, her efficiency in the deeper floors might get scary."
Blake Belladonna squinted, her Faunus night vision allowing her to compensate and see through the heavy gloom cloaking the floor. Her hand rested tightly on the hilt of Gambol Shroud. "The air is completely different down here. It's thick, and the smell of the wood sap is throwing off my scent tracking. It feels like the entire floor is breathing."
"Hn," Fran hummed, her small fingers tapping rhythmically against Teacher's scabbard.
"Sorry, Fran. I do not have access to the magic I used to have," the sword intoned telepathically, his voice echoing cleanly in her mind. "I am unable to map out the floor for you."
Blake shivered, her cat ears flattening slightly beneath her bow as she glanced over at the companion who had been keeping pace with her. "That sword is so creepy."
"Take that back," Fran stated, her golden eyes narrowing as a rare hint of anger flared in her voice. "Teacher is Teacher."
"I apologize," Blake murmured quickly, raising a hand in defense as she kept her eyes on the surrounding canopy. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just... back in Remnant, weapons don't talk back unless you've had way too much coffee."
"No offense taken, young lady," Teacher's voice echoed in Fran's mind, though he remained silent to Blake. "But we have much larger problems than my conversational skills. Look up."
From the shadows of a massive, overlapping root above them, a monstrous form detached itself. It was a giant insect—a vicious, armor-plated Beetle-type monster unique to the upper mid-floors, easily twice the size of a carriage. Its compound eyes glowed a sickly, iridescent green, and its massive, jagged mandibles sheared through a smaller branch like a pair of hedge clippers.
"That's a lot of legs," Blake said, her eyes tracking the creature's massive, twitching limbs. "Fran, you want it?"
"Hn," Fran responded.
She gripped Teacher's hilt, and a violent explosion of crackling, blue-white energy erupted from her body. The Lightning Cloak snapped into existence, wrapping her small frame in a roaring aura of pure electricity that smelled heavily of ozone.
Before the monster could even finish its predatory screech, Fran vanished.
A blinding blur of black and blue lightning tore across the forest, and the insect was simply gone. The strike didn't even pause at the creature's armored shell; it tore right through it, carrying Fran deep into the background until she collided with a colossal tree root off in the distance with a booming echo.
Blake sighed to herself, fran stopped caring about possible damage when they unlocked her Aura an instead of being a quiet sneaky rouge cat she was the epitome of fast and loud.
===============
Back on the surface, the twilight air of the Twilight Manor's auxiliary courtyard was exceptionally biting—mostly because Weiss Schnee was currently occupying it.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Myrtenaster flickered in the evening light, a flurry of precise, silver thrusts that left faint trails of frost hanging in the air. Across from her, Ais Wallenstein moved it was rather clunky and unrefined but the speed an power spoke for itself, it was no wonder she kept breaking rapiers.
"You are strong." Ais states getting into a stance Weiss had taught her about to launch herself.
"Strength without control is just a spectacular way to break expensive equipment," Weiss chided smoothly, though she couldn't completely hide the small, proud smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She brought Myrtenaster up, the blade catching the dying twilight as she settled into a textbook high guard. "And keep that lead shoulder dropped! If you tense your neck like that, you're going to telegraph your trajectory before your boots even leave the cobblestones."
Ais didn't answer, but Weiss could see the subtle adjustment immediately. The Sword Princess's golden eyes narrowed, entirely locked onto Weiss's stance.
Clang!
Weiss didn't try to block it head-on; doing so would have probably shattered her wrist, given the raw, unrefined power behind the blow. Instead, she executed a lightning-fast parry, her rapier sliding along the edge of Ais's blade, using a minor gravity glyph beneath her own heel to pivot her body entirely out of the path of the strike.
As Ais flew past, her momentum carrying her forward, Weiss didn't counter. Instead, she used the flat of her blade to lightly tap the back of Ais's left thigh.
"Too much forward lean!" Weiss called out as Ais skidded to a halt, turning back around with a slight pout on her usually blank face. "If I had been a monster with a spiked hide, you would have just skewered yourself on pure momentum. Recenter your weight, Ais. Again!"
===
"Fascinating," Finn murmured, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry down to the two girls. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone successfully lecture Ais on her footwork without getting a blank stare in return.
"Her skills speak forthemselves Fin, I mean Ais vastly over powers Weiss yet our sword princess is on the backfoot regardless." Reveria states
Down in the courtyard, Ais adjusted her footing yet again, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to internalize the rigid balance Weiss was demanding.
"Again!" Weiss commanded, her voice crisp and uncompromising as she snapped Myrtenaster back into a defensive guard.
"She's a strict teacher," Finn chuckled softly, leaning his chin on his hand. "But a highly effective one. If Ais can actually master this level of spatial control, her efficiency in the deeper floors might get scary."
Chapter 81
Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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ITTY BITTY! HEL!" Loki shouted, nearly running over to the pair.
"Father I am no longer a little girl. Please do not call me itty bitty." Hel states blandly.
"Wait father! Loki is that why your chest is flat your a guy!" Hestia shouts
Loki froze mid-stride, her raucous laughter cutting off with a violent, choked sound as if she had swallowed her own tongue.
The immediate vicinity went dead silent. A couple of Ganesha Familia guards nearby stiffened, their eyes widening in pure horror, while a minor god passing by with a plate of fruit slowly backpedaled into the crowd to avoid the impending blast radius.
Hel slowly lowered her glass of mead, her expression entirely blank, while doing her absolute best to hide her amusement.
"What..." Loki's voice dropped into a low, lethal rattle. Her usual wide, shit-eating grin vanished completely, replaced by a terrifyingly blank slate as her closed eyes slowly cracked open, revealing those dangerously sharp, ruby-red slits. "What did you just say to me, you shrimp-sized parasite?!"
"I said what I said!" Hestia shouted back, completely emboldened by her own logic. She brandished her meat skewer like a fencing foil, pointing it aggressively at Loki's chest. "Hel just called you 'Father'! And everyone knows Norse gods can change their shapes! It all makes sense now! You aren't flat because you're a goddess, you're flat because you're actually a guy under there! Ha! I cracked the code!"
"No no Hestia father is also a woman, she gave birth to my older brother after being fucked by a horse afterall." Hel corrects only making the on going situation worse.
Hestia froze entirely, her triumphant smirk instantly warping into a look of sheer, unadulterated psychological horror. She slowly turned her head toward Hel, her eyes wide, glassy, and completely traumatized.
"...She did what to a what?!" Hestia choked out, her voice barely a breathless squeak.
