Little Valhalla was as grand as the gods themselves. The ultra exclusive restaurant had often come up as the as a talking point for newbie adventurers. After all, the building stood out as a marvel of construction compared to its surroundings. Even though the district it resided within was collectively known as 'the rich district,' Little Valhalla stood out. The outside of the building was a skillful mixture of both the baroque and the traditional. Constructed purely out of wood that was foreign to Orario, the ornate carvings that covered each plank and log had been further amplified by a foreign mystique. But to most adventurers, the architectural and artistic merit of the building had very little to do with what people spoke of it.

What was important were the regulars.

Consisting entirely of second and first class adventurers of those inside and outside the Odin familia, one needed to be invited directly to participate in the banquets by the miserly god. Well, not directly in the sense of him meeting you face to face to invite you. No, Odin was much too busy of a man for that. Instead, he got one of his employees of Little Valhalla to directly invite you. Valkyrja, he called them. To get invited to the restaurant was a great privilege reserved for only the strongest adventurers. For anyone who was under level 4 to be invited was an impossibility.

And for some reason, a small selection of level 1 adventurers had been invited to join the great feast this evening.

---

The great door of Little Valhalla awaited those who had been invited. Constructed out of what seemed to be a single piece of wood, it was larger than any tree one may have known. Just as intricate as the rest of the building, it was carved with hundreds of bands that twisted and overlapped with each other. Each band took the form of a monster in the dungeon, almost all of which were unknown to level 1 adventurers. Outside of the door stood a warm looking woman. Well, warm in the sense of being physically cold. Draped over her head and body were dozens of layers of a thin, translucent fabric. With all of them stacked together, her womanly form had turned into an indeterminate blob of white. It was impossible to tell who was under all of those cloths. Upon seeing one of the novice adventurers arrive at the entrance, she would reach through the fabrics with one arm and push open one of the massive doors.

Instantly, the warm air would envelop those newbie adventurers. The wonderful smell of ale, mead, beer, wine, meat, and spices instantly beckoned them inside. The only light came from a mixture of cleanly burning pyres and torches, giving the inside a dimly lit and warm atmosphere. The inside was just as ornate as outside. Thick red rugs formed a path inside of the restaurant reaching each and every table, but not to the extent that it could be called a carpet. The rugs also retained an almost infinite amount of fluff. Each barefoot step was as though you were stepping on clouds. For the more rugged adventurers, the stone tiles gave an uneven yet satisfying feel, massaging their weary muscles every step on the way. Some of the regulars had even given up the self control required to wear shoes, haphazardly tossing their shoes wherever they saw fit.

Every single bit of Little Valhalla was a testament of his wealth and power. Alternatively, it was a show of how big Odin's dick was.

The newcomers were not expected by most, however. Most of the regular patrons looked at the novices in one of two ways. Either they had a look of confusion on why these intruders had entered their sanctuary, or they cheered the novices on as they must have been special. Besides the occasional hollers of those enjoying their flagons of mead and legs of meat, the patrons mostly kept to themselves. One, however, didn't. Standing in the centre of the restaurant was a short-haired woman with stars in her slate eyes. Her outfit was modest, at least compared to some of the other adventurers in the room. After all, she wore a thick wool sweater that covered her neck, shorts, and kneesocks that covered most of her legs. In her hands was a thick black book with silver decorations for both aesthetics and to protect the book's binding. She was familiar to some. Mostly known by massive nerds, though. Some novice adventurers would have remembered seeing someone exactly like her in the first few levels, brutally tormenting and eviscerating monsters as she wrote notes in the book.

As the novice adventurers arrived one by one, she greeted them.

"Ah," she said as a restrained smile appeared on her face, "you must be one of the guests of honour this fine evening? I'm sure your god may have told you some information about this before hand. Well, maybe. Some of them are... Not the most reliable?" A wince came over her face when she politely insulted a few of them. "I'm sure that you have plenty of questions, and I would be honoured to answer any of them! I'm sure that some of the other adventurers here would be glad to answer any question you may have. Odin will arrive here shortly after the rest of you arrive. He's always been one for efficiency," she paused. A quizzical look began to form, "well that and he's also a jerk. In the mean time, feel free to order anything your heart desires from one of the valkyrja. Enjoy your time you have here!"

---

---

Bouncing bubbling bacon and bits bounded their way across the set table, the sizzling scent sounding harmoniously with the cacophany of clatters and clicks as Hecate's familia settled down into their seats except for one white haired cat woman who was dancing around serving their breakfast. An rustic work song hummed its way out of her as she weaved between voluminous robes, large conical hats, and even larger egos as she placed down the hearty meal. There were quick complaints about this food item or that, but they were quickly silenced with a smile, a spatula, and a subsequent smack to their head if they continued their over dramatic moaning, bare heads or large hats notwithstanding.

Breakfast continued in much the same hectic manner as Kori sat and happily chowed down her food amidst cries of overwhelming power and renewed strength as everyone ate the farm girl's home cooked meal. Plans were being made, spells were being shown off, and a general close familial atmosphere permeated the room. Things were starting to settle down until the girl with the largest of hats and gaudiest accessories of all the persons that were before her suddenly stood, a hand clamped over one eye as if in agony and pain.

"AHHH!" She screamed. "The dark powers at my beck and call have shown me a vision! Something most terrible and haunting!" Immediately the table became enraptured as their goddess slammed her open palms down onto the table, causing a clatter of cutlery as she began to heavily pant.

Kori was more interested in the fact that all of the vegetables were still whole and pristine on Hecate's plate with everything else around the offending green substance being picked clean. "Hekki," she sighed. "What'd we say about visions at the table."

"But O child of mine, this concerns you directly!"

"Even more reason to save it 'till after yer done eatin'"

"Impossible! This information is-"

"Ah."

"But-"

"Nope."

"Kor-"

"Zip."

When Hecate looked like she was about to speak again, Kori gave her the evilest non-magical evil eye she could muster as she planted an elbow firmly onto the table and pointed a knife at her goddess, ears twitching and tail swishing in agitation. "Don't make me come over there again. Gettin' real tired of having to tie you down to feed you."

A collective shudder shivered down the table, goddesses included. The now sulking witch deflated faster than a torn blimp and sank back into her seat as she began slowly picking away at her greens. It was only when Kori was silently washing all the dishes for a second time after two other members of the familia were forced into doing so did Hecate approach her again. This time the cat girl's ears lay flat against her head and without looking up saying, "Sorry about that Hekki, but ya know I hafta be a bit harder on you than the others."

Similarly, instead of appearing to be an all-powerful witch who held dominion and command over the powers of magic and death itself, Hecate just looked like a girl wearing clothes that were three sizes too big for her frame. "I- I know. I don't... I don't blame you but, but what I had to say was important."

"I know, I'm sorry darlin', but you successfully conquered vegetable today so go on."

"Um, so, a Valkyrie came by earlier saying that uh, Odin, had invited you. Personally. Kori Lielle. To go to Little Valhalla."

