"Is there something you can't say?" Artemis asked.
She and Letsa exchanged a quick look before Artemis turned back to Duncan.
"I swear in the name of Artemis. Neither I nor my children will leak this information."
"You don't have to be that solemn…" Duncan blurted reflexively—and then, after drawing a slow breath, answered anyway. "I'm from Zeus Familia."
The atmosphere froze.
Not an icy plunge into hostility, but the warmth that had lingered around the campfire-like break evaporated in an instant, leaving a taut silence in its place.
"Lady Artemis, please stay calm," Letsa murmured, seeing the sharpness gathering in her goddess's eyes.
"…I know." Artemis let out a long breath, forcing the edge down. "He is him, and you are you. That old bastard is intolerable, but I'm not going to take it out on a child of his Familia."
Her gaze slid over Duncan, and she grimaced like she'd finally placed a bad taste.
"At least now I understand why your presence rubbed me the wrong way."
"So you and the old man really don't get along?" Duncan asked, unable to stop his curiosity once he saw Letsa's shoulders relax.
"You could say every goddess doesn't get along with that old bastard," Artemis replied flatly. "Especially when he and Hermes are involved. The two of them are a living monument to shamelessness."
Her expression darkened as old memories resurfaced.
"Back in Heaven, they'd drag other male gods along and go prowling around harassing goddesses. I put arrows into them more than once, and did it teach them a lesson? Of course not."
Then she clapped Duncan on the shoulder with sudden seriousness—almost like a warning carved into bone.
"Duncan. You may be his child, but don't you dare grow up like him. Ah… now I'm worried about how you'll be raised. When we return, I'm going to give him a proper lecture."
"Lady Artemis," Letsa cut in with an exhausted smile, "Zeus may have his many flaws, but interfering with another Familia's child is not exactly—"
She glanced at Duncan, trying to communicate she means well, please don't misunderstand.
"…not ideal."
After a brief tug-of-war—Letsa coaxing, Artemis grumbling—the goddess's temper finally settled again.
"But yes." Artemis's tone softened, even as her dislike remained. "If you're Zeus Familia, it makes sense why you wanted to hide it. I thought you were merely cautious… but this explains it."
Her eyes held a distant weight.
"I don't know what that old man is scheming, but I will keep my promise. Whatever else I may feel, I can't deny what Zeus and Hera Familias did for the Lower World."
Even gods who had only briefly descended could not argue with those achievements.
The King and Queen factions might have vanished, their gods missing, but their legacy did not.
"I still don't understand why the old man would hide in a place like this," Duncan admitted. "He claims it's to avoid Lady Hera's pursuit."
"That's what he deserves," Artemis said without pity. "Those two were never truly compatible. People call them 'the male god' and 'the goddess,' but from ancient times their factions were a mix of rivalry, cooperation, and conflict. Even when they could have stood united, they'd fight over the strangest things—and their personal relationship was a large part of it."
Duncan and Letsa both went quiet at once.
Godly gossip was fascinating right up until it wasn't.
Listening was thrilling for a moment—but if you died and returned to Heaven later, you might find yourself being "thanked" in person. Adventurers, after all, lived with death close enough to breathe.
Fortunately, the break did not last long, and Artemis had no interest in continuing her heavenly anecdotes. Once the rest ended, she rose and issued the order to move out. Duncan and Letsa met each other's eyes—both wearing the same strained, half-amused, half-terrified smile.
The forest grew denser as they advanced.
The monsters that had only been watching from the edges finally lost patience. Attacks began to come in waves.
Because the party was large, the monsters probed them in groups, forcing the formation to slow and respond again and again.
"Lady Artemis—please don't charge so far forward! You're using a bow— I didn't tell you to switch weapons!"
Sasha, a guard with sword and shield, knocked aside a would-be ambush with her shield, cut down the attacker, and pleaded over her shoulder. The moment Artemis heard the warning and calmly stowed her bow—only to draw her shortsword and step in closer—Sasha practically shouted the rest.
A martial goddess had the habit of wanting to fight with her own hands. Artemis was the worst kind: the "archer" who would suddenly decide that stabbing was faster. It made Sasha's job miserable—she had to protect her goddess while also maintaining the line.
"I told you not to worry," Artemis answered, expression serene. "Do your job."
"How can we not? We're your children. Please—consider how we feel!" Sasha snapped back, even as she raised her shield again to block a volley of thrown stones from the brush.
Duncan's eyes narrowed.
The hostile presence in the trees was swelling. Not all of it rushed in like magic wolves; some hung back, predatory and patient. But being watched by so many at once was dangerous—especially when the attacks now included more than claws and fangs. He'd already seen monsters that hurled stones, and others that spat corrosive slime.
"Just holding the line won't let us move," Duncan said, voice steady. "I'll go in and carve a path."
"…Thank you," Sasha said before she could stop herself—using honorifics out of pure instinct.
In the world of adventurers, strength was status. And after Duncan had effortlessly dispatched over a dozen would-be ambushers, no one could look at him as "just a child" anymore.
Duncan nodded once.
Then he sprang forward—light as a bird diving into a thicket.
White spearpoint flashed like winter steel. The moment it dipped, a monster dissolved into ash. The moment it rose, another collapsed. His movements were clean, economical—no wasted flourishes, only the ruthless efficiency of someone who had been "washed" by monsters and mentors alike.
The spear that made almost no sound became a reaper's scythe.
Each thrust, lift, sweep, and cut erased another presence from the forest.
The monster pack—thrown together in hunger and instinct—fractured immediately under lethal pressure. Some tried to fight. Some tried to flee. Some simply panicked and moved without thought.
None of it mattered.
It was already too late.
A Level 3 adventurer's power was on full display—especially one like Duncan, whose Agility and Dexterity were grotesquely high even by Level 3 standards. The complex terrain of the Great Tree Sea wasn't a hindrance to him; it was home ground. He flowed through branches and shadows like water through cracks, and the monster auras around him vanished at a speed visible even to the less experienced.
Before the rear of the party could even fully process what had happened, the pressure on their perimeter plummeted.
Deeper in the forest, monsters were stronger—and when their numbers rose, Level 1 adventurers could be overwhelmed in moments. Yet Duncan cut through the swarm like it was nothing, turning what should have been a grinding defensive struggle into a sudden clearing.
In that brutal contrast—between the low and the high—the gap between ordinary adventurers and a true upper-tier fighter was laid bare.
....
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