The Banquet of the Gods.
It was everything Toji Fushiguro expected from divine indulgence, frivolous, loud, dripping with the kind of gold-leaf arrogance that could only belong to beings who had never once needed to bleed for survival.
He didn't fit in, and he knew it.
Yet here he was, seated at one of the far tables, chewing lazily on grilled boar meat with the kind of indifferent calm that made more than a few deities glance his way with confusion, or thinly veiled disdain.
"Hecate, that's your mortal, isn't it?" Hermes leaned in, one brow raised, a sly grin on his face as he nursed a glass of ambrosia.
"He's not mine," Hecate replied coolly, swirling her wine. "He just wears my blessing when it suits him."
Across the room, Dionysus chuckled. "He looks like he's ready to kill the furniture. I like him."
Toji didn't listen.
Or maybe he just didn't care.
His half-lidded eyes scanned the hall once, noting the exits, the weight of divine presence in the air, and the petty rivalries playing out across the long tables.
There were whispers about him, some already knew his name, others didn't.
But his reputation had already started to bleed into Orario's upper echelons.
Whispers of the man who fought monsters with strange weapons, who fought without magic, who trained the Viridis girl in secret.
The man with no interest in gods or their games.
Too bad he found himself in the middle of one.
"Everyone," Apollo's voice rose above the chatter, clinking his glass with practiced flair. "Let us begin with the reason I called this banquet!"
Toji didn't even blink. He kept eating.
Apollo stood near the center, glowing as always.
Beautiful in a way that was hollow, like a sculpture carved to impress and not to endure.
"I, Apollo, bring to your attention a grievous injury done to one of my beloved children." He gestured dramatically. "One of my children was gravely wounded during a scuffle instigated by Bell Cranel of the Hestia Familia!"
Toji froze, meat halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked up.
The reaction in the room was immediate, gasps, murmurs, pointed glances toward Hestia, who stood abruptly, anger in her petite frame burning like a forge.
"He was defending himself!" she shouted, small fists clenched at her side. "He attacked us!"
Apollo ignored her. "And so," he continued, turning in place so his dramatic eyes met every god in the room, "I hereby challenge the Hestia Familia to a War Game!"
Toji slowly set down his food.
A War Game. Over something so petty. Over ego. Over theatrics.
He could already imagine the consequences.
He glanced toward Hestia's table. Bell was visibly shaken.
Lili looked ready to throw something. Welf, seated stiffly beside them, was muttering curses under his breath.
And Hestia, fuming, red, indignant, glared daggers at Apollo.
Toji let out a breath through his nose. His fingers tapped the edge of the table.
"So... what?" he muttered low, voice dry. "He gets punched once, and now he wants a war?"
Hermes, overhearing, smirked. "Gods are dramatic creatures, my friend."
Toji stood. The room wasn't silent, but the ripple it caused was tangible.
The man dressed in simple black, out of place among flowing robes and ornamental armor, was a sudden thread of tension in the tapestry.
He walked toward the back balcony, not saying a word to Hecate or anyone. Just muttering, "I came for the food."
But before he left the main hall, he passed close enough to Apollo for the god to hear him murmur, "You better hope your kids can fight better than you talk."
Apollo stiffened.
The balcony overlooked Orario at night, its glowing lights framed by the dark silhouette of Babel Tower.
Toji leaned against the railing, chewing a bit of grilled bread. Hecate joined him a few minutes later, glass still in hand.
"So?" she asked.
"So," he said.
"You're going to get involved."
He didn't answer.
"You like that kid, don't you?" she pushed. "Cranel. Or maybe not like... pity?"
Toji's eyes narrowed. "He reminds me of someone who actually tries to fight his fate. Even if he's doing it loud and wrong."
Hecate chuckled. "You're not as cold as you pretend to be."
"No," he agreed. "But I'm still not getting dragged into some shiny god's pissing contest."
Hecate gave him a knowing look. "You say that..."
He looked over the city again, then down at his hand, the one that once held the Inverted Spear of Heaven.
The same hand that now barely twitched when he thought about letting go. He was too old for this kind of drama. And yet...
"Let me guess," he muttered, "Hestia don't want to risk her child?."
"Yeah."
"Figures."
Then from behind them, Hermes appeared, almost too casually. "Apollo might be arrogant," he said, "but he's not stupid. He's planning something. It won't be a fair game."