"... Say that again?"

---

---

In a sea of decadence and splendor where status and power infected the atmosphere to a choking brim stood a tanned white-haired cat shaped by an elegant white backless mini dress all tied in a manner that was a tad too tight for her sinewy figure. Aside from the comically large conical hat that was also borrowed from Hecate (yet suspiciously already had holes ready for non-human ears to poke through), the only other thing that Kori wore was a necklace from which strung a symbol of Hecate's Wheel that rested just below her collar bone. The comfortable coat that she had worn on her way was immediately whisked away once she had stepped foot inside the grandiose halls of Little Valhalla. The paladin had wanted to bring along her greatsword as well just to have something familiar with her, but Hecate had adamantaly refused to let Kori even touch it while she was getting ready to go and thus it was all the little farm girl could do to not curl into a ball and hide in a corner away from all the gazes that lasered onto her.

Still, she was here, and no matter her status, Kori Lielle would represent herself and her familia as best she could for whatever reason that she was invited here. Taking whatever willpower was left that wasn't dedicated to not hiding and channeling it into plastering on the widest smile she could manage, daring the world to throw whatever else it had left to offer at her. The smile certainly didn't look natural by any means nor did it really do much to hide her anxieties, but she was born a fighter and would always be a fighter through and through as she glided down the velvety rugs towards someone who at least looked like they were expecting her presence.

And it turned out that Kori's instincts were right as the literal starry eyed girl greeted her by name before turning to greet another person, then another as a few others came up to her. After it seemed as if everyone had been gathered, the cat girl listened intensely to what this mysterious lady had to say, though Kori couldn't help but show surprise at being referred to as a "guest of honor." She supposed that in a sense that she was, but all Hecate had really told her was that she was invited and that it was very important that she answer the invitation and attend immediately.

"Right, so, before we get caught up in anything, do you mind telling us oh I don't know, why any of us are here in the first place?"

---

---

Sunshine poured into a wide room through the open silk curtains.. The room was furnished ornately, with antiques and heirlooms thousands of years old. Paintings depicting battle and war decorated the walls over detailed floral wallpaper. It was a room you would be afraid to cough in lest you break something. Only two occupied the lavish room, seated in the middle opposite eachother. Between them was a beautifully carved circular black walnut table with an equally beautiful chess set made of ivory and marble on top. The room was quiet besides the soft chirping of birds and the whistle of wind that could be heard through through the slightly ajar window.

”Better make your move. I’m getting tired...” The goddess broke the silence. With a snide smile she faked a yawn. ”You may as well give up already Castor. We’ll be here past dusk if you can’t pick up the pace.”

”Shut up, genius takes time.” snapped Castor. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his forehead as his expression remained focused. Tension took the air as he reached his hand across the table, his long fingers plucked the bishop from its’ spot as he held it in the air before his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he inspected the piece.

Oh...he finally makes his move?...an interesting choice… The goddess looked at him with anticipation.

Another bead of sweat ran down Castor’s cheek as he stared at the piece then back to the table. What was his move? What could possibly have him contemplating so hard? What the fuck was this piece again? The drop of sweat hit the floor as Castor definitively placed the bishop down in its’ new spot with a clack. Miraculously, his move was still within the rules of chess. With a weak grin of forced confidence he looked up at the goddess “Heh, I bet you weren’t expecting that. It’s only a matter of time now before my victory is certain.” He said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

The goddess sighed. She adjusted her glasses and brushed back a strand of her silky black hair from her face. “No Castor, I’m not quite sure what I was expecting to be honest.” She reached her hand out. Her skin was porcelain and flawless, her fingers were delicate and her nails long and manicured. She picked up her rook with grace and placed it down with authority. clack. She looked up at Castor with her coal black eyes and waited a dramatic moment.

”Checkmate.”

She creased her pink lips with a smile as Castor stared at the table dumbfoundedly. ”I-impossible” sputtered Castor. Bellona stood up from the table and stretched her arms over her head. She picked up her coat and slung it over her shoulder as she turned to Castor, still seated, staring at the table in shock. ”Maybe next time you’ll pose an actual challenge.” teased the goddess. With a flip of her hair over her other shoulder, she elegantly strode out the room in victory.

Defeated, Castor sulked at the table with his long arms crossed in front of his chest. ”If I had one more move I could’ve won…” he muttered to himself. His sulking was interrupted as he heard a loud clunking from down the hall, a knock at the main entrance. He stood up and slapped his hands on each of his cheeks. Next time won’t be so easy

Morale recovered, he walked down the hall as his boots clicked against the stone floor, echoing through the empty hallway. The large oaken doors creaked as he pulled them open. Sunshine poured into the entrance hall and glistened off the decorative armor sets that lined the wall. As Castor’s eyes adjusted to the sunlight he found himself staring at the chin of a figure before him. He looked up and locked eyes with a woman with long braided blond hair. Her braid fell down to the middle of her back, decorated with golden clasps. She was pretty with ice-blue eyes and a heart-shaped face. Castor wasn’t used to looking up at people and couldn’t recall ever meeting a woman taller than him. ”Whaddya want.” He said as he leaned against the door frame. Smooth.

The woman bowed as she held out an envelope with both hands. ”The one known as Castor Caraway has been invited by milord Odin to Little Valhalla tomorrow evening. Lord Odin would be honored to accept him as our honored guest for the night.”

”Uh…okay?” Castor took the envelope from the bowing woman and stared at it. Sure enough it indeed carried a stamp of the Odin familia. Castor cleared his throat. ”ahem...Well you can tell Odin- that the legend, Castor Caraway himself, will be there tomorrow, so he better have the place ready to receive someone of my ilk.” The woman gave a polite smile and bowed in response, then turned and walked the way she came, her heels clacking on the cobblestone pathway as her braid swayed across her thin waist. Castor pushed the door shut and looked at the envelope with a grin Finally. They are starting to recognize my greatness.

---

---

Castor eyed the woman in white suspiciously as she pushed the door open. The gust of a wonderful feast greeted his nose as he cautiously stepped in, keeping an eye on the woman in white as he entered. The great door shut behind him as he took in the sight. The wealth displayed was extravagant and the atmosphere radiant. It was a direct parallel to the dusty empty manor of his own familia. Castor stood dressed in the best outfit he could scrounge up amongst the closets of the manor, a loose white blouse hastily tucked into brown cotton breeches, held up by a black leather belt. The belt's buckled was polished gold and brandished the emblem of the Bellona familia, a torch surrounded by a laurel wreath. His worn leather boots sank into the carpet below him, and he was fighting the urge to take them off. Castor looked around, unfortunately he had deigned not to consult Bellona before coming here as petty revenge for his loss in their game the day prior. Consequently, he really had no idea what to expect.

