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Chapter 9: Roar of the Siscon Cat
The garden of the Goddess Freya, Folkvangr, was a place defined by the perpetual symphony of violence. Usually, it was a disciplined cacophony—the rhythmic grunt of warriors and the structured chime of steel meeting steel. But today, the air itself felt jagged. The atmosphere was thick with a frantic, desperate heat that had nothing to do with training and everything to do with survival.
"Stop him! Close the perimeter! At all costs, keep Lord Allen from the main gate!"
A subordinate's warning was cut short as a localized sonic boom leveled the nearby weapon racks. Allen Fromel—the city's swiftest spear, the "Vana"—had transcended mere agitation. He was a silver blur of pure, unadulterated carnage. He didn't just run; he tore through the very fabric of the air, leaving vacuum pockets in his wake that sucked the breath from the lungs of anyone nearby.
The lower-ranked Familia members who attempted to block his path didn't even see the spear that struck them. They were simply discarded like chaff in a hurricane, caught in the sheer kinetic force of his passing.
"Guh... my ribs..."
"It's no use... we can't even track his shadow..."
"He's going to kill us... he's actually going to kill us this time!"
The soldiers collapsed into the churned mud of the training grounds, their eyes wide with a terror that surpassed their usual awe of the Level 6 executive. But Allen didn't spare them a glance. His consciousness had narrowed to a single, vibrating point of fury. How dare they... how dare that filth touch her...
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
With every lunge, the earth detonated beneath his feet, sending geysers of dirt and stone cascading into the air. From the high, marble balcony of the central spire, the other executives looked down at the wreckage of their morning drills.
"Hah... that brainless feline," Hedin Selland sighed, his fingers tightening around his ornate staff. "His obsession with that sister of his has finally pushed him over the edge of sanity. What a tedious, pathetic display."
Despite his dismissive tone, Hedin's eyes were sharp, calculating the trajectory of the silver streak below. He couldn't let Allen reach the city—not in this state.
"[Ever Fight, Immortal Thunder Soldiers. Caurus Hild!]"
Six jagged, arrow-shaped bolts of lightning hissed from the tip of his staff, weaving through the air with sentient precision. They weren't aimed to pierce Allen's heart, but to cage him, striking the ground in a precise geometric pattern that forced the cat-person to veer sharply to the left.
Allen's heels carved blackened furrows into the stone as he skidded to a halt, the friction sending up a sharp, ozone-scented cloud of white smoke. He bared his fangs, his pupils dilated into thin, murderous slits as he looked up at the balcony.
"HEDIN! You think your little sparks can stop me!?"
"Lower your voice, you emotional wreck," Hedin replied, his voice a cool contrast to Allen's heat. "To allow yourself to be unraveled by a work of fiction... you are a stain on the pride of the Freya Familia. Have you no shame? Losing your mind over a vulgar manuscript featuring your sister and a rabbit... it is beneath contempt."
The root of the catastrophe was a single, illicit volume.
Goddess Freya had issued a command: find the author of the scandalous books featuring her "Odr," Bell Cranel. Hedin, ever the pragmatist, had delegated the collection of "evidence" to the subordinates to analyze the author's writing habits and distribution networks. But the universe had a cruel sense of humor. Tucked among the stacks of research was a new, unauthorized release—one that featured a certain cat-girl from the Hostess of Fertility.
Allen had been dismissive of the task until a passing rookie dropped a pamphlet. One glance at the cover—and the text inside—had snapped his last tether to reality.
"No... you can't, nya! If you grab my tail and keep going like that, I'll go crazy, nya! ♡"
"Nnn... ♡ Bell... Bell... I love you so much, nya! ♡"
"Now you're part of the family, nya! If you don't live with me forever, I'll never forgive you, nya!!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
In Allen's mind, the image of his clumsy, innocent sister was being overwritten by these distorted, "happy" scenes of corruption. The thought of that white-haired rabbit—that weak, stuttering boy—calling him "Brother" or sharing a home with Anya... it was a poison that burned through his veins like acid.
"I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL GRIND THAT RABBIT INTO THE DIRT!"
"You're a fool who can't distinguish a dream from reality!" Hedin snapped, launching a fresh volley of lightning.
Allen didn't dodge; he simply accelerated. He became a blur that moved in straight lines, swatting the lightning aside with the sheer wind pressure of his spear. Even for a Level 6 Sage, pinning down a "Vana" in a state of murderous hysteria was a daunting task.
