Raising Hel, in Danmachi.

The morning air over Orario was crisp, cool, and humming with anticipation. Ruby stood at the gate leading out of the city, watching the Loki Familia assemble with their usual chaotic confidence. Armor clinked, packs thumped against backs, mages murmured last-minute incantation checks. Even so early in the day, the crowd had gathered—because whenever Loki's elite went on an expedition, it was an event.


Ruby had to admit… they looked impressive.


"You don't need to come all the way out here, you know," Tiona said brightly, leaning forward with her hands behind her head, flashing Ruby a grin that could've powered a small district.


Ruby shrugged. "You guys are going deep. It felt wrong not to see you off."


"Tch." Tione smirked, arms crossed. "Or you're making sure we don't slack off."


"I mean, that too," Ruby said, grinning sheepishly.


Finn approached, prim and polished even in expedition gear. "We appreciate your presence, Ruby. And your concern." His eyes softened. "But don't worry. We'll bring them all back safely."


Behind him, Bete snorted. "Hah. As if we're the ones who need worrying about."

But even he didn't say it with full bite this time… more like the familiar bark of a wolf trying not to show he was touched.


Gareth gave Ruby a nod. "Stay outta trouble up here, lass."

As the last preparations wrapped up, Loki herself strolled over, stretching like she'd just woken from a particularly comfortable nap. Of course she hadn't—Ruby had seen her subtly checking her children's gear, counting her party lineup with hawk-like precision.


"Well, well, my lil' flame," Loki drawled, poking Ruby in the cheek. "Ya look like a maiden seein' her sweetheart off to war."


Ruby spluttered. "W-What?! No I don't!"


Loki grinned wide, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Relax. They'll be fine. This is just a deeper-than-usual dive, not the end of the world."


"I still plan on going in…" Ruby muttered, folding her arms. "Honestly walking in with them now would be kinda awkward."


Loki's grin sharpened. "Awwww, awkward? My lil' flame? The girl who punched a dungeon boss so hard it forgot how to respawn?"


Ruby's face went crimson to the ears. "That NEVER HAPPEND! AND WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME LITTLE FLAME?!"

"Because you set the guild on fire twice." Loki responds

Ruby let out a tiny, mortified squeak—

a sound so small it probably registered only to gods, animals, and people with very specific adventurer perks.


Then she exploded into a swirl of rose petals, the gust of magic whipping Loki's hair back as Ruby fled.


"Oi—! Don't just turn inta flower confetti when I'm bein' honest!" Loki called after her, though the grin never left her face.


A few petals drifted down lazily, almost mocking her.


"Kids these days," Loki mused, catching one between her fingers. "Strong enough to level a floor… emotionally fragile enough to die at a nickname."


Behind her, Bete snorted. "She ran."


"An? Shes like stupid strong. Did you not see how big that scythe actually is? I kinda want Hephy chan to outlook at it." Loki states

========

Ruby didn't stop moving until the air grew heavy and warm, the oppressive humidity of the mid floors wrapping around her like a damp blanket. Petals scattered behind her as she re-formed, boots skidding slightly on the stone.


"WHY does she keep calling me that?" Ruby hissed to herself, clutching Crescent Rose's haft and stomping forward. "I didn't set the guild on fire. I set parts of the guild on fire. Accidentally. Twice."


A roar answered her.


Ruby perked up instantly.


"Oh, thank the gods," she sighed, relief washing through her. "Something I can hit."


An infant dragon tore out of a cracked wall ahead—massive for its age, thick skinned, jagged scales the color of volcanic rock. Its molten-orange eyes locked onto her, steam curling from its nostrils.


Ruby's expression brightened like she'd just seen a puppy.


"Ohhh my gods, you're ADORABLE."


The dragon shrieked, offended.


Ruby lifted Crescent Rose, shifting into a stance Hel drilled into her—low to the ground, center tight, scythe poised like a reaping strike.


"Okay, big guy," she exhaled. "I'm embarrassed, emotionally compromised, and in desperate need of stress relief."


The dragon charged.


Ruby's smile turned sharp.


"Perfect."

It lunged with surprising speed, claws raking the stone where she'd stood. Ruby shot upward with a burst of petals, flipping over its back. Crescent Rose's blade traced a red arc that chipped three of its dorsal scales clean off.


The dragon howled, tail whipping toward her like a battering ram.


Ruby braced—caught the tail with Crescent Rose's shaft—slid backward a few feet from sheer force—but her boots held.


"Whoa! Strong!" she grinned. "Okay, you're officially worth the cardio."


The dragon inhaled—a deep, building rumble in its chest.


Ruby twirled her scythe.


"Oh no you don't—"


It exhaled a jet of flame.


Ruby vanished in a burst of petals, reappearing on its snout mid-breath, and slammed the heel of her boot downward.


"NO FIRE BREATHING AT ME. I AM VERY FLAMMABLE."


The dragon's head cracked the floor.


Ruby hopped off, twirling Crescent Rose casually as the beast struggled to rise.


"Round two?" she asked cheerfully.


The infant dragon roared weakly.


Ruby sighed, almost disappointed. "Aww. Okay fine, I'll make it quick."


She blurred forward.


A single sweeping strike.


A shockwave rolled through the hallway as the dragon dissolved.

CRACK.


Ruby froze.


She slowly— very slowly—looked down at Crescent Rose

A hairline fracture ran along the crimson edge, glowing faintly like an offended ember.


"…oh no," she whispered.


The weapon hummed in her hands in a tone that could only be described as judgmental disappointment.


Ruby winced. "I-I know, I know! I didn't mean to! You just—he was—okay, yes, maybe that was a little excessive—"


Another soft crack.


Ruby squeaked, hugging the scythe like it was a fragile baby bird.


"PLEASE don't break!" Ruby shouts

===

"Okay… okay… don't panic… don't panic…" Ruby muttered as she half-jogged, half-teleported down the main street of Orario, clutching her scythe like a dying pet.

Hel spotted her immediately — hard not to notice a girl carrying a weapon taller than a lamppost while hyperventilating.

"Ruby," Hel greeted calmly, "you look like you murdered a dragon and then lost a custody battle."

Ruby whined. "HEL I THINK I BROKE MY BABY."

Hel rested a hand on the scythe, feeling the faint hairline fractures shivering along the divine metal. "Hm. Yes. I see the problem."

"CAN YOU FIX IT?!"

"Can't you?" Hel asks almost certain the redheaded girl had built the weapon herself.

Hel lifted a single brow. "Can't you?"


Ruby froze mid-panic, blinking. "I… I mean… I made her, yeah, but I didn't think I'd need to fix her this soon! Or ever! Or— or that I'd hit something that hard!"


"Yes. An infant dragon," Hel said flatly. "On floor eleven. A creature most adventurers treat with extreme caution."

She tilted her head. "You treated it like a fly landing on your sandwich."


Ruby made a pathetic dying-seal noise.


Hel sighed lightly — not exasperated, just the eternal calm of someone who has already accepted chaos as an ambient background noise.


"Well," Hel said, "if you want real repairs, you'll need a proper forge."


She deflated.


"But I've never done it with THIS world's materials! Or this world's forging methods! Or this world's… uh… rules! And I don't even have the right setup or tools." Ruby Rambled

Hestia was outside sweeping, humming a cheerful—slightly off-key—tune when she spotted the two girls approaching.


She blinked.


Then blinked again.


Then dropped her broom.


"Hel?! YOU DESCENDED?!"


The goddess of the dead raised a polite hand. "Hello, Hestia."


Hestia's jaw worked in small, panicked flaps. "B-But—BUT—You—YOUR DOMAIN—THE DEATH—THE RULES—LOKI—WHAT—HOW—WHY—"

"Is Hephaestus in?" Hel asked, with the same tone someone might use to inquire about today's weather.

Hestia snapped out of it with a dramatic inhale. "W–WHY do you need Hephy?! Are you here to bring her to the underworld?! Are you here to—"


"No," Hel said simply. "Ruby fractured her weapon. She requires tools ranked above 'primitive.' Hephaestus is the logical option."


Ruby held up Crescent Rose like a child offering a broken toy. "It's… um… in pain."


Hestia blinked at the scythe. Then at the hairline fractures glowing along the blade. Then back to Hel.


"…Why does her weapon look like it lost a fight with a dragon?"


"That is because it did." Hel answers

Hestia froze.


Her eyes slowly… slowly… tracked back to Ruby.


Ruby, who stood there smiling like the world's guiltiest puppy.


"…Floor… eleven…?" Hestia whispered, horror blooming.


Ruby nodded.


Hel added helpfully, "The dragon died instantly."


Hestia slapped both hands onto her cheeks. "THAT'S NOT A REASSURING DETAIL!! Isn't she NEW!?"

"It was my second trip into teh dungeon." Ruby chirps

Hestia froze.


Absolutely, completely, spiritually froze.


Then she turned her head toward Hel with the slow, mechanical rigidity of someone bracing for a divine audit.


"…Second… trip…"


Ruby nodded proudly, like she had just announced getting a gold star in kindergarten.


Hel, ever helpful, added, "She also outran the Loki Familia on her way in. At petal-speed."


"P–PETAL—?!" Hestia sputtered, eyes bulging. "SHE TELEPORTED INTO THE DUNGEON BECAUSE SHE WAS EMBARRASSED?!"


Ruby fidgeted. "It wasn't teleporting, it was just… um… moving very fast


They reached the workshop door just as a burst of heat rolled out from the forge—Hephaestus was clearly in the middle of one of her "don't bother me unless you're dying" sessions.


