Raising Hel, in Danmachi.

[Common]

The dungeon did not roar.


But it called out to them.


Ruby felt it the moment they crossed the threshold — that subtle shift in pressure, the way the air cooled and thickened, like stepping underwater without the courtesy of getting wet.


Beside her, Weiss adjusted Myrtenaster with precise, economical movements.


Blake said nothing.


That, more than anything, told Ruby this wasn't a normal mission.


They weren't here to win.


They were here to grow.


"Okay!" Ruby clapped her hands together, a little too brightly. "New rule. No brooding. No mourning, and no whining. Hel is going to find Yang, and then from there we can have her search for anyone else after we get the team back together. BUT FIRST WE NEED TO GET TO LEVEL 2!"


Her voice echoed.


The dungeon did not echo back.


Weiss arched a brow. "Your optimism is bordering on aggressive."


"It's called proactive coping," Ruby said immediately. "Very healthy. Very productive. Extremely not spiraling."

Blake's ears twitched slightly. "You're spiraling."


"I am absolutely not—"


The torches along the wall flickered out.


Darkness swallowed the corridor in an instant.


A low grinding sound rolled beneath their feet.


Ruby's grip tightened around Crescent Rose.


"Goblins approaching from all sides," Blake muttered, ears swiveling as if they could pick up more than human hearing allowed.


"I guess the dungeon didn't appreciate your yelling, Ruby," Weiss quipped, the faint edge of a smile on her lips.


Ruby spun around, trying to catch movement in the blackness, heart hammering. A faint glow sparked from Weiss's rapier, casting jagged shadows along the walls. Blake's stance tightened, body low and ready, tail flicking in irritation or maybe anticipation.


The grinding grew louder. Shapes emerged first as shadows, then as dimly glowing, hunched forms — goblins, small but vicious, eyes glinting red in the darkness.

Ruby shifted Crescent Rose into scythe mode instinctively, feeling the familiar weight in her hands. "Level 1 style?" she asked, grin cracking through the tension.


Weiss's gaze was calm and sharp. She stepped forward, boots crunching softly on the stone. "Focus on their weak points. Don't waste Dust on the small fry—we need to conserve what we have."


Ruby didn't hesitate. She blurred into the approaching swarm, crescent arcs of steel whirling with a newfound precision as her reinforced Crescent Rose cleaved through goblins with a satisfying rhythm. Each swing was confident, controlled, and brutal in its efficiency.


Blake's eyes tracked the battlefield, every movement precise, intercepting threats before they could reach Ruby. "So," she called over, voice low and steady, "how's development on those new Dust rounds coming along?"


Weiss's fingers danced along Myrtenaster, sparks of energy flicking off with each micro-adjustment. "Almost ready. More efficient, longer lasting, hitting harder. No environmental effects yet—it's just straight force. I have an idea for Ice Dust, but fire, electricity, earth, wind, water, and gravity are beyond me for now."


Blake nodded, tail flicking thoughtfully. "That's both good and bad. We should probably avoid relying on environmental Dust unless absolutely necessary. Who knows when we'll figure out how to replenish it consistently."


Weiss gave a quick, precise nod. "Agreed. I need Ruby to make molds and presses before I can mass-produce these rounds, but for now, our weapons are still fully usable as guns. That's enough to keep us functional in the dungeon."


Ruby's grin flashed over the chaos. "Good enough for me. Let's keep clearing these little pests before they get any ideas."


The three moved as one, the rhythm of their attacks honed by trust, training, and an unspoken understanding—each strike deliberate, each step measured, every Dust round and swing of steel reinforcing the other's strength.

====

The trio moved like clockwork, Ruby at the forefront, Weiss scanning every corner, and Blake's senses night vision and hearing stretching to every shadow, every faint rustle. Ruby's previous experience in the dungeon gave them a clear advantage—turn after turn, corridor after corridor, fell away beneath their careful, deliberate steps. Weiss's sharp attention to detail an the fact she memorized the guild map turned every marking on the walls into useful cues, ensuring they never wandered into traps or dead ends.


Blake's semblance made short work of the weaker monsters that still lingered in the dungeon's depths. Each creature that attempted to flank them found itself intercepted before it could even react.

By the time they reached the 11th floor, the environment had shifted dramatically. The narrow corridors opened into a massive cavern, the air thick with curling smoke that burned their throats and blurred their vision. Shadows flickered across jagged rock formations, and the heat radiating from somewhere deeper in the cavern was oppressive.