"Hel!" Loki finally found her voice, her face shifting from purple to a bright, incandescent, cosmic crimson. She clutched her head, her sharp teeth bared in an absolute screech of pure, agonizing embarrassment. "Why the hell would ya bring that up here?! In front of the Greeks?! We agreed we weren't gonna talk about the Tenkai years! Especially not that year!"
"I am merely correcting significant misinformation regarding your biological sex, Father," Hel replied, her tone perfectly flat, entirely detached from the shit she was stirring.
"Hestia was under the impression you were a man. I simply clarified that you are a woman who happened to transform into a mare to lure away a giant's stallion, resulting in the birth of Sleipnir. It's basic anatomy. Something something no cock like horse cock or something." Hel states blandly struggling not to grin or laugh at the look on Loki's face.
A light, musical cough elegantly interrupted the absolute mess.
"Granddaughter... perhaps you should stop bullying my son and Hestia."
The smooth, melodic voice sliced through the chaos like a silver tongue of a well experienced politician.
"Ah... Freya," Loki grunted, her sharp grin returning with a desperate, strained edge as she frantically looked for an exit. "Great. Perfect timing. Tell my kid she's a menace."
"Granddaughter?" Freya murmured, her stunning eyes shifting to Hel.
"Yes, Grandmother?" Hel answered, without a single shred of shame.
"You are a menace," Freya stated simply.
"At least I'm not a sexual deviant," Hel answered.
And half the gods in the ballroom flinched.
Freya remained perfectly still, her violet gown shimmering beneath the crystal chandeliers. For a long, agonizing moment, her expression was a flawless, unreadable mask.
Then, slowly, Freya lowered her handkerchief. Her lips parted, and a low, melodious sound echoed from her throat.
It was a laugh.
It started as a soft, breathless chuckle before blooming into a genuine, musical ring of pure, unbridled amusement that shattered the tense atmosphere.
"Oh, my dear," Freya purred, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye as she looked down at Hel with a dangerous, deeply affectionate light. "You really do possess a wonderfully sharp tongue."
Before Hel could even offer a deadpan response, Freya elegantly turned her head toward Loki, offering her a graceful, defeated shrug.
"I have to admit, Loki," Freya said, her voice dripping with a smooth, velvety charm. "She's got you there. I mean... do you even know who Hel's mother is?" Freya asked, a sharp, knowing glint dancing in her violet eyes.
Loki's loud, bark-like laughter cut off instantly. Her hand, which had been frozen mid-air after clapping Hel on the back, slowly dropped to her side. The triumphant grin on her face morphed into a sudden, profoundly uncomfortable grimace.
"Ah... now wait just a damn minute, Freya," Loki grumbled, her voice dropping an octave as she pointedly rubbed the back of her neck. "We don't need to go diggin' up the whole family tree. The kid's here, I'm here, we're having a grand ol' time—"
"Oh, please, Loki," Freya interrupted softly, her smile turning entirely wicked as she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on the back of her laced hand. "If Hel is going to accurately educate Hestia on your biological escapades as a mare, it's only fair the little goddess learns about the giantess Angrbóda. Unless, of course, you've forgotten the mother of your own children?"
Hestia, whose brain had only just barely recovered from the image of Loki as a horse, let out another strangled gasp. She looked between Freya and Loki, her eyes wide with a brand new flavor of psychological horror. "A giantess?! Loki, you slept with a giant?!"
"She was a very looker-ish giantess!" Loki barked back defensively, her face flaring up in a brilliant shade of crimson again. "And it was a long time ago! Besides, Jotunheim gets cold, alright?! You gotta do what ya gotta do to stay warm!"
Hel slowly turned her head, her deadpan gaze settling heavily on her father. "You told me it was a political alliance based on mutual respect, Father. You did not mention you were simply cold."
"Hel, shut trap!" Loki shrieked, entirely losing her cool as half the ballroom began to openly snicker at her expense.
"At least us greeks are not like that." Hestia mutters
"How many cows does Hera have, Hestia? And how many of them have slept with Zeus?" Hel asked suddenly.
The question caught Hestia completely off guard. The little goddess opened her mouth, a fierce defense of the Greek pantheon right on the tip of her tongue, before she abruptly shut it. Her brow furrowed, her eyes darting to the side as her mind raced.
Wait, Hestia thought, a cold sweat breaking out down her spine. Hera keeps a lot of sacred cattle in her gardens.
"I... uh..." Hestia stammered, her hands twitching as she dropped her meat skewer back onto her plate. "That's... those are different!"
"Goose? Eagle? Posing as other women's husbands?" Hel continued, her relentless, deadpan inventory cutting through Hestia's desperate stammering. "A golden shower? A swan? By all accounts, Hestia, your family reunion is a hazard to both the ecosystem and civil law."
Hestia's face flushed a brilliant, panicked pink. She gripped her pigtails with both hands, her jaw dropping as she tried to form a coherent defense against the sheer weight of Greek mythological history. "T-The golden shower was a metaphor! It was about the inevitability of fate! And the swan was... it was an artistic expression of divine will!"
"What ever helps you sleep at night you virgin." Hel states
===
Ultimately, that final jab hadn't been what got her escorted to the exit. No, Hel had gotten kicked out a few minutes later when Lord Ganesha himself had marched over to try and enthusiastically de-escalate the loud bickering. Hel, entirely unbothered by his dramatic poses, had calmly informed the god that his elephant mask looked like it was carved from a cheap bar of laundry soap and probably smelled like artificial pine.
Apparently, insulting the host was a bit too far for the Ganesha Familia guards.
But it was what it was. When you have dirt on literally every pantheon in existence, a little exile from a stuffy ballroom is a small price to pay.
Sitting on a quiet stone bench a few blocks away from the roaring lights of the party, Hel took a slow, methodical sip of her tea. The night air of Orario was crisp, a welcome relief from the suffocating heat of the ballroom, and the ambient noise of the bustling streets provided a much better backdrop than a room full of immortals acting as children.
"Father I am no longer a little girl. Please do not call me itty bitty." Hel states blandly.
"Wait father! Loki is that why your chest is flat your a guy!" Hestia shouts
Loki froze mid-stride, her raucous laughter cutting off with a violent, choked sound as if she had swallowed her own tongue.
The immediate vicinity went dead silent. A couple of Ganesha Familia guards nearby stiffened, their eyes widening in pure horror, while a minor god passing by with a plate of fruit slowly backpedaled into the crowd to avoid the impending blast radius.
Hel slowly lowered her glass of mead, her expression entirely blank, while doing her absolute best to hide her amusement.
"What..." Loki's voice dropped into a low, lethal rattle. Her usual wide, shit-eating grin vanished completely, replaced by a terrifyingly blank slate as her closed eyes slowly cracked open, revealing those dangerously sharp, ruby-red slits. "What did you just say to me, you shrimp-sized parasite?!"