Hestia hesitated.

"Uh… maybe we should come back later—"


Hel didn't bother knocking.

She opened the door.


Inside, Hephaestus turned mid-swing, hammer raised, sparks scattering off molten metal.


Her single visible eye landed on Ruby.


Then on Crescent Rose.


Then widened.


"…What," Hephaestus said slowly, "is that."


Ruby froze. "…M-My weapon?"


Hephaestus marched toward her like an inspector about to condemn a building.


She grabbed the scythe, turned it, twisted it, clicked one mechanism—


CHK-CHNK—VRRRRRT—CLACK


The weapon shifted, folding into rifle mode.

Hephaestus recoiled like it had tried to bite her.


"WHO MADE THIS!?" she demanded, staring at the impossible number of moving parts.


Silence.


Ruby wilted.


"…I… did…?"


Hephaestus blinked once.


Then twice.


Then a third time, as if her brain had to reboot just to process the concept of a teenager casually forging a master-grade mechashift scythe in her spare time.


Finally, she jabbed a finger directly at Ruby.


"Hel, I want her."


Ruby made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a dying kettle.


Before Hephaestus could take a single step forward, Hel smoothly wrapped an arm around Ruby's shoulders and pulled her firmly against her side — a sudden, possessive shield that radiated the cold certainty of a goddess who did not share.


"No." Hel said simply. "This is my little reaper."


Ruby blinked, going stiff as a board.


Hephaestus's good eye twitched. "Hel, you can't just— you don't even forge! You don't need a prodigy smith!"


"I need Ruby," Hel responded calmly, as if that settled the laws of the universe.


"It's not even the smith! It's the WEAPON!" Hephaestus snapped, pointing at Crescent Rose. "This thing shouldn't EXIST in this world! It— it transforms, it's made out of alloys I don't even RECOGNIZE, the weight distribution is absurd."


Hephaestus leaned in, eyes blazing. "Ruby. Ruby. Sweet child. HOW did you forge this?"


Ruby swallowed. Hard.


"Um… I… just kind of… used what I had… and improvised…? Until it worked?"


In the silence that followed, Hestia silently inhaled like she was watching a meteor fall toward Orario.


Hephaestus dragged a hand down her face.


"…Improvised," she muttered.


"Ruby has to fix it, However what if you were to provide a forge and the needed tools for her to make. A new one with better materials? You could watch her make it along with some junior smiths." Hel states


"I am going to need some precision machines to make it." Ruby responds.


"We have those. An the ones we dont. If you have the designs I can get them made." Hephastus states.


"So then are we off to the guild to get some land for my familia and a work shop for Ruby here?" Hel asks

Hephaestus stared at Hel like she'd just suggested relocating Mount Olympus using elbow grease.


"…Land?" the smith goddess echoed. "Hel. You descended five days ago."


"Correct," Hel said.


"You have enough money for land?" Hephaestus pressed, mildly shocked.


Hel tilted her head. "Hephy… I am massively wealthy."


Hestia blinked. "Then why do you keep sending every bill for everything you buy to Loki?"


Hel's expression remained serenely deadpan.


"Because it's funny."


Hestia choked. Hephaestus pinched the bridge of her nose like she suddenly understood the source of several of Loki's stress-induced migraines.


Ruby raised her hand timidly. "…S-Should we… still go to the guild?"


Hel nodded, entirely unbothered. "Yes. Let's go buy land."


"And send the receipt to Loki?" Hephaestus asked dryly.


Hel's eyes gleamed with mischief. "As much as I want to, I'll foot the bill this time."

The Guild was not ready.


To be fair, no one is ever ready. Especially when Hel was involved.

The receptionist at the front desk took one look at the trio and immediately straightened like she was about to be inspected by the gods themselves.


…Which she was.


"W-Welcome to the Guild," she squeaked. "How may we assist you today?"


Hel stepped forward with the regal calm of someone asking for extra napkins.


"I require land," she said.


The receptionist blinked. "L-Land…?"


"For my familia headquarters," Hel clarified. "Also a workshop. Preferably a full forge layout with high-grade isolation wards and a hazardous-material zone."


The receptionist's quill stopped mid-scratch.

"…Wards?" she echoed slowly. "What are those?"


Hel blinked once, as if she'd forgotten other people did not simply know these things.


"Magical reinforcement barriers," she explained. "Danger-containment fields. Structural stabilizers. Noise dampeners. Heat-redirecting circuits. Anti-explosion buffers." She gestured casually toward Ruby. "She requires them."


Ruby smiled nervously. "I don't mean to explode things. It just kind of… happens."


"Those sound like very advanced magic Hel… Can you tell me more about them?" Hepestatus states

Hel turned her head toward Hephaestus, giving the goddess a calm, almost instructional look — the exact expression of a teacher deciding how much reality a student could survive in one sitting.


"They are standard," Hel said simply.


"Standard for where?" Hephaestus demanded, gesturing incredulously. "Because nothing you just listed exists in Orario."


Hel considered this for half a heartbeat.

"Huh, i guess they might not be here. Huh, Ill have to introduce them eventually then." Hel states


Hel said it with the casual tone of someone announcing she might try a new soup recipe one of these days.


The entire guild front desk went still.


Hephaestus stared at her as if Hel had just threatened to reinvent metallurgy from the ground up.


Hestia made a soft, wheezing noise in the background.


Ruby raised her hand very timidly. "…Um… Hel? What does 'eventually' mean?"


"After the paperwork, an we get the forge an the house set up. How would you like to be the first ever runesmith?" Hel asks causing Hepheastus to let out a whine.

The receptionist, who was now three seconds from a stress-induced coma, forced a shaky smile.


"W-Well! Ahaha… m-maybe we should just… um… look at available properties first…?"


Hel nodded serenely. "Yes. Bring me the listings."


The receptionist scrambled into action like her life depended on it. Within moments she returned with a thick binder labeled PROPERTY OPTIONS – ORARIO (Updated Weekly) and slapped it onto the counter with the reverence of presenting a holy text.


"O-Okay! Here we have the available buildings for purchase or renovation," she said, flipping it open. "Most familias start small, so there are modest homes, refurbished storefront properties, and several mixed-use plots—"


Hel leaned forward. "Show me the ones with the most space."


The receptionist blinked. "…Space?"


"Yes," Hel said. "Large yards. Structural freedom. Ideally something far from residential areas."


Ruby waved her hands frantically. "I'm not that dangerous!"


The receptionist did not look convinced. She began flipping through listings faster, visibly sweating.

"W-We have several unused lots at the edge of the city! They're very affordable because they're… um… extremely far from everything!"


Hel shook her head. "Too far. Ruby needs regular access to the dungeon, the guild, and normal social stimuli."


Ruby blinked. "I do?"


"Yes," Hel replied, as if this were obvious. "Otherwise you will become feral."


Ruby sputtered. "I— I'm not—"


The receptionist jumped ahead, eager to escape this topic.

"W-We also have some properties closer in! Ah— here!" She pointed frantically at a cluster on the map. "Three adjacent buildings for sale near the Hostess of Fertility!"


Hestia leaned forward. "Oh, those! They've been empty for ages. Good structures, lots of room, decent location!"


Hephaestus crossed her arms. "They'd have to come down and you would need a new building built."

Ruby perked up. "Close to the Hostess? That means food!"


Hel nodded approvingly.

"I will take them."


The receptionist froze mid-blink. "…All three?"


"Yes. I require a headquarters, a forge, and overflow space." Hel said it like she was listing groceries.


The receptionist swallowed hard. "A-All three buildings together come to—"


Hel reached into her side pouch, an pulled out a sac that was much bigger than said pouch.

The sack hit the counter with a metallic CLANNNNG, the kind of sound usually associated with someone dropping a fully armored dwarf.


The receptionist flinched hard enough to knock over her ink pot.

Hephaestus leaned over instinctively.

Hestia leaned over nosily.

Ruby leaned over because everyone else did.


The receptionist opened the sack…


…and immediately stopped breathing.


Not figuratively. Literal, spiritual freeze-frame.


Because inside was nothing but gold bars.

"Do you… do you even want to hear the price?"


"No," Hel said. "But you will give me a receipt."


The poor woman nodded with such frantic obedience she nearly sprained her neck.


She fumbled through papers with trembling fingers.

"T-The three buildings are yours, Lady Hel. We'll file the transfer immediately, a-and the deed will be delivered by courier. Please don't— I mean, thank you for your patronage."


Ruby leaned toward Hel and whispered, "Um… we could've haggled…"


Hel shook her head.

"No. The quicker it's done, the quicker you can have a safe workspace. And the quicker I can move out of my parent's place…"


Hestia blinked. "…You mean Loki?"


Hel sighed with the bone-deep exhaustion of someone who had lived through every one of Loki's shenanigans twice.


"Yes. Loki. My parent."

A beat.

"I love her. I do. But, I can tell she still is kinda scared of the prophecy acting up again. An I will indirectly kill her familia this time."

"I am the goddess of death, I am a child of Loki. I was one of the few responsible for Ragnarok, I mean it ended after Fen and Granpa died. An luckiley we didnt create the dungeon that was the greeks."

Chapter 22: The inbetween

The three newly purchased buildings stood in a neat row, shutters rattling in the evening wind. Dust clung to the windows. The signs were faded. No lights. No life.


Perfectly ordinary structures.


Which meant they survived exactly three seconds.


Hel stepped onto the center plot, lifting one hand with all the ceremony of someone preparing to delete an annoying email.


