The streets of Orario felt different now that Aestoria was walking them with clear purpose rather than simply passing through. She observed everything with calculating eyes—the boarded-up shops that had once thrived, now shuttered and dark. The fearful glances of citizens who dared venture outside, moving quickly with heads down. The excessive number of Guild guards patrolling in nervous clusters, jumping at shadows.
And the adventurers. There were pitifully few compared to what this city should have supported. Those she saw moved with hyper-vigilant wariness—eyes constantly scanning for threats, hands never far from weapons, entire body language screaming distrust. They traveled in groups, watching each other's backs but also watching each other with barely concealed suspicion. The legendary City of Adventurers had become a city of traumatized survivors clinging desperately to hope.
It would change. She would see to that personally.
The Tower of Babel loomed before her, that massive white structure serving as both the Guild's headquarters and the divine lid containing the Dungeon's entrance. Even from outside, she could feel the Dungeon's presence beneath the earth—vast, ancient, primal, and radiating that strange welcoming anticipation specifically toward her.
Later. First, other business awaited.
****[The Gentle Hearth Inn - Fou's Perspective]****
Fou sat curled beside the sleeping child, his small body pressed against her side like a guardian. His bright, intelligent eyes—far more aware than any normal animal's—watched her peaceful face with concern that transcended his adorable appearance.
The little girl had fallen asleep easily enough after Aestoria's healing magic had restored her body, exhaustion from years of suffering finally claiming her. But sleep did not mean peace. Not yet. Not for someone who had known only pain and abandonment for so long.
Her small face scrunched up, a whimper escaping her lips. Her tiny hands clutched at the blanket desperately, knuckles white. Fou felt the shift in her dreams—the darkness creeping in, old fears reasserting themselves despite her mother's healing touch.
*No. This would not do.*
Fou stood up on his small legs and placed one soft paw on her forehead. Ancient magic—the kind that predated human understanding, magic from before the Age of Gods—flowed from him in gentle waves. Not the destructive power of Primate Murder, but the older, kinder magic of Cath Palug before corruption had twisted that being into something monstrous.
The nightmares recoiled like living things, scattering before the warmth of his power. Where there had been darkness and fear, Fou wove dreams of safety. Dreams of a beautiful woman with golden hair and kind eyes. Dreams of warmth and food and soft beds. Dreams of never being alone again.
The child's face relaxed, the tension melting from her small body. A tiny smile formed on her lips—perhaps the first genuine smile she'd ever worn in sleep. Her breathing deepened, became peaceful, rhythmic.
"Kyuu," Fou chirped softly, satisfied with his work. He curled back against her side, maintaining a thin thread of his magic to keep the nightmares at bay. His ears perked up suddenly, sensing his master's approach to the Guild.
A decision crystallized in his small mind. The child was safe now, sleeping peacefully. Marcus had been keyed into the room's defenses and would watch over her.
Fou glanced once more at the sleeping girl, ensuring his magic would hold for hours yet. Then, with surprising speed for such a small creature, he slipped through the window that had been left slightly ajar, racing across rooftops toward where he could sense Aestoria's presence.
Aestoria had almost reached the Guild's main entrance when she felt it—a familiar presence approaching at speed. She paused, turning slightly, and moments later a small white blur leaped from a nearby building, landing perfectly on her shoulder with practiced ease.
"Fou! Kyuu!" the creature announced his arrival proudly.
Aestoria's expression softened as she reached up to stroke his head gently. "If you are here now, that means you did something there, didn't you?"
"Fou kyuu," he chirped in response, his tone carrying satisfaction and affection in equal measure.
She smiled, understanding perfectly what he'd done. The nightmares had been chased away, the child's sleep protected by ancient magic. "Good. Thank you for watching over her." She gave him an affectionate pat before turning back toward the Guild entrance. "Come then. Let us see what awaits us inside."
The Guild's main reception area was far quieter than it should have been, with only a handful of adventurers conducting business and even fewer staff manning the counters. Most receptionist windows were closed, their stations abandoned. The atmosphere was one of barely maintained order threatening to collapse at any moment.
Behind one of the few active counters sat an elderly man with steel-gray hair and sharp eyes that had seen decades of Orario's history. He was reviewing paperwork when Aestoria's presence entered the room like a shockwave.
His head snapped up. His eyes widened. A strangled shriek escaped before he could stop it, and his entire body began shivering as though caught in a blizzard. The sheer magnitude of her divine authority pressed down on him like crushing ocean depths.
But the old receptionist composed himself with remarkable speed. Years of training asserted themselves, and he straightened in his chair, clearing his throat and forcing his hands to still through sheer willpower. "W-Welcome to the Guild, goddess-sama. How may I assist you today?"
Aestoria approached with measured steps, Fou perched alertly on her shoulder. She fixed the elderly man with her golden gaze—not unkindly, but with unmistakable authority. "I wish to meet with Ouranos."