"I said what I said!" Hestia shouted back, completely emboldened by her own logic. She brandished her meat skewer like a fencing foil, pointing it aggressively at Loki's chest. "Hel just called you 'Father'! And everyone knows Norse gods can change their shapes! It all makes sense now! You aren't flat because you're a goddess, you're flat because you're actually a guy under there! Ha! I cracked the code!"
"No no Hestia father is also a woman, she gave birth to my older brother after being fucked by a horse afterall." Hel corrects only making the on going situation worse.
Hestia froze entirely, her triumphant smirk instantly warping into a look of sheer, unadulterated psychological horror. She slowly turned her head toward Hel, her eyes wide, glassy, and completely traumatized.
"...She did what to a what?!" Hestia choked out, her voice barely a breathless squeak.
"Hel!" Loki finally found her voice, her face shifting from purple to a bright, incandescent, cosmic crimson. She clutched her head, her sharp teeth bared in an absolute screech of pure, agonizing embarrassment. "Why the hell would ya bring that up here?! In front of the Greeks?! We agreed we weren't gonna talk about the Tenkai years! Especially not that year!"
"I am merely correcting significant misinformation regarding your biological sex, Father," Hel replied, her tone perfectly flat, entirely detached from the shit she was stirring.
"Hestia was under the impression you were a man. I simply clarified that you are a woman who happened to transform into a mare to lure away a giant's stallion, resulting in the birth of Sleipnir. It's basic anatomy. Something something no cock like horse cock or something." Hel states blandly struggling not to grin or laugh at the look on Loki's face.
A light, musical cough elegantly interrupted the absolute mess.
"Granddaughter... perhaps you should stop bullying my son and Hestia."
The smooth, melodic voice sliced through the chaos like a silver tongue of a well experienced politician.
"Ah... Freya," Loki grunted, her sharp grin returning with a desperate, strained edge as she frantically looked for an exit. "Great. Perfect timing. Tell my kid she's a menace."
"Granddaughter?" Freya murmured, her stunning eyes shifting to Hel.
"Yes, Grandmother?" Hel answered, without a single shred of shame.
"You are a menace," Freya stated simply.
"At least I'm not a sexual deviant," Hel answered.
And half the gods in the ballroom flinched.
Freya remained perfectly still, her violet gown shimmering beneath the crystal chandeliers. For a long, agonizing moment, her expression was a flawless, unreadable mask.
Then, slowly, Freya lowered her handkerchief. Her lips parted, and a low, melodious sound echoed from her throat.
It was a laugh.
It started as a soft, breathless chuckle before blooming into a genuine, musical ring of pure, unbridled amusement that shattered the tense atmosphere.
"Oh, my dear," Freya purred, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye as she looked down at Hel with a dangerous, deeply affectionate light. "You really do possess a wonderfully sharp tongue."
Before Hel could even offer a deadpan response, Freya elegantly turned her head toward Loki, offering her a graceful, defeated shrug.
"I have to admit, Loki," Freya said, her voice dripping with a smooth, velvety charm. "She's got you there. I mean... do you even know who Hel's mother is?" Freya asked, a sharp, knowing glint dancing in her violet eyes.
Loki's loud, bark-like laughter cut off instantly. Her hand, which had been frozen mid-air after clapping Hel on the back, slowly dropped to her side. The triumphant grin on her face morphed into a sudden, profoundly uncomfortable grimace.
"Ah... now wait just a damn minute, Freya," Loki grumbled, her voice dropping an octave as she pointedly rubbed the back of her neck. "We don't need to go diggin' up the whole family tree. The kid's here, I'm here, we're having a grand ol' time—"
"Oh, please, Loki," Freya interrupted softly, her smile turning entirely wicked as she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on the back of her laced hand. "If Hel is going to accurately educate Hestia on your biological escapades as a mare, it's only fair the little goddess learns about the giantess Angrbóda. Unless, of course, you've forgotten the mother of your own children?"
Hestia, whose brain had only just barely recovered from the image of Loki as a horse, let out another strangled gasp. She looked between Freya and Loki, her eyes wide with a brand new flavor of psychological horror. "A giantess?! Loki, you slept with a giant?!"
"She was a very looker-ish giantess!" Loki barked back defensively, her face flaring up in a brilliant shade of crimson again. "And it was a long time ago! Besides, Jotunheim gets cold, alright?! You gotta do what ya gotta do to stay warm!"
Hel slowly turned her head, her deadpan gaze settling heavily on her father. "You told me it was a political alliance based on mutual respect, Father. You did not mention you were simply cold."
"Hel, shut trap!" Loki shrieked, entirely losing her cool as half the ballroom began to openly snicker at her expense.
"At least us greeks are not like that." Hestia mutters
"How many cows does Hera have, Hestia? And how many of them have slept with Zeus?" Hel asked suddenly.
The question caught Hestia completely off guard. The little goddess opened her mouth, a fierce defense of the Greek pantheon right on the tip of her tongue, before she abruptly shut it. Her brow furrowed, her eyes darting to the side as her mind raced.
Wait, Hestia thought, a cold sweat breaking out down her spine. Hera keeps a lot of sacred cattle in her gardens.
"I... uh..." Hestia stammered, her hands twitching as she dropped her meat skewer back onto her plate. "That's... those are different!"
"Goose? Eagle? Posing as other women's husbands?" Hel continued, her relentless, deadpan inventory cutting through Hestia's desperate stammering. "A golden shower? A swan? By all accounts, Hestia, your family reunion is a hazard to both the ecosystem and civil law."
Hestia's face flushed a brilliant, panicked pink. She gripped her pigtails with both hands, her jaw dropping as she tried to form a coherent defense against the sheer weight of Greek mythological history. "T-The golden shower was a metaphor! It was about the inevitability of fate! And the swan was... it was an artistic expression of divine will!"
"What ever helps you sleep at night you virgin." Hel states
===
Ultimately, that final jab hadn't been what got her escorted to the exit. No, Hel had gotten kicked out a few minutes later when Lord Ganesha himself had marched over to try and enthusiastically de-escalate the loud bickering. Hel, entirely unbothered by his dramatic poses, had calmly informed the god that his elephant mask looked like it was carved from a cheap bar of laundry soap and probably smelled like artificial pine.
Apparently, insulting the host was a bit too far for the Ganesha Familia guards.
But it was what it was. When you have dirt on literally every pantheon in existence, a little exile from a stuffy ballroom is a small price to pay.
Sitting on a quiet stone bench a few blocks away from the roaring lights of the party, Hel took a slow, methodical sip of her tea. The night air of Orario was crisp, a welcome relief from the suffocating heat of the ballroom, and the ambient noise of the bustling streets provided a much better backdrop than a room full of immortals acting as children.