Ruby watched, eyes wide.


Hestia and Hephaestus watched, eyes wider.


The guild courier—who had escorted them to finalize the deed—watched, eyes the widest.


Hel pulled out a stick, and with but a simple motion she flicked her wrist.


A pulse of black-blue magic erupted outward like a silent wave.

No sound. No flash. Just the sudden, absolute disappearance of three buildings that had existed for decades.


Poof.


The courier dropped the deed.


Hestia made the tiny squeak of a goddess experiencing her first stroke.


Hephaestus pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know most people hire demolition crews…"


"I am efficient," Hel replied.

Ruby raised a hand. "Do you, um… want help… picking up the rubble… or—"


"There is no rubble," Hel said.


Ruby blinked.

A moment later, the ground burst upward in controlled, precise waves of dark-blue magic, forming foundation lines, heat channels, ventilation structures, and a basic, sturdy forge shell. The entire skeleton of the workshop rose like a blooming flower—clean, crisp, functional.


Ruby stared.

Hephaestus stared harder.

Hestia looked shook.


When the magic settled, the forge stood complete: bare-bones, but solid, symmetrical, and built to handle temperature levels that would char lesser buildings into soot.


Hel brushed off her hands as if she'd built a sandbox.


"This is a starter forge," she said. "You and Hephaestus may fill it properly with whatever machinery you require."


Ruby stepped forward, eyes shining. "Hel… this is… this is amazing—!"


Hel opened her arms and Ruby understood the signal hugging her.

Hephaestus crossed her arms, looking half impressed, half personally attacked.

"You built a forge shell with one spell."


Hel shrugged. "It is temporary."


Ruby pulled back just enough to look Hel in the eye. "Are you gonna stay and help set up?"


"No," Hel said instantly.


Ruby blinked. "No?"


Hephaestus raised an eyebrow. "You just built an entire structure. What could you possibly need to do that's more important?"


Hel's shoulders slumped — the first sign of exhaustion Ruby had ever seen from her.

"I am tired."

======

Hel's head touched the pillow—then the world peeled away.


Colorless mist curled around her ankles, cool and weightless, moving with the slow rise and fall of something breathing. Above her stretched a sky that wasn't a sky at all, lit by a dull, directionless glow. Stairways drifted through the air with no beginning and no end, and half-formed echoes of familiar and unfamiliar places shimmered in and out of existence like memories that weren't hers.


Hel released a long, resigned sigh.


"…Of course," she muttered. "May as well have a look around again. I did promise Ruby."

Hel wandered forward, boots making no sound on the not-quite-ground beneath her. The fog curled away from her steps as though recognizing her, parting in slow, reverent spirals.


A soft chime rang out.


Hel stopped.


The mist ahead thinned, drawing back to reveal a lone figure standing with perfect stillness—hands folded, head bowed, a faint reflection on the metallic crown covering her eyes.

"Welcome, Ashen One…"


She paused.


Her head tilted—just slightly, but the motion carried a strange, intuitive understanding.


"…No. Not Ashen."

Her voice warmed with curiosity, reverence, and something close to recognition.

"You carry a presence ancient and cold… deep as the crypts beneath Lordran."


The Fire Keeper raised her sightless face toward Hel.


"It is as though Lord Nito himself walks again."

A small bow followed, graceful and unhurried.

"Then allow this Keeper of Fire to serve you, O Lord of the Grave.

How may I be of assistance in this forgotten in-between?"


Hel looks at the firekeeper an figures tehre is no harm in answering.


"I am looking for fallen heros wishing for another chance to go on an adventure. An I take them into my family."

"Fallen heroes… seeking another chance."

Her hands slowly unfolded, fingertips brushing across the air as if feeling threads Hel could not see.


"A noble wish for one who carries the weight of death itself."


She stepped closer, bare feet making no sound on the misty ground.


"Many souls linger here, Lord of the Grave. Some burned by failure, others by fate. Some wait quietly… others desperately."

A small, wistful smile touched her lips.


"But you must understand—those who come to this place do not always remember what they once were. Some souls flicker like dying embers. Some have wandered for ages."


She lifted a hand, palm up, offering—not touching.


"Tell me, Hel of the Half-Dead…" her voice carried like a whisper woven through coals, quiet yet resonant. "What sort of heroes do you seek?

Brave ones?

Broken ones?

Or simply those who still dream of wonder?"


Hel studied her for a long moment. The Fire Keeper's blindfold reflected nothing, yet Hel felt watched all the same—gently, patiently.


"…Do you yourself not wish for another chance, Fire Keeper?" Hel asked.


The woman's head tilted slightly, as though she were smiling behind the stoic calm.

"No, my lady. My purpose has been fulfilled. The Age of Fire is done—and with the last Fire Lord choosing to embrace the darkness, rather than bind this world to dying embers…" She exhaled softly, and the air shimmered like cooling ash. "I welcome the eternity that follows. As do the Ancient Dragons, who feared no dusk."


Hel blinked.


She had not noticed the shift until then.


The mist had receded, peeling back like a curtain to reveal stone arches and crumbling steps. The soft lapping of distant waves echoed where no sea should exist. The familiar bonfire sat ahead, its coals dormant, yet somehow still warm.


Firelink Shrine breathed around them—quiet, ruined, and serene. Ash drifted like slow snow through the air. The distant toll of a bell echoed once, then faded, as if the world itself were breathing in its sleep.


The Fire Keeper lowered her hand gracefully, robes whispering against the stone.


"Here, in this place between endings, many souls linger," she said. "Some long to rest. Some… yearn to rise again."

She tilted her head toward Hel, the blindfold glinting faintly with that uncanny, knowing light.

"Seek souls—greater ones, their strength unspent. Seek the King, for only through such might may you shape a path. Otherwise this land will swallow you whole, as it has so many others."


For a beat, Hel stared at her.


Then she barked out a sudden, sharp laugh.

"Honestly? I thought you were giving me a cryptic quest. 'Seek the King'? Really?"


The Fire Keeper's lips twitched—first a smile, then a small laugh of her own, quiet and musical.

"It is tradition," she confessed lightly. "We do enjoy our ominous warnings."


Hel snorted, crossing her arms. "You almost had me."


"And you, Lady Hel," the Fire Keeper said, inclining her head, "are far more delightful than any Lord of Cinder I have served."

Hel woke with a violent jolt as something heavy slammed into her.


Warmth spread across her torso—thick, wet, metallic.

Blood. Fresh.


Her eyes snapped open.

A girl lay collapsed across her, trembling so violently Hel felt every shake through her own ribs. Hot blood seeped across Hel's chest in a sudden, sickening rush—far too much, far too fast. Dark curls clung to the girl's face, matted with sweat and red. Her breaths came in sharp, panicked bursts more like sobs than air.


Hel's hand twitched—instinct, reflex, the immediate threat-assessment of a being who had survived far too much.


Then the girl's voice cracked open against her collarbone.


"Please—please don't let them take me back."


Hel went still.


Not an attacker.


A victim.

A dying one.


She shifted just enough to cradle the girl more securely, feeling the faint hitch in the girl's chest, the uneven flutter of a failing heartbeat.


With a flick of her wrist and no spoken word, Hel summoned her bottomless bag into her free hand. The familiar weight slapped into her palm as she kept the girl pinned gently against her with her other arm.


Hel plunged her fingers inside, searching by feel alone.


Wiggenweld… yes.


She pulled the potion free, uncorked it with her thumb, and tilted it to the girl's lips before the blood loss stole her consciousness entirely.


"Easy," Hel murmured, voice low, steady. "Drink. I've got you."


The girl tried—weakly, desperately.


Hel supported her head, forcing steady swallows as the healing magic began to knit the worst of the torn flesh shut, slowing the flood of red soaking into Hel's shirt.


When enough had gone down, Hel pressed the girl's face into her shoulder, holding her tight as the trembling shifted from violent spasms to weak shakes.


"You're safe," Hel whispered—not knowing who they were, or why the girl was running, only that she meant every word. "No one is taking you anywhere."


The girl let out a thin, broken sob as the potion eased her pain, her eyelids fluttering once… twice… and then sinking shut. Sleep claimed her like a drowning body pulled under.


Hel stayed perfectly still for several seconds, unsure whether to breathe, speak, or brace for another collapse of blood and trauma.


The girl didn't move.


She just sagged against Hel's chest—small, shivering, and horrifyingly light.


Hel exhaled slowly.


Wonderful. She had rescued someone who was clearly dying, clearly traumatized, clearly missing an arm—and she had absolutely no idea who she was.


A dilemma, then. One she hadn't prepared for.


"Most people show up from something," Hel muttered under her breath. "Books, movies, games, legends… at least then I know what I'm dealing with."


She glanced down at the unconscious girl.


Unruly black curls matted with blood. Glasses cracked nearly in half, one lens missing entirely. A stump where her right arm should have been—wrapped in torn cloth that had long since stopped helping. Her clothes were shredded, burned in places, and she carried no weapon. No armor. Nothing that gave Hel even a hint of who or what she might be.


No symbol.


No crest.


No convenient narrative clue.


"Great," Hel sighed. "A mystery girl. That's new."


She adjusted her grip, lifting the girl a little closer, and felt the faintest tremor run through her—fear even in unconsciousness.


Hel looked down at the stump again and swallowed her questions.


Whatever happened to this girl… it hadn't been good.

===

Taylor's breath caught in her throat.