And then they saw it: an infant dragon, its scales glinting in the smoke, wings still too small to lift its bulk entirely, but eyes bright and dangerous. It roared, the sound echoing off the cavern walls, shaking loose small stones from the ceiling.


Ruby tightened her grip on Crescent Rose. Unlike the last encounter, she felt no tremor of fear—the scythe stayed solid in her hands, its mechanisms smooth, ready. "We've got this," she said, voice steady, determination blazing.

Ruby surged forward, Crescent Rose spinning in a blur as she descended in pedal form, momentum carrying her toward the dragon. The heat of the cavern hit her like a wall, but she barely noticed, eyes locked on the creature.


"Ruby! Don't—" Weiss shouted again, but Ruby had already closed the distance, instincts honed from prior dungeon runs taking over.


The infant dragon swung its head, attempting to knock her away, and snapped its jaws in a flash of sharp teeth. Ruby twisted mid-air, the reinforced scythe holding firm as she struck at its flank. Sparks flew where metal met scale, but Crescent Rose didn't falter this time.


Weiss moved in a measured arc, her Myrtenaster igniting with a thin line of ice Dust, forming a barrier that slowed the dragon's lateral movements. "Keep it steady, Ruby! Aim for its weak points, like the joints!"


In another blur of petals, the dragon was beheaded.

 

[bambache]

In another blur of pedals the dragon was beheaded.

Click to shrink...

Should almost certainly be "petals" there.
While I don't doubt Ruby's ability to manufacture stuff, that would be on odd killing blow for a dragon.

 

[Common]

Should almost certainly be "petals" there.
While I don't doubt Ruby's ability to manufacture stuff, that would be on odd killing blow for a dragon.

Click to shrink...

It was more meant to read like she struck the dragon in the neck mid petal burst

 

[bambache]

It was more meant to read like she struck the dragon in the neck mid petal burst

Click to shrink...

Yes, but that was not the word used.
As of writing, it says "pedals," like on a vehicle or pipe organ, instead if "petals," like a flower.

 

[Common]

Hel decided she had taken enough time away from the redheaded smith goddess.


So she left her familia estate without ceremony, cloak settling around her shoulders as she stepped into the evening streets of Orario.


The city was alive in the way only Orario could be — loud, bright, restless. Adventurers fresh from the dungeon moved in clusters, armor scuffed, egos louder than their laughter. Merchants shouted from storefronts. Street performers competed with tavern music drifting from open doors.


Hel walked among them unnoticed.


People-watching was, perhaps, her favorite pastime.


Mortals were endlessly fascinating when they believed themselves unobserved.


A drunk swordsman bragged about a kill that had clearly belonged to someone else. Two apprentices argued over the correct way to polish chainmail. A child darted between legs with stolen candied fruit, grinning wildly while her pursuer shouted empty threats.


Life. Chaotic. Temporary. Determined to matter anyway.


It almost made her jealous of Taylor Hebert.


Hel's own senses were well beyond mortal limits. She could stretch them, thin them across the city like frost creeping over glass. She could artificially enhance perception until heartbeats felt like drumbeats and whispers became declarations.


But Taylor—


Taylor could watch entire city blocks at once.


Simultaneously.


Intimately.


Hel exhaled softly.


She didn't even know where Taylor was at this exact moment.


Which meant, statistically speaking, Taylor probably knew where she was.


And was likely observing through her little biblical plague.


A faint curl of amusement touched Hel's lips.


The swarm was subtle. Efficient. Almost reverent in how it obeyed. Flies clinging to rooftops. Beetles hidden in cart wheels. Spiders suspended between alley bricks.

Everything just short of Omnipresence.

If Taylor was watching, she would watch Hel walk toward the forge district with measured steps and unreadable expression.


Gradually, the air shifted.


The scent of sugar and roasted meats from food carts thinned, replaced by iron and smoke. Coal burned hot and heavy ahead. Hammer-strikes began to punctuate the rhythm of the city, steady and authoritative.


The smithing district.


Sparks leapt from open workshops as craftsmen labored late into the evening. Heat rolled across cobblestone streets. Steel rang against steel in a constant, thunderous heartbeat.


Hel inhaled the coal smoke deeply.


She found it grounding, an it was still better than the air in London.

===

The forge doors did not creak.


They boomed.


