Day Four
Chaos Threat: 37%
---
District One, to the northeast of Orario—where it all began.
Ground Zero, as it would be known.
Formerly the revolting refugee camp, now the very seat of the Ruinous Powers.
The streets were even more blasphemous than before. Chaos inscriptions covered every inch of the broken stone, glowing with infectious, corrupting magic.
The civilians who had fallen to the curse of Chaos had long left the camp—or rather, they were no longer civilians at all. Being at the center of the ritual, their transformation into Chaos's pawns had been almost instantaneous, birthing hideous abominations that slithered and screamed with no sense of self.
"Fhor zee godzz…"
Of course, not all could wield the power of Chaos successfully, and the worms slithering about the ruined camp were the most grotesque proof of it.
Cursed into mindless, crawling husks, they had no legs, no proper bodies—just mounds of flesh with a single arm and a head that moaned endlessly.
These sad excuses for living beings were commanded to carve the Chaos inscriptions around the camp by the Great Visioner himself.
"fragile things," sneered Wisla—or rather, the daemon still clinging to what was once his flesh.
The elf's body, having been exposed to raw immaterium energy, had begun mutating into a bluish hue. Horns sprouted from his temples, his frame stretched taller, his flesh twisting and reshaping itself to suit its infernal guest. It was a basic daemon transformation, though enough of Wisla's former features remained to prove that a fragment of his consciousness still lingered.
The daemon smiled as his gaze fell upon the slowly forming new ritual ground.
He looked up toward the rift in the skies, his sharp, serrated teeth glinting with bloodlust.
"It's all forming perfectly, my Lord," he murmured, voice trembling between reverence and madness. "When the anchor arrives, your magnificence will echo through this pathetic realm."
He chuckled coldly as he promised ruin yet to come.
The daemon's grin widened when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Multiple figures had entered his realm—just as he had expected.
"Are you the Visioner?" an impatient voice demanded.
The daemon turned, a smile curling on his inhuman face as he regarded the newcomers. "Ah… servants of lesser gods. How quaint."
Evilus's top hierarchy stood before him—a rival cult responsible for this city's former condition before it sank even deeper into madness thanks to the opening of the rift.
Olivas, Basram, and the Dis sisters stood there, their gazes a mix of greed, intrigue, and even pleasure.
Olivas scowled at the creature that still vaguely resembled an elf. But the whispers in his head urged him to trust him. This was the one they had spoken of.
"Ohohoho! Great that we finally meet!" Basram exclaimed, his grin wide and manic, his mindless spirit soldiers standing obediently behind him, awaiting orders. "I've heard so much about your realm from your little friends inside here!" He tapped his temple with a mad laugh.
"So you have accepted the gift… Wonderful!" the daemon's voice echoed through the corrupted streets, false delight layered so perfectly he almost fooled even himself.
"When do we get Hedin and Hogni!?" both of the Dis sisters shouted in unison, each demanding her favored elf from the Freya Familia—their obsession eclipsing all reason.
The daemon almost rolled his eyes. This realm was truly simple-minded and unprepared. The Great One would sweep through it without resistance.
"Will you two creeps shut up?" Olivas snapped, cutting through the sisters' shrill demands, earning twin death glares that could have frozen lesser men.
"I humbly welcome you, Evilus," the daemon said politely, spreading his arms in mock reverence. "Your organization's aid to the true gods will earn you… great favor in their eyes," he promised, voice dripping with honeyed poison.
"Power over everyone?" Olivas asked.
"Knowledge?" Basram chimed in, his grin widening.
"Hedin/Hogni!?" The Dis sisters squealed.
Each of them voiced their desires—their entire reason for coming here was the promise whispered into their ears: to obtain what they could not under the banner of their gods.
"In the true gods' eyes, loyalty is the ultimate virtue," the daemon nodded slowly, acknowledging each of their desires. "And what gods do not reward their faithful? Except, perhaps, your current ones." He chuckled mockingly.
That stung the Evils more than it should have.
"Will your gods give us what we desire?" They asked.