That was the first thing she noticed—not the world, not the trees whose leaves shimmered like polished emerald, not the distant mountain crowned in drifting silver mist.


It was the simple fact that she could breathe without pain.


Her ribs didn't feel cracked. Her skin didn't burn. Her arm—


Her arm itched.


Slowly, disbelieving, Taylor lifted her right hand into view.


Five fingers.


Whole. Scarless. Alive.


She sucked in a sharp breath and nearly dropped it back onto the grass.

This isn't possible. Arms don't just… grow back.


Her vision swam, everything smeared and unfocused. Instinctively she reached for the bridge of her nose—only to find the mangled remains of her glasses weren't there.


Right. They'd been crushed. Melted. Stomped. Something.


Annoyance flickered through her confusion, but it was a familiar annoyance—grounding. She took a slow breath and let her mind unfurl the way it had a thousand times before.


The world dissolved into motion.


She saw.


Bugs—hundreds—fanned out in a radius around her, carrying her awareness with them. A shifting 300-meter sphere of shapes, textures, life.

Stone towers arched upward like the ribs of some ancient beast, banners of unfamiliar crests fluttered between marketplace stalls, and armored guards patrolled with halberds tipped in silver. The streets were paved in clean-cut marble and crowded with people dressed in flowing robes, leather armor, and clothing straight out of a fantasy RPG.


No cars.

No streetlamps.

No Protectorate insignia.

No Empire graffiti.


Not Brockton Bay.


Not anywhere she recognized.


"What in the hell…" Taylor whispered, "Where in the actual hell am I?"


Her bugs crawled over polished elven-looking braziers, along archways carved with runes, and across a marketplace full of people who treated giant lizards as casually as dogs.


A woman passed—ears pointed, staff glowing faintly.


A pair of dwarves argued loudly over the price of steel.


An a woman who felt powerful walking towards her room.

A ripple went through Taylor's swarm—an instinctive warning, the way insects reacted to a forest fire drawing near.


Footsteps.


Measured.


Confident.


Powerful.


Taylor focused, letting the moths and flies outline the woman approaching her room.


Tall.

A cascade of deep, living red, like embers stirred in a forge.


Taylor stiffened.


Whoever this was… she dominated every sense her insects had.


The door eased open with a soft click.


The red-haired woman stepped inside—and Taylor didn't know if she should flee, fight, or drop dead on the spot.

"It seems you are awake," the red-haired stranger said, voice calm and warm as a hearth. "Good. I was beginning to worry."


Taylor swallowed hard.


"…Who are you?" she rasped.


The woman stepped closer, letting the magic around her soften.


"My name is Hel, Goddess of Death."

Chapter 24: Hestia, Hephastus and Freya Oh my

Hestia sat back with her hands wrapped around a mug of something warm, content for the moment just to watch.


Hephaestus was already elbow-deep in the project, her movements sure and practiced as she and Ruby worked over the broken scythe laid out on the forge. It made her wonder how her own child was doing?


Ruby, for her part, moved with the focused enthusiasm of someone who lived for this. The redheaded reaper handled the forge hammer with surprising familiarity, then switched seamlessly to some strange piece of equipment that whirred, hissed, and emitted a tone Hephaestus immediately grimaced at.


"That's… not a tool I know," Hestia murmured.


"It's not," Ruby chirped without looking up. "It's from a different tech paradigm. I also need a few more things made, but I am surprised that lady Hel even managed to find a magic driven drill press!" Ruby states excitedly

Hephaestus leaned forward, squinting at the humming device Ruby had so casually bolted to the forge table.

"So," the goddess grunted, "this drill press—it just… punches holes?"


Ruby lit up like a lantern.


"Not just holes! Perfectly straight, perfectly even, repeatable holes. With pressure control. And depth stops. And—here—watch!"


Before Hephaestus could stop her, Ruby flicked the switch.


The machine whirred to life, the bit spinning so fast the air hummed.


Hephaestus's eye twitched. "That is far too many rotations per second."


"That's the beauty!" Ruby said, grabbing a metal plate. "See? You align it, clamp it, lower the lever, and—"


KRRTTT—

A perfect, smooth-edged hole appeared in the plate.


Hephaestus stared.


Ruby bounced in place. "Isn't it beautiful?!"


"…It is cheating," Hephaestus muttered.


Ruby laughed. "No it's efficient! Look—if you need a straight hole at a perfect angle, you use this lever here to lower the bit, and—"


VVVRRRRRMMMM


The bit sank into the scrap metal like it was butter.


Hephaestus leaned in, fascinated despite herself.

"That level of consistency… you could mass-produce armor components with this."


"Yup!" Ruby chirped. "Back home, lots of smiths use them. I'm honestly shocked Lady Hel had one lying around."


"She had three lying around," Hestia added weakly. "One was being used as a flower stand."


Before Hephaestus could decide whether that was blasphemy or comedy, a soft, polite knock echoed against the forge doors.


All three women froze.


A second knock followed, gentler, but with just enough insistence to say I'm being polite, not patient.


Ruby raised a brow. "You expecting anyone?"


Hestia shook her head. "Everyone who knows we're here is… already here."


Hephaestus sighed, wiped her hands, and went to open the door.


Standing outside was a familiar silver-haired waitress in a modest cloak and apron, holding a basket of bread.


Syr.


Except the aura pouring off her wasn't shy, sweet, or remotely normal. It was ancient and divine, tightly controlled but unmistakable.


And her eyes—usually soft and friendly—were sharp with curiosity as she looked past Hephaestus into the forge.


"My, my," Syr said with a warm, harmless smile that fooled absolutely no one in the room. "I noticed three buildings vanished and were replaced with one… unique structure." Her gaze flicked to the drill press, to the dismantled scythe, and finally to Ruby. "I thought I should check if everyone was… safe."

Syr was staring directly at Ruby, such a pure soul she almost had to have her.

"Yep, my goddes get it set up before she went to rest, I think we need to reach out to another familia to get the rest of the building built!" Ruby says cheerirly

"Who is your goddess?" Syr asks


"Lady Hel is!"

Syr's smile didn't waver—but something behind it cracked.


"Lady… Hel."

Her voice remained light, pleasant.

Her spine went rigid.


Hephaestus noticed.

Hestia noticed.

Ruby, blissfully earnest, did not.


Syr folded her hands neatly in front of her, but her mind was spinning.


My granddaughter.

My precious little granddaughter has a familia.

And no one told me.


"And you are… her child?" Syr asked softly.


Ruby brightened. "Mhm! I'm Ruby Rose, the first member of the Hel Familia!" She gave a proud little thumbs-up, smudged with soot. "I'm helping Hephaestus repair my scythe! Well, I broke it. Twice."


Hephaestus winced. "You, nearly shattered it and bent the shaft."

"Mhm! That too."


Syr stared.


Ruby was so bright she felt like sunlight—pure, warm, unguarded. A soul so perfect it practically glowed.


The kind of soul Freya would normally hunt.


But this wasn't normal.


This was her granddaughter's child.


Syr cleared her throat delicately, forcing her expression neutral.


"Huh," she said, almost too casually. "I wasn't aware Hel had… returned to the lower world."


Hestia snorted. "You should have felt it, I think most mortals did."


"So," Syr said smoothly, slipping back into her practiced smile, "you and your goddess are moving in right beside the Hostess. Then I suppose I'll be seeing much more of you."


Ruby beamed. "Definitely!"


Syr matched her smile, elegant and kind… while inside, Freya was screaming questions.


Why didn't Hel tell me she was forming a familia?

Why is she involving the Greek

And why—why—has no one introduced me to this girl sooner?


But outwardly?


Syr simply said, "If you need anything… do let me know. We are neighbors now."


"I'll tell Hel you stopped by!" Ruby beams.

Chapter 25: A walk with skitter

Taylor followed the red-haired goddess through the winding streets, boots clicking softly against pale stone. The city around them was a riot of color—banners fluttering overhead, runes glowing along archways, and the ever-present hum of magic that made her bugs jitter like they'd been plugged into a socket.


Hel walked with the relaxed confidence of someone who owned the ground she stepped on.


Taylor… tried not to stare at the dragons casually lounging on rooftops.


"So," Taylor finally said, keeping a swarm spread over a three-hundred-meter radius, "you're a goddess. Actual, literal goddess. Not a cape. Not a religious figure. Not some Thinker effect."


"Correct," Hel replied easily.


"And I'm… in another world."


"Yes. Not by my intention," Hel added, glancing back with a look Taylor couldn't read. "But since you landed in my home, I decided to ensure you didn't immediately die."


Taylor swallowed. "That's… fair."


Her bugs traced the edges of a fountain shaped like a phoenix. A dwarf sneezed and nearly fell into it.


"Look," Taylor said, rubbing her temples with her new right hand, "I appreciate not bleeding out on your floor, but I don't understand why I'm here. Was it some spell? A summoning? Am I dead?"


"No," Hel said. "You are very much alive. Mostly by stubbornness, if I were to guess."

"Is my dad dead?" Talyor whispers

Hel slowed.

For a long moment, Hel didn't speak.


Taylor waited, breath caught in her throat, bugs trembling in the air around her like a frightened halo.


Finally, Hel exhaled—a quiet, steadying breath.


"I am sorry, Taylor," Hel said gently. "Danny Hebert is dead."


The words hit like a hammer.


Taylor didn't gasp. She didn't scream. She didn't fall to her knees.


She just… stood there as if her spine had turned to glass and any wrong movement would shatter her.


"…How?" she whispered, voice tiny and cracked. "Please… just—just tell me how."


