INTERLUDE

A PRIVATE CONVERSATION BETWEEN GODS

“Intelligent monsters, huh…?”

“That’s right. They’re the root of our current problem and what Ouranos has been hiding.”

In the highest location of the city, a secret discussion was taking place where no one could overhear them.

On Babel’s highest floor, a certain god was visiting the castle where Freya held court.

Hermes stood there, his hat removed and his orange hair swaying.

“And what of it? What’s your goal in sharing that information with me?”

It was nighttime.

Hermes had recounted to Freya the full story of the incident that dragged the city into chaos—as well as the true nature of the armed monsters. Plus, Ouranos’s will. And the existence of Knossos and the evil hidden away in it and, on top of all that, its relation to Loki Familia.

Everything.

In response, Freya mustered a “humph.” There were some surprises, but she already knew much of what he had shared. And none of it particularly interested her.

The Goddess of Beauty was fixated on a single boy.

To the point that the fate of the armed monsters and Ouranos’s intentions were trivial compared to him.

“Lady Freya, I’m anxious for Bell.”

Bell Cranell was falling into ruin. His accomplishments were undoubtedly crumbling, tumbling down the staircase he’d managed to climb. He was on the verge of losing everything after betraying the hearts of the people, just as a certain hero elsewhere feared would happen to him.

That wasn’t the end the god had wanted.

“I have a few plans myself, of course, but I’d like to ask for your assistance.”

“…”

“You don’t want that white light to collapse over something as meaningless as disappointment, right?”

It wasn’t a development she’d desired, either.

Upon emphasizing their shared goals, the dandy god made his courteous request.

Freya’s response: “Have you forgotten what you did to me during the dispute with Ishtar?”

She wore a smile that could charm the hearts of a thousand men. But the divine intention hidden behind it was entwined with wrath.

In destroying Ishtar Familia, which had been connected to the Evils’ Remnants, the Goddess of Beauty had been forced to dance to Hermes’s tune, and she still hadn’t forgiven him for that incident.

Freya was the type to smile modestly, and Hermes’s face twitched visibly when he saw her grinning from ear to ear. He quickly raised his hands, indicating his surrender and recoiling.

He didn’t apologize, or explain himself, or acknowledge his sin. But he did make a simple request.

“Then, I hope you will find a way to watch over us.”

Look after the fate of that boy. And witness what I’ve prepared to flip everything on its head. Hermes left it implied, unspoken.

“Which means you’d like me to do nothing.”

“Yes.”

He returned her gaze, and the silver eyes of the goddess bored into his orange ones.

Hermes deliberately bowed deeply.

“If you believe me and if you’re willing to entrust it to me…I’d like you to give me the key.”

For the first time in their conversation, Freya flinched. She raised a single eyebrow.

“With the key to Knossos…I’ll take care of the intelligent monsters. And bring that boy back once more to the role of a hero.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“I’ll set a stage, one where the hero can return.”

Freya contemplated this as Hermes continued to remain bent over before her.

When Ishtar was sent back, Freya had protected one of the exiled goddess’s followers, Tammuz. He’d held the key to Knossos, which was now under Freya’s control.

To hand it over to Hermes when I didn’t give it to Loki…If I’m being honest, I don’t trust him…But if that child can overcome it, then this side might be…

A stage for the return of a hero.

A dramatic play prepared by a god—or a farce.

With a firm grip on Hermes’s divine will, Freya decided it had the potential to be a sufficient trial.

And setting aside the wishes of the god before her, this would satisfy her own desire: It might be possible for her to witness the great scene. It wasn’t her divine will but the boy’s fervent wish to overcome.

In that case, I…Freya realized that her instincts had been correct when she had refused to yield to Loki and kept the key to herself.

“Ottar. The key.”

“My lady,” echoed a curt response from a dark corner of the room.

After the briefest of pauses, the boaz attendant approached Freya, respectfully holding out a magic item with the symbol D engraved into it.

“Very well. I shall give it to you.”

That was the goddess’s decision—or whim. Its effects would greatly surpass her intentions, eventually going on to sharpen everyone’s branching paths.

“Thank you, Lady Freya.”

Hermes smiled as Freya handed him the Daedalus Orb and then hurried toward the door to the goddess’s room, as if not wanting to waste any more time.

“Pardon me,” he said as he left the room.

“…Hermes? You believe you know everything, but you should be careful. Don’t get tripped up, all right?”

The door closed behind him. The god disappeared, and Freya grinned upon giving him a warning that didn’t reach his ears.

Standing by her side, Ottar offered a response instead.

“By you, my lady?”

“Not by me…By that child,” she responded as she approached the window.

Outside the gigantic, seamless window was a gray and black sky filled with thick clouds.

She stared out at it.

“I have no need for a god-made hero. I’m tired of them.”

Ironically, it had the same ring to it as the “man-made hero” a certain Braver had spoken about before.

“I want to see…No, the world itself desires a hero who’s never been seen before.”

The goddess smiled sweetly, and her eyes narrowed, as if looking at something elsewhere in the distance, as she hooked her hair behind her ear.

“To break the stagnation of the mortal realm, we need…a heretical hero who betrays the gods.”

Her murmur was swallowed up by the darkness.