The air in the dim corner of the tavern felt increasingly heavy, due to the absolute silence created between the two figures staring at each other.
Zald stopped chewing. The chunk of roasted camel meat still smoking on his giant plate suddenly lost its appeal. His pair of eyes, as cold as incineration ash, stared intently at the petite young man clad in a green cloak now sitting casually across his table.
Barbatos, Zald thought, his combat instincts churning to analyze the figure before him.
Erebus had once mentioned the name of this new god—an anomalous figure who made the God of Darkness curious because of the presence of 'Silence' by his side. Zald scanned every inch of Venti. He felt like an empty wind passing through a meadow.
A massive puzzle spun inside the head of the former Zeus Familia executive. How did this seemingly harmless god persuade Alfia to bow down and join his Familia? Furthermore, there was Meteria. Alfia's younger sister suffered from a congenital disease that made even the best healers in the world give up. If Alfia was willing to bow down, some impossible miracle must have occurred.
And the most pressing question right now: why was this god in the Kaios Desert, right in the middle of the stage being prepared by Erebus?
"What is a god from Orario doing in this sandy desert?" Zald's deep voice finally broke the silence. His tone was flat, yet harbored vigilance.
Venti wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He propped his chin on one hand, smiling cheerfully as if they were chatting in a flower garden.
"Oh, just a mission from the Guild," Venti answered casually, tilting his head.
Zald narrowed his eyes. A Guild mission. The veteran immediately realized one thing: the god before him was not part of their plan at all. This green-clad young man was a pure anomaly who had arrived by coincidence, a free variable completely outside Erebus's scenario calculations.
"Now it's my turn to ask," Venti leaned forward, his teal eyes looking straight through Zald's mental defenses. "Why are you in the Kaios Desert? Based on what I heard from Alfia, you should be a wanderer walking aimlessly in the outside world. Not sitting casually in this heating-up desert town."
Zald fell silent. His mind raced, thinking about the variable Venti brought. This god was not part of Erebus's plan. This god was a pure anomaly missed by the plan woven by the God of Darkness. If he told this god, would it destroy Erebus's trial stage?
Or perhaps, Zald thought bitterly, the presence of this god is indeed needed to accelerate the destruction of a weak generation.
Zald didn't care anymore. He was just a tool, a whetstone waiting to be shattered. There was no harm in telling a passing god.
"I am here for a stage of purification," Zald finally said, his voice heavy and echoing softly in the corner of the tavern. "The Operation Purgatory plan."
Venti didn't interrupt. He simply listened carefully as Zald began recounting Erebus's entire crazy plan.
Zald told of how Erebus provoked the strongest factions in Orario with the issue of slavery. How desert gods like Set, Sobek, and Osiris were used as distraction pawns to draw the attention of the Loki and Freya Familias to this place. How Seale, the captain of the Resheph Familia, would use the Har Resheph curse to mentally break those adventurers with illusions of the people they loved the most.
And finally, Zald explained his own role.
"I am the final wall," Zald concluded, his eyes gazing toward the sandstorm outside the tavern window. "For those whose sanity survives that hellish illusion, they must face me. I will slaughter them if they cannot prove that they possess fangs sharp enough to tear through the scales of the One-Eyed Black Dragon. If they cannot get past me, they do not deserve to hold the hopes of the world."
Silence fell once more after that long confession. Zald waited for a reaction from the God of Wind. He prepared himself for a morality lecture, divine anger, or a threat to stop him.
However, what left Venti's lips was instead a very dramatic and... exasperated sigh.
"That is the most troublesome and convoluted plan I have ever heard in my entire life," Venti rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair in a lazy manner.
Zald frowned, confused by the casual reaction.
"I mean, think about it, Zald," Venti pointed his index finger at the veteran's face. "Why do you have to bother throwing away the rest of your life to test if other adventurers are worthy of being the next generation's heroes? Why don't you just be that hero again? Exact your own revenge on the One-Eyed Black Dragon instead of becoming a tragic stepping stone."
"What do you mean?" Zald growled, his jaw clenched tight. "My power is no longer my own. This body is rotting. You think I'm doing this because I like it? I have already failed!"
Venti smiled, a calm smile hiding an invisible storm behind it.
"Join my Familia."