A lack of direction had never defeated him before, as he began to confidently stride between the tables. He plucked an unoccupied chalice of wine from a table and took a deep gulp. Onlookers gave a cheers to the newcomer as Castor raised his chalice to them in response, relishing in the attention. While enjoying the merriment he spotted a few familiar faces. The woman with black starry eyes, Dahlia, and the white-haired cat woman. He knew of Dahlia from her time in the lower floors and from her book series “Dungeon Storia”, which Castor was a fan of, though he would never admit it. He had seen the other woman in the lower floors accompanying people of her familia. Though it had seemed like less of accompanying and more of babysitting? He took a sip of his fifth cup of wine and walked (maybe swaying a little bit) over to them chalice in hand. As it turned out, Dahlia was apparently some kind of a greeter meant to receive them. Castor took another swig of wine as he listened to her speak. When she was finished he held the chalice above his open mouth as the last drops of his drink pattered onto his tongue. He wiped the sweet red wine from his lips with the sleeve of his blouse, staining it with a blotch of dark pink. He looked over at the cat woman now more closely. The cat woman’s tight white dress accentuated her well toned figure, the body of a fighter. Interestingly her hat was one commonly worn by mages. Castor stared at her necklace, the shapes of the wheel started to swirl. The cat woman spoke:

"Right, so, before we get caught up in anything, do you mind telling us oh I don't know, why any of us are here in the first place?"

Witnessing the long-armed wild man slam back 5 cups of wine had completely swallowed every bit of attention that Dahlia had. The first one was nothing special, just a weirdo taking booze from a table. The second one was suspicious, the third was impressive, the fourth was sad, but the fifth was also impressive. She stared at him in shock, confused on why any human would act like that. But then again, Dahlia was constantly surrounded by prude and chaste nerds, so seeing people leave the house made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She wasn't the greatest moral arbitrator.

The question that Kori had asked had froze Dahlia. At first, she only responded with a puzzled look, but she quickly resigned to nothing more than a shrug. "Your god should have told you," her mouth made an awkward smile, "well maybe not. Most gods are in it for their own entertainment and would probably think it would be funny if they put you up the creek without a paddle." Quickly tapping the cover of her book to make a drumming noise, she sang a quick acapella fanfare of 'pa-ra-ra-ta-ta-taaaa~!' "You're here because you're special! Not in the sense of being unique, though. We're all unique in our own ways, but what's important is that you all have potential. I'm sure you know the stats, the vast majority of all adventurers never make it past level 1. Through your innate skills, unique styles, and... personalities—let's call it that, you have been selected by Odin, Thoth, and your own god to join a super cool, exclusive cross-familia party of adventurers! It's pretty unprecedented for something like this to happen, though. I'm sure you're wondering the 'why' of this all. To that, I'll have to say that there's an alliance of gods going on right now. It's all some real boring political nonsense, so I'll spare you the details of it all of it. Oh, speaking of god politics—"

It was clear that she was just rambling on at this point. Almost as if all of the brain had been drained from the room, not a single person understood what Dahlia was talking about in this moment of time. They were adventurers, damn it! Not philosophers! Without any further warning, Dahlia stopped her rambling. A worried look washed over her face, colour draining as she walked towards Castor. She gently placed her hand on the man's shoulder.

"You—you had five cups, didn't you? I'm—I'm so sorry. There's nothing we can do. You should spend the next thirty minutes getting everything in order."

_{Morning///A Certain Third-Story Flat}

---

Daylight had yet to break through the thin curtains of the room, but Varanense was already awake. Free as he may have been, the adventurer was still a slave to habit, and no matter how late he stayed up the night before, it was always like this: waking up an hour before sunrise, Nemesis cuddled up against him. Never for pleasure, but always for warmth. He smiled sleepily, brushing a silver strand out of her eyes, before pulling himself away. Definitely needed to save for another bed to toss her in. Preferably with super thick blankets too. It was novel before, always waking up in the morning with naked goddess snuggled up against him, but now, he was realizing that it meant waking up to the smell of alcohol and vomit as well.

Anyways, by principle, Varanense had no indecent feelings towards the Goddess of Vengeance and Hard Party. Those sorts of romances never went well, after all. Especially if she continued to think of him as her child.

Shaking off his early morning thoughts, the dark-skinned adventurer quickly began preparing for the rest of the day. The windows of the third-story flat were swung open dramatically to let in fresh air, while the embers of the hearth were stoked, firewood tossed in to start cooking. As a pot of water heated up, Varanense began dressing up as well, pulling over hardy fabrics and hardened leathers, counting his bolts and testing his strings. With the pommel of his sword, he ground up rice in a bowl, and with the edge of his sword, he chopped up what remained of last night’s chicken. Tossing both into the pot, he let it simmer as he turned to his little herb garden by the windowsill, uprooting a couple of chives to add some color to his breakfast porridge.

One pot meals were a favorite of his, after all. If only the textures of roasted meats and fried noodles weren’t so incredible, Varanense would be eating soups and stews every day of the week. He hummed to himself as the clay pot simmered, a homely aroma supplanting the ever-present stench of alcohol. Then, as if suddenly bored of lying about, he hopped up onto his feet again, blue eyes catching the first rays of the day, reflected off the discarded bottles of wine flung with impunity around the flat. Those went into empty crates for storage and disposal, clinking like poorly made chimes. Some sweeping was done as well, as futile as it was, for garbage-infested was the natural state of Nemesis Familia’s headquarters. It’d be nice if they had a servant or something. Shame that the red-headed not-Giant didn’t stick around for long. He was alright. Took the aggro away from Varanense when Nemesis was feeling competitive about her alcoholism.

Dragging over a stool, he sat down by the pot again, stirring the rice gruel before spooning it up. Blew a couple of times to cool it down. Breathed deeply to enjoy it with his rarer senses. And then…

A soft warmth pressed against his back, two pale, slender arms crossing over his chest as silky hair slid against his neck. That intoxicating fragrance seeped into his mind again, and hot breath rushed against his ear, a familiar weight resting upon his shoulder. A rueful sigh, and Varanense began shovelling his breakfast into her mouth.

“Y’know, you could just feed yourself,” he remarked, starting the same conversation as always.

Nemesis half-laughed. “Don’t wanna~ Where you going, Variii?”

“Got a date with a thicc Amazon girl,” was his response as he chanced a bite of the gruel.

But Nemesis was too sharp, even as sleepy as she was. She headbutted him out of the way and took the spoonful for herself, a smug grin surfacing. “Liarrrr~”

“Says who?” Varanense stretched forwards, grabbing another spoon.

“Says me. Can always smell a cheat.” To make a point, she sniffed deeply, then made a ‘bleh’ noise. “And they always smell bad.”

“That’s just you you’re smelling,” the adventurer chuckled, reclining against the goddess.

For his sacrilege, the silver-haired goddess rapped his head. “That weretiger said I smelled good.”

“He said that to the farmer girl too. Suspect he doesn’t have a sense of smell.”

That got a full-bellied laugh from Nemesis as she stood up unsteadily, licking the remains of the gruel from her lips.