Inside, heat pressed down like a physical thing. Sparks showered in bright arcs from raised anvils. Apprentices moved in careful patterns around rivers of molten metal guided through carved stone channels.


At the center of controlled chaos stood Tsubaki Collbrande, hammer resting across her shoulder, single visible eye sharp beneath soot-streaked bangs.


A junior smith hurried toward her, nearly slipping on a patch of soot before catching himself.


"Captain, there's a guest for Lady Hephaestus."


Tsubaki didn't look up from inspecting the blade in her hand.


"Oh?" she replied evenly. "I thought Hestia already came by?"


The apprentice swallowed.


"This one isn't Lady Hestia."


That made her pause.


Tsubaki slowly lifted her head.


"…Not Hestia."


The rhythm of the forge continued behind her — hammering, roaring flame, shouted instructions — but something in the air had shifted. Subtle. Cool.


She rolled her shoulder once, setting the inspected blade aside.


"Describe them."


The apprentice hesitated. "Tall. Pale. Black cloak. Red hair. Green eyes. She didn't give a name."


Tsubaki went very still.


"…Ah."


One corner of her mouth twitched upward.


"That would be Lady Hel."


The apprentice blinked. "Hel? As in—"


"Yes. That Hel."


She adjusted her eyepatch absently, expression turning thoughtful rather than alarmed.


"And unless I'm mistaken," Tsubaki added dryly, "she is Lady Hephaestus' lover."


A pause.


"…Aside from Aphrodite, that is."


The apprentice nearly dropped the ingot he was holding.


"L-lover?!"


Tsubaki snorted.


"Gods are complicated. I try not to worry too much about it. Something something polycule. I honestly couldn't tell you."


She let the words hang in the heated, hammering forge, then glanced toward the bronze doors as the massive hinges groaned open.


"The important thing," she continued, "is she's here. And when Lady Hel shows up personally, that usually means business… or trouble."


The apprentice swallowed, eyes wide. "B-both?"


Tsubaki smirked faintly. "Probably both. Well lets go escort her to Hephastus smithing chamber."

===

Hepheastus was trying to smith, and was at the very center of her forging chamber, The second best in the city after Hel had constructed that insanity of a fabrication center for her smith Ruby… Ruby an Hel working to gether was just un fair, a slightly frantic voice rose above the noise pulling her from her thoughts.


"Hephaestus! Hephaestus!"


Hephaestus' hammer paused mid-air, sparks frozen in the brief suspension.


"Yes, Hestia?!" she called, voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion.


"I need a weapon!" Hestia exclaimed, spinning around the forge platform like a whirlwind of blue ribbons and energy. "For my child! Something special! Magical! Possibly deadly! You can just make it, right?"


Hephaestus' hands dropped to her hips. "Hestia. You haven't even told me what the weapon is supposed to do. Or what your child even wants. How am I supposed to forge—"


Before she could finish, the massive bronze doors groaned and swung open. The heat of the forge seemed to pulse with a new rhythm as the cool presence of Hel entered.


Tsubaki's hand on her shoulder was firm, guiding her forward. "Lady Hel," she announced simply.


Hephaestus turned fully this time, eyes widening in delight and surprise.


"Hel!" she exclaimed, letting out a laugh that rang over the hammering and flames. In an instant, she closed the distance and wrapped the tall, pale figure in a warm, full embrace. "You've finally come! I've been dying to see you!"

"That was a bad pun, and you know it," Hel responded instantly, voice cool, eyes scanning the forge with that same calm precision that made the heat and chaos feel almost irrelevant.


Hephaestus froze for a heartbeat, a spark of mock offense in her eyes.


"Bad pun? Hel! That was—okay, maybe slightly bad—but heartfelt!"


Hel merely raised an eyebrow, letting the heat of the forge settle only for Hestia to giggle.

"So are you two up for some food?" Hel asks

 

[Common]

The forge doors boomed shut behind them.


Heat and coal smoke gave way to evening air as Hephaestus, Hestia, and Hel stepped into the streets of Orario.


It was immediate.


The shift.


From controlled inferno to living chaos.


Lanternlight flickered across stone streets. Adventurers laughed too loudly outside taverns. A bard played something enthusiastic and slightly off-key. Vendors shouted over one another in a competitive symphony of salesmanship.


Hestia gasped like she'd been released from imprisonment.


"Food!" she declared, already scanning the street with laser focus.


"You were just demanding a weapon," Hephaestus reminded her dryly.


"I can multitask."