The question hung heavy in the corrupted air.
"That… and beyond, my faithful," the daemon answered, an oath sealed in blasphemy.
As the deal began to form, far away, a lone figure watched the confrontation unfold from a distant clocktower. Sweat rolled down her brow as she adjusted her newly crafted binoculars.
"Two cults as one, eh?" Asfi muttered in disgust, lowering her lenses.
She exhaled sharply. She would need to report this back ASAP.
...
But it wouldn't hurt to watch a bit more before she headed back.
Her goal is yet to be achieved.
---
Beneath the Pantheon, Ouranos sat with a grim expression, his ancient features shadowed by the dim torchlight flickering across the chamber walls. The weight of recent events pressed upon his divine shoulders like the curse of Sisyphus.
The newest calamity had just manifested in the skies above Orario, pouring from it the same vile energy he had been sensing since the very beginning of this conflict with Evilus.
"Ouranos, it's their work," Fels interrupted the god's train of thought, his distorted voice echoing faintly through the chamber.
The robed skeleton's tone carried urgency, but also hesitation, as if still barely grappling with the truth he was about to unveil.
"And you are certain?" Ouranos questioned—not with doubt, but seeking confirmation.
"I... returned there," Fels confessed. "I witnessed the Artemis Familia raid the camp. The voices... they were the same ones from the slaughter in the sewers. It's the same!"
Ouranos's expression darkened further. "I requested that you assist Hermes with navigating the underground routes," he said, his deep voice resonating through the hall. "The city needs that food."
The disappointment in his tone did not escape Fels's attention.
"I needed to, Ouranos," Fels replied quietly. He could not care less about Hermes or his current mission. What he had seen was far more vital. He had learned much from observing from a distance.
"We have a new enemy," Fels declared with chilling certainty, his voice low. "I suspect you have figured that out as well, haven't you, God of the Skies and Heavens?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
And he would be right.
Ouranos's divinity, sealed much like that of all the gods who had descended from Heaven, still maintained a faint, ethereal connection to the realm above. Through that tether, he could sense Heaven's turmoil.
The Heavens had been thrown into confusion when the souls of Artemis's children had suddenly vanished—simply gone, without returning to their cycle.
And most concerning of all...
As the corruption spread across Orario, innocent and wicked alike being slaughtered in riots, crossfire, and blind madness, the Heavens received no souls—neither tainted nor pure.
The connection between Orario and the Heavens had somehow been severed.
And that "somehow" was the alien energy that now seeped into every stone and street of the city, flooding Orario with despair.
Ouranos could not share this truth with any mortal—not even with Fels.
The panic such knowledge would cause would destroy what little order remained.
"You are right, my friend," Ouranos finally admitted, his tone as heavy as the sky itself. "It is best you share what you have managed to gather. I'll make sure to report to my fellow deities what they need to know."
Fels bowed deeply, ready to see through his master's will.
The torchlight flickered once more, as if recoiling from the shadow that had already begun to swallow the city above.
---
It was too scary for the little girl to bear, too unfamiliar to understand, too internal for her parents to help her with, and too painful to suppress.
She couldn't sleep, not when the sky itself cried in pain, forming an eye of terror that hid the rising sun's light. Not when her consciousness pulsed with an endless invasion of thoughts that weren't hers.
"The adventurers have abandoned us!"
The cries of frantic humans, pallums, elves, and many others echoed throughout the refugee camp. The air was thick with fear.
The adventurers had been recalled by the Guild to halt the march of an upcoming Evilus army; their mission was to destroy it before it reached this camp.
The people were afraid. They feared the Guild's silence and the adventurers' absence. They feared the sky that had torn open above them. They feared the whispers invading their minds.
Most of all, they feared the lack of divine help.
Leah couldn't bring herself to share their despair; her own silent suffering consumed her innocent mind.
As they say, worry about your own bowl before your neighbor's.
"Come on, Leah," Luna Koch, her mother, called softly. "It'll be alright. Your father found people who will make the noises go away." She smiled gently as they walked through the maze of tents, ignoring the desperate voices around them.