“Headed somewhere?” Varanense called between mouthfuls of chicken-flavored porridge.

She turned to him with a mischievious glint in her eyes, at once deity and drunkard. “Got a date with a God of Hammers.”

He grinned, waving her off. “Liarrr.”

_{Evening///Little Valhalla}

---

He had been free to dress as he wished, so Varanense dressed as he always did, armored up and armed up, nothing polished for impressing anyone. His bandana was yellowed with sweat, his cloak was perpetually afflicted with the smell of spilt wine, and his eyes were as indolently half-closed as always. Sauntering in a good ten minutes late, he nodded once at the doorwoman, who must have been melting in such clothing, and didn’t bother to take in his surroundings at all. Little Valhalla was basically just as Nemesis had described, after all. Good drink, good meat, and tasteless décor. Who the hell wanted to eat in a hall filled with statues in the likeness of monsters? Perverts, that’s who.

The members were all cute though. Odin’s Valkyries had been as attractive as expected of such a lustful, shallow god, and the high-level adventurers in tavern were equally good looking, from handsome studs to adorable prums to big-bootied Amazons to lithe elves. He took it all in, and continued on, unaffected, irreverent. Smiled and winked once or twice, maybe, at the ones that cheered, but otherwise strode up towards the small mass of fresh-faced adventurers that looked wholly out of place. Like, wow, were they dressing up for an interview? His eyes briefly lingered on the fine shoulder blades of the cat person, then on the freakish anatomy of the flushed human (?), before finally widening slightly at the grimdark appearance of the shadow-man. Certainly a wild cast.

He let out a low whistle.

“Hey Dahlia,” Varanense said, steady as always, “Looked like you were talking about a buncha stuff there. Mind repeating it?”

"Eh? Sure why not."

Her mood did a complete 180. Back in her eyes was the passion only possessed by nerds; her face was as warm and cheerful as ever, as though Castor wasn't going to die in 30 minutes. Well, it was because he wasn't. He was going to feel like he died, but he'd be blackout drunk so it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Quickly counting things on her fingers, she turned to Varanense to repeat what she just said. Well, she was going to. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted the skull masked youth reach for the animal girl's ears. With the speed of Hermes and the strength of a flying slipper, she slapped the youth's hand down as though he was reaching for the cookie jar.

"That's sexual harassment! Ask before you reach and not during." She scolded. She also completely glossed over the part where he didn't know that animal people existed. It was also that everyone she worked with couldn't tell her what colour the sun was, so not knowing about the world was at least somewhat excusable. She then turned back to Varanense and repeated what she said earlier. For real this time.

"So your god should have told you why, but gods are weirdos so they probably didn't. You have potential, so you're being put into a super neat initiative where we basically make a party of super rookies and see how far that gets. Also god politics but god politics sucks and nobody should ever talk about god politics. Oh and—"

Dahlia had told Varanense all about god politics. Really, it was rather astounding. Not the content, though. The content was dry as crappy crackers. The fact that, despite paraphrasing earlier, she had repeated everything about god politics that she had said earlier. It was only with a certain swagger and an ahem that she stopped speaking. From behind Dahlia, a small figure had appeared.

No taller than a hunched over 5 feet, his presence was known from the way he conducted himself. The threads on his suit were so fine that it was impossible to see any flaw. Every ounce of him was well groomed. Resting on his shoulders was a large fur jacket, made from a creature finer than anything above ground. Atop that was the skin of a wolf, but not one that anyone was familiar with. Despite his apparent age, his skin remained colourful and perfect. The wrinkles were only cosmetic. With a slight adjustment to his rosy sunglasses, he cleared his throat in the certain way that only old men do. It was also known as coughing really loud.

"I see that Dahlia has given you the basics," he announced to the group, "but I do believe I have to explain what's going to happen." With a smile, he elaborated. "you fine adventurers are going to become a party. You will gain the support of every god and familia in this alliance through this party. You will receive Thoth's knowledge, Vulcan's smithy, the comradery from various adventurers and their respective gods, whatever Honos does, but most importantly," a large, toothy grin made itself known, "my 10% discount. My familia doesn't even get 5% off. Don't let it get to your head." He said the last line incredibly seriously. "Well, that's all if you choose to join. I'm not going to stay here and force you. For today, just take your time and relax. Don't worry about the prices of anything~!" That little line about money sounded gross.

"Oh, and Dahlia's going to teach you."

Odin then walked off, vanishing behind a 5 foot high wall into a more private area of Little Valhalla.

For now, it was time to party with people that could bench a mammoth.

---

---

It wasn't so much that Kori didn't understand what the person in front of her was saying, but believing it was another matter. An alliance of gods? Head?? Odin??? Someone trying to touch her ears without permission????

With all the information she received combined with the fact that she was standing in the middle of Little darntootin' Valhalla with the eyes of quite literally some of the most powerful people in Orario and the fact that someone was trying to touch her ears threw Kori into a bit of a hissy fit, again quite literally. Her ears flattened against the wide brimmed hat, shifting it slightly back to reveal a face full of teeth and hisses as she jumped back at the same time Dahlia smacked away the skull man's hand, her tail upright and agitated behind her.

It was then she also got to take a proper look at the new party assembled before her: a man with freakishly long arms already stained red with wine in more ways than one, a boy wearing a skull-face mask that apparently thought her ears were fake because the alternative was just too far-fetched to believe otherwise, and someone who looked like they had just come from a barroom brawl. Of all the people assembled before her, skull-face boy might have been the only one Kori seemed to be okay with because at least she dealt with people like him in her familia every day.

Without a second thought Kori wheeled around on a heel and ordered from the nearest Valkyrie a Dragon's Breath. If this wasn't a dream, she was going to follow wino's lead and make sure it was going to seem like one the next morning.

Too bad it was going to take her more than a few wine glasses.

_{Evening///Little Valhalla}

---

The content was as dry as crappy crackers, but sometimes, that flavor was novel all by itself when spoken by an excitable, but cute girl. When she got going like this, Dahlia reminded Varanense way too much of a young child who was eager to show off what they learned, and it was certainly quite charming. It also made the ranger wonder if he was growing old now, having such thoughts. That was a bit troubling. He sat himself down as she motormouthed away, propping his head up with his arm while listening to as much of it as he could. Nemesis getting involved in god politics was certainly a weird one, while the question about potential…Varanense certainly wasn’t aware of any insanely unique skill he had that let him level up at astounding rates.

Curious stuff. He glanced at cat-girl, Kori, if he recalled correctly. Definitely looked like she wasn’t impressed by skull-face’s casual moves. Was he from the country? Couldn’t have been the first time he’s seen a beastman, could it? Well, at least he won’t be throwing up on his shoes anytime soon. Long-arms though, what a shame. A hero that can’t hold a drink is only acceptable when you’re a cute-as-a-button fourteen year old brave. As a precaution, Varanense scooted himself away from him, right as Odin silenced Dahlia’s background noise with his own arrival, throwing in more words before zipping off afterwards.

