The silence in the main office of the Loki Familia headquarters felt more suffocating than the underground rooms of the Dungeon.
The afternoon sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows failed to provide warmth. In the center of the mahogany round table that was usually a place for boisterous strategic discussions, there now lay a rough wooden box. Its lid had been opened. The pungent smell of dried blood, rust, and suffering seemed to waft from the objects inside.
Three cheap iron slave collars.
Each collar bore a rough carving symbolizing a different race. One collar was very small, too small for a normal human neck. The second collar had remnants of torn green fabric with forest-style embroidery. And the third collar was thick, heavy, and covered in scratches of resistance.
Beside the three collars lay a piece of worn parchment with handwriting deliberately made messy. Its contents were brief, mentioning the schedule for a massive slave auction to be held in the Kaios Desert in the coming weeks. A secret "black market" promising the quality of slaves from three superior races: Pallum, Elf, and Dwarf.
Finn Deimne stood petrified in front of the table. The twenty-seven-year-old young man had a reputation as someone who was always calm, a brilliant tactical mind, and a captain who never lost his composure. But right now, his right thumb was caught between his teeth. He bit his thumbnail so hard that a drop of fresh blood seeped out from between his lips.
He paid absolutely no mind to the pain.
To Finn, his greatest dream—the reason he took up a spear and risked his life in Orario—was to revive the pride of the Pallum race. He wanted to be a beacon for his race, which was often seen as weak and underestimated. Seeing the small collar on the table, imagining his fellow Pallum brethren chained, whipped, and dragged across the hot sand of the Kaios Desert to be sold like livestock, made his blood boil.
"Kaios Desert," Riveria Ljos Alf's voice broke the silence. Her voice sounded very calm, but that calmness was the same kind of calm as the surface of the sea before a giant storm hits.
The High Elf stood tall, her hands gripping her magic wand so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her jade eyes, which usually radiated wisdom, now flashed with an aura of absolute ice. For the Elf race, especially those of noble bloodlines, racial honor and purity were everything. Enslaving an Elf was not merely a crime in Riveria's eyes; it was a blasphemy, an unforgivable sin demanding immediate capital punishment. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped several degrees just from the pressure of the magical aura leaking from her body without her realizing it.
Smash!
The mahogany table cracked as Gareth Landrock slammed his massive fist down. The forty-one-year-old Dwarven man stared at the thick iron collar on the table, breathing heavily. The muscles in his arms and neck bulged, while his face turned red from unbearable anger.
"Which bastard dares to chain our brethren in that rotten desert?!" roared Gareth, his voice rattling the windowpanes. "They are not animals! Dwarves were not born to die on an auction block! Finn! Give me the order. I will go to Kaios today and smash the head of every slave guard there with my axe!"
Finn released his thumb from his bite. He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand. His usually clear eyes were now clouded by a dark fog.
"Gareth is right," hissed Finn softly, but every syllable carried the weight of a drawn sword. "We cannot let this stand. If rumors of this Kaios slave market spread and Orario knows we did nothing, our Familia's reputation... no, our race's pride will be shattered."
"This is no longer a matter of reputation, Finn," chimed in Riveria, her tone as cold as winter air. "This is a declaration of war against our existence. I will not let a single Elf cry in chains. We must pressure the Guild to grant permission for an extermination expedition to the Kaios desert region."
The three executives had reached the same conclusion. Anger overrode their logic, exactly as predicted by the mastermind behind the scenes. However, there was one entity in the room not bound by racial pride.
"Hoo... you all have really walked right into the trap, huh."
That lazy voice accompanied by a condescending tone came from a long sofa in the corner of the room. Loki, the Goddess of Deceit, lay on her side, propping her head up with one hand. Her usually closed left eye was now slightly open, revealing a blood-red iris staring straight at her three beloved children.
Finn, Riveria, and Gareth turned toward their goddess.
"What do you mean, Loki?" asked Riveria, slightly suppressing her anger.
Loki let out a long sigh, got up from the sofa, and walked closer to the table. She picked up the small slave collar with the tips of her fingers, swinging it like a boring toy.
"You guys are smart, but sometimes too easy to read when it comes to your blind spots," said Loki, a cynical smile adorning her face. "Try thinking with your cold brains, not your emotions. A slave market in Kaios? Three specific races representing the three of you? And somehow, this 'proof' ended up on our office table without anyone knowing the sender?"
Loki tossed the collar back into the box with a loud clinking sound.
"This is no coincidence," asserted the goddess, her tone turning sharp and demanding full attention. "Someone out there knows exactly who you are, knows exactly what you hate the most, and knows exactly which buttons to push to make you rampage. Someone is deliberately baiting us to leave Orario and go to that deadly desert."
Finn fell silent. His tactical brain, which had been clouded by anger, slowly began to process his goddess's words. "A trap... you feel this is bait deliberately prepared specifically to provoke the main pillars of our Familia."
"One hundred percent," Loki grinned broadly, showing her fangs. "I am the Goddess of Deceit, Finn. I can smell cheap cunning like this from ten miles away. There is a mastermind sitting pretty, waiting for you to come to Kaios panting and with swords drawn."
Gareth snorted loudly. "Then what? You want us to do nothing because it's a trap? Let them chain our race because we're afraid of the bait?!"
"Who said we're going to do nothing, you stupid old Dwarf?" Loki laughed loudly, a laugh echoing with full arrogance. The goddess placed her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with challenge. "I might know this is a trap, but I hate seeing other people try to play my children. Finn! Riveria! Gareth!"
The three executives straightened their backs.
"If some bastard dares to bait my guard dogs with poisoned bait, your job is not to avoid it." Loki's smile turned into the savage grin of a predator. "Your job is to swallow that bait, chew it to pieces, then rip out the fisherman's throat! Go to the Guild. Make them authorize this expedition. We will go to Kaios and show this stupid mastermind what happens when they dare to deceive the Loki Familia!"
