Raising Hel, in Danmachi.

[Common]

Chapter 31: The trio at the guild

The builders were eyeing Hel like condemned men watching the sun set.


She stood in the middle of the construction site—hands folded behind her back, expression neutral—as Vishvakarma Familia craftsmen argued quietly among themselves about runic spatial inversion, interior volume violations, and whether it was too early in the day to start drinking.


One of them finally broke.


"Lady Hel," the foreman said carefully, rubbing the back of his neck, "with all due respect—this building shouldn't exist."


"It does," Hel replied calmly.


"Yes, well," he gestured weakly at the blueprint again, "it's larger on the inside by a factor of three, the load-bearing walls don't agree with Euclidean space, and you've added an auxiliary forge chamber that loops back into itself."


Hel tilted her head. "You missed the secondary living wing."


The foreman stared.


"…I am going to need alcohol."


"You will be compensated," Hel said. "Generously."


"That's not the issue," another builder muttered. "This is going to change architecture."


Hel ignored them, already turning away. "Do not worry I'll handle the runic arrays."


===

The trio headed down the street toward the Guild.


Ruby skipped ahead, scythe nowhere in sight but energy radiating off her like she'd drunk three cups of coffee too many.


"So!" Ruby said brightly. "Guild stuff! Paperwork! Probably boring but also important! And then maybe we get quests and—"


"Ruby," Blake said gently, walking beside Taylor. "Slow down."


Taylor adjusted the folded paper in her hand—her status sheet—still warm from Hel's touch. She hadn't looked at it yet. Not fully. Part of her was afraid that if she did, it would make everything too real.


"So," Taylor said instead, glancing around Orario's crowded streets, "the Guild handles… what, exactly?"


"Adventurers, monsters, money, rules," Ruby answers. "And fines. Lots of fines."

Taylor frowned. "That's comforting."


They reached the massive stone structure at the center of the district, banners hanging proudly from its façade. The air around it felt… orderly. Measured. Like a place that cataloged chaos instead of pretending it didn't exist.


Taylor paused at the steps.


"This is really happening," she murmured.


Blake glanced at her, golden eyes steady. "Yeah."


Ruby turned back, grinning. "Together."

===

Eina sighed softly as she flipped another page.


A slow day.


Those were rare—almost suspiciously so—but she wasn't about to complain. The Guild hall was calm, sunlight filtering through tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily over rows of desks. No shouting adventurers. No emergency dungeon reports. No gods arguing over paperwork semantics.


Just forms. Glorious, boring forms.


She dipped her pen and continued annotating a monster subjugation report when—


The door opened.


Eina looked up out of habit.


Three girls stepped inside.


And immediately, something felt… off.


The first was a curly-haired girl with tired eyes and a posture that screamed holding herself together by force of will alone. She stood like someone used to watching corners, measuring exits, her gaze constantly flicking just a little too much.


The second walked like a shadow given human shape—black hair, golden eyes sharp and guarded, movements fluid but restrained. An adventurer's stance, even without visible armor.


And the third—


Eina blinked.


"NO!" Eina shouts recongnizeing ruby rose

They approached the counter together.


Ruby leaned forward first, hands slapping down happily on the wood.

"Hi! We're here to register! And um—get stuff! Paperwork stuff! Guild stuff!"


Eina straightened automatically, professional smile snapping into place.

"Good morning. Welcome to the Guild of Orario. Are you registering as new adventurers, or—"


"Yes," Taylor said flatly.


"Are the two of you as likely to explode as miss Rose here? Am I going to need to book the reinforced room?" Eina asks

"I don't explode," Taylor said immediately.


Eina relaxed a fraction.


"I dissolve things," Taylor continued. "Usually with bugs."


Eina froze again.


Blake tilted her head. "I don't explode either. I make shadows. Sometimes they get stabbed instead of me."


Silence.


A clerk at the far end of the hall quietly stood up and walked away.