Hel walked between them, cloak untouched by the crowd, expression unreadable as always.


But she chose the direction.


After a few steps, she glanced sideways at Hestia.


"Does Hestia know any good restaurants?" Hel asked calmly.


Hestia froze mid-stride.


"…Excuse me?"


Hephaestus' grin widened instantly.


"Oh this should be good."


Hestia puffed up. "Of course I know good restaurants! I live here! I am deeply connected to the culinary culture of Orario!"


Hel tilted her head slightly. "Your definition of 'good' may require clarification."


"That's rude."


"Accurate," Hephaestus corrected.


Hestia crossed her arms dramatically. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I absolutely know places. There's the little noodle shop two streets over—very cozy, very affordable."


"Affordable for you," Hephaestus muttered.


Hestia ignored her. "And the bakery near the west plaza that does honey buns in the morning—oh! And there's that stew place near the Adventurer's Guild that gives extra portions if you smile nicely."


Hel regarded her for a long, evaluating second.


"You choose based on portion size."


"Yes."


"And price."


"Yes."


"And how easily they are persuaded."


"…Yes."


Hephaestus laughed openly. "She's got you there, Hestia."


Hestia huffed. "Excuse me for being fiscally responsible."


Hel's gaze softened by a microscopic fraction.


"Very well," she said. "Choose."


Hestia's eyes lit up like a child handed command of an army.


"Oh! Okay! There's a place in the artisan quarter—small, family-run, but their roasted wyvern is incredible. And they do this herb bread that's soft in the middle and crispy on the outside and—"


Hephaestus blinked. "You've been holding out on me."


"You're always busy!" Hestia shot back.


Hel turned smoothly in the direction Hestia had indicated.

"Roast wyvern?" Hel muttered, just barely audible over the hum of the street.


Hestia spun around, walking backward now, hands clasped behind her back. "Yes! It's delicious! They marinate it in citrus and mountain herbs and slow-roast it until the edges crisp up—"


Hel's eyes narrowed a fraction.


"Wyverns," she said evenly, "are draconic."


Hephaestus snorted. "They're also aggressive flying lizards that try to eat adventurers on sight."


"That is not the point? Is wyvern meat even a drop item?" Hel asked, voice calm but sharpened by genuine curiosity.


Hephaestus rolled one shoulder. "Well, yes. Technically. But this stuff is likely coming from the wyvern farms."


Hel stopped mid-step.


"…Wyvern farms?" she asked, tone shifting from philosophical to deeply suspicious. "Explain."


Hestia brightened immediately. "Oh! They're outside the northern walls. Past the third watchtower. A couple familias run them."


Hel turned slowly. "You are telling me mortals have domesticated draconic predators."


Hephaestus scratched the back of her head. "Domesticated is… generous."


"Managed?" Hestia offered.


"Contained," Hephaestus corrected.


Hel's green eyes narrowed slightly. "How."


Hephaestus shrugged. "Egg collection from wild nests. Hatch them in controlled enclosures. Clip wing growth early so they can't gain altitude. Heavy chains while young. Temperament selection over generations."


Hel stared at her.


"…You selectively bred dragons."


"They're not true dragons," Hestia said quickly. "More like large, venomous poultry with anger issues."


Hel's gaze drifted upward as if recalibrating reality.


"And these… farms," she said carefully, "function?"


"Surprisingly well," Hephaestus replied. "They're valuable. Scales for light armor. Venom for alchemy. Meat for restaurants. Controlled breeding means fewer wild packs near trade routes."


Hel was quiet a moment longer, processing the concept of agricultural draconics.


"…I suppose I am trying wyvern meat today," she stated at last, faint surprise coloring her otherwise even tone.


Hestia immediately pivoted to the important issue.


"You are paying for this, right?"


Hel looked at her.


"I mean, I could," she replied smoothly. "But we could also bill it to Loki."


Hephaestus choked.


"You absolutely cannot just send lunch expenses to Loki."


Hel tilted her head. "Why not?"


"Because she would somehow turn it into a legal contract where you owe her three favors and a prank war," Hephaestus said flatly.


Hestia gasped. "She would, too!"


Hel considered their warnings with grave seriousness.


Then—


"Nah, don't worry. I've got this," she said calmly. "Just lead the way, Dochibi."


Silence.


Absolute silence.


Hestia stopped walking.


Hephaestus froze mid-step.


"…What," Hestia asked slowly, "did you just call me?"