"As you command, Loki," answered Finn, his eyes regaining their clarity, now sharpened with absolute murderous intent.
Riveria and Gareth nodded in agreement. The bait was taken, not because they were foolish, but because of a boiling arrogance that refused to bow down.
While anger exploded in the Loki Familia headquarters, the atmosphere in Folkvangr felt very contrasting.
The room was vast, magnificent, and decorated with silver furnishings and luxurious purple velvet. From behind the giant glass window dominating one side of the room, the view of the headquarters and part of Orario city lay out beneath the ruler's gaze.
Freya, the Goddess of Beauty, sat leaning back in her grand chair. Her long legs were crossed elegantly. In her hand, she held a black parchment that had just been handed over by the Folkvangr gate guards from an unknown sender.
Behind the goddess stood a young man whose form resembled a mountain of flesh and muscle. Ottar, who was only seventeen at the time, had not yet reached the peak of his maturity, but his massive body and aura were enough to make mid-level adventurers tremble in fear. He stood in silence, his sharp eyes looking straight ahead, his loyalty solely focused on his goddess's every breath.
Freya read the contents of the parchment with her silver eyes. An intoxicating yet highly dangerous faint smile slowly formed on her lips.
The message was very provocative, written in deliberately condescending language. The message stated that in the Kaios Desert, there was an incredibly strong 'prey'. An entity whose existence was claimed to be capable of breaking the "best fangs and claws of the Goddess of Beauty". The message implicitly challenged Freya, saying that if she did not send her strongest warrior to the desert, then the Freya Familia was merely a coward who only dared to rule inside the cage of Orario.
"How amusing," Freya murmured softly, her voice as melodious as an angel's song yet carrying a bone-chilling coldness. She dropped the parchment onto her lap.
"Is something bothering you, Freya-sama?" Ottar's voice sounded heavy and deep, like the low growl of a monster waiting to be unchained. "If someone dares to insult you, give me the order. I will bring you their head."
Freya chuckled. A crisp and elegant laugh. "No, my beloved Ottar. It's not this insult that bothers me. Rather, how cheap and crude their method is in trying to manipulate me."
The goddess picked up the wine glass on the small table beside her, slowly swirling the thick red liquid inside. Her eyes stared at her own reflection on the surface of the wine.
"Look at this letter, Ottar. A lowly provocation designed so I feel challenged and send you to the Kaios Desert. They want you out of Orario. They want you exhausted in the desert, perhaps to keep you away from something that will happen in this city, or perhaps to make you a victim of another trap they have prepared there."
Ottar remained silent. The young man's brain was not built for politics or divine intrigue. He only knew one absolute truth: Freya. "If it is a cheap trap, then we just ignore it, Freya-sama."
However, instead of nodding in agreement, Freya's smile only grew wider. She looked back, staring at Ottar with her silver eyes that seemed to pierce right to the bottom of the Boaz youth's soul.
Freya was not stupid. She knew exactly that this letter was a tactic to move chess pieces. She was a goddess capable of seeing the color of human souls. A cheap provocation like this would usually get no response other than execution by her fanatic children.
But, there was one fatal weakness possessed by the Goddess of Beauty: her endless obsession with souls that shone brightly in suffering and battle.
"Ignore it?" Freya set down her wine glass. She stood up, her straight dress sweeping the marble floor as she stepped closer to Ottar. The goddess raised her slender hand, caressing the giant youth's firm jaw with an intoxicating gentleness.
Ottar held his breath, his body trembling slightly at receiving his goddess's touch.
"Ottar... you are my most precious sword. Right now, your soul already shines beautifully. But, a sword will become dull if it is only kept inside a luxurious scabbard," whispered Freya, her face so close that Ottar could smell the intoxicating scent of roses from her. "This letter is indeed a trap. A stage deliberately prepared by whoever in that deadly desert."
Freya's silver eyes flashed with dark desire.
"But, do you know what I hate the most? I hate seeing a soul with potential stagnate due to a lack of worthy enemies. If the mastermind behind this letter is so arrogant as to promise a 'prey' that can break you... then I want to see it."
Freya took a step back, releasing her touch from Ottar's jaw. She spread her arms, as if embracing the coming storm.
"I do not care about their intrigues. I do not care about whatever dirty political agenda they hide behind this letter. All I care about is the brilliance of your soul, Ottar. If this is a trap, then shatter that trap with absolute power. If the prey they promise is real, then sharpen your fangs with its blood."
The Goddess of Beauty pointed toward the giant double doors at the end of the room.
"Go to the Kaios Desert, Ottar. Let this foolish mastermind think their plan succeeded. Then, show them..." Freya's smile turned into a smirk full of divine supremacy, "...that my strongest warrior can never be subdued by a cheap trap. Make your soul shine even brighter for me."
Ottar knelt on one knee, bowing his head deeply. There was no hesitation, no question. There was only absolute devotion burning in his chest.
"As you command, Freya-sama. I will destroy whatever stands in your way."
Beneath the seemingly peaceful sky of Orario, the gears of destruction had turned. The Loki Familia moved out of anger, while the Freya Familia moved purely out of arrogance and a thirst for bloodshed.
The two strongest familias of Orario now pointed their swords toward the Kaios Wasteland. Exactly as Erebus desired. However, neither Loki, Freya, nor Erebus had yet realized that upon the same desert stage, the God of Wind had been waiting in silence, ready to overturn every plan they had laid out.
------------------------------
"Like my work? Catch up to Chapter 88 over on my Patreon!"
P - Gem_Blanks
Thank you so much for your support — you make all of this worthwhile.)