Hel folded her hands behind her back, gaze lowering for the first time since Taylor had met her.


"He died trying to get to you. Your world was collapsing—metaphysically and literally. Doors between realities ripped open. Fate… unraveled. He ran into the chaos looking for you. He would not leave without trying to save you."


Taylor's breath stuttered.


"Dad wouldn't…" she rasped. "He wouldn't do something that stupid."


"He would," Hel corrected softly. "Because it was you."

Her bugs convulsed in a chaotic cloud, spiraling with her emotions.


Hel stepped closer, slow and deliberate.


"Taylor," she said, "your father did not die afraid. He did not suffer. His only thought was reaching you."


Taylor squeezed her eyes shut.


"That's not—" her voice broke, "—that's not supposed to make it better."


"No," Hel replied. "It's not meant to. It's meant to be true."


Taylor stood there shaking, whole body locked between collapse and fury.


"Why…" she whispered, "why didn't he get pulled here too? If I did—why not him?"


Hel hesitated. Not out of uncertainty—but respect.


"He did not land anywhere," she said quietly. "He passed through the breach completely. His soul… did not cling to life the way yours did. Sometimes, when a person runs toward death to protect someone they love… they stop being afraid of it." Hel met her gaze, gentle but unyielding. "Your father made peace with dying the moment he chose to go after you."


Taylor's knees buckled.


Hel caught her before she hit the ground. Not cradling her like a child, not towering over her—just steady, present, and grounding.


"I'm sorry," Hel repeated, softer this time.


And for the first time since waking up in a strange, impossible world…


Taylor Hebert let herself cry.

===

For Freya, waking was usually a slow, luxurious thing—consciousness unfurling like silk.

Today, it slammed into her like a falling star.


Her eyes snapped open.


A soul.

Not just large—colossal.

It thrummed through the walls of Babel Tower like a second heartbeat.

Ancient in shape, but young in temperament.

Powerful enough to rattle even her domain… yet trembling with fear so raw it bordered on feral.


Freya sat up, silver hair spilling around her like moonlight, breath catching in her throat.


"A soul like this…" she whispered, "should not exist down here."


And more importantly—


It should not be this afraid.


She rose from her bed with a slow, measured grace, masking the adrenaline twisting in her gut. She should investigate. She wanted to. But first…


Her thoughts flicked to last night—

to the bright, impossible soul she had met for the first time…


Her own grandchild's first child.

Hel's first.

Ruby.


Freya's lips curved in an involuntary, fond smile. Ruby's soul had shone like fresh dawn—warm, pure, vibrant enough to stun even a goddess who had seen millennia of beauty. The girl spoke freely, smiled easily, and seemed completely oblivious to how precious she was.

Freya pressed a hand lightly to her chest, feeling her own divinity stir with a rare, biting mixture of awe and envy.


"…Of course," she murmured, a soft, helpless laugh escaping her. "Of course Hel would find a soul like that first."


Below, framed by morning light and the bustle of Orario waking, Hel stood in the street holding a girl with dark curls and shattered emotions. The soul around that girl was massive—vast enough to rival ancient heroes, dense with potential, sharp with trauma, and trembling like a wounded beast trying not to lash out.


A soul that shouldn't exist in this era.


A soul a goddess would kill for.


A soul Freya would have killed to guide, nurture, and shape… if she weren't looking at the person who currently held it.


Her granddaughter.


Hel—who rarely touched mortals at all—had her arms wrapped protectively around the weeping stranger, hand gently shielding the girl's head as if the world was too bright for her.


That sight struck Freya harder than the soul itself.


"…She beat me to her," Freya whispered with a rueful, warm ache in her voice. "My little Hel… finding a demi prospect before I could even say good morning."


Her lips curled into a smile equal parts proud and annoyed.


"This family," she murmured, rubbing her temples. "We really do collect strays, don't we?"

Taylor felt… hollow.


Not the sharp agony that had been there when she woke up, not the panic when she realized she was no longer in her world. Not the utter pain of burned nerves and a missing arm.

This was different.

A numb ache—like her mind had hit its limit and simply shut the door on everything else.


Hel didn't rush her.

The goddess of death simply held her until the sobs ran dry, cold hand steady and grounding against Taylor's back.


Taylor finally eased out of Hel's arms, scrubbing at her eyes with a hand that still felt unfamiliar and too whole. Her bugs painted a picture of their surroundings—open space, construction tools, half-assembled forge equipment, and a dozen little metal scraps lying around like exhausted soldiers.


Then one of her bugs pinged movement.


A fast one.


Taylor blinked blearily as a figure zipped into view—red cloak, cinder-black boots, soot-smudged cheeks, and a grin that was about three seconds away from vibrating off her face.


Ruby Rose skidded to a stop, nearly tripping over a crate of gears.


"Oh!" she gasped, blinking at Taylor like she'd just discovered a new species. "You're… upright! That's progress!"


Hel pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ruby."


"What? It is progress," Ruby insisted, then leaned forward, eyes wide with a mix of hope and excitement Taylor wasn't remotely prepared for. "Sooo—" she gestured vaguely at Taylor's whole existence—"are you joining the familia?"


Taylor stared at her.


"Joining the what?"


Ruby nodded eagerly, completely undeterred by confusion, trauma, or basic social pacing.


"Oh! Right, right, sorry—words. I've been forging all night. Anyway! Familia. You know—team, guild, found family, part-time divine sponsorship package!" She made jazz hands. "Lady Hel is super nice, and we have cool tools, and I'm totally building a new scythe, and you look like you could use some support that isn't… uh… giant bug clouds?"


Taylor blinked before looking up realizing she had a biblical plague flying over the city block, an she was unsure of when she started it, but it only took an after thought to dismiss it.

Ruby leaned in, whispering loudly, "We also have snacks."


Hel sighed. "Ruby. Let her breathe."


Ruby straightened. "Breathing is optional! Joining a familia is forever!"


Taylor opened her mouth.


Closed it.


Then looked helplessly at Hel.


Hel gestured calmly. "You may answer whenever you're ready, Taylor Hebert."


Ruby fidgeted like a particularly hopeful puppy holding a smithing hammer.

"Who is this little child and why is she so adorable?" Taylor asks pointing at Ruby


"I think adorkable works better for Ruby."

Ruby straightened at once, cheeks puffing indignantly. "I am not a child! I'm sixteen!"

She paused.

"…Well, in soul years I might be older? I dunno. Timey things got weird."


Taylor blinked at her. "You're adorable. That's not an insult."


Ruby made a noise suspiciously close to a squeak and tried to hide behind her hood.


Hel exhaled slowly. "Adorkable does work better. She has been forging all night and refused to sleep until she could ask you herself."


Ruby stepped forward, bright silver eyes earnest, hopeful, shining like she carried a tiny sun inside her chest.


"So um… hi!" Ruby said, voice cracking with fatigue and excitement. "You're Hel's new rescue—uh, guest! And I was wondering if you're gonna join our familia? Because Hel brought you home which she never does and she looked super serious which usually means 'new family member' and—"


"I am not batman Ruby." Hel responds.

===

Time passed quickly that morning, though Taylor wasn't entirely sure how.


One moment Ruby was animatedly rambling about how Hel was "amazing and terrifying and somehow the best boss ever," complete with wild hand gestures…


…and the next, Hel silently appeared behind them with two bowls of steaming food, setting them on the table with the kind of finality that brooked no argument.


"Sit," Hel said.


Ruby sat instantly.


Taylor, still overwhelmed and operating on pure social autopilot, followed her example.


"Eat," Hel added, folding her arms.


Ruby obeyed instantly—half because she was starving after forging all night, and half because… well… Hel had that tone.


Taylor, despite still feeling like her emotions had been put through a blender, found herself doing the same.


It was weirdly grounding.


After breakfast, Ruby bounced away toward the half-finished forge to "check on the temper lines before they get grumpy," whatever that meant. That left Taylor alone with Hel, who inclined her head toward a small stone bench beneath a newly placed awning.


"Come," Hel said. "We have matters to discuss."


Taylor followed, settling stiffly beside her.


Hel folded her hands in her lap. "You should understand where you have landed… and what choices lie before you."


Taylor's bugs perched in a ring around them—on the awning, the bench legs, the dirt—watching with silent attention.


Hel continued.


"This world runs on a structure that mortals built around the power we gods bring. A familia is the bond between a deity and the mortals they guide. I can grant you strength. Protection. Magic. Purpose."


Taylor swallowed. "And in return?"


Hel gave her a long, measuring look—not cold, not threatening. Just… ancient.


"In return, you allow me to care for you," she said simply. "To sponsor your growth. To guide your path. You are not a soldier or a pawn. You are… mine, if you choose to be."


Taylor blinked. "That sounds—uh—possessive."


"It is," Hel admitted. "In the same way a mother claims a child, or a guardian claims responsibility. It is not ownership. It is… stewardship."


Taylor leaned back. "And if I say no?"


"Then I find you safe lodging," Hel said without hesitation. "Food, clothing, beds, and a barrier against anything that might seek you. You owe me nothing for the aid already given."


That surprised Taylor more than anything else.


"…Why?"


"Because you fell into my home bleeding and terrified," Hel said. "And you are a child who needed help. That is enough."


Taylor's throat tightened again, but she forced the emotion down.


"So this familia thing," she said carefully. "If I join… what actually happens?"


Hel reached into a pocket dimension—just casually, like pulling a wallet—and produced a small silver needle.


