Note: skip the A/Ns if you don't want drama and just wanna read the story.

A/N: The harshly-worded A/N that this chapter used to be has been deleted (Unthreadmarked? For SB) so as to not to disrupt reader flow. Hopefully, all the people that needed to see it have stopped reading this story and will not return. We did lose quite a few readers in what I now call the Culling, so it's a good thing I'm not getting paid for any of this (despite a false review saying I have a , which I have never had. That is the only review that has been removed by me, by the way).

To the many people that have said nice things, thank you, they were very nice to read—especially the lurkers. As a lurker myself, I know of the great lengths needed to drive us to speech. I'm glad that you guys enjoy reading this story. Honestly, it's been quite stressful to update this fic (even before the Culling), because writing this has been hard ever since the Expedition Arc. I have thought about just leaving it on semi-permanent hiatus as I have many of my other fics, but nobody wins that way, so… I figured I should give this fic a somewhat satisfactory ending, if for nobody but Loki's sake, at the very least.

To the many people that said not-so-nice things, I still read what you all wrote too. They were not as nice to read, but the thing about me is, I read things I need to read even if I don't like it. That being said…

More Freya! YAYYY! Honestly, this whole Freya thing I'm doing is giving me so many opportunities to build on DanMachi's interesting lore and history, so I really have no regrets doing this, despite the poor pacing and the suddenness of it. (For that, I have no excuse. I did plan this fic very badly in the sense that I barely planned it at all.)

Plus, writing about Loki in a different time period is fun, too.

Chapter 21:

They took back the village without losing a single person. Sigurd did almost all the work, killing all the Minotaurs by himself and leaving the weaker Kobolds to the villagers. Freya must give credit where it is due. Brilliant strategy, disciplined soldiers, and well-drilled tactics enable the humans to kill them without casualties.

That was six days ago. To Freya's relief, Ouranos instructs that she and Sigurd stay behind to help rebuild the village. Normally, the idea would repel her, but more time with the villagers means more time for Sigurd to spend with Brynhilda.

She strolls around the village, absorbing the cheerful atmosphere. Men jog from one building to another, carrying stacks of wood. The banging of hammers and the grinding of saws fill her ears as she strolls along the stone streets, invisible to mortal eyes. By now, the villagers left behind at the outpost have joined up, their horse-drawn caravans carrying precious supplies not found in the nearby forest.

With Sigurd's help, clearing the debris and rubbles only took the first two days. Some of the buildings are unsalvageable, having been too badly damaged during the initial monster invasion, or simply from years of neglect and misuse. But then again, the population of the village has dwindled so much from its pre-invasion state that she's certain everyone will be able to find somewhere to stay, even if it isn't their original home.

Freya slows her step when Sigurd does. He's a few paces in front of her, Brynhilda next to him—red-haired ponytail swishing about in the wind. The girl's love for him has only grown these past few days. At this point, she isn't even trying to hide it, and the people around her have noticed. Even now, as she's giving Sigurd a tour of her hometown, the others give them a wide berth, respecting their privacy, but still nosy enough to shoot her knowing looks and encouraging smiles.

Only one person is too dense to notice, and unfortunately, it is the target of her affections. Freya resists the urge to groan when Brynhilda pulls on Sigurd's hand and drags him to a statue, and all he does is listen attentively to her explanation of its history, even though their fingers are still interlaced.

It doesn't matter how much skin Brynhilda tries revealing, or if she acts coy or flirty with him. She's even made a few jokes about Sigurd settling down into the village. These hints fly over Sigurd's head. She's ramped up her efforts, knowing that Sigurd is leaving soon.

Freya taps her chin. Tonight is her last chance to make Sigurd fall in love with Brynhilda. Tomorrow evening, they must set out to slay a Behemoth that is fending off mortal armies from approaching the Dungeon.

XxXxXxXxX

Freya stands over Brynhilda's sleeping form. She can feel the moon casting its light on her back through the window behind her. It has a disapproving weight to it, as if one of the lunar Gods, like Artemis, knows what she's planning and is voicing her objection.

In the middle of the night, silence reigns in Talon's house. The village chief is lucky enough that his house was practically left intact, but unlucky enough that he has unoccupied rooms. Sigurd, unable to reject Talon's request, is sleeping downstairs in a room that used to belong to one of his dead sons.

Brynhilda sleeps fitfully before her. The girl's dismay at her failure to win over Sigurd's heart bleeds into her dreams. Freya can see her lips moving, and though she can't read what's being said, a quick glimpse into her dreams is enough to see that she is indeed dreaming of Sigurd. Freya prepares herself for what needs to be done next. This will require a subtle touch, and some of her magic leaks out of her finger to form a small green orb.

