AT ONE LATE EVENING
VESTA
I sigh and wipe dust off the altar. Again. It has been weeks since anyone left an offering. Weeks since anyone whispered my name. Weeks since I felt even slightly remembered. The smell of stale incense and old prayers fills the temple, and honestly… it's depressing.
"Pathetic." Zenith's voice echoes behind me.
I freeze. Of course. The smug, omniscient god who apparently finds my misery hilarious is standing there, arms crossed and smirking.
"Not a single prayer in a fortnight. Worthless." He said, voice dripping with amusement.
I glared at him.
"I'm still a goddess, you know."I said annoyed.
He snorted.
"If being forgotten is a hobby, you'd be a grandmaster."He said.
I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath.
"And you're still insufferable."I frowned.
Zenith chuckled, drifting over to inspect the empty offering bowls.
"Honestly, Vesta… maybe you should consider retirement. Clearly, the mortals don't need you."He said.
I clenched my fists.
"Mortals or not, I'll still cook. I'll still bless. Even if no one notices."I explained.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.
"Oh, I noticed. You're just… entirely useless."He sighed.
Useless. Forgotten. Invisible. Yep, that's me. Vesta, Goddess of Cooking, is relegated to a dusty temple with nothing but echoes and a god who thinks it's hilarious. I slump against the altar, muttering as I stare at the empty bowls.
"Maybe… maybe I'll just leave. Find a city that actually wants me. Maybe somewhere with food, adventure, and… slightly less ridicule."I sighed.
Zenith laughed, low and teasing.
"Oh, you'll leave, all right. But trust me… you won't escape trouble. Not even if you want to."He said.
I gritted my teeth.
"I'm done waiting for the world to remember me. If I'm useless here… I'll find somewhere I matter."I sighed.
And with that, I make my decision. If the mortals won't pray to me… then I'll go make them eat me instead.
I packed my satchel with pans, knives, and a bundle of herbs I'd been hoarding for… well, apparently, nobody. The temple smelled of dust and disappointment, and I didn't bother looking back.
"Going somewhere?" Zenith's voice called from behind me.
"Yes." I muttered, shoulders stiff. "Somewhere that doesn't hate me, or ignore me entirely."
He laughed. Low, amused, teasing.
"Good luck with that, Vesta. Mortals notice eventually. They just… usually explode first."He said.
I rolled my eyes. Fantastic. Couldn't wait for someone to punch a wall because of my cooking. The streets of Orario were alive with noise and motion. Merchants shouted, adventurers sparred in the plaza, and guild posters flapped in the wind. Perfect chaos. Just what I needed. I ducked into a narrow alley to catch my breath. I was supposed to be a forgotten goddess, quiet, invisible, unremarkable. Yet, the moment I fired up my small portable stove, the air filled with the scent of something divine.
An adventurer passing by froze mid-step, sniffing the air, clearly drawn in. I blinked. Was everyone suddenly interested in my food? I groaned. I leave a dusty temple to escape neglect, and the city already wants to turn me into some kind of miracle chef. I glanced toward the horizon. My quiet life was over. But at least I still had my knives, and a stubborn hope that maybe being forgotten wasn't the end.
I tightened the straps of my satchel and smoothed my light bluish hair, letting my purple eyes scan the bustling streets of Orario. Tall enough to be noticed, striking enough to turn heads… and yet, completely invisible. Perfect.
The adventurer's guild towered ahead, a hive of noise and chaos. Adventurers shouted, merchants bargained, and somewhere, a sword clang echoed from the training area. I took a deep breath. This was it. My ticket to a life where mortals might finally notice me, or at least, give me a purpose.
I pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The guild hall was everything I expected: loud, chaotic, overwhelming. A group of adventurers argued near the recruitment board while a pair of rogues practiced dodging each other in the corner. Somewhere above, a bard strummed a lute with entirely too much enthusiasm.
I walked to the reception desk, satchel in hand, trying to look like any other adventurer. No one even glanced at me. Not once. Not a flicker of recognition, no double-takes, no murmured whispers about the goddess of cooking walking among them. I blinked. Really? After everything, nobody even noticed me?
"Can I help you?" The clerk asked, a young man with tired eyes who was clearly used to chaos.
"Yes. I… want to register as an adventurer." I said, keeping my voice calm.
He glanced at me lazily, barely noticing my hair or eyes.
"Sure. Fill these forms out and bring them back. Level one adventurer. Don't die."He said.
I scribbled through the forms, muttering under my breath. Of course. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. Perfect. I handed them back.
"All done."I said.
"Alright, you're registered. Go have fun… or survive. Your choice." He said, eyes already wandering to the next recruit.
I exhaled, shoulders sagging. Forgotten. Invisible. Useless to mortals. Perfect. Exactly the reaction I expected. I glanced around the hall, wondering if anyone would even notice if I cooked a divine meal right here. The answer: no. Not a single person. Not even the loudest adventurer in the corner, who was now dramatically flexing after a training dummy exploded in front of him. I muttered to myself.
"Great. Invisible goddess walks among mortals. Finally free… and completely ignored."I whispered.
I gripped my satchel tighter. Maybe that was a good thing. Let them ignore me. Let them underestimate me. I had skills, and even if nobody noticed yet, I could still carve out a place in this city… quietly, my way. And if anyone tried to tell me I was useless again? Well… I had knives, stew, and a lot of patience left. Perfect. This guild was going to be… interesting.