Hel looked at her evenly. "Dochibi."


Hephaestus' shoulders were already shaking.


Hestia's eye twitched. "That's not even an insult in a language I recognize."


"It felt appropriate. Father always calls you that," Hel answered calmly.


There was a beat.


A very long beat.


Hephaestus slowly turned her head toward Hel.


"…Father?" she repeated carefully.


"Yeah," Hel replied casually. "Loki's my dad."


The world stopped.


Not metaphorically.


Hestia's brain visibly stalled.


"WHAT!"


====

Meanwhile, across the city, Taylor walked briskly through the bustling merchant street, carrying a growing stack of fabrics and clothing.


Lisa trotted alongside her, arms full of half-packed shopping bags, cheeks flushed from excitement and exertion.


"Taylor, do you really need to buy all of this?" Lisa asked, balancing a heavy bundle of tunics in one arm.


Taylor grinned, holding up a bolt of deep purple cloth. "Do I need it? No. But these are for you, remember? You need proper adventurer's clothes—durable, comfortable, and actually stylish."


Lisa's eyes widened as she took the cloth. "Oh… wow. You really mean it. But, can't you make my clothes for me?" fluttering her eyes at Taylor and having to fight the giggle as the bugs around them start acting weirdly.

Taylor glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow as a faint smile tugged at her lips.


"I could make them for you," she said, "but it would take longer than going shopping—and you'd be wearing a prototype that hasnt been fully tested."


Lisa sighs knowing she lost but the feeling of spidersilk would be amazing. "Fine but in teh future you are all making all of my clothes. "

Taylor blinked, one brow twitching upward as her lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile. "…Including the underwear?" she repeated flatly, though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her.


Lisa nodded eagerly, cheeks coloring slightly as she leaned closer, trying not to giggle. "Yes! Do you have any idea how nice it would be to have quality panties again? I mean, something that doesn't chafe or feel like cardboard—"


Taylor's jaw ticked. "You're purposely trying to rile me up, aren't you."


Lisa gave her a triumphant grin. "Maybe a little. But can you blame me? You can do this, and you know it."


Taylor exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You are impossible."


"Admit it," Lisa teased, wagging a finger, "you're excited to make them."


Taylor's eyes flicked to the stacks of fabric she carried, then back to Lisa, narrowing slightly. "…Excited? Perhaps. But I don't need your encouragement."


Lisa giggled again, the faint rustle of nearby bugs still buzzing unnaturally around them. "Oh, come on, Taylor. You know you'll enjoy it."


Taylor's lips twitched. "…Fine. But don't get used to that tone."


Lisa grinned and adjusted her bundles of clothing. "No promises."



=====

Hel regarded the dish carefully, eyes scanning the texture, the glaze, the aroma. Different world. Different prey. Same cycle.


She picked up her knife and fork deliberately, cutting a small piece of meat. A bite.


Her eyes flicked up.


…Tastes like chicken. Well, more like gator tail—but same difference. A little less gamey than the Hungarian Horntail she remembered from her original world.


She chewed deliberately, comparing it to the dragons she had known. The flavor was lighter, milder, slightly sweet from the citrus and mountain herb marinade Hestia had raved about.


"Yes," Hel murmured, almost to herself, "this is… acceptable."


Hestia practically bounced in her seat. "See! I told you it was good!"


Hephaestus leaned back, smirking. "You're hooked, aren't you?"


Hel regarded the plate with the calm scrutiny of someone evaluating a weapon or a battlefield. Before smiling brightly. "I hope the bill is large enough to give Loki a heart attack."

 

[Common]

Hel returned to her familia estate, the evening air cool against her cloak. Inside, Lisa's excitement was palpable, bouncing slightly as she held up another outfit to show Taylor.


"Taylor, does this one look alright?" Lisa asked, eyes bright, spinning slightly in her excitement.


Taylor crossed her arms, scrutinizing the fit and fabric with her usual precision. "Better than alright. That one's perfect for both dungeon runs and casual wear. We'll have to see how it holds up," she said, calm but tinged with amusement at Lisa's energy.


Lisa grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. "You're such a perfectionist, Taylor!"


Hel leaned against the doorway, cloak settling neatly around her shoulders, silently observing. The warmth of the room, the trust and joy between the two of them—it was… nice, she admitted quietly. After a long day and a late meal, it was grounding, a rare corner of the world that felt simple and steady.