Don’t worry about the price of anything, huh…

Well, what’s free was usually the most expensive, and Varanense still couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone here would have been selected. Was this just Odin subtly hitting on their goddesses? Weird stuff. He probably shouldn’t read too deeply into it. Leaning back in his chair, the dark-skinned youth directed his gaze towards Dahlia again, a lop-sided grin surfacing. “So, that’s Odin, huh? What’s even the discount for? Thought it was standard for the parents to give things to their children, free of charge?”

Dahlia replied to Varanense. "The discount's for pretty much every establishment Odin owns. Which is a lot, to be honest. He dabbles in most wares, like potions, wholesale weapons and armour, food, inns, a brothel, and pretty much everything that isn't artisanal." She gave an empathetic sigh. "Most gods would give stuff to their children for free. But Odin's the type of man who'd charge his kids rent the second they turn 14. Don't worry too much about it. The discount adds up, even if you don't pay attention to it. I'm surprised you even got one. I'm still running off my 2%."

Then, Dahlia turned to face the masked youth complaining. He made an effort to show HOW PAINED HE WAS and then ran back over to the cat-eared girl.

"That boy isn't right..."

Evening turned to night in a flash. The booze provided in Little Valhalla was much more than any one of the greenhorn adventurers could have predicted. After thirty minutes, one drink was enough to release one's inhibitions. Two drinks was enough to change one's personality. Five drinks? Castor had the absolute time of his life. One that he was unable to remember, for better or worse. The festivities, though hard to recall, included Varanense flirting with a few hot adventurers and Valkyries (though they merely saw him as a quaint child—even the ones who were younger than him), Oben being very confused at the races of a few of the veterans, Kori trying to take care of someone much less drunk than herself, and Castor vanishing only to hear pained screaming at another part of the restaurant.

By midnight, not a single one was conscious. At least, none of them remembered being conscious.

---

---

The adventurers had awoken in their respective homes. For Castor, he woke up with his left elbow feeling like it was bent 90 degrees the wrong way, a feeling of loss, and his mouth tasting like vomit and old fish. Castor didn't eat any fish, which was confusing. At least, he didn't eat any that he could remember. Varanense had awoken with similar feelings of failure, but his arms were okay and he didn't spew. Or he did, but he brushed his teeth. Oben had awoken to his pockets full of small denominations of vallis. The coins practically spewed out of his pockets, almost ruining his clothes from the seams almost breaking. Kori had awoken with a heartfelt thank you note from a man who had called himself 'the hammer'. He even signed his name as a very aggressive HAMMER. It was confusing. Each one of them had woken up with a bill for the night. The cost was astounding. Oben's pocket coins couldn't even make a dent on the minimum payment.

DUE TO: Odin
AMOUNT DUE: 825 000 v
INTEREST OWED: 0% YEARLY
MINIMUM PAYMENT: 100 000 v
MINIMUM PAYMENT DATE: ONE YEAR FROM NOW

In the case of reaching level 2 before the due date passes, all debt owed to Odin shall be forgiven.

SIGNATORIES: x Óðinn x Vkosenmp

Sure, it was an illegible scrawl. But each of the adventurers could at least recall the fact that they did sign it, even if they didn't read any of the print. They were now in heavy debt, and the only way out was to actually join the party. Talk about indentured servitude. At least they got to keep whatever money they made in the dungeon. On the reverse side of the bill, however, was a note scrawled on it.

Meet outside the dungeon entrance, 11 AM. Don't be late.

---

Upon arriving to the entrance, the adventurers could see Dahlia, as ready as she always was, speaking to a worried looking Pallum. On her back was a huge rucksack that had been deflated by a severe lack of loot. She didn't carry a single visible weapon, nor did she wear any armour. She was a supporter. Supporters were always a strange thing in the dungeon. Adventurers were often unable to carry both loot and fight. Supporters, however, would allow adventurers to fight without the burden of having to carry random items. There was an old saying that went around Orario: "A good supporter is worth two adventurer's backs". It was true; backpack overstuffing that caused back injury was the number three cause of retirement for adventurers. The other two were 'death' and 'permanent disability'. It was a pretty wide margin between those two and back injuries. Still, having a supporter was practically a necessity for a five man party that delved any deeper than the first five floors.

"Ah, there they are! The men and woman of the hour! I trust you slept well? Ah, where's my manners, let me introduce you to my old associate, Penn! She's a supporter and she'll be hauling any items you don't want to carry back up. She's pretty trustworthy and I've already paid all of her fees, so don't worry about that. So for this, we're probably going to try to get as far as you can to gauge how well you work together. I'll be behind you every step of the way, so if something goes wrong, I can step in. Besides that, just try to work together as a team. Penn will support you, but she's not exactly an amazing combatant." Penn had unleashed the most powerful kick that she could to Dahlia's thigh, only to be rebuked by nothing more than a slapping noise. "So besides that, just don't worry about the formalities of all of this and just do what you usually do. Any questions?"

_{Morning///A Certain Third-Story Flat}

---

Daylight had yet to break through the thin curtains of the room, but Varanense was already awake. Free as he may have been, the adventurer was still a slave to habit, and no matter how late he stayed up the night before, it was always like this: waking up an hour before sunrise, Nemesis cuddled up against him. Never for pleasure, but always for warmth. He smiled sleepily, brushing a silver strand out of her eyes, before pulling himself away…and almost fell over from the sudden brutal headache that struck him right in the top of the cranium. Stumbling a couple of steps before converting into a not-so graceful sitting position on the ground, he nursed a surprisingly acute hangover. What even happened last night? His mouth tasted funny too, filled with a strange flavor that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the origin of. Was it a wild night? Or was it a bad night? His brow furrowed as he tried to recall, but all Varanense could come up with was…nothing.

A suspicious amount of nothing. It had been Little Valhalla, after all. Knowing himself, he wouldn’t have gotten blackout drunk by choice, because this would have been an experience actually worth remembering. He pulled himself up again, before hearing an equally suspicious crinkling coming from his pocket. Extracting it, Varanense narrowed his eyes at the mysterious glyphs, his D+ intelligence trying in vain to decipher the alien text before he came to the realization that it was all just bad writing. Bad writing and a goddamn debt. A goddamn debt of 825000 vallis. No interest, because Odin wasn’t a gangster, but still, Varanense wouldn’t be able to make that much money even after selling his kidneys.

A sigh escaped him. So that was their collar. So much for a relaxing slow life with an exhibitionist goddess. He let out another sigh, wondering if he at least got one of the Valkyrie’s numbers after all this. But no, disappointment and failure persisted there too.

What a life.

Varanense sulked around the flat until someone’s big black cock (referring to the male adult chicken) crowed in the distance and an alcohol-infused Nemesis began half-heartedly prodding him in the head with her feet, complaining about the lack of breakfast. Then, he promptly leapt up, and restarted his morning routine, humming a happier rendition of a song about tossing gods under the grindstone of a mill and making bread out of them.

