The 18th Floor of the Dungeon was known as a safe zone.
A vast forest spread beneath a high ceiling of embedded magic stones, their light strong enough to imitate daylight. Grass covered most of the ground, interrupted by clusters of trees and shallow lakes.
No monsters spawned here.
It's an unusual thing to think about, which makes you question whether you're really still in the Dungeon, but it's true.
In this natural sanctuary, adventurers rested, socialized, ate, tended to wounds, or simply prepared their equipment before continuing their mission.
There was a city on this floor, the city of Rivira.
But as anyone with knowledge of economics can imagine, comfort is very expensive in this corner of hell, so the price of everything there is exponentially inflated; it's not worth spending everything for so little, so setting up camp is normal.
Tents of different sizes and conditions were scattered across the grass, ranging from worn cloth shelters to well planed camps.
Among them, one tent stood apart.
Its fabric was white and clean, clearly maintained with care. While other tents showed signs of long use, this one was structured, stable, and deliberately placed near the lakeside.
Inside, the difference was even more apparent.
A soft, red carpet covered the ground, separating its occupants from the dirty grass floor beneath, large cushions were arranged in a relaxed circle.
The place was so comfortable that it was obvious only the most important people could enter.
And who else would they be if not the very gods?
...
Inside the tent, the air was warm and faintly perfumed with herbs and tea leaves.
Several figures were seated in a loose circle atop oversized cushions, soft and wide poufs filled with fine sand that molded themselves to the body.
They were the kind of luxury no adventurer would ever bother carrying into the Dungeon.
Nevertheless, due to their whims, they brought
Miach stood out with his tall figure, long dark-blue hair falling freely over his shoulders and calm blue eyes, wearing a dark simple tunic.
Takemikazuchi seemed to be the oldest among them. His black hair and eyes, paired with traditional foreign garments, gave him the air of a disciplined and composed man, an ironic sight, considering he was a God of War.
Hermes was unmistakable. Blond hair, orange eyes, the same tunic as always. His feathered hat rested on his lap as he reclined comfortably against his cushion.
Then there was Hephaestus, unchanged as ever, save for the white eyepatch. Her clothing gave her the aura of a mature and serious woman, something akin to a strict sexy secretary. Thankfully, she didn't need to know the rest of that thought.
And, to the surprise of most, Freya was there as well.
Seeing the goddess of beauty among them felt out of place. Everyone else shared some form of connection, while she stood apart. Still, Freya seemed perfectly at ease, calmly sipping tea with a confident expression.
She wore a simple white T-shirt and light blue jeans, far more discreet than her usual daring dresses, but... Where the hell she even found such clothes in a world of magic and swords was anyone's guess.
Yet, despite all of that, Freya was not the most striking figure in the tent.
That distinction belonged to Hestia.
— Thank you for coming… truly. — Hestia said in a calm, composed tone, her voice steady and restrained, lacking the warmth it once carried.
Three months had changed her.
Once, she had been loud and expressive, a small goddess with exaggerated gestures and emotions always on display. Now, she felt distant, more controlled, almost apathetic.
She wore a long-sleeved black sweatshirt without hood, the fabric looking soft and comfortable, though clearly not her size. The hem nearly reached her knees, hanging loosely over her frame like a dress. And somehow, it even looked like a men's model...
And the most important... without that blue ribbon she always uses to hold up her breasts.
Who is this person? Where was the real Hestia?!
Wait, her hair was still tied into those childish twin ponytails at the sides of her head, just like always.
Yeah… it was really her.
Comedically, it might have been easy to call it a rebellious phase, or the quiet gloom of a young girl shutting herself away.
But her eyes told a different story.
— Don't say it. In a way, this tea party is a great way to calm the nerves after so much fighting. — Takemikazuchi said, waving one hand lightly from side to side in a dismissive leave it be gesture.
— Yeah, yeah… my back is killing me after brewing so many potions. Taking a break won't kill anyone. — Miach muttered as he sank deeper into the cushion, one hand reaching up to rub his shoulder.
Hephaestus looked at the two men with clear disdain, a faint smile tugging at her lips before she turned her attention to Hestia.
— Ignore these two idiots. They're just complaining about how hard life is now that they don't have time to admire the ladies passing by their shops like they used to.
— Hey! Don't put me on the same level as him, I don't do that kind of thing. — Takemikazuchi protested immediately.
— That's right… wait, what do you mean by "the same level as him"?! — Miach shot back.
— Ufufufu!
— Pfff~
— Hahaha…
They shared a brief laugh, the atmosphere light and pleasant, like any casual gathering between friends.
But the laughter soon faded, and silence settled in its place. Not an uncomfortable one. Mild, for lack of a better word.
Eyes drifted from one face to another, then away, some staring upward, as if searching for the right words.