"Hey, girls? Any clue where my captain is?" Hel's voice cut through, drawing Lisa and Taylor out of their impromptu fashion show.


Lisa tilted her head, thoughtful. "Ah… I think they were heading into the dungeon. Probably grinding. Safe to assume Ruby got them lost, and they're likely crashing on the 18th floor until Weiss can find a map to help them get back up."


Hel blinked, forcing herself to process the statement. A double take.


If Tattletale can divine that with the information she has… it's probably correct.


She inclined her head slightly, evaluating the likelihood. "Hm. Makes sense."


"Well I am going to bed, Omlets in the morning?" Hel asks

"YES PLEASE!" Lisa cheers.

"Have a good night goddess, happy hunting." Taylor states.

=====

Hel slid under the covers, letting the warmth of her bed and the calm of the familia estate settle around her. The lingering taste of late lunch—or early dinner—still faintly on her tongue, she closed her eyes, letting the quiet of the room wash over her.


Moments, hours, time itself seemed irrelevant. When she opened her eyes again, the familiar pull of the In-Between drew her out. The world of her chambers and the bustling city dissolved into a soft haze, replaced by the muted stillness of twilight and stone.


Firelink Shrine.

As Hel approached the entrance to the shrine, the soft murmur of voices reached her ears. Careful, deliberate, familiar—but not entirely.


Talking.


Her senses sharpened. The cadence, the timbre… one possibility immediately came to mind: That blond girl is back.


Or—another, more unsettling thought—someone new had stumbled across this place, drawn here by chance, curiosity, or fate.


Hel slowed, stepping lightly over the worn stones. The voices grew clearer, fragments of conversation filtering through the cool air.


"…I'm telling you, that maroon haired spearwoman sent me here." A young womans voice says

Hel's sharp green eyes narrowed beneath her hood. Maroon-haired spearwoman… that can only mean one person.

The second voice—calm, deliberate, almost soothing—answered. "And she sent you here to make a deal with death?"

The first voice—bright, impatient, tinged with frustration—snapped back, "Look, I just want to get back to my kid sister."


Hel crouched lower, letting the shadows swallow her as she took a careful peek. The young woman facing the Fire Keeper had a mechanical arm, reinforced gauntlets catching the faint light of the shrine's bonfire. That has to be Yang. Ruby's descriptions matched perfectly—the same aura of controlled chaos and protective fire.


"So," Hel's voice cut through the cavernous space, low and deliberate, carrying easily across the shrine, "you wish to see Ruby again, my sunny little dragon?"


Yang froze mid-step, eyes darting across the chamber, scanning every shadow for the source.


From across the shrine, the Fire Keeper's calm presence flared briefly, a soft laugh in her voice. "Welcome back, oh Lord of the Grave!"


The sound bounced off the stone walls, and for a heartbeat, the bonfire's flames flickered as if acknowledging Hel's presence, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the ruins.


Hel remained in the darkness, silent, watching. The Fire Keeper seemed to delight in the subtle tension she'd stirred, clearly enjoying the way Yang bristled.


"What do I have to do to get to my sister?!" Yang demanded, voice sharp, impatient.


"One only needs to ask," Hel replied, stepping smoothly from the shadows as Yang's gaze finally found her.

Yang's eyes narrowed, fists tightening around her gauntlets, but her posture relaxed slightly—cautious, measured. She had faced strange powers before; she wasn't about to get burned twice.


"Wait—hold on," she said, voice firm but steady. "Before I do… anything. Who are you, exactly? What do you mean by 'ask'? And why are you here in the first place?"


Hel's green eyes glimmered faintly in the bonfire light. She tilted her head, studying the blonde with a patient, almost predatory curiosity. "I am Hel. I observe, I… adjudicate when necessary. And I am here because your presence, and that of your sister, has drawn my attention."


Yang's jaw tightened, but she didn't move. "Drawn your attention how? Like some curse? A contract? A trick? I've learned my lesson about running into mystical powers unprepared."


Hel's lips curved into the faintest, almost imperceptible smirk. "No curse. No trick. And yes… it would be wise to remain cautious." She let the words hang in the still air, her tone even but edged with quiet authority.


Yang glanced toward the Fire Keeper, who merely tilted her head, amusement in her eyes. Then she returned her gaze to Hel. "Alright… I'll bite. What exactly do you want from me?"


"I want you Yang Xaio Long." Hel states pointing at the blonde.