"I carve my blessing into your back. It will not harm you, though it may sting. You will gain power based on your growth, your actions, your battles."


Taylor peered at the needle.


"…Like leveling up in an RPG?"


"Precisely," Hel said with a faint smile. "Ruby screamed when she first saw her status sheet and nearly fainted from excitement."


Taylor stared.


"…Yeah, that sounds right."


"Indeed."


Silence stretched for a moment.


Hel's eyes softened. "You do not need to decide now."


Taylor looked down at her restored arm. At the blurry world around her. At the forge, where Ruby's humming drifted like gentle steel and sunlight.


She didn't have a home.


She didn't have her dad.


She didn't even have her world anymore.


But she had been saved.


Maybe… maybe she could build something new here.


Taylor took a shaky breath.


"I'll think about it," she whispered.


Hel nodded. "That is all I ask."

The adventurer had known he was in trouble the moment the fifth goblin crawled out of the darkness.


By the seventh, he was running.


By the tenth, he was screaming.


The shrieking little monsters surged after him—snarling, clawing, tripping over each other in their eagerness to tear him apart. His sword arm was already numb, his lungs burning, his back bleeding from where one had gotten lucky.


"Gods—someone—anyone—!"


A goblin leapt for his throat.


It never landed.


Because the air behind him hissed.


Then the ceiling hissed.


Then the ground hissed.


A sound like dry leaves collapsing in on themselves—like rain made of tiny legs.


The adventurer stumbled to a halt just in time to see it:


A tidal wave of insects—centipedes, beetles, hornets, spiders, things with too many wings and too many eyes—swarming down the corridor in a unified, horrifying mass.


The goblins didn't even have time to scream.


The swarm hit them like a living avalanche.


Green bodies vanished under chitin and mandibles. Limbs twitched once—twice—then disappeared entirely as the swarm drowned them in a black-gold tide.


The adventurer fell back on his ass, staring in frozen, primal terror.


"…wh—what—"


And from behind the wall of living nightmare, a monstrous voice made up of clicks chirps and all of the horrifying noises spoke.

"I think that's all of them."

Looking towards the "Voice" the man could see the swarm of insects had a humanoid form.

"Fuck this shit i am retiring." The man mumbles.

===

Ruby jabbed a thumb in the air, grinning. "Sooo! Welcome to Orario! The greatest city in the world! Built around the largest dungeon ever discovered! Full of adventure and excitement and mystery and—"


Taylor narrowed her eyes.


"Ruby."


"Yes?" Ruby chirped, eyes sparkling.


"…You're lost."


"I am not lost!" Ruby declared with the confidence of a girl who had absolutely no idea where she was. "I know exactly where we are!"


Taylor glanced up at the street sign Ruby had just confidently walked past.


She didn't even recognize the alphabet.


"Okay," Taylor said slowly, "prove it. What street are we on?"


Ruby stared at the sign.


Her eyes squinted.


Her lips moved as if trying to sound something out.


A beat.

Two.


Finally, Ruby turned away and said brightly:


"It's pronounced 'THIS WAY!'"

And she marched confidently in the wrong direction.


Taylor let out a slow exhale.


"…Hel sent you to guide me, didn't she?"


Ruby beamed. "Yup! I give great tours!"


Taylor's bugs, all 300 meters of sensory coverage, returned a very different verdict.


They told her Ruby had gotten turned around four times already. And they weren't even halfway down the street.


Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Ruby."


"Yeah?"


"I'll navigate."


"Oh! Okay!" Ruby said cheerfully, falling in step beside her. "Just tell me where you wanna go!"


Taylor looked around at the overwhelming, fantastical, completely alien city.


"…I have no idea."


Ruby grinned wide. "Perfect! That's the best way to start an adventure!"


===

Hel sat alone at a corner table, a bowl of something Freya insisted was "comfort food" steaming in front of her. She poked at it absently with her spoon, gaze drifting toward the window where the morning crowds passed.


Every so often, one or two mortals would glance her way.


Most looked away immediately.


A few stared too long before instinct—or divine pressure—made them wince and hurry off.


Hel ignored all of them.


She was waiting.


The contractor from the Vishvakarma Familia was—according to Hepahstus —"the best in the city," "a miracle worker with stone," and "very expensive, so don't glare at him."


Hel had promised nothing on that last part.


She lifted another spoonful to her lips—


—and felt a soul approaching before she heard the footsteps.


Bold. Bright. Craft-minded.

Mortal, but confident enough that even her presence didn't crack him.


A man in a soot-stained orange coat stepped into the Hostess of Fertility, carrying a wooden case full of tools.


He spotted her immediately.


"You must be Lady Hel," he said, nodding with brisk professional respect but no fear. "I'm Garmas, foreman of Vishvakarma Familia. Heard you've got a… unique build going up near the Hostess."


Hel set her spoon down.


"That would be correct."


Garmas exhaled through his nose. "Three buildings vanished overnight and were replaced by a half-finished forge I can't explain and don't want to try. So yes, I figured 'unique' was the polite word."


Hel considered him.


Direct. Efficient. Didn't waste time.


Good.


"I require the rest constructed exactly to my specifications," Hel said. "And some adjustments Ruby insisted upon."


Garmas blinked. "Ruby?"

"The current captain of my familia." Hel responds



===

Hel nodded and reached into her bag.


What she pulled out was not a scroll.


It was a book—thick, bound in dark leather, and far too heavy for something she lifted with one hand like it was a pamphlet. She set it on the table, and the wood groaned.


Duran blinked. "…A blueprint book?"


"No. The blueprint," Hel corrected.


She flipped it open.


The pages unfolded.


And unfolded.


And unfolded.


Within seconds half the table was covered, the diagrams spilling out into layers—cross-sections, runic matrices, structural enchantments, pocket-dimension anchors, foundational reinforcement circles, and a neat list of "future expansion wings."


Duran's jaw slowly dropped as Hel calmly explained, "This will be my familia's headquarters and forge. Ruby has already begun the preliminary smithing wing."


He stared.


Then he swallowed.


"Lady Hel…" He pointed to one diagram showing a hallway that looped back into itself in a way geometry should probably weep over. "This structure is… larger on the inside."


"Yes," Hel said simply.


"But the lot you purchased," he continued, voice rising an octave, "is barely large enough for the entryway."


"Yes," Hel repeated.


He stared at her like she'd handed him a dragon egg and told him it needed a crib.


"…Do you intend for us to build a spatially warped facility?"


"Obviously," Hel replied. "I'll handle the expansion runes myself."


He set both palms on the table. "Miss Hel, with all due respect—spatial distortion work is usually—"


"Very dangerous? Yes. But I'm me."

She flipped to another diagram, this one showing rune matrices in dizzying spirals.

"I built three in the last month."


The man opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a wheeze that might've been a prayer.


"…Okay," he said, shoulders slumping in surrender. "This… this is something I need to see."


Hel nodded approvingly. "Good. Bring your best builders."


"And maybe," he muttered under his breath, "a priest."


Hel ignored that part.

===

Ruby bounced ahead with the enthusiasm of someone who definitely hadn't slept and definitely did not notice the way Taylor kept glancing around like every shadow might contain a mugger, a monster, or a test she hadn't studied for.


By the time they reached the towering marble building with the golden emblem over its doors, Ruby spun on her heel and pointed dramatically.


"Ta-da! The Guild!"


Taylor stared up at it.

"Ruby?"


"Yes?" Ruby asks cheerirly.


"We are like a five minute walk down the same street that the new familia home will be on."

Ruby blinked.


Looked at the Guild.


Looked back down the street.


Then slowly… slowly turned in a full circle like a confused golden retriever that had just realized the ball she'd been chasing was actually in her own mouth.


"…Oh."


Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ruby."


"In my defense," Ruby said, lifting one finger like she was presenting a thesis, "I got really excited. And then I started thinking about what kind of emblem we should have, and then loadouts, and then I needed to figure out where the bakeries were—VERY important—and then you asked where the Guild was so I just started walking and—"


Taylor sighed. "You had no idea where we were going."


Ruby beamed. "Absolutely none!"


A passing elf gave both of them the most exhausted, seen-this-before look imaginable.


Taylor muttered, "I cannot believe my guide is lost in a town she lives in."

Ruby gasped. "Hey! I'm only lost like… half the time!"


Taylor stared.


Ruby reconsidered. "…Two-thirds?"


"Ruby."


"Fine. Seventy percent."


Taylor opened her mouth to scold her—only for Ruby to grab her hand with both of hers, eyes bright.


"But it's okay! Because we made it! And now you get to register! And then you'll get to go in the Dungeon! With me!"


Taylor blinked. "…Is that supposed to make me feel better?"


Ruby nodded vigorously. "Yes! Teamwork!"


Taylor inhaled. Exhaled. Questioned every life choice that led her to this moment.


"…Let's just go inside."


Ruby bounced. "Adventure!"

Hel lay down only because Ruby and Taylor had both given her matching suspicious looks and insisted she "looked tired."

Then again she was doing the runes on the new house an it was taking quite alot of time.

Her eyes closed.


And when they opened—


she was staring up at the ashen sky of Firelink Shrine.


Soft cinders drifted downward like lazy snowflakes. The bonfire crackled steadily nearby, its flames impossibly calm, impossibly old.


Hel exhaled slowly.


"…Of course," she muttered. "Back here again."


Footsteps whispered over stone.


The Fire Keeper approached, her presence like warm twilight, serene and unhurried. Her veiled face tilted up toward Hel in a gesture of welcome.


