(A quick chapter, normally we aim for around 2000+ but let just treat this as an update on how Orario is after Toji's declare)
.
.
.
Word spread faster than the wind.
A man stood alone on the surface of Orario, blood still drying on his sleeves, his shadow warped and monstrous behind him.
Monsters, intelligent ones, stood sheltered behind his back, and the declaration he left ringing in the air was burned into every ear that heard it:
they would live among men now, and anyone who dared to harm them would die.
No exception.
No mercy.
The city had never heard silence like that before.
No cheers, no riots.
Only an unease that soaked into every alley and home.
That man, the one they'd spoken of only in whispers, had stepped beyond unspoken lines and made them tremble.
Most had never even seen him, only heard rumors.
That he didn't belong to any Familia.
That he had no god.
That he had walked through the Loki Familia like a phantom and left the best of them broken without saying a word.
Now, that rumor had a face.
A name.
Toji Fushiguro.
The strongest, they called him now.
But not with pride.
With fear.
On the street, adventurers walked more quietly.
Gossiped in smaller groups.
Every eye glanced behind, unsure whether the next shadow might open and that man step out of it.
At the Guild, Eina Tulle held a shaking cup in her hand, staring blankly at the new report.
"He really said that?" Misha asked, voice low, almost hopeful that it was wrong.
Eina nodded once. "Every word. In front of the gods."
Outside, a posting board had already gathered a crowd, adventurers muttering beneath their breath.
"Protecting monsters? Is he insane?"
"I heard he killed six adventurers just for raising their weapons."
"Don't say that too loud! He could be listening."
"Monsters don't belong on the surface," one said, spitting.
"Neither does a man like him," another replied, quieter.
But none of them dared do more than talk. Not after what they saw. Not after he opened that... thing.
No one knew what it was. Some said it was magic. Others claimed it was a secret art.
But the one thing everyone agreed on, whether they'd fought in it or only heard of it, was that it was not something anyone else in this world could do.
Even the gods noticed.
In the twilight of their own halls, the divine gathered. No wine. No music. Just narrowed eyes and restless unease.
Loki leaned on her armrest, fingers tapping her jaw, unreadable.
"He doesn't care," she muttered aloud, not to anyone in particular. "Not about gods, or law, or balance. He's just walking destruction."
"You think he'll come for us?" Hermes asked, one brow arched with forced levity.
Loki shrugged. "He doesn't need to. We already moved. You saw what he did with that thing. He could've killed everyone and didn't. That's the point. He chose not to."
Ganesha stood from the corner, unusually grim. "And now the city fears him more than the Dungeon. That's never happened before."
"Maybe they should," Freya said from her window, eyes fixed on the street below.
"He has no love for anything, but he still shielded a child. That makes him dangerous in ways most mortals never are. He's not fighting for pride. Not fighting for favor. He fights because he wants to. And nothing stops a man like that when he finally wants something."
"No leash," Hestia whispered. "No god to command him. Just... instinct."
Dionysus poured wine and didn't drink it.
"What happens if others follow him?" he said softly.
They all fell silent again.
"This is unacceptable!" barked Lord Ouranos, though his voice barely rose above its usual gravel. The weight of the room, as always, bent around him. "Order must be maintained."
"And who will restore it?" asked a silver-haired goddess with veiled contempt.
"You? The Guild? Don't make me laugh. Even the Loki Familia couldn't restrain him even a little bit. I hear he fought in silence. Smiling. Like he didn't care whether he lived or died."
Loki leaned back in her seat and said nothing.
There was a bruise on her lip still healing from the last clash.
She hadn't told anyone who gave it to her.
She didn't have to.
"You're all missing the point," Hermes said, pacing behind his chair.
"This isn't about him, it's about the city. The people are scared. They think we've lost control. What happens when others start protecting monsters? What happens if they side with him instead of us?"
"He's not building a side," Freya said softly. Her voice stilled the room. "He simply do whatever he want, a carefree man..."
A long silence followed.
Then Ganesha, ever the most naive in heart, broke it. "Perhaps it doesn't have to be either."
The table stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"What are you suggesting?" Dionysus asked, wine glass untouched in front of him.
"That maybe this is a test," Ganesha said, standing fully now.
"Not of him. But of us."
Below, the city tried to return to its rhythm, but every heartbeat felt slower now, as though waiting. Watching.
The Xenos were still monsters, and no one forgot that.
But now, they had a protector.
One no Familia could match. One no god could reason with.
And worse, no one could understand what he was.
Even among the divine, there were whispers of it.
That perhaps he was no longer just a man.
The order is bended.
Between divinity and terror.
One took over them all.
...
The public didn't riot.
But they watched.
Warily. Carefully.
As the days passed after that night, the memory refused to fade.
Not just the man who defied every norm, but the girl.
The monster.
The one he protected.
People talked.
Loudly. Boldly. Cruelly.
Then, quietly.
And then... differently.
A child, no older than seven, slipped away from her mother in the twilight and wandered toward the wall near the east fountain, where the Xenos were allowed to rest behind a heavy iron gate under Guild supervision.
How ironic.
An organization listened to a man instead of the citizen.
Well...
He do can wipe out everything in this city.
Especially with that white monster next to him.
The little girl's fingers curled tight around a half-eaten pastry.
Her eyes were wide.
Fearful.
But curious.
One of the monsters, a scaled boy with mismatched eyes and trembling hands, watched her from the other side, silent as snowfall.
She offered the pastry through the bars.
The boy flinched.
A pause. Breath held.
He took it.
Neither spoke.
The next day, two children came.
Then four.
Some were turned away by parents, dragged home with angry words and tired hearts.
But some stayed, hiding in alley corners to whisper through the gate, to pass sweets, to smile.
And the monsters began to smile back.
Not all of them.
Some still watched with distrust.
Some had already lost too much.
But a crack had opened in the stone.
Not enough to be called change, but enough to be noticed.
...
Inside a marble hall draped with velvet, Hedin Selland of Freya Familia sat in silence as Ottar delivered the latest report.
His jaw tightened with every sentence.
"They're talking of integrating," Ottarl said finally. "Not officially. But the idea's spreading. The Guild is divided. Some are starting to think it might actually work."
"Because of him" Hedin said, standing. "Because they think he'll keep them safe. That he's untouchable."
Ottarl nodded.
"Then we find the crack in him" Hedin said. "No man is untouchable. Not forever."
"But even if we did," Ottarl said, voice low, "what would we do with that knowledge? Kill him?"
The silence between them said what they didn't.
They couldn't.
And worse, he wouldn't care if they tried.
...
In a shaded side street near Daedalus Street, a group of former adventurers watched a young Xenos boy laugh with a street performer.
Some still spat. Some still glared.
But one man, a grizzled veteran missing half his teeth, said it aloud.
"I don't like monsters" he muttered.
No one replied.
"But I hate that bastard even more."
Still, no one replied.
The wind passed.
Quiet. Cold.
Then he added, almost begrudgingly, "Still... that girl... Kuro right? She looked scared. Like a child. It feel like... we been trying to murder one..."
One of the others, silent, younger, nodded slowly.
"She is."
...
So the city held its breath.
The gods watched from their high thrones.
The mortals whispered and shifted in place.
And in the shadows, unseen and uncaring, Toji Fushiguro kept moving.
No banners. No speeches. No kindness.
But the memory of his domain, the unnatural darkness, the impossible pressure, stayed burned into their minds.
Some would try to challenge him again.
Some would wait for him to fall.
But most... would learn to step aside.
Because Orario had always belonged to adventurers.
And now, it belonged to a monster who hunted monsters.
And called one daughter.