"Alfia…? B-But your illness—?"
"It's fine." Alfia forced herself upright on the bed, her expression dark. "I'm the one this concerns. How could I allow the children to risk their lives for me while I hide behind them and 'recover'? If I go, our odds increase—don't they?"
Duncan fell silent for a beat, then shook his head.
"…No. Alfia, you should stay and rest. I have a bad feeling—if you go, things will definitely spiral toward the worst possible outcome."
He didn't say the rest out loud.
If this truly was part of some god's scripted farce, then "easy mode" was exactly what the so-called fun-loving gods wouldn't tolerate. They lived for tension, twists, and near-death drama. A clean run, a painless victory—too boring.
And if Alfia stepped onto the stage, the "difficulty scaling" would become absurd.
Duncan knew it better than anyone. He had endured her "baptisms" for far too long. If the ruins held monsters comparable to first-class adventurers, then Artemis's familia plus Duncan might still have a chance. But if fate—or some god's meddling—raised the opponent to Alfia's level…
They wouldn't have a chance at all.
"…I understand." Alfia watched him for a long time. Her face shifted, again and again, as if she were swallowing something bitter. Finally, she exhaled and lay back down. "Be careful—cough, cough!!"
The moment she hit the pillow, her expression changed sharply. She jerked upright, seized by violent coughing. Dark red blood spilled from her lips in heavy bursts, instantly staining the sheets.
"Alfia?!" Bell and Duncan cried out at the same time.
Duncan snatched the panacea from the bedside table and shoved it into her hands.
Under the medicine's suppression, the coughing finally stopped. Alfia's eyelids fluttered—and then her body slackened into unconsciousness. Her face was paper-white, drained of every trace of color.
Duncan's gaze hardened.
"Bell. I'm leaving now. Alfia… I'm counting on you."
"I—I understand." Bell nodded hard, fear and determination tangled together. "I'll… I'll watch the house. I'll do it."
Duncan didn't waste another second.
Packing took no time at all. Experience and habit had made it automatic. He checked his weapons, tightened straps, and after one last look at the two in the room, he pushed open the cabin door and stepped out toward the group waiting in the clearing.
"Leave the baggage to Lanti," Letsa said, gesturing toward the loudest member of her familia—now conscripted to push the supply cart. "You only need to carry your weapon."
Duncan's pack was nearly as tall as he was. He paused, then nodded. A twenty-person expedition meant heavy preparation: food, medicine, spare weapons, camp gear, and room to haul back magic stones and drops. Unlike Duncan's earlier "survive at one point for a month" ventures, this was a deep push—unknown routes, unknown threats, unknown contingencies.
Supporters existed for a reason.
"Much appreciated," Duncan said, handing the load over without arguing.
Lanti complained out of habit, but didn't protest as she helped stow the gear.
"Captain, don't spend other people's generosity," she muttered.
"Less talk." Letsa didn't even blink. "You're the one who made Lady Artemis angry. This is her order. If you don't like it, go complain to her."
She counted heads, confirmed the lineup, then went to Artemis and reported in a low voice.
"Since it's settled, don't get hung up on small things," Artemis said. She smoothed the hair at her temples that the wind had loosened, then let her gaze rest on Duncan. "If there's nothing else, we depart."
The formation was tight and deliberate:
Front element: Duncan, Artemis, and a cat-person scout.
Main body: Letsa and the close-combat members.
Rear center: Two mages and three supporters with the cart, boxed in by guards.
Tail: Three Amazons on rearguard watch.
Duncan couldn't help being impressed—and uneasy.
A god traveling with the party was one thing. A god placed in the forward element was another. A familia's blessings depended on their deity. If the god was sent back to Heaven, everyone would lose their Falna and become no different from ordinary people—at the worst possible moment.
And monsters didn't have any rule against harming gods.
In Orario, this had happened before—wicked gods forcibly sending other deities back and then slaughtering the newly powerless adventurers. The most infamous recent example was the great conflict sparked by Evilus: fifteen gods returned to Heaven, and the casualties among the adventurers had been counted in the hundreds.
And yet here Artemis was, stepping into the first line as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Duncan lowered his voice as they walked. "You're really letting your goddess take point?"
Letsa's answer came out like a groan that had been held in for months.
"You think we want this?" she hissed. "Every fight, Lady Artemis charges farther forward than we do. We've told her again and again—she doesn't listen. And then we have to fight while babysitting her position, and the formation gets broken because we're trying to protect her."
Her frustration sharpened.
"Her technique is better than most of us, sure. But she's still in a mortal body. Against monsters, she has no natural advantage. We keep saying it, and she keeps ignoring it."
It wasn't stubbornness, exactly—more like something fixed and unchanging. Maybe that "unchanging" was part of what made gods fascinated with the ever-changing Lower World. Zeus had once joked the truth was simpler: the gods were bored of Heaven's endless routine and came down here to live.
Letsa, having found an outsider to vent to, spoke with a warmth that didn't match her stern appearance. She nearly forgot Artemis was walking only a few steps away—until Artemis turned her head with a gentle smile that somehow carried a threat.
A moment later, the "captain" found herself reassigned… to the back of the line.
"…So I'm pushing the cart now," Letsa muttered, arriving beside the supporters with a stiff face.
Lanti grinned like she'd won a war. She slapped her captain's shoulder.
"Captain! What a coincidence—you're pushing too! Great, great. We can rotate!"
"Shut up, Lanti!" Letsa snapped.
....
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