"Welcome home, Ashen Goddess," the Fire Keeper said, voice gentle.

"Hello Fire Keeper… Is it safe to assume that this shrine is Endless as they say?" Hel asks surprised to find herself in Firelink a second time.

The Fire Keeper's smile was small, soft, and impossibly knowing—

like she had been expecting Hel for far longer than Hel had been gone.


"The world outside rises and falls," she said, hands folding neatly before her. "Flames rekindle. Flames fade. But Firelink is… constant."


Hel slowly sat up, brushing ash from her sleeves, feeling the weight of two realms tug at her in different directions.


"So yes," Hel said dryly. "Endless."


"If that is the word you choose."


Hel huffed—the closest she ever came to laughing in this place.

She looked around the shrine.

"I am gonna go an explore the outside then." Hel states walking out into the fog of the inbetween.

And then Hel stopped.

Someone was kneeling in the gray grass ahead.

A girl—young, blonde, trembling. She wore nothing but a torn linen shirt, soaked dark with blood. Several neat holes punctured the fabric across her torso and shoulder, edges burned rather than torn. Bullet wounds. Old-world weapons, new-world violence.

The girl's breathing was shallow, uneven, like she hadn't yet realized she was supposed to be dead.

Hel felt it immediately.

A soul that refused to go quietly.

Not vast like Taylor's. Not radiant like Ruby's.
But sharp. Stubborn. Angry in the way only survivors ever were.

The girl lifted her head slowly.

Her eyes were glassy, unfocused—then they locked onto Hel.

"…Oh," she rasped. "Great. What is it this time Being X you bastard!" The girl shouts looking at Helena directly in the eyes.

Hel stepped closer, slow and unthreatening, her hands open at her sides.


"It's all right," she said softly. "You're safe now."


The girl's breath hitched.


For half a second, something in her expression broke—panic snapping into pure survival instinct.


"NO—!"


The scream tore out of her raw and hoarse. Her hand moved faster than thought.


Steel flashed.


Hel felt the impact before she registered the motion—a sharp, physical pressure as the blade drove straight into her eye. Not pain, exactly. More like surprise, followed by the faintest sting, as the knife sank in up to the hilt.


The girl sobbed as she stabbed, shaking, desperate, driving it forward like she was trying to kill a god.


Hel didn't even stagger.


She blinked once with her one good eye.

===

The Firelink Shrine greeted Hel.


Stone beneath her palms. Cold. Solid. Unchanged.


Hel pushed herself upright, blinking once… twice.


"…Huh."


She touched her face. No blood. No pain. No knife lodged anywhere near her eye. Her vision was perfectly intact—weirdly so.


Behind her, the Fire Keeper stood exactly where she always did, hands folded, posture serene, as if Hel hadn't just been violently murdered by a very determined blonde with commitment issues.


The Fire Keeper inclined her head.


"Welcome back."


Hel stared at her for a long moment.


"…She stabbed me," Hel said flatly.


"Yes," the Fire Keeper agreed.


"In the eye."


"Yes."


"With a knife."


"Yes."


Hel exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I am beginning to see why people go hollow."


The Fire Keeper's lips curved—just barely. "You startled her."


"I approached calmly."


"You are," the Fire Keeper said gently, "a goddess of death."


Hel considered that. "…Fair."

"There is someone else seeking shelter in the shrine." The firekeeper states.

Hel followed the Fire Keeper's gaze.


At the far edge of the shrine, half-hidden behind a broken pillar, sat a girl who looked like she hadn't slept in days.


Black hair fell in uneven strands around her face. A bow—torn, singed at the edges—rested crookedly atop her head. Golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, snapped up the instant Hel looked her way.


Blake Belladonna froze.


Every muscle in her body went taut, like a cornered animal bracing for impact.


"…You're not Grimm," Blake said slowly, voice hoarse. "And you don't feel like a huntsman."


Hel tilted her head. "Correct on both counts."


Blake's grip tightened on the broken sheath at her side. Whatever weapon she'd once carried was gone—or shattered. Her aura flickered weakly, barely clinging to her skin like a fading afterimage.


"…Then where am I?" Blake asked. "And why does this place feel like it's waiting for something to end?"


Firelink Shrine crackled softly between them.


The Fire Keeper answered first. "You are between worlds. Between deaths. Between decisions."

"Blake Belladonna, I have already pulled Ruby out of this purgatory, and I keep coming back to look for the rest of the team. I wish to take you out of here with me." Hel states

Blake's ears twitched sharply at the name.


"…Ruby?" she echoed, disbelief cracking through the exhaustion. "You know Ruby?"


Hel nodded once. "Very well. She is alive. Annoyingly energetic. And currently attempting to turn a forge into something that violates several local laws of reality."


That earned a weak, breathless sound from Blake that might have been a laugh if she'd had the strength for it.


"She's… alive," Blake murmured, shoulders sagging as the tension finally bled out of her. "Then Yang—Weiss—"


"I am still searching," Hel said honestly. She did not soften the truth, but neither did she make it cruel. "You are the second I have found. The others may yet be here. Or elsewhere."


Blake closed her eyes for a long moment, forehead resting against her knees.


"This place," she said quietly, "I thought it was some kind of afterlife. Or a nightmare I couldn't wake up from."


"Both," the Fire Keeper said gently. "And neither."


Blake looked up at Hel again, sharper now despite the fatigue. "And you can get me out?"


"Yes."


No flourish. No promise of safety. Just certainty.


Blake studied her face—pale, calm, utterly unafraid. Not a Grimm. Not a human. Not anything she recognized.


"…What do you want in return?" Blake asked.


Hel's brow furrowed faintly. "Return?"


"Everyone wants something," Blake said. Old instincts. Old scars. "Power. Loyalty. A weapon."


Hel was silent for a beat.


Then she answered, simply, "I want you to live. And if you choose, to walk forward instead of staying here until this place eats what remains of you."


"If Ruby trusts you, then get me out of here." Blake states

Ruby woke up to the sound of her new perspective familia member shaking her.

"Nnnggnn yeeeah? Waaa?" Ruby mumbles

Taylor Hebert hovered over her, hair still a little wild from sleep, glasses crooked, expression tight with the kind of tension that meant something was very wrong. Her bugs clustered along the walls and ceiling like living alarm bells.


"…Waaa?" Ruby slurred.


"There's someone in Lady Hel's room," Taylor said quietly.


That snapped Ruby awake instantly.


She shot upright so fast her blanket went flying. "WHAT—?!"


Taylor grabbed her shoulders before she could bolt. "Not attacking. Just—there. I felt it through my bugs. A presence appeared out of nowhere. Same way Hel does sometimes."


Ruby blinked. Once. Twice.


Then her brain caught up.


"Oh."


That kind of presence.


Ruby scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over her own boots as she jammed them on. "Did Hel bring someone back again?"


"I don't know," Taylor said. "But whoever it is… they're exhausted. Hurt. And very much not asleep."


Ruby's expression softened immediately, worry overriding panic. "Okay. Okay, that's fine. That's—yeah, that's kind of her thing."


They moved down the hall together, footsteps quiet despite Ruby's usual bounce. The manor—temporary as it still was—felt different at night. Too still. Too aware.


Taylor paused just outside Hel's door.


"…Ruby," she said hesitantly. "If this is another person from… out there—"


Ruby glanced back at her, eyes steady despite the sleep still clinging to her.


"Then we help them," she said without hesitation. "That's what family does."


Taylor swallowed and nodded.


Ruby reached out—and knocked once.


The door opened on its own.


Inside, Hel stood near the window, pale moonlight framing her like a carved statue. Her posture was relaxed, but Ruby recognized the subtle alertness beneath it.


And sitting on the edge of the bed—


A girl with long black hair, cat ears flattened slightly against her head, shoulders hunched in exhaustion. Her clothes were torn, her aura faint, eyes sharp despite how tired she looked.


Blake Belladonna looked up.


Her gaze landed on Ruby.


And for a split second—


Her composure shattered.


"…Ruby?" Blake whispered, like she was afraid the name might vanish if she said it too loudly.


Ruby froze.


Then her face lit up so brightly it was practically a sunrise.


"BLAKE?!"


She crossed the room in three steps and threw her arms around her without warning.


Blake stiffened—then sagged into the hug, hands gripping Ruby's cloak like it was the only solid thing left in existence.


"You're alive," Blake breathed. "You're really alive."


Ruby hugged tighter, voice muffled but fierce. "Yeah! Super alive! Sorry I died, but I got better. An the entire team is going to get better right Goddess?"


The trio looks over at Hel.


"I'll keep searching." Hel responds

"So, what mansion are we exactly at right now? I was lead to believe that the building being built down the road from the guild was going to be our home, yet we are here?" Taylor asks


"Okay, I guess I can give the run down. Welcome to Orario, please do not tell the other gods that you are from other worlds that would make life so troublesome for all of us." Hel starts

Hel folded her hands calmly, the way she did when she was about to explain something that would absolutely raise more questions than it answered.


"Alright," she said. "I will give you the short version first. Then the long version. You may interrupt only if something is actively on fire."


Ruby raised a hand. "…Define actively."


Hel looked at her.


Ruby lowered her hand.


"This," Hel continued, "is the Loki Familia manor. It is not our home. It is a temporary arrangement born of convenience, politics, and the fact that Loki is my parent."


Blake blinked. "…Your parent?"


"Yes."


Ruby nodded enthusiastically. "She's really embarrassing!"


Hel ignored that.