The noises…
'FOOL!'
'DEVOUR!'
'HEAR US!'
It felt like hundreds of people were shouting at once in a harsh language she couldn't understand but somehow knew the meaning of.
They stopped before a large tent. Her father, Erich Koch, stood waiting by the entrance, his expression anxious.
"Sweetie, are you still in pain?" he asked, worry etched into his features, pure parental instinct driving his every word.
'HURT THEM!'
Leah squeezed her mother's palm in fright, the invasive voice's demands growing more sinister.
Luna understood her daughter's pain. "She is," she replied in her stead.
Erich sighed and looked at his wife. "These are the only people I could find. A friend told me about them, they're skilled."
Luna raised an eyebrow. "They aren't from a familia?" she asked cautiously.
Erich looked away. "All the familia healers are gone. This was all I could find," he admitted, not thrilled by the idea of trusting random self-proclaimed healers but having no other options.
Desperate times demanded desperate faith.
With that grim thought, the concerned parents lifted the tent flap and stepped inside, getting swallowed by the darkness.
"Koch." A low but smooth voice called from the center of the tent, startling Erich slightly. "Aresto mentioned you."
Erich nodded quickly, Aresto was his contact with these people. "Y-yes," he replied, motioning for his wife and daughter to follow.
Luna obeyed silently, though her steps were cautious as her eyes adjusted to the gloom.
The three figures ahead and their pointed ears were unmistakable: elves.
The most superior of the mortal races in terms of magic, elves were naturally gifted, dominating both the adventurer mage class and the scholarly study of it.
Healing arts, of course, were no exception.
The elves wore long robes—two stood like silent sentinels behind the blonde-haired third, who sat before a small table, smiling politely. A strange symbol was embroidered on his garment, unfamiliar and unsettling.
"I am Tyrus," the elf at the center introduced himself, gesturing for the couple to sit down in the chairs before the table. "I was told your daughter is in pain."
Leah barely noticed him or his bodyguards when they entered the tent. As her father spoke to the strange men, her mother quietly sat her on her lap.
When Leah finally looked up, it was when her father called softly, "Leah, can you look at the gentleman right here?"
Leah obeyed. Why wouldn't she? She was a good child, and good children listen to their parents.
But the moment the elf entered her sight—her breath caught. The illusion shattered instantly.
The "elf" before her was wrong. Long horns curled from behind his ears. His eyes were not serene but cruel, bright blue irises sharp as blades, fixating on her like a prized toy. The "bodyguards" were the same—rotten elves, fallen to the whims of the immaterium, hiding their true selves behind simple illusions.
The supposed elf's grin widened, monstrously sharp teeth glinting in the faint light. His voice came out rasped and rotten. "Good~."
"What do you mean by that?" Erich asked in confusion, oblivious to the nightmare before him.
Leah couldn't understand what was happening. Her instincts screamed for her to run, yet her parents remained calm—blind to the monsters before them.
"Do not worry," Tyrus rasped, dark amusement in his tone. "Your daughter has simply… awakened."
"Awakened?" Erich echoed, lost, as Luna's hand tightened protectively around Leah.
"You can trust us, Mr. Koch." The fallen elf raised his palm toward Erich, a gesture that made him instinctively step back.
'RIVAL!'
The word thundered in Leah's mind, shaking her to the core.
And with that proclamation, the air ignited. The tent was drowned in a surge of raw warp flames bursting into being.
"Daddy!" Leah saw her father's fate before it even occurred. She screamed, reaching out in terror. Her mother clutched her tightly, frozen between instinct and shock.
Erich screamed in painful agony as the flames struck him, half of his body disintegrating before finally falling to the ground dead.
"Erich!" Luna's scream tore through the tent. She fell to her knees beside his charred remains, tears blurring her sight. "What have you done!?"
"Take the child. Kill the mother," Tyrus ordered coldly, flicking his hand as if brushing away dust.
"Get your hands off us!" Luna sobbed, clinging to her daughter, her voice cracking with grief and fury.