WhiteWizardIan
Meh
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I love this menace! Go tell them Hel!
Jamescc1
Versed in the lewd.
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- Oct 15, 2018
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And when the other God's figure out she just wanted to leave?
Jamescc1
Versed in the lewd.
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- Oct 15, 2018
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She truly is the goddess of the underworld!
Zetakille
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Only half? Really, that few?
sargentorion
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
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The other half just aren't ashamed of their deviancy.
russell Lee clarke
Know what you're doing yet?
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- 881
or revel in it like most of the Greek gods who may as well take out sky scraper tall advertisements stating they revel in there deviancy
Last edited:
Jamescc1
Versed in the lewd.
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"Sham? What is this 'sham' that you speak?"
russell Lee clarke
Know what you're doing yet?
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- 881
shame! can we eat it ?
Chapter 82
Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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The smell of ozone, mead, and cheap laundry soap was entirely gone. In its place came the heavy, suffocating scent of damp earth, ancient ash, and a biting chill that clung to the skin like a wet shroud.
Hel opened her eyes. Damn she fell asleep on the park bench.
An she definitely wasnt in Orario anymore. Instead, she was surrounded by the thick, rolling gray fog of purgatory—the timeless, suffocating in-between that lay just outside the boundaries of reality an in the distance lay Firelink Shrine.
"Well, I guess I'll stop by an see the firekeeper see if anymore lost souls have wondered in for me to meet." Hel murmurs
She stepped forward, her boots sinking slightly into the soft drifts of gray ash that carpeted the desolate landscape.
Up ahead, the fog began to thin just a fraction, revealing the colossal, weathered stone walls of the Lothric Firelink Shrine. Passing through the massive, arched entrance, Hel stepped into the vast, circular interior of the amphitheater.
"Welcome back, Lady Helena," the Firekeeper spoke, her voice low, melodious, and carrying the gentle weight of absolute devotion. "The ash is quiet today, yet the bell has not tolled for a new champion."
"That is weird, friend, considering that I was called here," Helena answers.
The Firekeeper tilted her head slightly, the intricate silver tiara catching the dim, ambient light of the shrine. Her blind visage remained turned toward Hel, absorbing the statement with her usual serene gravity.
"Called...?" the Firekeeper repeated softly, her fingers lacing together over her waist. "The bell remains silent, Lady Helena. No Lord has abandoned their throne today, nor has the Unkindled ash risen from its grave. Yet, if the threads of reality have pulled you back to this hearth, there must be a purpose. The flame moves in ways even I cannot always foresee."
Hel let out a short, flat exhale through her nose. "Given the sheer amount of divine nonsense I was dealing with five minutes ago, I doubt the flame had anything to do with it."
"Divine nonsense? Tell me, are you aware of a being calling themselves GOD?" a young voice asks.
Hel's eyebrows rose just a fraction, her Emerald eyes locking onto the blindfolded woman. Very clearly conveying 'no one new huh?'
"That is a remarkably broad descriptor," Hel replied flatly, her voice dripping with her usual deadpan skepticism. "In my line of work, I have run into quite a few individuals who use that title, although as one of Amaterasu's children, you should be aware that there are many gods and deities."
Out of the shadows stepped a thirteen-year-old child with blonde hair and obvious German descent, yet her soul was three, maybe four times older than that. The child took another step forward, the heavy drifts of gray ash shifting silently beneath her boots. She wore a pristine, military-style uniform that looked entirely out of place amidst the crumbling, ancient stone of the shrine, and her cold, calculating blue eyes scanned the massive, empty thrones with an expression of pure, clinical evaluation.
"Amaterasu," the young girl repeated, her voice carrying a crisp, precise cadence that completely betrayed her childlike appearance. "A fascinating mythological reference. But I am not referring to a localized sun deity from a primitive pantheon. I am talking about a self-righteous, manipulative entity that actively interferes with the natural order of human progress under the guise of divine providence."
"If you are truly talking about GOD, then the being you are describing is not him. He prefers to be very hands-off, especially after the incident involving his son," Hel states.
"Can you protect me from Being X then?" the girl asks.
"I am Hel Lokidottir. My main patron is DEATH. Very few things in this multiverse could fight me on an even footing, and next to nothing could fight my boss."
"I think I would like to go with you then?" The girl states
"May I have your name?" Hel asks
"What, NO! NO FAE BULLSHIT!" the girl shouts, her sudden, aggressive paranoia getting a genuine chuckle out of Hel.
"Sorry, sorry, that was a bit overly formal," Hel murmured, the rare amusement quickly fading back into her usual deadpan demeanor. She then blinked, her gaze shifting slightly past the child as a familiar, jarringly nostalgic sensation triggered in the back of her mind. "Wait... You there, step forward. Who are you?"
The blonde girl let out a heavy, deeply exhausted sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose in pure exasperation. "Skyrim, really? My name is Tanya von Degurechaff. And I shall be in your care, Hel."
Hel opened her eyes. Damn she fell asleep on the park bench.
An she definitely wasnt in Orario anymore. Instead, she was surrounded by the thick, rolling gray fog of purgatory—the timeless, suffocating in-between that lay just outside the boundaries of reality an in the distance lay Firelink Shrine.
"Well, I guess I'll stop by an see the firekeeper see if anymore lost souls have wondered in for me to meet." Hel murmurs
She stepped forward, her boots sinking slightly into the soft drifts of gray ash that carpeted the desolate landscape.
Up ahead, the fog began to thin just a fraction, revealing the colossal, weathered stone walls of the Lothric Firelink Shrine. Passing through the massive, arched entrance, Hel stepped into the vast, circular interior of the amphitheater.
"Welcome back, Lady Helena," the Firekeeper spoke, her voice low, melodious, and carrying the gentle weight of absolute devotion. "The ash is quiet today, yet the bell has not tolled for a new champion."
"That is weird, friend, considering that I was called here," Helena answers.
The Firekeeper tilted her head slightly, the intricate silver tiara catching the dim, ambient light of the shrine. Her blind visage remained turned toward Hel, absorbing the statement with her usual serene gravity.
"Called...?" the Firekeeper repeated softly, her fingers lacing together over her waist. "The bell remains silent, Lady Helena. No Lord has abandoned their throne today, nor has the Unkindled ash risen from its grave. Yet, if the threads of reality have pulled you back to this hearth, there must be a purpose. The flame moves in ways even I cannot always foresee."
Hel let out a short, flat exhale through her nose. "Given the sheer amount of divine nonsense I was dealing with five minutes ago, I doubt the flame had anything to do with it."
"Divine nonsense? Tell me, are you aware of a being calling themselves GOD?" a young voice asks.