The clinking of plates and the noise of the tavern seemed to evaporate in Zald's ears. He stared at the god before him blankly. The aroma of camel meat on his table even suddenly vanished from his sense of smell, replaced by a sensation of severe disorientation.
Has this god gone mad? Zald thought, his eyes widening slightly. He had just detailed how he would participate in massacring Orario's strongest factions. He had just positioned himself as an absolute enemy. And this god's response was to invite him into his Familia?!
"You are truly an insane god," Zald said in a heavy tone, shaking his head slowly. "Did you not hear my words? I am dying. The Behemoth's poison continues to gnaw at my internal organs. I have to eat monster flesh just to keep this body from breaking down. Asking me to join your Familia is the same as picking up a Living Corpse."
"A living corpse?" Venti chuckled crisply, closing his eyes as if hearing a very funny joke. "Oh, please. Alfia said the exact same thing when I first met her in that run-down church. And guess where that living corpse is now?"
Venti leaned forward, whispering in a triumphant tone.
"Alfia has already leveled up to 8."
Those words struck Zald's consciousness like a lightning bolt in broad daylight. His massive body flinched back, causing his wooden chair to creak loudly in protest against the suddenly shifting weight.
"Impossible," Zald's voice trembled, losing his absolute composure for the first time. "You're lying. The curse in Alfia's body worsens her condition every time she pushes herself. Her disease is far more severe than my poison! Her body would never be strong enough to contain such a massive status update!"
Without waiting for Zald to react, Venti snapped his fingers.
A gentle green wind instantly swirled around Zald's giant body. Not an ordinary wind, but a wind carrying the scent of times past. Venti focused his understanding on the veteran's vital organs, which were gnawed by the Behemoth's poison.
Rewind.
Return to the time before the damage occurred.
The ticking of an imaginary clock echoed softly in the corner of the tavern. Zald jolted violently in his chair. He felt the heavy burden burning his stomach and intestines suddenly lift. His breathing, which was always accompanied by stinging pain, suddenly became very long and relieved.
Zald's eyes widened to their maximum. Inside his body, a phenomenon defying the laws of nature was taking place. The constant pain that had become his loyal companion was truly pulled back and slightly disappeared.
"Behemoth poison, huh?" Venti commented casually, pulling his hand back. "Just so you know, the curse disease Alfia suffered from was much worse than this. Restoring your poisoned physical organs is much easier."
Venti pulled his hand back and stepped back, smiling with satisfaction.
Zald froze in his chair. He gasped for air, not out of pain, but because he could draw breath as long as he wanted without feeling like his lungs were being pierced by millions of needles. The invisible weight that had been perched on his shoulders all this time seemed to evaporate. The light sensation creeping through his entire body felt so foreign yet so missed.
His trembling hand felt his armor-plated stomach. There was no more nausea. No more urgent need to swallow raw monster flesh. The poison... had been suppressed to the point where he could breathe freely again.
In that second of epiphany, Zald finally understood.
His question about how this bard god managed to subdue Alfia's arrogance was answered very decisively. If this god was able to reverse the death sentence passed by the world, if this god was able to cure her sister's eternal suffering... of course Alfia would bow her head. Zald himself, having just received a sliver of this miracle, felt a strange urge of loyalty beginning to bloom in his chest.
"So, Sir Hero," Venti's voice broke Zald's reverie. The god sat back in his chair, resting his face in his hands while looking at Zald expectantly. "I will offer this one more time. What is your choice? Rather than dying foolishly following Erebus's tragic drama plan, it's better you join my Familia. We'll gather strength, have fun, and someday, you can swing that giant sword of yours right at the neck of the dragon that killed your friends. Sounds far more profitable, doesn't it?"
Zald was silent. His eyes stared at his own hands, which still trembled slightly from time to time. His body indeed hadn't fully healed, but he could feel it—the burden of the Behemoth's poison that had been destroying his internal organs now felt a little lighter. The deadly stinging pain had subsided significantly, giving him room to breathe without pain. This was a glimmer of proof of a second chance. Something he thought was impossible for him to get.
However, before giving his absolute answer, Zald's gaze sharpened again toward Venti.
"Before I answer," Zald said, his tone of voice once again controlled by cold rationality. "I want to know your honest opinion about Erebus's plan. That God of Darkness believes that Orario right now is too weak. He believes that true heroes will never be born from peace and comfort. They must be forged in a hell of absolute despair for their highest potential to awaken. Do you think his logic is wrong?"