Eina slowly reached under the counter and pulled out a thick folder stamped REINFORCED ROOM – PRIORITY USE.


"…We'll be using this one," she decided. "All of you. If you would please follow me."

Eina led them down the side corridor with the brisk, defeated efficiency of someone who had long since learned not to ask why anymore.


The reinforced room was… reinforced.


Thick stone walls, A metal-lined desk bolted to the floor. Chairs that looked like they'd survived at least one minor explosion and one divine tantrum. Even the door shut with a heavy thoom that suggested it had opinions about staying closed.

Eina gestured them inside. "Please sit. Do not touch anything glowing. Do not activate skills. Do not—" she glanced meaningfully at Ruby "—test anything."

Ruby raised two fingers. "Scout's honor!"

Blake sat smoothly, back straight, looking over at Ruby, "you were never in scouts."

Eina sighed, the long-suffering sound of a woman who had chosen a desk job and somehow ended up managing walking catastrophes. She slid three thick stacks of parchment across the desk.


"Registration forms," she said. "Names, levels, familias, previous affiliations—" she paused, eye twitching "Please dont break anything while you are here."


"I am not that bad!" Ruby shouts


The other two look at her in a disbeliving stare.

Taylor picked up her papers, staring at the amount of fine print. "You people really like paperwork."


Eina gave her a thin smile. "Paperwork is how we survive gods."

 

[Common]

Loki clicked her tongue, boot heels tapping against the stone as she wandered the streets of Orario with her hands tucked behind her head.


Most of her Familia was still down in the Dungeon.

Which meant two things:


She was bored.


She was worried.


Hel had vanished again—no note, no warning, just that familiar, infuriating absence that always came with her daughter doing something Important™. Loki could have sent a few level ones to comb the city, sure… but that felt lazy. And besides—


Walking around was how you found trouble.


Or entertainment.


Or both.


That's when she saw it.


A brand-new structure wedged right next to the Hostess of Fertility.


Loki slowed.


Brows rose.


"…Huh?"


The building was wrong.


Not ugly. Not poorly made. In fact it looked really nice… Just… off.


The footprint was modest—three old buildings' worth, tops—but it just felt weird like if you peered through the windows you could see multiple different rooms depending on the angel that you looked in at.


It was a marvel an it really intrigued her so Loki decided to go in through the door which had the closed sign on it.

Loki paused half a step inside, one eyebrow climbing her forehead as her godly senses finally caught up with what her eyes were already screaming at her.


"…Oh. That's cheating," she muttered.


The interior was much bigger than the exterior had any right to be.


Scaffolding stretched upward into a vaulted space that simply did not exist from the street. Runes—subtle, clean, terrifyingly elegant—were etched into support beams and half-finished walls, glowing faintly as they stabilized folded space like it was just another construction material.


And everywhere—


Builders.


Members of the Vishvakarma Familia, sleeves rolled up, tools in hand, standing in loose clusters and staring in open disbelief at what they were supposed to be assembling.


"I'm telling you," one of them said in a low voice, "the left wall is longer on the inside."


"That's impossible."


"I WALKED IT. IT TOOK MORE STEPS."


Another builder just sat on a crate, drinking straight from a bottle like reality had personally offended him.


And in the center of it all—


Hel.


She stood calmly amid the chaos, cloak discarded, sleeves rolled up, dark-blue runes drifting lazily around her hands as she adjusted a glowing sigil embedded into the foundation like she was correcting a crooked shelf.


"…No, that one needs to anchor three layers deeper," Hel said mildly. "Otherwise the forge wing will resonate when Ruby starts her third-stage heat cycling."


A foreman swallowed. "Third… stage…?"


"Yes."


He nodded like that explained everything and immediately went back to drinking.


Loki stared.


Then leaned against the doorframe, grinning wide and sharp.


"Well I'll be damned," she drawled. "I leave you alone for five minutes and you start violating municipal geometry."


Hel didn't turn around.


"Hello, Father."