The receptionist's face cycled through several expressions—surprise, confusion, professional concern, worry—before settling on careful neutrality. His mouth opened, closed, opened again as he struggled to formulate an appropriate response.
"I... I'm terribly sorry, goddess-sama," he began, voice quavering despite his efforts. His hands gripped the desk, knuckles white. "But Ouranos-sama cannot meet with visitors at this time. He is occupied with critical duties. The suppression of the Dungeon requires his constant attention and prayer. He cannot spare even a moment, not for anyone. The consequences of any lapse would be catastrophic for the entire city. I hope you can understand—"
The temperature plummeted. Frost crept across the marble floor, spreading from where Aestoria stood in crystalline patterns. The few other people in the hall froze, heads turning toward the source of supernatural cold with expressions of alarm.
Aestoria's golden eyes focused on the receptionist with laser intensity. Though her expression remained perfectly calm, there was something in that gaze that spoke of absolute authority, of power that could reshape reality with a thought.
"I am not asking," she said, her voice dropping to something both softer and infinitely more commanding. Each word fell like a hammer blow. "I am informing you of what will occur. The distinction is important."
The old receptionist's face drained of all color, going absolutely ashen. His body shook so violently his chair rattled. Sweat beaded on his forehead even as frost formed on his desk. He opened his mouth to respond but no words would come.
Before the situation could escalate, rapid footsteps echoed through the hall. A rotund figure emerged from an administrative corridor—a man in his fifties with neatly combed grey hair, a considerable belly that spoke of comfortable living, and sharp features that conveyed both intelligence and stress. He wore the distinctive formal attire marking him as a senior Guild official, and despite his somewhat corpulent appearance, he moved with surprising speed and efficiency.
This was Royman Mardeel, the Guildmaster himself—one of the most powerful administrative figures in all of Orario. He came to a stop at a respectful distance, bowing deeply despite his bulk, his round face showing carefully controlled terror mixed with diplomatic professionalism.
"Goddess-sama," he said with careful formality, his voice remarkably steady given the circumstances. Years of negotiating with temperamental gods had taught him how to maintain composure even when terrified. "Would you perhaps be the deity who descended to our world just a few hours ago? The one whose arrival was registered by our divine monitoring systems?"
Aestoria turned her attention to this newcomer. Immediately the oppressive cold began to recede slightly, though frost still clung to surfaces. She regarded the portly Guildmaster with those piercing golden eyes, evaluating him.
Finally, she inclined her head in the barest nod. "I am."
Royman's shoulders relaxed fractionally, though tension remained. He bowed again before meeting her gaze with visible effort—his years of experience allowing him to maintain eye contact where most would fail.
"Then it is my honor to welcome you formally to Orario, goddess-sama," he said, genuine warmth beneath the formality. "I am Royman Mardeel, Guildmaster of Orario. I have been instructed to watch for your arrival and extend Ouranos-sama's invitation." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Ouranos-sama became aware of your descent the moment you entered our world. He has been expecting you and sent word that when you arrived, I was to personally escort you to the Prayer Chamber. If you would be so kind as to follow me?"
The elderly receptionist sagged in relief, the weight of potential divine judgment lifted. Other Guild employees began cautiously returning to their duties, though all cast nervous glances toward the goddess.
Aestoria studied Royman for another moment. Ouranos had been expecting her. Had known of her arrival immediately. Interesting. And potentially useful.
"Lead the way," she said graciously, the frost melting rapidly. "I appreciate your efficiency and professionalism, Royman Mardeel. It speaks well of both you and the Guild you serve."
Royman bowed once more with visible relief. "You honor me, goddess-sama. Please, this way. The Prayer Chamber lies deep beneath the Tower, at the very threshold of the Dungeon itself. The journey will take time, but I will make it as informative as possible."
He turned toward a restricted corridor clearly marked as off-limits to general Guild members. Aestoria fell into step beside him, Fou shifting on her shoulder to maintain balance, bright eyes taking in everything with alert curiosity.
As they walked through increasingly restricted areas—past elite security personnel who immediately stood aside—Royman glanced at her with barely concealed curiosity warring with professional decorum.
---
"If I may ask, goddess-sama," he ventured carefully, clearly expecting to be rebuked, "what name should I use when announcing you to the public afterward? We detected your descent and divine signature, but the nature of your divinity remains unclear, your name should have shown to our monitoring systems. Your power registration was unlike anything we've seen before."
"Rhongomyniad, Lord of the sky and storms, END and anchor of Realities," she replied, the name resonating with ancient weight. "That will suffice for introductions."
Royman's face went pale, his steady composure cracking for the first time. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for a crystalline orb at his belt—a communication device that pulsed with faint magical light. "The... the END?" he whispered, voice tight with barely suppressed dread. "And anchor of Realities?"
Those weren't mere titles. They spoke of cosmic finality, of forces that held existence itself together—or could unravel it. This was no ordinary deity of weather or minor phenomena. This was something fundamental, something that made even Ouranos's domain seem limited by comparison.