The bodyguards didn't care. One yanked Luna up by her hair, the other tore Leah from her arms.
"Mommy!" Leah screamed, thrashing helplessly. Her small hands reached for the only person she had left.
"Leave her alone!" Luna kicked one of the monsters square in the crotch, forcing him to release her daughter with a grunt of pain.
"Run, Leah!" she cried.
But the girl couldn't move. Her body was frozen in shock, her mind refusing to comprehend.
'USELESS!'
"You little bitch," the other guard spat, pulling a knife and pressing it against Luna's throat.
"Be done already," his partner muttered, tightening his grip on her arms.
"Gladly," the knife-wielder sneered, and with one swift motion—
Blood sprayed, warm liquid painting Leah's face in crimson disbelief.
Her eyes went wide as her mother's body collapsed, twitching on the ground, her lifeblood soaking into the dirt.
"Get the brat. We need to return to the ritual ground," Tyrus said, impatience seeping through his monstrous voice.
The brutes stepped toward Leah without a care for the corpses littering the floor.
'HAHAHA!'
Leah was scared.
'POWERLESS CHILD!'
Leah was alone.
'PATHETIC CHILD!'
Her home was gone—destroyed by Evilus. And now, her parents too.
'YOU ARE NOTHING!'
"Why, gods…" she whispered hollowly, tears streaming down her blank, bloodied face.
…
As the fallen elves closed in on her, something new went through her mind, and it wasn't the mockery of daemons.
'Child.'
A soothing voice echoed, calm and paternal. It silenced all others, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
'Do not falter,' it said. Not as a command. Not as a demand. But as a request.
A request that was granted without her even knowing.
"Die." Leah commanded the approaching enemy, their pleasure in killing her parents evident.
The air thickened, burning her lungs. The tent shook violently, making her tormentors' eyes widen in alarm.
The immaterium grants the strong what one desires the most, after all.
---
On the 30th floor of the Tower of Babel, the "gods' meeting" was taking place.
In all forms, it was just an emergency Denatus, held specifically for the disturbing developments in the conflict with Evilus.
"Where in the accursed underworld's name is Ouranos!? We are getting fucked over here!" Aristaeus demanded from his seat, addressing the goddess of mischief and her Pallum captain.
He was a humble god who preferred the outdoors over the dense city of Orario and had the misfortune of being in the city at the worst possible time, stuck with his familia and forced to fight for the Guild and their survival against Evilus.
Aristaeus's call made a chain reaction with the deities present; they were all feeling their divine influence being played with by an alien force.
"Calm down, calm down, everyone!" Loki tried to quell her peers. "Ouranos will be joining us—just not now. We need to wait for him!"
That was a nasty lie Loki was making. Ouranos would not be leaving his chambers inside the Pantheon. The Dungeon was in turmoil, and the only thing keeping it from bursting open was his prayers.
'Damnit, Hermes, where are you?' Loki thought internally, questioning the whereabouts of the perverted god. She seriously needed his divinity to establish a transmission between Ouranos and these impatient fools here.
Her words didn't have any real effect on the crowd. Finn sighed beside his goddess. "I need some air," he stated with a tired voice.
"Don't forget to come back fast, I can't handle these alone," Loki reminded him, then returned to quell the slowly becoming aggressive gods.
While Finn passed by them all, he noticed that while many gods were present, many were also not.
Hephaestus, for example, was inside her familia HQ last time he checked, forging weapons to use against Evilus. Goibniu was nowhere to be seen as well—likely in hiding.
The goddess of justice, Astraea, was also missing, perhaps helping someone somewhere.
The goddess of beauty, Freya, was also missing.
"What a... development," Finn muttered grimly as he entered a balcony, his eyes casting upward to the literal eldritch abomination in the skies—a tear that ripped Orario's sky apart, appearing like a terrifying eye staring straight into their souls.
The sunlight could no longer pierce through the thick, rising smoke of the burning city below. Reports flooded the Guild nonstop; nearly the entire city had gone mad. Civilians were turning violent, attacking indiscriminately, spreading chaos through the streets. Some reported monster sightings as well.
