Chapter 71: Coach, This Isn't the Script!
"Finally noticed, huh? But it might be too late now."
Seeing Apollo's uneasy expression, Loki sneered and then walked toward the place where her Familia was gathered. The events that had happened in the Dungeon had already been reported back to her by her returning followers, and they were far more interesting than she had imagined. She was looking forward to what would happen next. The long-dormant Orario was about to get lively again.
"Damn it, what happened? How could they dare hide it from me?"
Apollo's face darkened as he walked toward his followers, and the gods around him exchanged confused glances. It seemed that things weren't as simple as they had expected.
Seeing Apollo in a bad mood, the other gods scattered, heading toward their respective Familias.
Soon, they heard the reports from their own followers, and all of them were left in stunned silence. Even after living for so long, they couldn't process what they were hearing. Their minds were in shock.
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At this moment, at Apollo Familia's location—
Apollo, accompanied by his grim-faced captain and lover, Hyakinthos Clio, stood silently, looking at the more than one hundred of his followers, creating a tense and ominous atmosphere.
"Speak. What happened in the Dungeon? Why did you all return and avoid the base, avoiding Lord Apollo?"
Hyakinthos' gaze sharpened as he angrily spoke.
"Well… Lord Apollo, Lord Hyakinthos… actually… they were killed by Blake…!"
Unable to bear the pressure any longer, Apollo's followers exchanged fearful glances before, in broken voices, they finally revealed the truth.
"What?!!!"
Upon hearing this, Hyakinthos' face froze, his brain temporarily going blank. They had six high-level adventurers as support, yet they were killed by a Level 1 rookie?!
"Loki! Is this what you meant?!"
Apollo's entire body exuded a chilling aura, sending shivers down people's spines. He was barely able to suppress the overwhelming energy leaking from him.
He finally understood.
Why the adventurers in the square were giving him strange looks, why Loki was certain of his defeat, and why his followers were avoiding him.
His six high-level adventurers, who had been boasting about being the elite of the elite, were now dead. It was an utter humiliation, a slap to his face that echoed.
"Ugh, tell me, how did that silver-haired kid kill them? He shouldn't have that kind of power. Could the Sword Princess have helped?"
Apollo asked, his face dark with anger.
"Well… actually…"
Upon hearing this, Apollo's followers exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of how to respond.
Killed them?
They had boldly ambushed someone in front of many adventurers, only to be instantly countered and killed. They didn't even take the game seriously… it was all just a training session for their basic abilities… the rest was incidental.
"Speak! If the Sword Princess really interfered, I'll make Loki Familia pay for it…!"
Noticing his followers' strange reactions, Apollo's sense of dread grew stronger. His face darkened as he demanded answers.
However, before he could finish, cheers and exclamations suddenly erupted from the square, cutting him off.
"Oh!!!!!!!"
"The silver-haired guy finally came out! I thought he'd forgotten the time while training!"
"Yeah. Tsk tsk tsk, the real show is finally starting. We've been holding this in for so long, not revealing what happened in the Dungeon, just so Apollo wouldn't hear."
"Hehe, it was worth the wait!"
The sudden noise in the square caused Apollo's followers to lower their heads, as if trying to hide something.
Apollo's pupils contracted as he looked toward Babel Tower.
There, a silver-haired young man dressed in casual clothes walked steadily toward them, his expression calm and unruffled.
Behind the boy were three girls: a blonde swordswoman, Ais Wallenstein, who wore light armor and was more beautiful and graceful than most goddesses; a cloaked elf girl, Ryuu, whose pointed ears were faintly visible; and lastly, a somewhat awkward little girl from the Pallum race, Liliruca, who was wearing a cream-colored cloak and carrying a backpack much larger than her body.
"Ugh——! Blake, welcome back! I was so worried! I'm so glad you're okay, otherwise, I would…"
Just as Blake walked through the path cleared by the adventurers, drawing everyone's attention, a youthful, well-endowed figure suddenly rushed forward and hugged him, speaking with a caring, tearful voice.
This was Hestia, the goddess with a black ponytail and a blue ribbon tied at the front, her symbol clearly displayed.
Earlier that morning, Hestia had overslept after drinking too much the night before. As soon as she saw Blake, she immediately rushed over from Hephaestus' place.
"Sorry."
Upon hearing this, Blake's expression softened, a hint of apology in his voice. He understood—though Hestia trusted him, the feeling of waiting helplessly like this was unsettling.
"Sigh, you really know how to get into trouble. On your second day as an adventurer, you're already clashing with a major Familia like Apollo's."
At that moment, another figure emerged from the crowd—Hephaestus, who walked up to Blake, her expression strange as she spoke helplessly.
"There was nothing I could do. They insulted Hestia, and Apollo wasn't innocent either. Letting his followers act like this is one thing, but it's his twisted intentions toward Hestia that made me go after him."
Blake explained while gently brushing Hestia's hair, shaking his head as he spoke to Hephaestus.
"Oh?"
Hephaestus looked at Blake in surprise. She knew Apollo's character, but she couldn't understand how Blake knew about his intentions.
"I can sense people's malice."
Noticing Hephaestus' curious gaze, Blake explained calmly.
"You really hide a lot of abilities."
Upon hearing this, Hephaestus looked at Blake with astonishment. She knew about the events in the Dungeon, but she hadn't expected that, in addition to his breakthrough in breaking the level restrictions and surpassing his limits, Blake also possessed the ability to sense even the malice of gods. This completely shattered Hephaestus' perception of humanity.
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