"The structure being built near the Guild," she went on, turning slightly toward Taylor, "will be our actual headquarters. Residence, forge, workshop, training grounds, an Store Front. Spatially expanded on the inside. Reinforced to withstand Ruby."

Ruby puffed up. "I'm not that bad."


"Ruby, do I need to introduce your nickname here?" Blake asks


Ruby gasps dramatically, "Dont you Dare!"

Hel allowed herself the faintest hint of amusement before continuing.


"Orario," she said, "is a city governed by gods who descended from the heavens and formed familias—organizations of mortals bound to them by a blessing called a falna. It grants growth, strength, skills. It also paints a target on your back."


Taylor's expression tightened. "So… joining a familia means being owned?"


"No," Hel said immediately. "It means being chosen. And choosing in return."


She looked directly at Taylor now, her gaze steady and unflinching.


"That is why I said nothing earlier. I will not force this."


Taylor swallowed. Blake shifted closer, close enough that their shoulders touched.


"If you stay with me," Hel continued, "you will be protected. You will gain power. You will be watched. Closely. Gods are curious creatures, and you—" her eyes flicked briefly, knowingly, "—are noticeable."


Taylor snorted weakly. "That's one way to put it."

"If you do not stay," Hel said, "I will still ensure you are not immediately devoured by the Dungeon, enslaved by another familia, or dissected for academic curiosity."


Ruby gasped. "Wait, that last one is a thing?!"


"Here not so much? But in other world yes."

"Oh my gosh that's horrible."


"It happens," Taylor answers flatly.


"The Falna are contracts between a god and mortals. Blessings. Growth. Protection. Obligations. They are granted by the ichor of the gods who bless you. You live, fight, and grow under that god's name."


Ruby raised a hand. "And sometimes you get cool skills! Or accidentally explode things."


Hel ignored that.


Taylor hesitated, then spoke. "You mentioned gods earlier. Greek gods. My mom was a literature professor—" her voice wavered for just a moment before steadying "—so I know some of them. Zeus. Hera. Athena. Hades."

She looked directly at Hel. "You don't… act like the myths."


Hel's mouth twitched. "Myths are written by survivors. Or liars. Often both."


Blake huffed softly. "That tracks."


Taylor exhaled. "So… Hestia. Hephaestus. Loki. Thor. They're all real?"


"Yes."


"And they're… like this?" Taylor gestured vaguely. "Walking around. Running taverns. Causing property damage."


"Not so much the property damage but, yes."

"…Okay," Taylor said after a beat. "That's actually less horrifying than Brockton Bay."

"I do not know, I can take guess considering when you were dropped on my lap you smelt like a demigod child of an outer god but, we can work that out later." Hel states

"That blessing," Blake said slowly. "It would help us survive here."


"Yes," Hel replied. "If you choose it."


Blake glanced at Taylor.


Taylor looked down at her hands. Then up. "If I'm going to stay in a world with gods and monsters… I'd rather not do it powerless."


Blake nodded once. "Same."


Hel inclined her head. "Then you will receive falna. After breakfast."


"Breakfast?" Ruby perked up instantly. "With Loki!"


Taylor stiffened. "The trickster god?"


"Yes that one, my father" Hel answers.

Hel walked into the dining room without ceremony, her presence alone enough to quiet what little noise there was.


The hall was nearly empty at this hour—long wooden tables half-lit by the pale morning sun, plates and mugs abandoned by early risers. A few members of Loki Familia lingered, armor loosened, laughter muted by fatigue. Most were gone already, swallowed by the Dungeon in another expedition.


Every eye that was present turned, if only briefly.


Hel did not acknowledge them. She rarely did.


Behind her came her familia—an odd little procession.


Ruby bounced along at her side, red cloak swaying, silver eyes alight like she'd just discovered a secret level in reality. Taylor followed more cautiously, posture stiff, gaze sharp and analytical as she took in exits, people, weapons—old habits refusing to die. Blake moved last, quiet as a shadow, ears tucked low beneath her bow, golden eyes tracking movement with practiced wariness.


Loki, already sprawled sideways across a bench with a mug in hand and her boots up on the table, grinned the moment she saw them.


"Well I'll be damned," she drawled, raising her mug in salute. "Mornin', kiddo. Man, you sure are adoptin' fast, ain'tcha?"


Hel stopped at the end of the table and looked at her.


"I rescue," Hel replied flatly. "They decide."


Loki laughed, loud and unbothered. "Uh-huh. Sure. That's what all the soft-hearted gods say."


Ruby beamed. "Hi Loki!!"


Loki leaned forward, peering at Ruby like she was a particularly interesting puzzle. "Still vibratin' at unsafe frequencies, I see. Good. Means you're alive."


Then her gaze slid—keen, assessing—to Taylor.


"Oh?" Loki hummed. "Now that's an aura coming off of you."

Taylor stiffened immediately. "I don't like the way you said that."


"Good instincts," Loki said cheerfully. "Means you'll live longer."


Her eyes flicked again, this time to Blake, lingering just a second too long. Something unreadable passed over her expression before she smirked.


"And you dragged back a cat with trauma. You really are speedrunning the whole thing."


Blake bristled. "I am not—"


"She means well," Hel interrupted.


Loki snorted. "No she doesn't."


Hel ignored her and gestured to the bench opposite. "Sit. We eat. Then we do the falna."


That got everyone's attention.


Taylor's head snapped up. "Now?"


"You know with how fast your familia is growning Hel you are gonna have to move out sooner or later." Loki states

Hel didn't look at Loki when she answered.


"I am aware."


She took the seat at the head of the table with practiced inevitability, as though the space had always belonged to her. Ruby slid in immediately at her side, still half-asleep but already attacking a plate of bread with frightening enthusiasm. Blake followed more cautiously, posture guarded, eyes constantly moving. Taylor hesitated only a second before sitting—spine straight, hands folded, already bracing herself for whatever came next.


Loki grinned, chin propped on her hand. "Still—this is fast. Two lost strays, one probable monster-in-the-making, and a reaper kid who keeps smiling like the world hasn't tried to kill her yet. You sure you're ready for this?"


Hel finally turned her head.


Her gaze was flat. Absolute. Ancient.


"I do not take what I am not prepared to keep alive."


The grin on Loki's face widened—sharp, delighted. "Yeah. You really are mine."


Food arrived quickly after that—simple but hearty. Eggs, bread, roasted vegetables, meat that still steamed when torn apart. Ruby was halfway through her second helping before Taylor realized she'd started eating too, hunger sneaking up on her now that the adrenaline had ebbed.


Blake ate sparingly, but steadily. Like someone afraid the meal might disappear if she blinked.


"So," Loki said lightly, tapping her fork against the table, "who's first?"


Taylor swallowed. "First… what?"


Hel placed her palm flat on the table.


"Falna," she said. "You will each choose. No obligation. Once granted, it cannot be taken back without consent."


Taylor felt something tighten in her chest.

"I'll go first." Taylor states

====

Taylor didn't fully know what she had volunteered for.


Breakfast had been… surprisingly normal. Loud, chaotic, full of Loki Familia banter that bounced off the walls like thrown knives. Ruby had fit in immediately, Blake stayed quiet but alert, and Hel had eaten with the same calm inevitability she did everything else.


Then Hel stood.


And Taylor followed.


The private room was small, stone-walled, warded—Taylor could feel it the moment she stepped inside. Her bugs reacted instantly, spreading out, probing seams and shadows, mapping space the way they always did when she was afraid.


Hel closed the door behind them.


"Sit," Hel said, already removing her cloak.


Taylor did.

"I need you to take off your shirt and lay down on your stomach." Hel states


Her stomach twisted as Hel rolled up the sleeve of her dress, exposing pale skin.

Taylor froze for half a heartbeat.


Then she nodded.


"Okay," she said quietly.


She turned away, fingers a little clumsy as she pulled her shirt over her head and folded it neatly on the chair. The scars along her side were old and pale, the kind that spoke of fights that never quite healed right. She lay down on the stone bench as instructed, the cool surface grounding in its own way.


Hel watched her for a moment longer than strictly necessary.


Not judging.

Assessing.


"Breathe," Hel said, placing two fingers lightly between Taylor's shoulder blades. Her touch was cold—not painful, just present.


"This should not hurt," Hel said,


"…That's not reassuring," Taylor muttered.


Hel's lips twitched. "You survived far worse."


She wasn't wrong. Then a light burning sensation tingles all over her body

"Oh? You have a passenger." Hel mutters

===

Ruby and Blake watched Taylor leave the room with a light blush holding a sheet of paper.

"It-ts your turn blake." Taylor mutters

Blake blinked. Once.


"…What?"


Taylor did not meet her eyes. She shoved the paper into Blake's hands and very deliberately stared at the wall.

"Just—go. It's not bad. It's just… weird."


"Mine wasn't that weird even my aura reacted fine." Ruby states confused

Ruby
Level 1
Strength: I – 88
Endurance: I – 12
Dexterity: I – 54
Agility: H – 140
Magic: G – 230
MAGIC
AURA
Pedal Burst

SKILLS
Scythe wielding C
Marksman Ship E

Taylor
Level 1
Strength: I – 40
Endurance: I – 8
Dexterity: I – 54
Agility: I– 10
Magic: D– 540
MAGIC
Queen Administrator

Skill
Queen Administrator E

Blake
Level 1
Strength: I – 70
Endurance: I – 11
Dexterity: I – 30
Agility: I– 60
Magic: D– 540

MAGIC
AURA
Shadow

Skills
Marksmanship G