"Hel? So this is your place? Damn, this is some rather impressive magic." Loki states looking around.


Hel smiles to herself, "High praise coming from a goddess of magic."


"Bah! That's just a minor divinity of mine… So when can I expect the bill for this place?" Loki asks

Hel didn't look up from the glowing rune she was adjusting.


"You won't," she said calmly.


That got Loki's attention.


The trickster goddess blinked once. Then twice. "…I'm sorry, run that by me again?"


"I am paying for this one," Hel replied, finally straightening. The runes faded, locking into the structure with a low, satisfied hum. "Consider it a personal expense."


Loki squinted at her before closing the gap an pressing the back of her hand into Hel's forehead like she was checking for fever. "You? Paying? Voluntarily? With what money?"

"I actually am very independently wealthy Loki." Hel responds

The goddess of trickery and lies only laughs at that statement, "Sure sure, so What is this really big shop going to be selling?"


"I have a smith and an armor maker in my familia now." Hel responds.

Loki's grin widened, sharp and delighted.


"…Oh?" she drawled. "A smith and an armorer? You move fast, kiddo. That's practically speedrunning the 'successful familia' checklist."


She strolled farther inside, boots echoing in ways they shouldn't have been able to echo, peering into half-finished rooms that bent subtly around her vision. One hallway curved when she wasn't looking directly at it. Another seemed to have an extra corner that vanished the moment she focused.


"…You know," Loki added casually, "most familias start with 'one broke adventurer and a dream.' You start with 'reality-warped forge, familia home complex. It kinda makes the rest of us look bad you know."

"That is not my concern," Hel replied evenly. "Ruby requires proper facilities. And Taylor needs places to keep her insects so she can make her armor."




"Taylor? … Isnt that the brand new one? How do you know so much about her already?" Loki asks


"So, you know how gods of death usually answer to the entitey sometimes?"

Loki's grin froze.


Just a little.


"…Define usually," she said carefully.


Hel finally turned to face her, expression calm, unreadable, hands faintly dusted with residual rune-light.


"I walk the thresholds," Hel replied. "Souls that fall between endings. Places that are not meant to exist. People who refuse to stay dead, or refuse to stay gone."


Loki stared at her daughter for a long second.


Then she barked out a laugh. "Ah. That kind of answer. Love it. Hate it. Explains absolutly nothing. But thats because you learned from the best!" Loki states smiling hard.

"Wanna stay for Dinner?" Hel asks

 

[Common]

Blake woke with a headache that felt older than sleep.


Not sharp. Not blinding. Just… heavy. Like her thoughts had been wrapped in cotton and left somewhere damp.


She stared at the ceiling for a long moment, watching unfamiliar shadows stretch across stone and wood that definitely did not belong to any place she remembered. Her mind tried to backtrack.


Atlas.


There had been alarms. Screaming. A rupture in the air like glass tearing sideways. A portal—wrong, unstable, swallowing light instead of reflecting it.


People had fallen.


Friends.


She squeezed her eyes shut, jaw tightening. The memories slipped away the harder she tried to grab them, dissolving into fog. After that there was only—


Fire.


A shrine made of stone and ash.


A gentle blonde woman whose voice felt like the end of a long road.


And then… nothing. Just drifting. Waiting. Like the world itself was holding its breath.


Blake pushed herself upright slowly, every muscle protesting like it hadn't been used properly in days. She was fully intact—no wounds, no aura screaming at her—but exhaustion clung to her bones.


This place was real. Too real to be a dream.


She could hear voices beyond the door. Familiar ones.


"…no, Ruby, you cannot test that in the hallway."


"That's why I'm only thinking about it!"


Blake let out a weak huff of breath that might've been a laugh.


Ruby.


Alive.


The knot in her chest loosened just a fraction.


She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, to be honest the past few days had been a hell of a rush. Yesterday they were living in that near empty mansion and now they were living in a house that was bigger on the inside.

Blake rubbed at her temples as she walked, the dull ache behind her eyes refusing to go away.