"If that's all it takes to see my sister. Then you have me." Yang responds.

 

[auruum]

Usually more of a lurker, just want to say I am enjoying the binge *eats some popcorn *

 

[Amdar210]

How many new chapters has this been so far?

Edit: 6 chapters so far. This has been awesome.

 

[Common]

Yang's eyes fluttered open, and for a split second, panic set in. She wasn't in her own bed—not even close. The sheets were softer, the pillows fluffier, and the mattress beside her still radiated warmth, as if someone had just risen from it.


She froze.


A savory, herbal scent drifted through the slightly ajar door. Eggs? Meat? Something richer and more complex, unfamiliar but irresistible. Her stomach growled before she could stop it.


Her head tilted, taking in the room. Clean. Quiet. Organized. Not sterile, not temporary like a hotel or a guild safehouse. Someone lived here—and they clearly knew how to do it without chaos.


Instinctively, Yang's hand went to her mechanical arm, but froze midair. Wait…


The familiar cold metal was gone. Flesh. Warm, human flesh. She flexed her fingers experimentally, heart pounding in a mix of awe and confusion. Okay… that's new.


From the kitchen, the soft clatter of pans reached her ears, and the smell sharpened, richer now—eggs sizzling with herbs, something meaty browning in a cast-iron pan. The faint hum of movement suggested someone moving with practiced, deliberate precision.


Yang swung her legs over the side of the bed slowly, toes brushing the smooth wooden floor. The lingering warmth in the mattress reminded her that someone had been here recently.


Her stomach growled again. She rubbed at her eyes and let out a low sigh. "Well… can't just stand here starving."


Stepping cautiously to the door, she peeked inside. Steam curled from the pans, catching the morning light, and she blinked.


The room was alive with motion—but not ordinary motion. Pots and pans danced as if guided by invisible hands, eggs flipped themselves neatly in skillets, spatulas hovered and turned pancakes in perfect synchrony. At the center of it all, a figure swung a simple wooden stick with the grace of a conductor, orchestrating the entire chaotic ballet.


Yang froze, mouth half-open.


"Ah, Yang, good morning!" the goddess called, voice warm, calm, and somehow… impossibly reassuring. "Your sister has been out since yesterday, but with any luck, they should be back from dungeon diving later today."


Her smile was dangerous. Not sharp, not cruel—just knowing. The kind of smile that suggested she was five steps ahead and enjoying the view.


Yang blinked. It's like Ruby's puppy-dog face… if that face could legally sign contracts in blood.


Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides as she tracked the magical choreography of breakfast—pancakes flipping midair, eggs sliding neatly onto plates, a kettle pouring itself with perfect aim.


"Uh… wow," Yang managed. "I… don't even know where to start."


"Start by sitting," Hel replied smoothly. "The food will grow cold if we dawdle, and I do not repeat myself."


Yang edged toward a chair, still half-expecting a spatula to smack her upside the head.


"No need to be so jumpy, Yang," Hel added mildly.


Yang sat, eyes flicking from floating pan to floating pan. "So uh… what exactly is all this?"


Hel tapped the wooden stick lightly against her palm. The kitchen settled at once—utensils lowering themselves with eerie politeness, flames dimming to a steady glow.


"Well," Hel said conversationally, "I am unsure how gently to phrase this, so I shall not attempt to. You died."


Yang blinked.


"…Really?" she deadpanned. She flexed her fingers again, staring at her very-much-flesh arm. "Couldn't tell. I'm feeling pretty great, actually. So what's the deal?"


Hel's smile widened just slightly. "Your soul passed through a threshold it was not meant to cross. I intervened."


Yang leaned back in her chair, expression unimpressed but attentive. "Intervened how?"


"The In-Between," Hel continued, as if discussing weather, "is a sort of purgatory between the multiverse. A seam. A crack between pages. Realistically, no one should ever arrive there. Souls follow established routes."


She set a plate down in front of Yang with precise care.


"But," Hel added, eyes glinting faintly, "if one dies in a sufficiently strange manner—if forces collide incorrectly, if fate is… disrupted—then occasionally a soul slips sideways instead of forward."


Yang propped her chin on her hand. "So I glitched."


"A crude summary," Hel allowed. "But accurate."


"And instead of letting me drift off into the backrooms, you grabbed me?"


"Yes."


Yang narrowed her eyes slightly. "Why?"


Hel did not hesitate. "Because I promised Ruby I would."