Toji didn't look at him. "Stacked odds, hidden forces, dirty plays."
Hermes shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. I thought you'd be interested."
"I'm not."
Hermes tilted his head. "You should be. Because if that boy falls, your quiet little life might get a lot noisier."
And that got a look.
Toji studied the god for a moment. "You know who I am, don't you."
"I've read a few things," Hermes said, cryptically. "From a time and world far beyond this one."
Toji's silence was answer enough.
Hermes offered a wink. "You're not the only one with secrets, Mr. Fushiguro."
With that, he left, leaving the assassin alone with the stars.
Toji didn't move for a long while.
Eventually, he rolled his neck, sighed, and went back inside to grab another plate of food.
The divine drama wasn't over, not by a long shot.
And he'd be lying if he said a part of him, just a small part, didn't want to see how it played out.
Especially if it meant someone needed killing later.
...
Evening in Orario was never quiet, but tonight... it felt different.
Toji Fushiguro strolled down the stone streets with his hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket.
The twin suns had long sunk behind the walls of the city, and the gas lamps were flickering to life, painting warm halos over cobblestone and crimson tile.
He had no destination in mind.
He almost never did.
The city was still buzzing about the recent Minotaur incident. Whispers of a white-haired boy slaying it solo had morphed into full-blown bar gossip.
Some called it reckless. Others heroic. Toji? He called it amusing.
But as he walked past the main plaza, boom.
The sharp crack of an explosion rattled the stones beneath his feet.
He didn't flinch, only exhaled with mild irritation as the shockwave reached him. Cries followed. Screams.
The sudden thundering of boots on stone. Flames licking at rooftops somewhere deeper in the district.
"...Tch. What now?"
His pace didn't quicken. He turned a corner leisurely and climbed a nearby rooftop in two swift movements, crouching on the tiles.
From there, he could see it clearly: fire and smoke pouring out near Hestia's old church, where Bell Cranel resided.
Figures moved in the chaos below, uniformed attackers in gold and red.
"...Apollo Familia," he muttered. "So the peacock finally snapped."
Below, the ambush was in full force.
Bell was already on the defensive, weaving between alleys with Liliruca and Welf close behind, trying to escape the attackers.
Welf swung his greatsword to knock back an enemy with surprising force. Lili, ever the support, shouted tactical directions while guarding Bell's back.
Toji watched them like one might watch a stage play.
"Kid's not half bad under pressure," he muttered, watching Bell slide beneath a spear thrust and vault over a low wall. "Still stupid. But gutsy."
Another crash drew his eye to the side street where Mikoto Yamato emerged, lightning crackling in her hand as she slammed a wave of energy into the ground, sending Apollo's men sprawling.
Moments later, Ryuu Lyon joined the fray, stepping out of the shadows like a phantom. She moved with surgical precision, disabling without killing.
"She's still got it," Toji smirked slightly, recognizing Ryuu from the Floor 18 incident.
Behind her, Asfi Al Andromeda appeared with Hermes in tow. Hermes watched the chaos with his usual mysterious grin, lips twitching like he was enjoying a show.
And just then, Hermes' eyes glanced up, directly toward Toji.
Their eyes locked for only a moment.
Toji's expression didn't change. Hermes gave a knowing smile, then turned away, feigning ignorance.
That damned god. How much does he know about me?
Toji turned his gaze back to the street.
Bell, now regrouped with his allies, stood between Lili and Welf, panting, blood trickling from a gash on his cheek.
They were surrounded. The gold-clad warriors closed in, and Hyakinthos himself, Apollo's captain, stepped forward with an arrogant sneer.
Toji leaned forward slightly, sensing the tension shift.
That's when Hestia herself arrived, storming into the chaos with fire in her eyes. She threw her arms around Bell, shielding him with her body, and shouted at the top of her lungs:
"STOP THIS!! THIS IS MADNESS!!"
The attackers hesitated.
Apollo's declaration echoed moments later through a magical broadcast, his divine voice smug and theatrical:
"I formally challenge Hestia Familia to a War Game!"
Toji's eyes narrowed.
"Bold," he muttered. "For a spineless prick."
The firelight below cast shadows on Bell's stunned face. The boy clutched at his goddess as the last of Apollo's warriors withdrew.
Their message had been delivered. The war was now official.
As the flames crackled and the crowd began to disperse, Toji rose from his perch.