Her memories still felt… scrambled, the paperwork yesterday doing nothing to help.

She reached the end of the hallway and paused.


The house—their house—was still wrong in a way she couldn't quite put into words. Corridors subtly longer than they should be. Doorways that felt like they opened into more space than the exterior allowed. It was also detrimental to her migraine,

Blake followed the smell drifting through the halls—something warm and savory, bread and meat and herbs. Real food. Not ration bars. Not survival meals scavenged from half-burned kitchens.


She rounded the corner and slowed.


The kitchen was larger than she expected, sunlight spilling in from a window that absolutely did not face the right direction if she remembered the outside correctly. A long table dominated the room, already half-full of plates and cups.


Ruby was there, of course.


The red-cloaked girl was perched sideways on a chair, feet swinging as she talked animatedly with Hel… Their goddess and Savior who was cooking for all of them? Why was a god cooking for them?

Blake lingered in the doorway.


For just a second, she let herself watch.


Ruby laughed at something she'd said, nearly tipping her chair before catching herself with a practiced ease.

"BLAKE!" she shouted, already scrambling out of her chair. "You're up! Ohmygosh did you sleep okay? Do you want pancakes? Or grits? Or both? Hel made both."


"Say Blake if you have any dietary restrictions as a Cat fanus it would be nice to know now before I go shopping for food later today." Hel asks

"I can only eat fish."Blake responds with a small smile before watching her goddess visibly frown slightly.


"Blake dear, I feel like I shouldve told you this yesterday. Hell I mighve but you cant lie to gods. We have an inherent lie detector." Hel answers

Blake froze.


Just a little.


"…Lie?" she echoed.


Hel set the pan down with deliberate care, then turned fully toward her. There was no anger in her expression—no accusation—just that calm, unsettling certainty that gods carried when they already knew the answer.


"You can eat other things," Hel said gently. "You prefer fish. You are more comfortable with it. But you are not restricted to it. Although if you just wanted fish you only need to ask silly Kitten."

Blake's ears twitch. "Thats racist."


"Eh get used to it Kitten, I am willing to bet several people already think Ruby is a Pallum." Hel states with a snort.

Blake stared at her for a long moment, ears flicking again as she processed that.


"…I am not a kitten," she said flatly.


Ruby, who had been very pointedly pretending to stack plates, failed spectacularly and snorted. "You kinda are though."


Blake shot her a look. Ruby beamed back, entirely unrepentant.


Hel, meanwhile, had already turned back to the stove, utterly unbothered. "Semantics," she said. "Also inaccurate accusations. Racism requires systemic power structures. I am merely teasing."


"That doesn't make it better," Blake muttered, but there was no real heat in it.


She moved farther into the kitchen, taking in the scene properly now. The warmth. The food. The fact that a god—their god—was standing there in an apron, flipping pancakes like this was the most normal thing in the world.


Her headache throbbed again, but softer this time.


"…So," Blake said slowly, "you can just… tell when we're lying?"


Hel nodded. "Innately. It's not invasive unless I focus on it. Most of the time it's just… a sensation. A discordant note." She glanced back at Blake. "Yours was mild. Habitual, even. Something you tell people so often it stopped feeling like a lie."


Blake shrugs to herself, what could she say she just loved fish.


"So, Ruby is foraging stuff, Taylor is setting up her bugs. What is your plan for today Blake?" Hel asks

Blake hesitated, fingers curling lightly against the edge of the table.


"…I don't know," she admitted, then clarified, "I was thinking maybe explore the city. See what's out there. Look for gear. Information."


Hel studied her for a long moment, "Great I can join you then, It'll be a date."


Blake froze.


Her brain stalled somewhere between she did not just say that and oh gods she absolutely did.


"A— a what?" Blake sputtered, ears flattening as heat rushed to her face.

"A date? Is that not what it's called. I swear you kids keep changing up names and such. Back in my day a date used to be a fruit." Hel answers as seriously as she could.