At least his porridge making skills remained on point.

_{Late Morning///Entrance to the Dungeon}

---

11AM was hella late by Varanense’s standards. Clock in early, clock out early was his motto for the easy breezy adventuring life, but considering his terrible no good very bad start in the morning, it was a miracle that he showed up at all. Well, if the insidious threat of Odin’s edicts served as a miracle at all. In the same clothing that he went into the tavern with, then partied with, then slept in, Varanense nodded at the new face, a cutesy little Pallum that shoulda aimed for the hollow Dahlia’s knee if she hoped to actually do anything. Always weird to see Pallum supporters, honestly. There had to be some sort of witchcraft happening there, when children carried packs thrice their weight, but somehow ended up not toppling backwards whenever they walked on an incline.

“Varanense,” he introduced himself, offering the Pallum a handshake. Then, his eyes flickered back to Dahlia, a tinge of caution in his eyes. “And just in case it’s actually the case, even though it’s probably not the case at all…Odin doesn’t have some sort of hellish training regime waiting for us tomorrow, yeah? Really can’t picture anyone managing to get to level 2 within a year n all.”

Most didn’t even make it to level 2 in their entire life, after all. The dark-skinned archer readjusted his quiver as he waited for an answer, wondering if others shared the same opinion as himself. No matter how you cut it, unless they were going to be thrown at Minotaurs or forced through similarly satanic trials, there was no way they were going to level up before they had to cough up 100,000 vallis. What a hellzone.

---

---

A bright, beautiful day awaited a habitually bubbly cat person. The dawn sun was just starting to barely peak its way through simple, but functional curtains into a room where a multitude of bodies lay sleeping in various normal and abnormal positions. The one closest to the window arose with a stretch and a contented purr. Then, like clockwork, the cat person got up from her bed, strode her way to the curtains, and threw them open with a flourish and a smile, eliciting her usual morning chorus of groans and hisses from the rest of her familia despite the nascent rays. Yet just as it was tradition for a mother to wake early and help their child prepare for the day ahead, so too was it tradition for the child to perpetually moan and complain about doing so.

And of course, this would have been like any normal morning had Kori not realized that she was not wearing her usual sleepwear, but instead a fancy white dress of which she only had vague recollections of wearing the previous night. Or was it even the night before the last?

The fact that she could not recall troubled her greatly.

The troublings only continued when she found a note from someone named "The HAMMER" thanking her for her help and services, which would have been sweet had she not found said note carefully placed in the tight space between her dress and breast.

Her easy, happy morning was quickly replaced with panic. Her feet remained frozen in place as her brain began its mad scramble to desperately find something, anything, even the tiniest hint of what may have transpired the night before. Unfortunately, all her memories seemed to be covered in a haze of aerobics, ass, and an absolutely amazing amount of alcohol until finally she remembered something about an alliance and gods and bewilderment at somebody asking if her ears were magic, though she didn't think the last point was related too closely to the previous two.

In any case, it looked like she was going to have words with Hecate.

---

---

Normally Kori would have been happy to be on another dungeoneering expedition.

Normally she would have been absolutely ecstatic and excited at meeting new people and getting to adventure with them.

Normally she wouldn't have been saddled with an absolutely crushing amount of debt to the All-Father and have little-to-no memory of how she could have accrued such a thing. She could certainly guess at why, considering that she did know that she had spent the last night at Little Valhalla and she had vaguely remembered starting to wine and dine, of course promising herself to limit it just in case something like this were to occur in the first place.

But she also remembered the wining and dining to be ridiculously good (while also refusing to admit just how hard and fast the alcohol actually hit her).

Nevertheless, this was her reality now. Besides, Kori couldn't exactly call her life normal anymore anyway the moment she stepped foot inside Orario and had met a certain chuuni goddess, and so this single adventurer would continue to do what she did best: greet the world with a smile and meet every challenge with grit and determination. Her ma and pa didn't raise no quitter, after all.

And so there she was, arrayed in her arms and armor with her new motley crew. Her half-plate had been re-polished and repaired to a dull shine that indicated heavy and loving usage, marred with all the nicks and scars as it was. It wasn't the most flattering piece, but it covered everything that needed to be covered on her top half with a breastplate, gauntlets, and a single pauldron, while the only thing really protecting her lower half were her tassets and a pair of greaves. It at least protected her more than the token armor she knew other adventurers wore (with many of her prime examples coming from her own familia). She could understand having mostly aesthetic coverings for the ones who depended more on their speed or the higher tier adventurers that faced monsters twice their size and wielding weapons just as tall, but for adventurers like her who faced mostly lower tier monsters like goblins and kobolds, a bit of armor went a long way in not dying.

Conveniently, Kori also chose to ignore her own desires to be decked out in an outfit that was meant for fighting and fashion and thus why she had conveniently forgotten to acquire anything to cover her bare thighs except for her tassets which tastefully covered everything they needed to cover.

But that was neither here nor there and any debate about it would have been quickly shut down with the greatsword that was taller than she and yet was carried with ease in one hand.

Aside from her weapons and gear, Kori also wore her brightest smile as she gave Varanese a hearty slap on the back. "Aw come on pardner, ain't no harm in believing in yourself a bit. Odin and life-destroyin' debt aside, nothin's stoppin' us from gettin' all the way up to level 2! We just got a bit of a fire lit up under all our butts now, but I'm sure it's nothin' we all can't handle s'long as we all work together and show Odin we ain't t'be underestimated and the like!"

---

---

SPLASH

A shocking cold feeling washed over Castor as he struggled for breath. He shot up from the ground sitting upright, he was sopping wet from head to toe. He wiped the cold water from his eyes as he blew his nostrils free of water. He looked around, he was sitting in the foyer of Victory Manor with Bellona standing over him. In her arms she held a wooden bucket, the weapon used to drown him seconds earlier.

Castor jumped to his feet, a sharp pain hit his arm as stood up. He shivered as a breeze hit his back, the wooden doors were wide open. Presumably, he had made it back home by a miracle and had passed out before he could even close the doors behind him.

”Looks like someone had an eventful night.”

The goddess held a wry smile on her face as Castor internally sighed. He would not hear the end of this, he could already hear her teasings over this going on months into the future. Clutching his arm he spoke, ”Yeah yeah, hilarious.” He shook his good arm as droplets of water spattered the cobblestone floor. ”You could’ve just woken me up normally dammit.” muttered Castor.

The goddess merely smiled, “I could have...but this was much more enjoyable.’ She set the bucket down on the ground and started to walk back into the hallway she came. ”Make sure you clean up this mess.’ she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Castor stood there in the puddle, embarrassed and slightly nauseous, with an especially shitty taste in his mouth. He winced as an image of him puking in someone else mouth flashed through his mind for a second. His stained blouse was now soaked and stuck to his body. Running a hand through his damp black hair he strained to remember what had occurred the night before. Conveniently, he just remembered Dahlia and Odin’s spiel before he blacked out. After that was just flashes and pieces of a hectic night. Feeling his arm and the fishy taste in his mouth, Castor figure it was probably for the best that he not remember for now.