Tea cups were lifted, sipped, then emptied. Only then did they notice the kettle was dry, and that none of them could recall the taste. The same fate befell the biscuits on the table, a shame, really. They looked delicious.
With no distractions left, the strangeness grew clearer. No one knew what to say, and no one wanted to be the first to say it.
— Nice clothes. Where did you buy them? — Freya asked, her gaze settling on Hestia.
The question drew odd looks from everyone, Hestia most of all. She hesitated. Should she explain? Laugh it off? Compliment Freya in return?
No one had expected Freya to be here, and no one expected her to break the silence. Thinking about it, though, she seemed the least affected by the awkwardness… or perhaps she simply didn't care enough to mind it.
After rubbing her forehead and adjusting her bangs, Hestia answered.
— Thank you. They were his. I didn't know what to wear today, so I just grabbed the first thing I saw.
— Wearing your little boyfriend's clothes while he's not around to complain? How lovely~ — Freya smiled.
— Ehehe~ — Hestia looked away, scratching her cheek, visibly embarrassed.
Now that it had been said out loud, it was kind of shameless to show up wearing your boyfriend's clothes in front of others.
The blush on her face deepened when another realization hit her, she had referred to him as her boyfriend without even thinking about it. Not that it was entirely wrong. After all, they had already done far more intimate things… like holding hands.
And yet, she couldn't deny it.
'I don't hate how that sounds…'
Trying to regain her composure, Hestia gestured vaguely toward Freya.
— Your clothes are nice too. I've never seen that kind of material before. Where did you find it?
— Nowhere in particular. — Freya replied lightly. — I was walking down the street, saw it in a shop window, and decided to buy it.
It was an answer that explained nothing.
Hestia gave a crooked smile and chose to ignore her little game.
That should have been the end of it, but no one wanted to sink back into that strange, quiet mood. So, naturally, Hermes stepped in.
— Speaking of clothes and such... would you mind telling me why you're wearing something so… humble today?
— Are you trying to imply something, Hermes?
— Not at all! Not at all! — he raised his hands defensively.
— It's just that you usually wears breathtaking, eye-catching dresses even for the smallest occasions. I simply can't understand why someone of your stature would go out of their way to try something new.
Freya turned her gaze toward him, wearing that perpetually gentle smile, the same one that had ruined the lives of countless men.
For a brief instant, Hermes found himself captivated.
Then he snapped out of it.
'Charm...' He thought.
— Well… if I must answer, I'll say this: I'm after something. And somehow, I feel that wearing these clothes will help me obtain it. — Freya said softly
She tilted her head slightly.
— Even if I don't quite understand how. Funny, isn't it?
— Yeah… very funny… — Hermes nodded, clearly frustrated by her answer.
Once again, the subject died down.
But now that someone had burst the bubble, starting a new conversation felt a little easier.
— Ah… maybe we should change the subject. How about we talk about the real reason we're here? — Miach spoke up nervously
All he wanted was to end this ordeal as soon as possible and return to his work. Even if his back pain doesn't allow it
Since this whole situation began, the nearly extinct and bankrupt Miach Familia had started to rebuild.
Apparently, offering his services as a potion maker deep inside the Dungeon, free of charge, as long as adventurers brought the materials, had been a brilliant move. It earned him countless favors from the lives he saved, favors he fully intended to cash in later.
Unfortunately, his words had the opposite effect.
Hestia lowered her head, her shoulders slumping. Some of the others looked away in quiet resignation, painfully aware of how powerless they truly were.
Pah!
Takemikazuchi smacked Miach hard on the back of the head, nearly sending him tumbling off the couch.
— Idiot… — he muttered.
But no one was paying attention to the two of them.
After taking a slow, steady breath, Hestia lifted her head, her expression firm.
— That's right. We're here for a reason. Avoiding the subject won't get us anywhere.
She looked around at everyone, her expression firm, ready to face the issue head-on. Seeing that resolve, the others slowly adjusted their posture, the casual air fading away. The real conversation was about to begin.
— So… — Hephaestus began, her gaze moving across the group. — Does anyone have anything to say about this mission?
The three god-men exchanged thoughtful looks, brows furrowing in quiet contemplation.
Having already spoken, Hephaestus simply waited.
Hestia remained silent, impassive in her seat, watching them closely. Freya, on the other hand, calmly sipped her tea as if none of this concerned her at all… where did she even get more tea?
— If you'll allow me… — Hermes raised a hand.
All eyes turned toward him.
He straightened his posture and placed his plumed hat back atop his head before speaking.
— The past few months have been the strangest I've experienced in at least a decade. I've faced many oddities before and encountered even more during my travels around the world, but in every one of those situations, I had some idea of what was going on, whether through my own judgment or the connections I could make.
He paused briefly.
— However… never, ever have I found myself in a situation like this. One where all I have is guesswork.
— I have the same feeling. — Takemikazuchi intervened.
He crossed his arms, his expression serious.