Even Guild employees weren't spared. Many—especially the elves, Finn noted—had suddenly begun screaming and assaulting their less affected colleagues.
They were quickly detained and locked in the dungeons until they calmed down, which they hadn't.
Finn sighed. "Where have I gone wrong?" he asked no one in particular, the toll of leading an entire city under such impossible odds finally catching up to him.
The final straw, he supposed, was the mental invasion he and the rest of the city—minus the gods themselves—had suffered upon the formation of that tear in the sky.
Finn didn't need to connect the dots. That thing was responsible for the civilians' madness.
"Our supplies are almost completely out, and what few people remain sane will likely join the frenzy soon enough," he started monologuing, stating the likely outcome. "There were reports of Ishtar Familia being seen mobilizing forces—likely joining Evilus..." He went on and on, not hiding the ugly facts nor his disgust at them.
He went silent for a moment, taking in the whole picture.
"...That thing isn't your doing, is it, Valleta?" he finished, putting two and two together.
This wasn't Evilus's work at all. There was something else—something hidden—pulling the strings. First their supply depots were destroyed.
Finn had already deciphered Evilus's plan: they were luring a monster from the Deep Floors, aiming to destroy Babel Tower from within and plunge the world into chaos.
But this? This didn't fit that end goal. Chaos was already here. There was no need for a cherry on top.
A heavy silence followed, broken only by Finn's breathing as he regained his composure.
"...What did Goddess Artemis say again?" Finn recalled the angry goddess shouting curses at their entire existence for sending her familia to die.
She mentioned that "her girls' souls didn't return."
Finn closed his eyes, thinking through the implications of those words. Something had managed to block away divinity itself.
When that tear appeared in the sky along with the psychic assault, adventurers stationed at the top floors of the Guild had claimed to see something shoot into the skies from that same area Artemis's familia was sent to.
Some kind of magic was at play here. He needed a specialist. "Where's Riveria?" he muttered, mind already spinning through theories.
"You will not need her—"
A third voice cut in suddenly, smooth and calm. "—I believe I can be of greater assistance."
Finn's eyes narrowed, locking onto a shadowed silhouette appearing from nothing.
Fels revealed himself, his black robe shrouding his skeletal form. His demeanor was composed.
"Who are you?" Finn demanded, his hand twitching toward his spear—but he did not draw it yet.
"An ally," Fels said truthfully, his tone even.
Fels bowed lightly, showing rather than telling his allegiance. "I have orders from God Ouranos himself to aid in your cause," he said, raising his head again. "I understand you are struggling to form a clear understanding of the new cult?"
"New cult?" Finn repeated. It seemed his theories had some truth in them.
"Yes," Fels confirmed. "A new, evil, and unknown cult... even worse than the agents of Evilus."
Fels had seen their wickedness firsthand—and he would do everything in his power to stop this new cancer before it spread further.
Finn's gut tightened. If what Fels said was true, then their position in this war had just become even worse.
Nevertheless, he straightened his back. "Then... let's speak."
---
"I need more bandages!" the goddess of justice called for aid, her voice ringing through the makeshift field hospital.
It was chaos both inside and outside. Many of the "refugees" had suddenly turned violently mad, and before long, Evilus cultists joined the fray, painting the already blood-stained city in another frenzy of slaughter.
The goddess of justice, Astrea, was stationed at Camp 7 in the northwest. She had abandoned the safety of the Stardust Garden in favor of helping the unfortunate, her girls likely doing the same elsewhere.
Camp 7 had suffered less damage compared to other ones; the Guild forces here had managed to eliminate the crazed fanatics and Evilus reinforcements, yet the aftermath still lingered.
Wounded civilians and adventurers lay scattered everywhere, the stench of blood and worse thick in the air.
Healers from Dian Cecht Familia and several others had arrived not long ago, but there were simply too many wounded and sick, too few hands, and supplies dwindled faster than they could be replaced.