As he started to remove his soaked clothing he felt a crinkle in his left pocket. He pulled out a half soaked crumpled up note. As Castor unfolded it he was greeted by a bill for 825,000 v from Odin himself, resolved if this party could reach level 2 within the year. A near impossible feat as it was unprecedented to pass level 1 in such a short timeframe. The backside of the note said 11 am, so he would have no time to think about it.

”Tch”

Castor crushed the note in his hand and crammed it into the visor of a decorative suit of armor. He balled up his soaked blouse and started to wipe up the wet floor. The angry look on his face slowly turned to a wide grin. ”Too fucking easy.”

---

---

Castor made his way over to Dahlia and the others, now rehydrated and motivated. He was antsy and ready to go. An opportunity had presented itself with this ‘alliance of gods’ to showcase his abilities and make a name for himself. He stood at least almost a head taller than everyone else as he took his place amongst the group. He wore a well-worn leather jerkin over a long sleeved white shirt. His pants were loose and comfortable, allowing for maximum movement and breathability. On his belt was a shabby leather scabbard with a small shortsword no longer than a foot. Castor rested his spear over his shoulders as he hung his long arms over it, like a scarecrow watching over a field.

Castor watched as Varanense introduced himself and the cat-person heartily clapped him on the back and spoke optimistically. Castor chuckled to himself and sneered, ”That wrinkly old man can play whatever games he wants, level 2 is no sweat, debt or not.” His arrogance was palpable as level 2 was indeed a sweat.

He sauntered over to Dahlia and leaned on his spear down to eye level with a pensive look on his face. His long fingers stroked his chin as he looked at her deep in thought examining her facial features closely. ”Did I puke on you last night by any chance?”

To the prospective handshake, the Pallum took it without without hesitation. Like grabbing a child's, it felt as though Varanense could crush it with little effort. The resulting handshake was floppy and sad. "Penn's the name", the Pallum replied, "don't wear it out."

Varanense had asked Dahlia a good question. In fact, that was one of the most important questions. What did Dahlia's training entail? If they were to be thrust onward to level 2, wouldn't that mean that they would have to sluggishly train to become strong enough? Dahlia went to dispel that notion.

"Tut tut, training is only half of it. To be frank, all of you are already strong enough to become level 2. In fact, I think I was weaker than all of you when I first levelled up. No, besides getting a stat past D, what's important are your feats. Entering the dungeon every single day to slay goblins, kobolds, and lizards isn't enough. Heck, even Orcs and Imps won't be enough. What you need is to do something wild. You have to do something so insane that even the gods will be impressed. That's how you level! So my training is less about turning you into and more about finding and fixing your shortcomings. Then, you can push even further beyond on your current strength!"

When Castor mentioned vomiting, Dahlia's mood instantly went from energetic and happy to nervous and trying not to gag. She covered her mouth with her hand and didn't look Castor in the eyes. "Well, erm, you didn't. Uh. Not vomit on me. No, you... well, did vomit but it was after..." She paused in order to not gag mid-sentence. "Hrm... I... I think it's better for you not to remember. Maybe you'll remember it the next time you get drunk. I'd... I'd stay away from alcohol from now on. You don't want to remember that."

With a slap on her own cheeks, she psyched herself up. Well, she mostly just wanted to not think about what Castor had or had done to him last night. Whatever it was, it was a terrifying experience. Truly, coming to terms of it would be more difficult than level 2.

"Head on in, I'll be right behind you, watching your every move!"

---

---

While the cityscape of Orario was often whimsical, the dungeon was unforgiving and relentless. For most adventurers, the labyrinthine tunnels were easy to get lost in. What made it worse was that there was, for the most part, only one way in. That meant there was only one way out. It was entirely possible for an adventurer to get lost if they took a wrong turn. A map was only good if you knew where you were, after all. With the exception of some safe havens a dozen or so floors in, monsters would often attack you from both in front and behind. Even if you cleared monsters and took safe paths, it was entirely possible for a party of goblins that were ready to fight to be birthed from the wall.

Thankfully, the party of adventurers weren't lost or ganked at the current time.

The first floor of the dungeon was familiar to everyone. As if cleanly carved from the earth, simple and straight paths lead from room to room. Monsters were plentiful, but they refrained from filling the tunnels. Instead, they chose to primarily remain inside of the rooms. Though, it wasn't uncommon to encounter some wandering monsters moving from room to room, nor was it uncommon to be ganked by a handful of monsters.

The hard brown earth that the tunnels had been carved into were illuminated by glowing blue orbs that littered the ceilings. More akin to a glowing moss or resting fireflies than lanterns, they gave off enough light to see down each tunnel. If they had been warmer and brighter, some would even say that it would be more akin to daylight rather than dungeon light. Besides the strange feeling of seeing no shadows, it was perfectly fine to navigate and fight in. It was easy to see any danger that would come their way.

The party had found themselves navigating the tunnels and rooms. With them, Penn had been occasionally showing them the map of the first floor and where they were on it. They were, of course, making it down to the second floor and beyond. The first floor held little for semi-experienced adventurers. It was, in all ways, a tutorial floor. It taught new adventurers how to fight monsters and use maps, but that was it. Besides those newbies who had been dreadfully unlucky or overestimating their abilities, very few people died from the first floor.

The relatively empty first floor had been interrupted by the upcoming room. Their distinctive dog-shaped heads and furry bodies. There were seven kobolds in all. For now, they didn't see the group so the party remained at an advantage. However, it was also possible to go around the room. After all, the closest hole down to the second floor had multiple paths toward it, but this room was the closest way to get to it. Otherwise, they would have to backtrack a fair amount to avoid fighting kobolds. Additionally, the room was mostly empty. Besides a handful of pillars strewn within the room, it was flat and clear. It was like that for most of floor 1 and this room was no exception.

_{Late Morning///Entrance to the Dungeon}

---

“Hurk.” Varanense pitched forward when titanic force smashed into his spine, almost snapping it in half. Turning around, he met Kori’s way-too enthusiastic gaze, and simply felt even more like being a pessimistic twat in response. Castor and Oben were similarly, painfully optimistic, and it honestly hurt a little to see the type of energetic kiddos Varanense was going to be partying with from now on. These were definitely the type to see a Minotaur from a lower level and immediately rush it, huh?

And considering what Dahlia said…well, she might not even stop them if they DID want to run into a Minotaur’s horns. Awesome. This was great. Varanense might not have been a fan of the hardcore grinding training hell that basically marked every day of his life back home, but he also wasn’t looking forward doing, what again? Something so incomprehensibly badass that would even impress the gods. God, why can’t they all just be like Nemesis, perpetually drunk and easily entertained by some random card trick?