Hel's eyebrows rose just a fraction, her Emerald eyes locking onto the blindfolded woman. Very clearly conveying 'no one new huh?'
"That is a remarkably broad descriptor," Hel replied flatly, her voice dripping with her usual deadpan skepticism. "In my line of work, I have run into quite a few individuals who use that title, although as one of Amaterasu's children, you should be aware that there are many gods and deities."
Out of the shadows stepped a thirteen-year-old child with blonde hair and obvious German descent, yet her soul was three, maybe four times older than that. The child took another step forward, the heavy drifts of gray ash shifting silently beneath her boots. She wore a pristine, military-style uniform that looked entirely out of place amidst the crumbling, ancient stone of the shrine, and her cold, calculating blue eyes scanned the massive, empty thrones with an expression of pure, clinical evaluation.
"Amaterasu," the young girl repeated, her voice carrying a crisp, precise cadence that completely betrayed her childlike appearance. "A fascinating mythological reference. But I am not referring to a localized sun deity from a primitive pantheon. I am talking about a self-righteous, manipulative entity that actively interferes with the natural order of human progress under the guise of divine providence."
"If you are truly talking about GOD, then the being you are describing is not him. He prefers to be very hands-off, especially after the incident involving his son," Hel states.
"Can you protect me from Being X then?" the girl asks.
"I am Hel Lokidottir. My main patron is DEATH. Very few things in this multiverse could fight me on an even footing, and next to nothing could fight my boss."
"I think I would like to go with you then?" The girl states
"May I have your name?" Hel asks
"What, NO! NO FAE BULLSHIT!" the girl shouts, her sudden, aggressive paranoia getting a genuine chuckle out of Hel.
"Sorry, sorry, that was a bit overly formal," Hel murmured, the rare amusement quickly fading back into her usual deadpan demeanor. She then blinked, her gaze shifting slightly past the child as a familiar, jarringly nostalgic sensation triggered in the back of her mind. "Wait... You there, step forward. Who are you?"
The blonde girl let out a heavy, deeply exhausted sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose in pure exasperation. "Skyrim, really? My name is Tanya von Degurechaff. And I shall be in your care, Hel."
minitune001
Know what you're doing yet?
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Oh, Tanya, you and your skepticism. You're going to have a major watershed moment when you realize how REAL (and unreal) being you dismiss as "gods" are and how insignificant Being-X really is in the grand scheme of things.
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Pascale
Know what you're doing yet?
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How powerful is Being-X actually?
bambache
Verified bookworm
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Considering the real quality of Being X is being closer to Satan testing Job than being any degree of a benevolent deity, I would have concerns to address in the divine interview too!
From a mortal's perspective? Sufficiently close to masquerade as a deity.
Edit: ...between the love of causing tragedies and stopping time, Being X feels more like Kronos trying to steal someone else's job!
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Dissimilate
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Tanya getto!! Thanks for the chapter, though it feels very short. I am still feening for moar. *nods*
Mr_Mortal
Getting out there.
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Hey common did you cross post this into ao3. Here's the link to it
Common
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I don't think anyone really picked upon this one but rereading the story I'm proud of it lmao.
Yep that's me
Last edited:
Chapter 83
New
Common
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- May 15, 2022
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Hel blinked against the harsh morning light streaming into the room, her crimson eyes taking a few moments to adjust to the familiar ceiling of her Familia's manor.
The cold, desolate ash of Lothric was gone. In its place was the comfortable warmth of a proper bed, complete with a surprisingly heavy bundle of soft fabric pressed firmly against her left side.
Hel looked down. Curled up against her like a remarkably stubborn, military-issued burr was Tanya. The former salaryman-turned-child-soldier was fast asleep, her tiny forehead creased in a faint, perpetual scowl even in slumber. Her small hands were wrapped tightly around the edge of Hel's blanket, as if physically anchoring herself to the Master of Death to ensure Being X couldn't drag her back into another reality on a whim.
Hel remained completely still, her deadpan expression unchanging as she evaluated the situation.
A child whose soul is deeply exhausted, operating on decades of accumulated stress, military discipline, and sheer spite.
Hel didn't need the omniscience of Death to diagnose the situation. She just had a very strong, instinctual feeling that this girl was going to require an aggressive amount of caffeine the second her eyes opened.
Slowly, with the practiced efficiency of someone who spent her retirement dodging unnecessary drama, Hel eased herself out from beneath the blankets. She slid a soft pillow into the empty space, which Tanya instinctively clutched without waking up, muttering something under her breath about supply lines and artillery coordinates.
Hel smoothed down her charcoal dress, slipped on her boots, and padded silently out of the bedroom toward the manor's kitchen.
"If I am going to integrate a miniature, god-hating strategist into the Familia, I best bribe her with coffee." Hel murmured to herself, pulling down a polished copper kettle and a tin of dark-roast beans, "Ruby may be a great leader, but she is horrible at paperwork… Tayna would help a lot."
In a speak and she will appear moment Ruby was the first to burst into the kitchen, her silver eyes wide with her usual early-morning energy, a half-eaten strawberry pastry already clutched in her hand. "Morning, Hel! Is that real coffee? Because it smells super—" Ruby stopped mid-sentence, her nose twitching at the rich, dark aroma filling the room. "Wait, did you make extra?"
Before Hel could answer, Ereshkigal glided into the doorway right behind Ruby. The Mesopotamian Goddess of the Underworld adjusted her elaborate veil, her golden eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on the steaming pot on the counter.
"Helena," Ereshkigal began smoothly, stepping past Ruby with her usual dramatic flair. "I see you have returned from your wandering. And... you are brewing something that smells remarkably strong. Are we expecting guests, or did you simply decide to indulge?"
"I am preparing a signing bonus," Hel replied flatly, pouring the rich, pitch-black liquid into a porcelain mug. "We have a new recruit currently sleeping off a multidimensional transit upstairs."
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes lighting up. "A new recruit?! Who is it? Are they a fighter? Do they use a cool weapon?!"
"Her name is Tanya," Hel said, smoothing down her charcoal dress as she picked up the mug. "She is a machine when it comes to doing paperwork."
Ruby pumped her fist into the air, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph washing over her face. "Yes! No more inventory reports! No more Guild budget write-ups! This is the greatest day in the history of the Familia!"
"Do not celebrate prematurely, Little Red," Ereshkigal chided softly, crossing her arms as a faint, deadpan sigh escaped her lips. She turned her golden eyes back toward Hel. "A machine for paperwork... Helena, where exactly did you pull a child whose soul sounds like an overworked bureaucrat screaming at the heavens?"
