---
Pah, pah, pah—what's with this "wife versus mistress" drama?
At most, it's just a case of "serving under one warlord while longing for another." And it wasn't just Hermes—the rest of the "officials" didn't seem to like him either.
Speaking of which… Shaka suddenly remembered. Asfi seemed to be acquainted with the last remaining member of the Astrea Familia—that so-called "useless" elf.
Maybe she can put in a good word for me.
So he said boldly, "I heard Lady Astrea is here. I came hoping to try my luck."
"…"
Asfi gave him a long, skeptical look. The Astrea Familia's recruitment standards were famously strict. Unless you had a deep, unshakable sense of justice, the goddess wouldn't even consider you.
And frankly… Asfi couldn't help but worry.
Does this guy really have what it takes to carry the banner of a newly reborn Astrea Familia?
Should she stop him?
Before she could decide, Shaka thoughtfully murmured to himself, "Well, if this doesn't work, I've still got Hermes as a backup…"
Wow. What a jerk.
Asfi's expression crumpled. That was it.
I can't let this scoundrel anywhere near Hermes-sama!
Thanks to her high-level adventurer senses, she'd heard every word. And just like that, she scrapped her earlier hesitation.
She pushed up her glasses—white light flashing across the lenses. "Lady Astrea doesn't see just anyone. Follow me. I'll introduce you."
With that, she turned and opened the door to the shop again.
All in the name of protecting her god from suspicious men, the love-struck Asfi was willing to betray a friend for the greater good.
Shaka, walking behind her, gave a silent thumbs up.
Just as planned!
---
Inside the shop, the first thing he saw was a girl slumped over the counter, her expression devoid of life.
She wore a black apron over work clothes. Her cropped blue hair framed a face marked by boredom as she lazily twirled a hammer on the countertop.
Clearly, a blacksmith.
"You again?" she muttered without looking up. "Didn't I already tell you Lady Astrea went out to meet the spiritkin? I said I'd pass the letter along, didn't I?"
Her voice was grumpy, her cheeks puffed out in irritation—not toward Asfi, but clearly toward whoever had followed her in.
"There's something I need to say to the goddess in person," Asfi replied calmly.
"Hmph. Fine. Just don't bother me."
The girl lost interest and went back to staring vacantly at her hammer, as if lost in thought.
Asfi and Shaka sat at a nearby table.
"That girl…?" Shaka asked quietly.
"Your rival," Asfi replied with a smirk.
"…Rival?"
"She's someone Lady Astrea has her eye on. If all goes well, she might be your future captain."
"A blacksmith? So she's not even in the familia yet?"
Shaka tapped his chin thoughtfully.
This was the City of Forged Steel. Nine out of ten people here were blacksmiths. It made sense that Astrea would start recruiting from among them.
In fact, Shaka understood exactly why Astrea had chosen this city.
It was for her—the last surviving member of the Astrea Familia.
The elf consumed by vengeance—Ryuu Lion.
Two years ago—five years before the main story began—the Astrea Familia had been annihilated by a trap orchestrated by agents of the dark factions, working secretly inside the Guild. Only Ryuu had survived.
Since then, she'd waged a solitary war of retribution. Any group, caravan, or familia tied to the dark factions fell prey to her relentless retaliation.
Ashamed to show her vengeful self to her goddess, the justice-obsessed elf had begged Lady Astrea to leave Orario.
The goddess had settled in the City of Forged Steel for two reasons: to find a blacksmith who could forge a new weapon for her fallen child… and to seek out the spiritkin—beings who might help complete a weapon for Ryuu's return.
Astrea believed: when Ryuu returned, no longer blinded by revenge, having found her answer to justice, she would need a new strength… a new guiding light.
So she waited. And she prepared.
This devotion, this deep, maternal love for her familia, was exactly why Shaka was willing to skip over stronger, more established familias in Orario.
Power is temporary. But a goddess of true character—kind, caring, and steadfast—that's worth a lifetime.
He understood.
Just as he was studying the girl named Cecile, she kept stealing glances at him too.
"…Hey, who's that guy?" Cecile mumbled shyly. "I haven't seen him before."
"Oh, I forgot to mention," Asfi said casually. "This is Mr. Shaka. He's here to apply to join the Astrea Familia."
"I greatly admire Lady Astrea's sense of justice," Shaka added earnestly.
And her expansive, heavenly chest, he added mentally.
"Hmm." Cecile frowned, clearly displeased. She snorted and turned away.
Her pouting expression was a complicated mix of emotions.
I was here first…
Shaka guessed what she was thinking.
Naturally, if Cecile had already been chosen by Astrea but hadn't joined yet, it wasn't the goddess who was hesitant—it was the girl herself.
This was a city of blacksmiths. For most of them, their dream familia would be Hephaestus or Goibniu—the gods of smithing.
But both lived in Orario. And not everyone had what it took to catch their attention.
Was she holding out for her dream? Or just stalling in the face of reality?
Still only eleven years old, the girl had room to grow.
As the awkward silence deepened, the doorbell chimed.
A woman stepped inside—chestnut hair, dressed in pristine white robes, with a gentle smile that radiated peace.
She looked like a wife returning home.
Her kind, embracing eyes swept across the room before settling on the group. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she cradled her cheek in one hand.
"I'm home. Oh? Do we have a guest?"
Cecile turned away with a soft "hmph."
Asfi stood and gave a respectful bow. "Lady Astrea. It's been a while."
Shaka rose quickly and gave a small nod of greeting.
Astrea's gaze drifted over to him—red hair, green eyes.
He was different from that girl. There was a bashful nervousness in his eyes, his gaze instinctively drawn to her chest before awkwardly looking away.
Shy little one, she thought.
With warmth in her voice, Astrea asked, "And this is…?"
Asfi deadpanned: "Hermes-sama's… plaything?"
"I am not!!"
Shaka shot her a sharp glare, face burning. "We just happened to meet on the road. I came here hoping to join your familia."
"Oh?" Astrea blinked in surprise.
A god with no followers—at least at the moment—had little pull. Especially one known as a wandering knight and upholder of justice. Outside of Orario, attracting followers was incredibly difficult.
But here was someone coming of his own free will?
Still…
"Why me, and not Hermes?" she asked gently. "You must know that my familia is bound by the ideals of justice. Do you truly understand what that means?"
Even as she spoke, divine presence poured from her—a quiet, inescapable weight. Just like with Hermes, lying was impossible.
And hesitation meant defeat.
Thanks to prior experience, Shaka answered without flinching:
"…To be honest, I didn't come here because of justice."
"Oh?" Astrea raised an elegant brow.
Before she could ask further, he continued.
"I came for your constellation—your stars. I have a wish I need their light to fulfill."
Astrea glanced at his clothes, his posture…
She'd assumed he was a child of the school district, but…
He didn't seem like a bad kid. In fact…
He reminded her of Alise.
Red hair. Green eyes. Even in this chaotic world, such flame-colored hair was rare.
She had no reason to refuse. She was just about to nod when—
SLAM.
Cecile's palm hit the counter between them, snapping the moment in two.
"I object!"
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