He had seen what he needed to.
Bell wasn't the weakling people had once mocked.
His allies were forming around him, strong ones, loyal ones. But even now, with this much support... the kid looked lost.
Toji tilted his head.
"I wonder... what would've happened if I had a brat like that?"
For a moment, just a flicker of one, a young boy with spiky black hair, standing before him, fingers twisted into a Ten Shadows hand sign.
He shook it off and leapt from the rooftop, disappearing into the dark without a sound.
But there was something else happening.
Lili, she walk away from everyone with a person.
Who have a familiar logo on his uniform.
...
Soma.
A god more interested in his wine rather than his children.
But... Toji had enough.
He helped them too much, if they at least pay him something, he might lend a hand.
He's not a volunteer, deals and contracts is what he play.
"...ugh, Welf will save her, i already got a lot to take care of with that elf..."
...
The hall of the gods buzzed with divine energy, ornate marble columns spiraling into golden arches above.
Laughter echoed, shallow and indulgent.
Gods lounged like royalty at a party, most of them more entertained by the unfolding drama than invested in the war game itself.
The warmth of celestial lights danced off their robes and goblets, casting shadows long and sharp.
Apollo stood near the center, exuding charm and theatricality as though he were on stage. A golden smile curled on his lips as he leaned forward with feigned grace.
"My poor boy was injured," he said smoothly, barely hiding the smugness in his voice. "And yet I remain generous. This War Game is not vengeance, it is a chance for forgiveness. Perhaps Bell Cranel would thrive better under a stronger banner."
A few gods snickered. Hestia, seated across from him, looked like she might explode. Her knuckles were white from how tightly she clenched the arms of her chair.
"You're trying to steal him you perverted bastard!" she snapped. "This isn't justice, it's greed!"
Apollo merely raised his hands in a mock display of innocence.
"I want what's best for the boy. No offense but you can't even provide him a good place to stay nor foods. I will take good care of the rookie"
The silence that followed was filled with suppressed grins and hushed whispers. The council already sensed the outcome.
Hestia's Familia was pitifully small, and everyone here knew it. Even with support, the War Game would be an uphill battle.
Then Hermes, ever with a glint of mischief in his eye, broke the lull.
"Well, we could make it more interesting, no?" he said, swirling wine in his goblet. "Perhaps allow her to bring in outside help. Adventurers not bound to her banner. Would spice things up, don't you think?"
A murmur spread like wildfire across the chamber. Dionysus tilted his head, curious.
"Freelancers?" he mused. "That would set a precedent. Intriguing, but... dangerous."
Hestia remained silent. Her eyes flicked across the room, calculating.
Then, from the quiet corner of the hall where she had been observing the proceedings in stillness, Hecate spoke.
"Toji will join."
The words weren't loud, but they carved through the chatter with surgical precision. The room fell into a stunned silence.
"Toji? Who is that?" Apollo ask, clearly lacking the information about who that is.
Apollo blinked cluelessly. Dionysus set his cup down. Hermes arched a brow.
Even Hestia looked up in shock.
"Hecate..." Hermes leaned forward slightly, tone cautious. "You're volunteering your child? Are you certain?"
She didn't smile, didn't gloat. Her voice remained steady, cold and distant.
"I am. While technically under my Familia, Toji acts alone. He takes no orders. He doesn't care for our politics, and only fights when he deems it necessary. Even i, his goddess, can't control him"
"Does he even know about this?" Dionysus asked, half amused.
"He will," she replied. "If he's not too busy."
Hermes gave a low whistle. "You're serious. That man... he's not like the rest of us. Even the gods feel off when he's nearby."
"He is an anomaly," Hecate agreed. "One who has killed being close to gods in other lands. He doesn't belong here, and that's precisely why he's the perfect deterrent."
Whispers erupted again. Apollo's smugness cracked, just slightly.
"Wouldn't that be... overkill?" Hermes muttered, more to himself than anyone.
"Your child survived Bell Cranel," Hecate said evenly. "Toji wouldn't leave them breathing."
Hestia didn't say anything.
Her heart pounded, unsure whether she was horrified or relieved.
She had seen glimpses of that man before, cold eyes like bottomless wells, movements too precise for any mortal.
She had feared him, respected him, and now... he might be the only hope her child had.
Hermes leaned back, thoughtful.
"This War Game might be more entertaining than I expected."