"Firelink Shrine," Hel replied without missing a beat, carefully steadying the mug of dark roast. "She was complaining about divine interference—about some uppity god that was torturing her, so I promised her protection and a home."
"Is that... coffee?!"
A young voice called out from the top of the stairs. Tanya stood at the landing, clutching the wooden railing with both hands. Her blonde hair was a disheveled mess and she was wrapped loosely in a spare blanket, but her blue eyes were locked onto the steaming mug in Hel's hand with laser-like focus. She straightened her posture, attempting to maintain her usual cool, military composure, but the sheer, trembling delight in her voice completely gave her away.
"I haven't had real coffee since before the Eastern Front," Tanya murmured, running down the stairs to get the cuppa.
Tanya practically materialized at the bottom step, taking the porcelain mug from Hel's hand with both palms. She held the warm ceramic as if it were a fragile, sacred relic, closing her eyes and taking a slow, deep breath of the dark, bitter steam. A shuddering sigh of pure, unadulterated bliss escaped her lips, momentarily melting away the cold, battle-hardened glare of the former salaryman.
Hel watched the pint-sized strategist indulge in her caffeine fix before turning her crimson eyes toward Ruby.
"Can you let her borrow some of your spare clothes, then go shopping with her for a proper wardrobe?" Hel asked flatly.
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes lighting up instantly as she looked from Hel to the tiny, blanket-wrapped girl currently sipping black coffee with the solemnity of a high-ranking officer.
"Shopping?!" Ruby gasped, her face breaking into a wide, energetic grin. "Oh, absolutely! I have plenty of stuff that should fit her—well, maybe a little big, but we can make it work until we hit the market!" She bounced on her heels, turning her full attention to Tanya. "Get ready, Tanya! We're going to find you the absolute coolest outfits in Orario!"
Tanya froze mid-sip, her blue eyes snapping open as she slowly lowered the mug. Her stiff, military posture instantly snapped back into place.
"A shopping excursion?" Tanya questioned, her voice crisp and calculating despite the blanket still draped over her shoulders like a tactical cape. "While I acknowledge the necessity of acquiring appropriate attire for local integration, I must insist on a strict, pragmatic budget. I require functional, durable clothing suitable for administrative duties—not frivolous adornments."
"No promises!" Ruby giggled,
"Most clothing stores sell clothes for adventures, so it should all be suitably rugged enough for you to dive the dungeon. Ruby here is the Captain of the familia as the first member and my little Reaper. Her leadership skills are great but her administrative skills are abysmal; I am hoping you two could compliment eachother." Hel admits to the girl, still savoring her coffee.
Tanya sat at the dining table right beside Ruby, her small hands firmly wrapped around the warm porcelain mug as she took another slow, deliberate sip of black coffee. Her icy blue eyes darted between the Master of Death and the overly energetic red-haired girl vibrating with excitement next to her.
"Adventuring gear engineered for dungeon diving," Tanya mused, her tone turning purely analytical. "Durable fabrics, reinforced stitching, and high mobility... That is acceptable. Standardizing high-durability textiles across staff minimizes long-term operational wear-and-tear costs."
She turned her sharp, calculating gaze fully onto Ruby, evaluating her new Captain with clinical precision.
"As for leadership lacking administrative competence... that is a remarkably common structural defect in frontline commanders," Tanya stated flatly, setting her mug down onto the table with a crisp, satisfying click. "A commander who excels in direct combat and troop morale is invaluable, but without a competent staff officer to manage logistics, supply lines, and liability waivers, any organization will inevitably collapse under its own weight."
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes widening before snapping into a broad grin. "Vice Captain?! Whoa, double promotion day! First paperwork chief, now Vice Captain!"
Tanya, however, paused at the title, her analytical mind immediately weighing the organizational hierarchy.
"Vice Captain," Tanya mused aloud, her tone surprisingly composed. "A recognized second-in-command position provides clear administrative authority to enforce compliance across all sub-units. That will significantly streamline bureaucratic enforcement." She then tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes narrowing in sharp curiosity. "Though I must ask—who are 'Lisa' and the 'smug bug couple'?"
Hel took a quiet sip from her own mug, her crimson eyes gleaming with faint, deadpan amusement. "Lisa is is a fox demihuman with a skill that increases her intuition to a scary degree. Taylor… Taylor had killed her Being X before being shot in the back of the head by those who helped her kill that horrid thing."
Tanya froze mid-reach for her coffee mug. Her icy blue eyes widened just a fraction, the sharp, clinical calculation in her gaze instantly vanishing, replaced by a sudden, intense stillness.
Killed her Being X.
The words echoed through her mind like an heavy artillery shelling. For years, Tanya had suffered under the sadistic whims of a self-righteous entity, waging a desperate war against divine interference. To hear, in such casual conversation, that someone in this very organization had actually struck down their own cosmic tormentor...
"She... killed it?" Tanya murmured, her voice losing its crisp military edge for a split second, replaced by a dark, awe-struck reverence. "Truely?"
"It's name was Scion; it was a god-like fraud that gave mortals powers before mentally manipulating them into fighting each other and fighting its constructs that they had no chance of truly defeating. It was in some sick bid to destroy her home planet and harvest the collective knowledge of her humans in order to stop entropy or something." Hel states causing Tayna to nod to herself.
Hel's crimson eyes remained fixed on the blonde girl. Of all the individuals in her Familia, Taylor—the former Queen of Escalation—was the absolute last person Tanya should ever attempt to micro-manage or provoke. Few mortals ever knew it, but gods had the unique privilege of reviewing a mortal's full lifetime of memories when updating their Falna. Taylor's record was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring.
"Moving on to tactical considerations," Tanya said, setting her mug down as her posture snapped back into rigid military form. "I require a firearm. I trust this world possesses them, or that you have the means of acquiring one?"
"Weiss and Ruby here are the only ones who know how to construct firearm-adjacent weaponry in this world," Hel stated flatly, causing Tanya to instantly lock her gaze onto the redhead with newfound respect.
Ruby's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Wait, you want a gun?! I make guns! I built Crescent Rose! She's a High-Caliber Sniper-Scythe!"
"A... sniper scythe?" Tanya's brow furrowed in immediate, profound disgust. "Why would you compromise the structural integrity and ballistic accuracy of a long-range firearm by welding an oversized agricultural tool onto the chassis?!"
"Ah, no, mecha-shift weaponry doesn't exactly work like that," Ruby corrected, leaning forward with a bright, enthusiastic gleam in her silver eyes. "You're using the inbuilt advantages of micro-spaces to fold larger structures into themselves, allowing it to change forms cleanly without adding unnecessary weight."