"Help me, please!"
"Amputation!? I'm not doing that!"
"My son—he's not breathing!"
"By the gods, what is that rot!?"
The cries filled the air relentlessly, each voice piercing Astrea's divine heart. Even with her willingness, she simply could not answer them all.
Her indigo eyes dulled with exhaustion as no medic answered her call for assistance. She was about to give up when a voice finally rang out through the chaos.
"Here, let us help, goddess!"
It was none other than Naaza Erisuis, dragging a clearly annoyed Airmid Teasanare along behind her.
"Don't drag me around, I can walk, you know!" Airmid protested, snapping her arm free.
"Ah... please... help..." a weak voice whimpered from beneath Astrea.
Airmid immediately turned her attention to the source; the woman's abdomen was dark and rotted open—a clear sign of heavy infection.
Astrea's expression softened at the sight of the two young girls. She was about to ask how such children ended up here but stopped when Airmid began to gather magical energy.
The girl raised her staff, intent on casting a healing spell—
"Stop!" Naaza scolded, delivering a light chop to the back of her head. Airmid yelped in pain, her concentration breaking.
"Ouch! What was that for!?" she whined, rubbing the sore spot.
"Idiot," Naaza hissed. "You've already healed seven patients! You're running low on Mind. If you keep going, you'll collapse!"
"Oh... right..." Airmid's cheeks flushed at the reminder.
"But how are we supposed to help, then?" she muttered under her breath, genuinely worried for the woman before them.
"Girls."
Astrea's calm, steady voice cut through their bickering. Both turned toward her immediately.
"Fetch me a potion," she instructed.
They froze for a moment before Naaza quickly fished one from her satchel and handed it over.
Astrea smiled softly. "Thank you," she said, her voice warm and composed despite the surrounding chaos.
The girls watched, stunned, as the goddess tore a strip from her own pristine white dress. Kneeling beside the infected woman, she carefully poured the potion first over the infected area, then over the fabric, and pressed it gently against the woman's skin, binding the wound with practiced care.
The injured woman gasped, her pain subsiding almost instantly as the healing effect took hold.
"Thank you... Lady Astrea..." she whispered weakly, gratitude glimmering in her teary eyes.
Astrea returned a reassuring smile. "Stay here and rest; you'll be on your feet in no time," she promised before standing once more.
"A goddess..." Naaza and Airmid murmured to themselves, their eyes wide. Seeing a deity act in true selflessness—as her title demanded—was a rare sight indeed.
A god who sullied their own hands for mortals' sake was even rarer.
Astrea chuckled lightly at their expressions, a faint warmth breaking through the grim atmosphere. The two flushed red in embarrassment at being caught staring.
Naaza cleared her throat, trying to change the subject. "Goddess, why aren't you at Babel? They're having a god-meeting!" she asked curiously.
Astrea began moving again through the rows of wounded, the two young healers following behind. Her expression darkened as her gaze lingered on each broken body.
The death toll was climbing, and the only statistic that matched it were the fading screams of the dying.
She knew of the emergency meeting between her divine peers. Many had rushed to Babel to address the strange phenomenon in the skies—an alien threat that had invaded this realm and driven mortals to madness.
But Astrea had chosen to stay. She could not abandon those who still clung to life.
"...I didn't want to leave you children to deal with this alone," she admitted softly, finally stopping beside a growing pile of corpses, each covered with red-stained white cloth.
It was a pitiful sight. There was no room left to spread them out, and no time to bury them properly.
And yet, amidst the despair, the goddess of justice remained radiant, unyielding, and heartbreakingly human.
A silence stretched between the trio. The two girls stared uneasily at the pile of bodies. It was a terrifying sight.
"...Is Evilus winning?" Airmid suddenly asked.
"Airmid! What are you asking!?" Naaza barked, scandalized that her rival (and friend) would ask such a thing before the goddess herself.
"I was just asking..." Airmid mumbled, squirming under Naaza's glare, already regretting opening her mouth.