The encirclement tightened as more silhouettes appeared through the dust.
"What a nuisance of a cat!"
"You're violating Lady Freya's specific decree regarding the rabbit!"
"Honestly, getting this worked up over a book... have you no dignity?"
The Gulliver Brothers—the four dwarven terrors—moved in perfect sync, their weapons forming a wall of steel from all cardinal directions. They were the Familia's ultimate defensive line, but today, Allen was an unstoppable force.
And then, from the blind spot behind the chaos, a cold chill swept the field.
"[Unsheathe, King's Radiance of the Magic Sword. The price is reason, the offering is fresh blood. Until the banquet ends—slaughter.]"
A jet-black arc of energy tore through the air. Allen sensed the killing intent and twisted mid-air, the blade grazing his shoulder and drawing a thin line of red.
"Dainsleif..."
Hegni stood there, his usual timid self completely buried beneath the cold, mechanical persona of the "King of the Dark Battle".
Two Level 6s. Four Level 5s. The strongest Familia in the world was forced into a full-scale mobilization just to keep one of their own from burning the city to the ground.
"GROOOOOOOOOOH!"
The pressure reached a boiling point. Allen's aura flared, a golden radiance that signified a Limit Break. His spear became a whirlwind that shattered Hedin's magic, parried Hegni's cursed blade, and sent the Gulliver Brothers flying with a single, devastating sweep.
"Guh! This much power over a delusion about his sister!?" Hedin spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"OUT OF MY WAY!"
Allen's spear slammed into the tip of Hedin's staff, the impact sending shockwaves through the very foundations of Folkvangr. It seemed like nothing could stop him—until a massive, immovable shadow stepped into the center of the crater.
"...So, it's you, Ottar!"
"You have forgotten our Lady's will, Allen. You have allowed your base instincts to lead you back into the life of a mindless beast," the Boar-man said, his voice deep enough to vibrate the earth.
Ottar. Level 7. The pinnacle of the city's strength. He didn't even draw his sword at first; the sheer weight of his presence was enough to slow Allen's frantic heart.
"Step aside! I'm going to find the bastard who wrote that trash, and then I'm going to find that rabbit! I'll crush them both under my heels!"
"Your strength is impressive, having reached your limits in such a short time," Ottar noted calmly. "But power used to defy the Goddess is nothing more than aimless violence. I will return you to your senses."
Spear met greatsword.
The collision was like a mountain collapsing into the sea. The shockwave leveled the remaining training dummies and sent a cloud of dust thousands of feet into the sky. Both warriors began their ultimate chants simultaneously.
"[Gralineze Fromel!]"
"[Hildis Vini!]"
Golden light and silver impact met in a blinding flash that threatened to erase Folkvangr from the maps of Orario.
A few minutes later, the dust settled. A single, cold, authoritative word from Goddess Freya had brought the world back to its axis. Allen lay pinned in the dirt, his rage spent but his humiliation only beginning. His punishment: "reconstruct the entire damaged sector of Folkvangr by hand, without help."
—————
Meanwhile, on the sun-drenched streets of the North Main Street.
"Here you go, one fresh batch!"
"Thank you so much!"
I accepted the piping hot paper bag containing the legendary "Jagamarukun."
In this world, this was the pinnacle of street food. The exterior was fried to a perfect, golden-brown crunch, while the inside was a cloud of fluffy, savory potato mixed with a secret, juicy sauce. It wasn't just food; it was a reward for a job well done.
I was taking a break from the grind of writing, soaking in the atmosphere of the city to clear my head.
"Uwah, it's so good... I could live off these," I muttered, taking a large, satisfying bite.
As I chewed, a distant, muffled boom reached my ears, accompanied by a slight tremor in the ground beneath my feet.
"Huh... was that an earthquake?"
"Mmm? Oh, that's just the Freya Familia's place," Hestia replied from beside me, her twin-tails swaying as she happily munched on a snack of her own. "They're always blowing things up over there. Those battle-obsessed idiots don't know the meaning of 'moderation.'"
"Is that so? Well, it's a bit much for the middle of the day. They should really consider the neighbors," I said, shaking my head.
"Totally! But the Guild is too scared to tell them off. I guess we'll just have to hope my Bell-kun shows them how real heroes behave, hehe!"
"Haha, true. Bell-kun will probably fix things eventually."
I happily swallowed the last bite of my potato, completely unaware that the "riot" in question was currently centered around a burning desire to see me dead.
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