"That is an engineering nightmare!" Tanya declared, slamming her small hand onto the table. "Micro-spaces or not, every moving component in a folding mechanism is a point of failure waiting to jam under field conditions! A rifle requires a clean bolt-action or gas-operated loading system, a rifled barrel, and a standardized cartridge! Not a mechanical origami trick!"
"Because the recoil accelerates the blade swing!" Ruby countered loudly, pulling a napkin and a pencil out of her pocket to sketch wildly. "Look! You pull the trigger, the gas block redirects energy to the hinge pivot, and—"
"Where is the safety selector?!" Tanya interjected, leaning over the napkin to cross out Ruby's lines with aggressive authority.
The two devolved into a rapid-fire, high-volume argument over gas pistons, chamber pressures, and blade aesthetics, trading fiery insults regarding engineering philosophy. Tanya kept up the verbal assault with ruthless precision until she reached for her mug, tilted it back for another hit of caffeine, and found only empty porcelain.
She froze. She stared into the dark, dry bottom of the cup, her momentum abruptly dying as the last drop of black coffee disappeared.
"...My fuel reserves have been exhausted," Tanya stated flatly, her voice dropping back into a quiet, deadpan tone.
"Ha! Weapon design victory goes to the Captain!" Ruby declared triumphantly, tucking the messy napkin into her pocket and grabbing Tanya's hand once more. "Come on, Vice Captain! Time to get you dressed before you run out of energy completely!"
Tanya allowed herself to be towed toward the stairs, muttering under her breath about "ridiculous anime physics" and "criminally unsafe short redheads."
"Helena," the Mesopotamian goddess murmured, her golden eyes fixed on the empty stairwell. "I hope you realize that your Familia can only get more chaotic from here."
Hel took a quiet, peaceful sip from her own mug. "I know. It's delightful."
The cold, desolate ash of Lothric was gone. In its place was the comfortable warmth of a proper bed, complete with a surprisingly heavy bundle of soft fabric pressed firmly against her left side.
Hel looked down. Curled up against her like a remarkably stubborn, military-issued burr was Tanya. The former salaryman-turned-child-soldier was fast asleep, her tiny forehead creased in a faint, perpetual scowl even in slumber. Her small hands were wrapped tightly around the edge of Hel's blanket, as if physically anchoring herself to the Master of Death to ensure Being X couldn't drag her back into another reality on a whim.
Hel remained completely still, her deadpan expression unchanging as she evaluated the situation.
A child whose soul is deeply exhausted, operating on decades of accumulated stress, military discipline, and sheer spite.
Hel didn't need the omniscience of Death to diagnose the situation. She just had a very strong, instinctual feeling that this girl was going to require an aggressive amount of caffeine the second her eyes opened.
Slowly, with the practiced efficiency of someone who spent her retirement dodging unnecessary drama, Hel eased herself out from beneath the blankets. She slid a soft pillow into the empty space, which Tanya instinctively clutched without waking up, muttering something under her breath about supply lines and artillery coordinates.
Hel smoothed down her charcoal dress, slipped on her boots, and padded silently out of the bedroom toward the manor's kitchen.
"If I am going to integrate a miniature, god-hating strategist into the Familia, I best bribe her with coffee." Hel murmured to herself, pulling down a polished copper kettle and a tin of dark-roast beans, "Ruby may be a great leader, but she is horrible at paperwork… Tayna would help a lot."
In a speak and she will appear moment Ruby was the first to burst into the kitchen, her silver eyes wide with her usual early-morning energy, a half-eaten strawberry pastry already clutched in her hand. "Morning, Hel! Is that real coffee? Because it smells super—" Ruby stopped mid-sentence, her nose twitching at the rich, dark aroma filling the room. "Wait, did you make extra?"
Before Hel could answer, Ereshkigal glided into the doorway right behind Ruby. The Mesopotamian Goddess of the Underworld adjusted her elaborate veil, her golden eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on the steaming pot on the counter.
"Helena," Ereshkigal began smoothly, stepping past Ruby with her usual dramatic flair. "I see you have returned from your wandering. And... you are brewing something that smells remarkably strong. Are we expecting guests, or did you simply decide to indulge?"
"I am preparing a signing bonus," Hel replied flatly, pouring the rich, pitch-black liquid into a porcelain mug. "We have a new recruit currently sleeping off a multidimensional transit upstairs."
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes lighting up. "A new recruit?! Who is it? Are they a fighter? Do they use a cool weapon?!"
"Her name is Tanya," Hel said, smoothing down her charcoal dress as she picked up the mug. "She is a machine when it comes to doing paperwork."
Ruby pumped her fist into the air, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph washing over her face. "Yes! No more inventory reports! No more Guild budget write-ups! This is the greatest day in the history of the Familia!"
"Do not celebrate prematurely, Little Red," Ereshkigal chided softly, crossing her arms as a faint, deadpan sigh escaped her lips. She turned her golden eyes back toward Hel. "A machine for paperwork... Helena, where exactly did you pull a child whose soul sounds like an overworked bureaucrat screaming at the heavens?"
"Firelink Shrine," Hel replied without missing a beat, carefully steadying the mug of dark roast. "She was complaining about divine interference—about some uppity god that was torturing her, so I promised her protection and a home."
"Is that... coffee?!"
A young voice called out from the top of the stairs. Tanya stood at the landing, clutching the wooden railing with both hands. Her blonde hair was a disheveled mess and she was wrapped loosely in a spare blanket, but her blue eyes were locked onto the steaming mug in Hel's hand with laser-like focus. She straightened her posture, attempting to maintain her usual cool, military composure, but the sheer, trembling delight in her voice completely gave her away.
"I haven't had real coffee since before the Eastern Front," Tanya murmured, running down the stairs to get the cuppa.
Tanya practically materialized at the bottom step, taking the porcelain mug from Hel's hand with both palms. She held the warm ceramic as if it were a fragile, sacred relic, closing her eyes and taking a slow, deep breath of the dark, bitter steam. A shuddering sigh of pure, unadulterated bliss escaped her lips, momentarily melting away the cold, battle-hardened glare of the former salaryman.
Hel watched the pint-sized strategist indulge in her caffeine fix before turning her crimson eyes toward Ruby.
"Can you let her borrow some of your spare clothes, then go shopping with her for a proper wardrobe?" Hel asked flatly.
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes lighting up instantly as she looked from Hel to the tiny, blanket-wrapped girl currently sipping black coffee with the solemnity of a high-ranking officer.
"Shopping?!" Ruby gasped, her face breaking into a wide, energetic grin. "Oh, absolutely! I have plenty of stuff that should fit her—well, maybe a little big, but we can make it work until we hit the market!" She bounced on her heels, turning her full attention to Tanya. "Get ready, Tanya! We're going to find you the absolute coolest outfits in Orario!"
