The halls of the Loki Familia headquarters hummed with quiet activity as dawn's light spilled through the tall windows. Wooden beams and stone walls formed a sturdy, welcoming structure, a refuge for adventurers and mages alike. Gilgamesh walked through the common room with an easy confidence, his golden left hand catching stray light, glinting like a warning and a promise.
Many eyes turned toward him as he passed—some curious, others wary—but he paid them no mind. He had long ago learned that confidence was the currency of strength here. And Gilgamesh had that currency in spades.
Riveria sat near the hearth, a book resting on her lap but her gaze fixed on him. She smiled softly when their eyes met. "Good morning, Gilgamesh," she greeted, voice warm like the fire beside her.
He inclined his head with a small smirk. "Morning, Riveria. The usual lessons today?"
She chuckled lightly, setting the book aside. "Of course. But first, you should meet a few others. It's been a while since you've spent time with the familia."
Gilgamesh's eyes flickered with mild amusement. "I'm sure they know who I am."
Riveria shook her head, smiling gently. "They know of you, yes, but you rarely engage. It's time you stopped being a shadow."
He considered her words but did not reply immediately. A shadow, yes—always on the edges, observing, never fully stepping into the light. Maybe it was time.
She stood and beckoned him to follow. Together, they walked through corridors lined with trophies from past queests and walls etched with the names of fallen heroes.
Their first stop was at a training hall where the young and older adventurers alike practiced their swordplay and magic. A handful paused as they noticed Gilgamesh's approach, whispers trailing in his wake.
A tall man with broad shoulders and a playful grin stepped forward. "So you're the golden-handed kid Riveria found in the woods, huh? Heard you've got some serious strength." His tone was casual but curious.
Gilgamesh's smirk widened. "I'm sure you've heard wrong. Or maybe just exaggerating."
The man laughed, clearly unbothered. "Maybe. I'm Welf Crozzo. If you ever want a sparring partner, just say the word."
Gilgamesh nodded once. "I'll hold you to that."
Riveria watched the exchannge with satisfaction. "Welf's a good friend. He's been with us almost as long as you."
They moved on, and Gilgamesh caught sight of a young woman quietly reading in a corner. Her silver hair framed a delicate face, and her violet eyes sparkled behind glasses.
"Ah, that's Tiona. She's fierce in combat, but shy around new faces."
Gilgamesh approached her with calm assurance. "Tiona, I'm Gilgamesh."
She looked up, startled, then smiled softly. "I've heard about you. It's nice to meet you."
The conversation was brief but genuine, and Riveria's presence seemed to ease the tension.
As the morning wore on, Gilgamesh found himself drawn into small moments—watching others train, sharing jokes, and listening more than usual.
Later, Riveria led him to a quiet garden outside the main building. The scent of blooming flowers mingled with the crisp air.
"You're growing stronger," she said, her voice almost motheerly. "But strength isn't just about power. It's about connection—understanding those around you."
Gilgamesh regarded her thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I want many connections."
She smiled, unshaken. "That's because you don't know what you're missing."
He gave a slow nod. "Maybe I'm ready to find out."
The golden hand flexed slightly, gleaming in the afternoon sun, a silent reminder of the mysteries still waiting to unfold.