With shaking hands, he activated the orb, speaking quickly into it. "Lord Ouranos, this is Captain Royman. I am escorting the descended goddess as instructed. Her name is Rhongomyniad-sama. She governs the sky, storms, and..." he swallowed hard, "the END and anchor of Realities. We are proceeding to Babel as ordered."
He closed the connection and took a steadying breath, bowing deeper than before. "Rhongomyniad-sama," he repeated carefully, committing it to memory though the name seemed to resonate strangely, as though reality itself recognized its significance. "A... a most powerful name. And your companion?" He nodded toward Fou, attempting to regain some semblance of his professional demeanor, though genuine affection broke through despite the existential weight now pressing on his shoulders.
"Fou," Aestoria said, stroking the creature's head gently. Fou leaned into the touch with a pleased sound. "He is precious to me. Treat him with appropriate respect."
"Of course, goddess-sama. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," Royman assured her quickly, unable to help finding Fou adorable despite everything.
They descended deeper into the Tower's hidden infrastructure, through security checkpoints, down endless staircases, through corridors of living stone that predated the Tower itself. The air grew cooler, heavier, charged with ancient power. The Dungeon's presence grew stronger with each level.
And impossibly, that sense of welcoming anticipation directed at Aestoria intensified. The Dungeon knew she was coming closer. And it was waiting with something that almost felt like joy.
Royman suddenly stumbled mid-step, catching himself against the wall, his round face a mask of utter confusion. He pressed his other hand to his chest, breathing heavily.
"Goddess-sama," he said, voice trembling with bewilderment, "I don't understand. We're so deep now, we should be feeling the Dungeon's malice pressing against us like a physical weight. Everyone who descends this far feels it—that overwhelming hostility, ancient hunger. Even Ouranos-sama's prayer doesn't completely suppress it in these depths. But I..."
He looked up at her, his sharp eyes searching for answers. "I don't feel it. At all. Instead, there's warmth? Acceptance? It's as though the Dungeon itself is welcoming us? Welcoming you? That's impossible. The Dungeon doesn't welcome anyone. It's not supposed to be capable of that kind of response."
"The Dungeon recognizes what I am," Aestoria said simply, offering no further explanation. "Continue, Royman. We shouldn't keep the prayer-god waiting."
Royman stared at her, his analytical mind racing through implications. Finally, with visible effort, he composed himself and continued, though his movements were more cautious now, more reverent.
The descent continued, level after level, deeper than most mortals would ever venture. The stone walls grew more ancient, bearing symbols that predated even the Age of Gods.
And through it all, that sense of welcome only intensified. The Dungeon was genuinely happy she had come.
Finally, they arrived at massive ancient doors—carved from a single piece of stone that no longer existed anywhere in the world, covered in intricate patterns radiating power.
Royman stopped, turning to face Aestoria with respect, nervousness, awe, and lingering confusion. His professional composure frayed at the edges.
"Beyond this point, goddess-sama, is the Prayer Chamber," he said quietly, voice reverent yet trembling. "Ouranos-sama awaits within, as he has for countless centuries. I cannot accompany you further—only those specifically summoned may enter. But I will wait here for your return, should you need escort back to the surface."
He paused, adding with uncharacteristic vulnerability, "Goddess-sama... whatever you are, whatever your purpose... I felt something change during our descent. The Dungeon felt different. Lighter. Almost peaceful. I don't know what that means, but..."
"It means, Royman Mardeel, that change is coming to Orario," Aestoria said gently, with absolute certainty. "Whether that change will be welcomed or resisted remains to be seen. But it will come nonetheless. You have my gratitude for your escort and your honesty."
Royman bowed deeply, deeper than before—genuine reverence for something he didn't fully understand but recognized as monumentally important.
Aestoria regarded the entrance, her senses reaching out to probe what lay beyond. She could feel ancient divinity, powerful and focused, directed entirely toward containing something vast. This was no mere god playing at importance. This was a deity who had sacrificed everything to serve a purpose greater than himself.
"My gratitude, Royman Mardeel," she said, glancing back with genuine appreciation. "Your professionalism has not gone unnoticed. I will remember it."
Then, without hesitation, Aestoria placed her hand against the ancient doors. They swung open silently, revealing darkness beyond—a darkness that felt alive, aware, watching. But not hostile.
She stepped through the threshold, cape flowing behind her, Fou taking a nap on her shoulder like always.
The doors closed with terrible finality.
In the darkness ahead, two points of ancient light opened—eyes that had witnessed civilizations rise and fall, that had prayed without ceasing for longer than mortal memory could record. Eyes that now regarded her with curiosity, weariness, and perhaps the faintest hint of hope.
"Welcome, Rhongomyniad," a voice like distant thunder spoke from the darkness, resonant with power and weariness. "I have been waiting for you."