Tanya froze mid-sip, her blue eyes snapping open as she slowly lowered the mug. Her stiff, military posture instantly snapped back into place.
"A shopping excursion?" Tanya questioned, her voice crisp and calculating despite the blanket still draped over her shoulders like a tactical cape. "While I acknowledge the necessity of acquiring appropriate attire for local integration, I must insist on a strict, pragmatic budget. I require functional, durable clothing suitable for administrative duties—not frivolous adornments."
"No promises!" Ruby giggled,
"Most clothing stores sell clothes for adventures, so it should all be suitably rugged enough for you to dive the dungeon. Ruby here is the Captain of the familia as the first member and my little Reaper. Her leadership skills are great but her administrative skills are abysmal; I am hoping you two could compliment eachother." Hel admits to the girl, still savoring her coffee.
Tanya sat at the dining table right beside Ruby, her small hands firmly wrapped around the warm porcelain mug as she took another slow, deliberate sip of black coffee. Her icy blue eyes darted between the Master of Death and the overly energetic red-haired girl vibrating with excitement next to her.
"Adventuring gear engineered for dungeon diving," Tanya mused, her tone turning purely analytical. "Durable fabrics, reinforced stitching, and high mobility... That is acceptable. Standardizing high-durability textiles across staff minimizes long-term operational wear-and-tear costs."
She turned her sharp, calculating gaze fully onto Ruby, evaluating her new Captain with clinical precision.
"As for leadership lacking administrative competence... that is a remarkably common structural defect in frontline commanders," Tanya stated flatly, setting her mug down onto the table with a crisp, satisfying click. "A commander who excels in direct combat and troop morale is invaluable, but without a competent staff officer to manage logistics, supply lines, and liability waivers, any organization will inevitably collapse under its own weight."
Ruby blinked, her silver eyes widening before snapping into a broad grin. "Vice Captain?! Whoa, double promotion day! First paperwork chief, now Vice Captain!"
Tanya, however, paused at the title, her analytical mind immediately weighing the organizational hierarchy.
"Vice Captain," Tanya mused aloud, her tone surprisingly composed. "A recognized second-in-command position provides clear administrative authority to enforce compliance across all sub-units. That will significantly streamline bureaucratic enforcement." She then tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes narrowing in sharp curiosity. "Though I must ask—who are 'Lisa' and the 'smug bug couple'?"
Hel took a quiet sip from her own mug, her crimson eyes gleaming with faint, deadpan amusement. "Lisa is is a fox demihuman with a skill that increases her intuition to a scary degree. Taylor… Taylor had killed her Being X before being shot in the back of the head by those who helped her kill that horrid thing."
Tanya froze mid-reach for her coffee mug. Her icy blue eyes widened just a fraction, the sharp, clinical calculation in her gaze instantly vanishing, replaced by a sudden, intense stillness.
Killed her Being X.
The words echoed through her mind like an heavy artillery shelling. For years, Tanya had suffered under the sadistic whims of a self-righteous entity, waging a desperate war against divine interference. To hear, in such casual conversation, that someone in this very organization had actually struck down their own cosmic tormentor...
"She... killed it?" Tanya murmured, her voice losing its crisp military edge for a split second, replaced by a dark, awe-struck reverence. "Truely?"
"It's name was Scion; it was a god-like fraud that gave mortals powers before mentally manipulating them into fighting each other and fighting its constructs that they had no chance of truly defeating. It was in some sick bid to destroy her home planet and harvest the collective knowledge of her humans in order to stop entropy or something." Hel states causing Tayna to nod to herself.
Hel's crimson eyes remained fixed on the blonde girl. Of all the individuals in her Familia, Taylor—the former Queen of Escalation—was the absolute last person Tanya should ever attempt to micro-manage or provoke. Few mortals ever knew it, but gods had the unique privilege of reviewing a mortal's full lifetime of memories when updating their Falna. Taylor's record was as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring.
"Moving on to tactical considerations," Tanya said, setting her mug down as her posture snapped back into rigid military form. "I require a firearm. I trust this world possesses them, or that you have the means of acquiring one?"
"Weiss and Ruby here are the only ones who know how to construct firearm-adjacent weaponry in this world," Hel stated flatly, causing Tanya to instantly lock her gaze onto the redhead with newfound respect.
Ruby's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Wait, you want a gun?! I make guns! I built Crescent Rose! She's a High-Caliber Sniper-Scythe!"
"A... sniper scythe?" Tanya's brow furrowed in immediate, profound disgust. "Why would you compromise the structural integrity and ballistic accuracy of a long-range firearm by welding an oversized agricultural tool onto the chassis?!"
"Ah, no, mecha-shift weaponry doesn't exactly work like that," Ruby corrected, leaning forward with a bright, enthusiastic gleam in her silver eyes. "You're using the inbuilt advantages of micro-spaces to fold larger structures into themselves, allowing it to change forms cleanly without adding unnecessary weight."
"That is an engineering nightmare!" Tanya declared, slamming her small hand onto the table. "Micro-spaces or not, every moving component in a folding mechanism is a point of failure waiting to jam under field conditions! A rifle requires a clean bolt-action or gas-operated loading system, a rifled barrel, and a standardized cartridge! Not a mechanical origami trick!"
"Because the recoil accelerates the blade swing!" Ruby countered loudly, pulling a napkin and a pencil out of her pocket to sketch wildly. "Look! You pull the trigger, the gas block redirects energy to the hinge pivot, and—"
"Where is the safety selector?!" Tanya interjected, leaning over the napkin to cross out Ruby's lines with aggressive authority.
The two devolved into a rapid-fire, high-volume argument over gas pistons, chamber pressures, and blade aesthetics, trading fiery insults regarding engineering philosophy. Tanya kept up the verbal assault with ruthless precision until she reached for her mug, tilted it back for another hit of caffeine, and found only empty porcelain.
She froze. She stared into the dark, dry bottom of the cup, her momentum abruptly dying as the last drop of black coffee disappeared.
"...My fuel reserves have been exhausted," Tanya stated flatly, her voice dropping back into a quiet, deadpan tone.
"Ha! Weapon design victory goes to the Captain!" Ruby declared triumphantly, tucking the messy napkin into her pocket and grabbing Tanya's hand once more. "Come on, Vice Captain! Time to get you dressed before you run out of energy completely!"
Tanya allowed herself to be towed toward the stairs, muttering under her breath about "ridiculous anime physics" and "criminally unsafe short redheads."
"Helena," the Mesopotamian goddess murmured, her golden eyes fixed on the empty stairwell. "I hope you realize that your Familia can only get more chaotic from here."
Hel took a quiet, peaceful sip from her own mug. "I know. It's delightful."