“I mean, just saying, but like, I’d rather not do the big dead like that rabbit kid a couple weeks back and die against a Silverback…” He shrugged, vaguely, already trying to come up with ways to impress the gods with his absolutely insane slacking skills, “So maybe we just take it easy? Got a whole year to figure this out n all. Let’s not jump off a cliff immediately, yah?”

Well, considering half his team was already gung ho about it, he could only pray that reality smack their enthusiasm down a notch before they started soloing Monster Rexes.

But, of course, there were no Gods left in heaven to answer such prayers.

_{Late Morning///Floor 1}

---

Thankfully, no real problems ran up to kick the disorganized party in the teeth. From the back, Varanense followed the others at a leisurely pace, enjoying the relatively peaceful walk. What enemies did appear were swiftly dispatched by the more trigger-happy members of the party, while Penn saved everyone else’s back by carrying the majority of the loot, leaving the dark-skinned archer with relaxed shoulders and a light gait. Honestly, it was more comfortable than expected, having a full frontline fully dedicated to protecting him (and Penn and Dahlia).

Almost made him feel like an aristocrat. Wait, he was one. And now it was beginning to feel a bit stifling. Damn. Good thing there was another threat in the next room. Time to grab himself some breathing space.

Seven dogmen total, all vaguely clumped up. They weren’t the magical type and weren’t armed with weapons, so that was always nice to see. Having pillars to hide behind was an even better thing to see. Unslinging his large crossbow from his back, Varanense slid a bolt out and locked it in, ready to maybe pull the trigger. Or maybe he’ll just watch. That sounded better. Melee weapons didn’t use ammo, after all. Always good to have the warriors do their work.

“Well, y’know the drill-o. Castor, strong lad like you can take em all yourself, yeah?”

And lazy lads like Varanense can just hang by the door entrance and watch the fireworks.

---

---

Kori could only grin at Varanese's rather sensible advice. It was a nice change of pace from members of her familia who would only say such outlandish things as the archer had suggested they should rather not do only to inevitably chicken out once faced with the real prospect of actually following through with what they said. Of course it was usually Kori herself who usually made her familia actually face said prospects, and the words "taking it easy" had never really fully registered into her list of habits. Her grin also wasn't one of pleasant amusement, but rather one all toothy and wide and having the character of someone who knew that while cliff jumping and Silverback slaying weren't the most prudent of actions at the moment, it didn't mean that those actions still wouldn't be attempted later.

"Aw don't worry so much pardner, you're right. After all, our little adventure is just gettin' started nya!"

---

---

Today's expedition marked the first time in a long while where Kori had entered the Dungeon without her familia. Her early days were filled with solo expeditions and the occasional odd team up or two, but that changed once she had met Hecate and had gotten to know her eccentric band of followers. Since that odd and fateful day, she had stuck to them stronger than a bleeding bull, and it made her worry about how they would fare without her hovering around mothering them almost every step of the way. But, Hecate and her familia had survived and was surviving before she had even stepped foot inside Orario

It was also nice not being the only frontliner nor having to hear everyone's attacks being yelled at the top of their lungs every time before they lifted their weapon.

Soon, much quicker and having to face a lot less monsters than what Kori was used to, their little mismatched party of adventureres made their way to one of the rooms that had an entrance to the second floor of the Dungeon. The only thing in their way were seven kobolds, which shouldn't be too much trouble for the four of them to take on, but as much as Kori was sure that Castor probably could have taken them all on, there didn't mean that some caution wasn't still warranted.

The armored cat person stepped and crouched as quietly as she could next to Oben and placed a hand on his shoulder. Varanese should easily be able to stay at a comfortable range from the kobolds. The same could be said of Castor as long as Kori did her job right, which left only Oben as her lucky partner, though even he should be safe as long as he used his nodachi correctly. Really, the only danger that the kobolds currently possessed to the party was numbers, but that could be easily fixed.

Nevertheless, it was better to be safer than not, and so she begun muttering her magical incantation under her breath so as to not attract the attention of the gibbering canine creatures.

A warm glow emanated from her hand and briefly washed over the both of them before it disappated from her and rested comfortably onto Oben's frame. Once done, Kori gave the skull-faced boy a wide grin and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, the impact shadowed on her own arm before she hefted her greatsword and strode into the room, announcing her presence with an obnoxiously loud and proud "Alright y'all nyasty nyanderthals, time to kick y'alls butts into nyext week nya!"

She immediately rushed to the closest kobold to the party on the right side of the room, beginning a swing from her hips as she stopped just short of the target, grounding her feet and skidding the last few inches as she brought her steel to bare. The blade made a complete horizontal arc, her left foot following its path left to right. Carrying the momentum forward, she shifted her weight onto her lead foot, using the motion to make a thrust at the next mutt in line. She completed her movement by positioning herself with her right side to a pillar, her back facing a wall, and her front ready to take on the rest of the kobolds as they came, hoping she did enough to catch all of their attention.

---

---

Perhaps Castor would forget it for now. Dahlia seemed less than inclined to remember the events of the night prior, which seemed a good signal that the truth was better buried forever. Castor shrugged and followed after Oben who seemed almost as eager as himself to get this started. He looked back at Kori and Varanense, they seemed capable enough but the archer put a bad taste in his mouth. He seemed more than eager to relax at his own pace, a slacker? Castor looked forward and continued his way into the dungeon, spear resting on his shoulder. For a glory hunter, Varanense’s relaxed demeanor only meant there was one less rival to compete against. More for me.

---

---

The first floor was a familiar path for Castor who had visited the dungeon solo frequently. More unfamiliar was travelling in a party, the concept of teamwork seemed to fly over his high horse as he more than often stomped ahead of the party eager to slay monsters. Jumping to fight whatever crossed the party’s path as they navigated the blue-lit corridors.

They came across room filled with seven kobolds close to the path to the second floor. Castor grinned and gripped his spear tightly as he prepared to charge into the crowd of unsuspecting furry beasts like the reckless son of a bitch he was.

“Well, y’know the drill-o. Castor, strong lad like you can take em all yourself, yeah?”

He turned to reply to Varanense’s sarcastic remark but his attention was grabbed as Kori cast magic on Oben and charged in herself, beating him to it. Oben followed in closely after her buffed by whatever Kori had cast on him. Castor gritted his teeth frustratedly, he wouldn’t let them get ahead of him. He placed a hand on his chest as he began chanting to himself

"Grant me glory, Grant me virtue. Lead the charge. Feel no fear. Crimen Gloriae"

A crimson glow enveloped astor for a brief time as he felt a calming feeling build up within him. He held his spear point outward and dashed forward with enhanced speed. He weaved around the pillars to the side and extended his spear meters away from a kobold on the left side of the clump. His long arm shot the spear out like a ballista bolt targeted at the kobold’s neck. Recoiling the spear back he took a breath as he twirled it in his fingertips. Getting in a low stance he held the spear ready to strike, like a viper ready to snap at whatever counterattack the kobolds struck with.