"We're beating their butts!" the chienthrope girl declared proudly—though one glance at the pile of corpses before them gave a far grimmer answer than her words did.
"Are we winning, goddess?" Airmid rephrased softly, her eyes hopeful as she turned toward Astrea.
But Astrea couldn't answer that question. It wasn't her place to.
"Goddess?" The two girls waited eagerly; they wanted reassurance, the promise that justice would prevail. And who better to give it than the goddess of justice herself?
Astrea was about to lie for their sake—to give them hope—but the words died in her throat when some of the piled bodies shifted and collapsed, the mound losing its foundation.
"Fuck, not again!" a nearby guild employee cursed loudly. He was one of the cemetery workers assigned to manage the dead. Around him, other adventurers and guild staff groaned and muttered in frustration, their weary reactions showing this wasn't the first time.
"Come on, wear your masks and let's get this done!" the man shouted. The others obeyed reluctantly, grumbling under their breath as they moved to restack the fallen corpses.
"Ugh, the smell," one complained, covering his face with his sleeve.
"I told them we should start burning the bodies before they decompose," another muttered darkly.
Astrea's lips pressed together. She wanted to object. Burning bodies without the families' approval felt deeply wrong.
"Hey, stop disrespecting the dead!" Naaza snapped, unable to restrain herself.
One of the workers scowled. "How about lending a hand then, huh? Or would you rather have the dead spreading disease?" His tone was annoyed; he didn't have the patience to deal with children.
"W-well..." Naaza faltered. The idea of touching dead bodies wasn't exactly appealing.
"What? Afraid of the dead?" the worker sneered, briefly pulling back the shroud covering one of the corpses. Even in the dim purplish light, the rotting flesh beneath was unmistakably discolored and foul.
Naaza instinctively stepped back, struggling to hold her ground. Airmid tried to hide behind Astrea as discreetly as she could.
"Come on, they don't bite, hahah!" The man stepped closer toward Naaza, his peers laughing alongside him as he showed the dead person around.
"G-get away, you lunatic!" Naaza warned, her heart racing at the sight.
Astrea's indigo eyes hardened. "Cease taunting children," she said sternly, placing a protective hand on Naaza's shoulder. The girl felt a strange calm at the goddess's touch. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Oh, come on, goddess," the man muttered, pulling the dead person away. "We're going to die anyway—look at this mess!" He pointed at the pile of dead. "It's only a matter of time before I or them join that pile!"
His fellow workers didn't have anything to say against that. It was clear that they were losing badly.
"Losing faith is the fastest route to capitulation!" Astrea warned. The idea of despair spreading was not in their favor.
"Tch," the man clicked his tongue, not convinced. "The only blessing we have right now is we don't have to worry about the damn dead rising to kill us." He threw the body he was holding down.
The corpse twitched.
Naaza saw it. Airmid saw it.
Astrea's divine senses flared; she could feel a vile pulse of alien energy emanating from the corpse. Her entire being went on alert.
"Get away!" she warned suddenly, catching the workers' attention as they looked on in puzzlement.
"What are you talking—?" The man's words were cut short when something clutched at his leg. Turning to the source, he was greeted with a partially decomposed hand gripping his calf.
His eyes went wide in shock.
"HE'S ALIVE!" Naaza was the first to scream what they all wanted to say.
All remaining eyes turned to the corpse clutching at the man.
"Ahhh, get it off me!" The man screamed like a little girl, his fellow employees rushing to see if that man was alive, fearing he might have been signed off as dead by mistake.
"Are you alright? Can you hear me!?" one asked frantically, grabbing the figure to pull them out of the pile of bodies.
Astrea's instincts screamed wrong. She should have been relieved—another life saved—yet all she felt was dread.
Naaza could barely breathe. Her eyes were locked on the thing's gray, blistered skin and the dark ichor dripping from its wounds.
Airmid was utterly flabbergasted. The body was decomposed and rotten beyond recognition; survival was impossible.
Which only left one explanation.
"Goddess..." she called, her voice trembling.
Astrea turned to her softly. "Yes?"