— Even though the upper floors are vast and labyrinthine, it's still highly unrealistic that after so many months, with thousands of adventurers coordinating their efforts, we haven't been able to find a single person. Especially when we know he's still alive and still on the upper floors.
— Exactly. — Miach nodded. — It's as if the world itself doesn't want him to be found.
— The world… — Hermes murmured.
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
— Or the Dungeon.
At his words, all eyes turned to him. Even Freya stopped pretending to be uninterested, fixing her gaze on him with open curiosity.
— Hermes, stop speaking in riddles and just tell us what you've discovered! — Hephaestus snapped.
In an instant, all seriousness vanished from Hermes' face. He raised both hands and casually threw them over his shoulders, as if saying yougotme.
— Sorry, my fault. I picked up this bad habit after spending too much time talking with Ouranos.
Their collective frowns told him exactly what they thought of that excuse.
Clearing his throat, Hermes coughed into his fist and continued, his tone more grounded.
— As I was saying, I have a few assumptions about this whole situation, based on things I've heard… from certain people.
— But they're only suspicions. I have no real proof. After all, even with the Sword Princess or even Orario's Strongest, back in their weakest days, nothing like this ever happened.
He slowed down as he spoke, carefully choosing each word, his gaze subtly shifting toward a single person.
— So… just to confirm a few things, I'd like to ask...
Hermes stopped, dramatic pause again.
— Hestia… do you suspect any reason why the Dungeon might be so fascinated by your child?
Now it was Hestia's turn to be the center of attention.
Her expression remained neutral, but inside, unease slowly stirred.
Then, a memory surfaced.
"By gazing into the abyss, he grasped part of what its depths conceal. And by grasping, he was grasped in turn. He drew the attention of #######, which shall never forget him."
That Great Achievement had appeared in his Falna after his eighth journey.
Back then, he had entered the Dungeon by "accident" while it was still sealed by the Guild, just before a Grand Expedition meant to investigate the changes caused by the Earthquake.
Alone, he faced monsters stronger than himself, creatures still adapting to what would become the new normal. He nearly died. Nearly lost an arm. He survived by little more than luck.
Hestia still remembered the moment. Dropping everything, running after him, crying in relief. At the time, she didn't yet know how to perceive her children's condition or glimpse their surroundings through their Falna.
The only thing she could do was wait and do something to distract herself from that constant anxiety; coincidentally, that was also her first day of work, and she was caught off guard when she received the news.
Much like now.
She didn't know which was worse: not knowing if he was safe and clinging to blind hope, or knowing he wasn't and being forced to endure the helplessness of doing nothing.
Once things had settled, she had updated his Falna, at his request. Something she despised even now, though she had long since learned to bury that senseless resentment.
That was when she first saw it.
The "Great Achievement" he had earned that day.
And how she hid them from others, from prying gods… even from him.
'Should I have told him?'
The thought surfaced often. Especially now, when she had reached the same conclusion as Hermes.
But every time, she arrived at the same answer.
It didn't matter.
The Dungeon was a being of immeasurable power. At any moment, it could create Level 8 or even Level 9 monsters, while the strongest person in Orario barely reached Level 7. So why hadn't the world already been destroyed?
Why didn't the Dungeon simply unleash those monsters upon the surface, instead of keeping them buried in the depths? Was it Ouranos' prayers?
No.
Those prayers only diverted the weaker monsters of the upper floors, preventing them from reaching the surface. They couldn't influence the minds of stronger creatures, much less the will of the Dungeon itself. To do that would require far more authority than what was allowed under the unspoken pact between gods.
With a reality like that, whether Luki knew the truth or not changed nothing.
What could he have done?
Train? He already did.
Train harder? He already was.
There was no greater motivation than nearly dying.
Telling him wouldn't make him more cautious, nor would it push him beyond what he was already giving. She had seen his resolve with her own eyes and decided it was enough to quiet the fear in her heart.
So she let him enter the Dungeon once more.
After all… either he lives his life the way he wants, or he probably wouldn't want to live at all.
Tireless Explorer I
A skill that embodies the true spirit of adventure... This skill shall be lost the moment its bearer loses the will to explore the world.
She knew her child better than anyone else, perhaps even better than he knew himself. And even though she regretted how things had turned out, she still believed it had been the right choice.
If given the chance to go back in time, she would make the same decision again.
With a crooked smile on her face and hidden tears, but would.
In any case, Hestia knew this information was far too sensitive to share freely. Not that she didn't trust her friends, but… Freya and Hermes?
A chicken thief who had spent a year in prison alongside murderers and bank robbers in the name of "social rehabilitation" was still more trustworthy than those two foxes.
So after that long train of thought, which, it should be said, didn't even last half a second with the subtlest use of her divine authority, she chose to answer, just as a great sage once had.
— Nothing in particular. — she said, wearing the kindest and gentlest smile she could muster in that situation.