That answer hit differently.


Yang's posture shifted—less defensive, more searching. "You promised… Ruby?"


"Yes." Hel's tone was simple, factual. "She asked that I find your team an considering you all likely died in a smilialry weird way together you were all probably there."

Yang stared at her for a long moment, emotions flickering behind her eyes—skepticism, relief, something dangerously close to gratitude.


"…Huh."


Before she could say anything else—


"OMELETS?!"


The shout echoed down the hallway with enough enthusiasm to rattle the cabinets.


Lisa burst into the kitchen like a sugar-fueled hurricane, hair slightly messy, eyes sparkling. "You said omelets this morning, right? You weren't kidding? You never kid about food but I just want confirmation because if there are omelets I am emotionally prepared—"


"Lisa?" Hel asked, one elegant brow lifting as she guided a pan to settle itself on the stove. "What has you so riled up? This level of exuberance seems… uncharacteristic."


Taylor walked in behind her, slower, already dressed, arms folded. "She's been vibrating since she woke up."


Lisa straightened slightly, trying—and failing—to regain composure. "Ah, well… your food is just that good. And do you know how long it's been since I've had genuinely good food? Try seventeen years."


Yang blinked. "Seventeen—"


"And sure," Lisa rushed on, waving a hand, "I've been in your familia for like a week now, but before that? Survival food. Institutional food. 'It technically has nutrients' food. Flavor was a myth. Seasoning was a rumor."


Hel tilted her head slightly. "I see."


Lisa trailed off mid-sentence as a plate slid neatly in front of her. She took a bite.


Her entire body shuddered.


There was a full-body pause—eyes closed, shoulders relaxing, tension melting out of her like someone had flipped a switch.


"…Oh," Lisa breathed. "Oh I love this! Thank you for finding me!"


Hel's eyes shifted, slowly, toward Taylor.


Taylor, halfway through cutting into her own omelet, looked up and shrugged. "Don't look at me. I mean I thought it would've been over after a week but apparently she's just addicted to your food."


"Taylor you try eating literal shit to survive then tell me this food is not heavenly." Lisa responds flatly, her ears going momentarily flat against her head before returning to normal as she takes another bite.

Taylor turned her attention to Yang, expression calmer, more measured. "You must be Yang. Ruby is going to be so happy that Hel finally found you. She's been searching for a while now."


That made Yang still.


"…Searching?" she asked, quieter this time.


Taylor gave a small nod. "Ruby's our familia captain. And even I can tell she's been running herself ragged. Extra dungeon runs. Extra training. Extra paperwork. Anything to keep moving so she didn't have to stop and think." She met Yang's eyes evenly. "Now that you're here? She might finally let herself breathe."


Lisa hummed in agreement around another bite, swallowing before adding, "Oh, she is absolutely going to break down when she sees you. Full system reboot. Tears, probably clinging, maybe some incoherent yelling." She pointed her fork at Yang. "That's a good thing. It means the pressure valve finally pops. She's been bottling that stress for, what, a month and a half?"


Hel tilted her head slightly. "It has been closer to two months since Ruby joined my familia," she corrected calmly.

"Oh, so whats this dungeon thing anyways?" Yang asks

"I'm glad you asked." Hel starts with a smile

 

[Common]

How many new chapters has this been so far?

Edit: 6 chapters so far. This has been awesome.

Click to shrink...

Today started with chapter 47 my goal is to hit 56

I dont know if the google doc is lagging because Im typing so fast or if its because its at like 300 something pages

 

[Mermaid Man breakdancing]

I forget is Lisa a child in this life?

 

[Common]

I forget is Lisa a child in this life?

Click to shrink...

Although it was tempting to, that wasn't done. Instead, this Lisa has more or less been in slavery for most of her life in this life and is roughly the same age as Taylor (around 18-19). Although mentally that puts her at around 35 or so, when you go through the shit she did, it fucks with your body and development(Shes also a long-lived species now, not as long as elves but still). Her power is there holding her together, but mentally shes not good. Having Taylor is doing alot of good for her though.

 

[Amdar210]

Today started with chapter 47 my goal is to hit 56

I dont know if the google doc is lagging because Im typing so fast or if its because its at like 300 something pages

Click to shrink...

Thank you for all your hard work and typing!

Please don't burn yourself out!

 

[auruum]

i feel like there is a lack of pictures... here is one for the pile!!! (hope you are okay with it common!)

Spoiler: the hel family