Airmid's gaze lingered on one employee cutting away the blood-soaked cloth to free the man inside.
"That man... is not alive," she whispered.
"Ghaaaa!"
The air split with a scream torn from decayed vocal cords. The supposed living man lurched upright, his blackened teeth digging into the nearest man's neck.
"Ahhh!" the employee screamed.
"What the hell is that!?" another shouted in panic, all of them trying to get it off their colleague.
"Necromancy…" Astrea almost spat the word, though the energy didn't feel like any necromancy she knew. It pulsed rapidly inside the man's body—
As though the corpse itself rejoiced in its decay.
"HELP!" the victim shrieked as the abomination bit further into his flesh, tearing chunks away, the other employees unable to overpower it.
"Stay close!" Astrea ordered, pulling Airmid and Naaza behind her, shielding them with her body.
"Get your filthy hands off him!" an adventurer charged in, slashing at the creature. His blade cut the monster's head clean off, rolling across the dirt.
But it was too late for the victim.
"Ah, dammit!" the people gasped, staggering from the gore—the sight of shredded flesh glued into their minds.
Astrea's eyes widened. "Behind you!" she warned.
They all turned, then froze.
"Oh... heavens..." the adventurer whispered.
"Grhaa!" The inhuman shrieks began to fill the resting place of the fallen.
One by one, the corpses began to move. The shrouds shifted, fell, and the dead ones beneath rose up again.
Burned, limbless, eyeless—some crawling, others dragging themselves with raw bone and tendon.
A sight straight from hell.
A horde of the dead, reborn through foul sorcery.
Astrea felt her stomach turn.
Justice had no meaning here. Only horror.
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The End
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The end of Day Four
For those wondering, "Who is Leah?"
She's a side character from the light novel who dies off early
She's just a kid (I honestly don't even remember how old, but she's very young)
She's also the one Krieger saved back in Chapter One, if some of you forgot
Anyway: Psychic awakening! Pretty cool, right?
Since magic already exists in the Danmachi, it would make sense for psychic energy to manifest much more easily, turning people into psykers
By the way, that voice was the Emperor
Mommy Astrea, Naaza, and Airmid together? Rare combo, no? And zombies!? I think I did an okay job there
Mommy Astrea will not divert my attention from other, far more important scenes with her charming assets (which the anime, for some reason, decided to amplify)
Remember what hatemonger once said: "Boobies are evil! We mustn't look at boobies! Boobies will take Space King and reshape it into Their image if given the chance!"
For the Space King, we must not focus on Mommy Astrea… unfortunately
Now, you might be asking, "Why not just focus on Krieger? Isn't this his story?"
Well…It's not just his story—it's the story of the world of Danmachi, and all its characters (At least most of them)
I can't possibly write every single perspective sadly
Someone also asked me in DM, "Why aren't you showing Ryuu's POV more? Isn't she the MC of the light novel?"
Technically, she isn't the MC—Astrea Familia as a whole fills that role. But to answer properly: I'm not showing much of the Astrea Familia because I honestly don't have anything meaningful for them to do yet. They have their own duties in the light novel, and in this version they're basically doing the same thing—just bloodier. There's no real reason to bring them in at this point
As for Ryuu, she's doing what she was doing in the novels, taking down cultist, she will have a moment to shine later
Another reader said that I should show more of hestia familia in this story
Just to clarify: The events of Astrea Records takes place 7 YEARS before Bell Cranel arrives in Orario and before Hestia descends from Heaven
The only future Hestia familia member currently inside Orario is Lili and she's only 8
Hope this helps the confusion with those who are unfamiliar with Astrea Records
On a side note—Danmachi's been getting some major updates lately. I've heard some wild stuff about Ais and her origins in the newest volumes. There are some crazy theories floating around, but I'm avoiding spoilers for now since I'm not caught up with the manga, light novels, or even the anime
You might call me a fake fan, but I genuinely don't have the time to watch it
Anyway… next chapter's going to have something big
Maybe
Nah just kidding, it will have something big