Venti fell silent for a moment. The wind inside the tavern blew softly, playing with the ends of his braided hair. The cheerful smile on Venti's face slowly faded, replaced by an expression of ancient wisdom that heavily contrasted his youthful appearance.
"My opinion?" Venti leaned back, looking straight into Zald's eyes. "I think Erebus is a terrible scriptwriter, forcing a tragedy because he lacks any other imagination."
Zald raised his eyebrows, not expecting to hear such an analogy.
"You gods and heroes in this world are too obsessed with the concept of 'despair as a stepping stone'," continued Venti, his tone of voice flowing calmly yet as sharp as a razor. "Erebus thinks that by stripping everything away, torturing their minds, and placing them at the edge of death, he is 'helping' them evolve. But that's not evolution, Zald. That is coercion."
Venti raised his hand, smiling faintly while gazing into the distance with an incredibly free look.
"A bird does not learn to fly by being thrown off a stormy cliff and forced not to die. They fly because the wind offers freedom in the sky. True heroes—authentic heroes—are not born solely because they have no other choice but to fight in a tight corner. They are born because they have the freedom to choose, and they choose to protect what they love."
Venti's teal eyes radiated an immeasurable divine depth.
"Erebus's plan destroys that freedom of choice. He chains their fate into his purgatory scenario. If they win against you, they are merely products of the despair Erebus designed. But to me..." Venti smiled gently. "...an adventurer who is strong only because of the trauma of seeing his friends die will never be able to surpass those who grow strong out of a genuine desire to see a bright future."
Those words echoed inside Zald's head. A philosophy entirely foreign to a world that always considered heavy burdens and massive responsibilities as the only path to becoming strong. Venti did not offer instant power through tragedy; this god offered the freedom to become strong without having to shatter their own souls.
For the first time since the absolute defeat that killed Captain Maxim and destroyed his Familia, Zald felt the corners of his lips twitch. A very soft, hoarse, and awkward laugh escaped the mouth of the giant gluttony.
"Freedom, huh," muttered Zald, staring at his giant sword leaning against the wall.
Testing the next generation? Becoming the whetstone hated by the world? Dying as a villain in the middle of the desert? Suddenly, all those grim scripts Erebus wrote for him sounded incredibly boring.
If he could regain his strength, if his body was no longer rotting, and if he could personally slash the one-eyed black dragon that had taken everything from him... why should he die? He was Zald the Gluttony. His place was on the front lines of the world's deciding battle, not as a fake boss on an exam stage.
Zald rose from his chair. His massive body towered, blocking the light from above the table, creating a giant shadow looming over Venti. However, there was no longer any killing intent or despair in his aura.
The giant man then bowed his head deeply, a gesture of absolute respect he rarely gave to anyone.
"This broken body, and this sword that had lost its way," Zald said in a loud voice. "If your miracle can indeed bring me back to the true battlefield... then I, Zald, swear to swing this sword under your banner, God Venti."
Venti smiled very broadly, his eyes narrowing into cheerful crescents.
"Now, that's much better! Welcome to the Barbatos Familia, Zald!" Venti jumped from his chair, patting Zald's giant arm, which was as hard as a reef. "Now, since your body feels much lighter, you must be able to enjoy a meal without having to endure pain anymore, right? Let's finish this roasted camel meat and order lots of beer! Consider this our little celebration!"
Zald sat back down. He stared at the pile of roasted camel meat on his plate, realizing that for the first time in a very long time, he could actually feel a normal appetite without being haunted by pain.
He then glanced at Venti, who was cheerfully calling the tavern waiter.
Behind his flat face, Zald secretly pondered the fate of his former co-conspirator.
Erebus had crafted the Operation Purgatory plan brilliantly. The God of Darkness had set the pawns, provoked the enemies, and prepared a grand stage perfect for an epic tragedy. Everything was ready. Everything was going according to the scenario.
Except for one thing: Erebus didn't know that the 'Final Boss' who was supposed to guard the gates of that stage had just been hijacked by a bard god who didn't care about his dramatic script at all.
For some reason, for the first time, Zald felt a little pity for the God of Darkness. Erebus's grand stage had just lost its main actor, and a far more unpredictable storm was preparing to smash his script to pieces.
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