She presses that orb against Brynhilda's forehead. The magic plants itself into the deepest recesses of Brynhilda's mind and begins whispering to her. It floods her mind with foreign thoughts and ideas. Brynhilda's eyes snap open, scanning the room. Freya stands right next to her, but the gaze of the shocked woman passes through as if she's not there. There is uncertainty on Brynhilda's face as she sits up, and Freya quashes that doubt with more mental manipulation.

Brynhilda will need all the resolve she can muster for this.

Freya smiles as the red-haired girl swings her legs off the bed. She barely gives her armour a passing glance as she gets up and walks out the door, aged wood creaking beneath her. She is dressed in a night gown, and the billowing material gives her shadow a ghastly appearance as she treads downstairs.

Gently, she tugs Sigurd's door open.

"What are you doing?"

Brynhilda freezes. Sigurd is sitting up on his bed—he probably woke up when she was walking down the stairs. The room is illuminated by the moon—oil and wax are too precious to burn for now.

Freya can feel Brynhilda's self-consciousness grow as Sigurd stares at her: what is she doing? This is highly uncharacteristic, even for her. It all started with that weird dream, and then there were the voices in her head telling her to come down, and…

Freya quells those thoughts for her: 'This is no time for self-doubt. Actions speak louder than words.'

Brynhilda pulls a few strings on her nightgown and the fabric slips to the floor, leaving her exposed to Sigurd in her entirety.

"Again," Sigurd says, "what are you doing, Hilda?"

Hilda's thoughts mirror Freya's. How can a person be so dense? But it is working. Freya can sense Sigurd's arousal. His gaze drops below Brynhilda's eyes, just for a little moment.

Anxiety, embarrassment, and uncertainty begin creeping into Brynhilda's mind again. Freya fills her up with the confidence needed.

She steps toward Sigurd, letting the beams of moonlight fall onto her naked body through the glassless window. "I'm trying to seduce you, Sigurd."

Annoyingly, Sigurd has a surprising amount of self-control and awareness. A mental dam crashes down, sealing off his lust, and Freya thinks better than to mess with his emotions—if he finds out she is interfering, the entire plan will fail.

She will have to trust in Brynhilda.

"I, um…" At least Sigurd is taken aback by the situation. The fact that Brynhilda has him flustered is a good sign. "I do not think is a wise choice of action, Hilda. I am leaving tomorrow."

"Exactly why I have no choice," Brynhilda says. She walks toward him, footsteps heavy and hips swaying. She climbs onto his bed, parting her legs slightly so she can sit on him. Freya wonders if Brynhilda knows that Sigurd sleeps naked—the only thing separating her from her goal is a wool blanket. "I am in love with you, Sigurd."

"Are you sure?" Sigurd says. "You haven't even known me a month."

"I am more sure about this than I have been about anything else."

Sigurd gulps. "That's not good. I am not the man you think I am. There are many things about me you don't know. Things that you wouldn't want to know, Hilda."

She shrugs. The raising and dropping of her shoulders distract Sigurd, and Freya gleefully relishes in seeing his eyes drop to Brynhilda's chest.

Seize the momentum!

Instantly, Brynhilda leans forward, pressing her hands against Sigurd's bare chest. "Maybe. Maybe not. That's the fun part about love, isn't it? Learning new things about your beloved. I have chosen to love you Sigurd, and I will try my hardest to keep loving you, even the parts about you that are hard to love."

"Things won't end well," Sigurd tries. "I need to leave tomorrow."

"I will leave with you, then. I am serious, Sigurd. I will be yours if you let me. I may not be able to keep up with you in a fight, but I can help in other ways. No one should shoulder everything on their own."

Freya raises an eyebrow. That's an even better outcome than she hoped for.

He shakes his head. "Don't throw your life away for someone you just met."

"You came to aid our village even though you didn't know us. That's enough for me to know you are a good man, Sigurd. Someone worth uprooting my life for."

There is a tremble in Sigurd's heart. Yes! A crack in his defences. Now, go in for the kill!

Brynhilda leans further forward. Their chests are now pressed against one another, and her lips only an inch away from Sigurd's.

Her Champion's eyes widen. She can feel his alarm; the fiery electricity coursing through his veins is a sensation he's never experienced before. The dam has broken—something more than lust, but not quite love, has gripped Sigurd's heart.

Brynhilda dives down for the kiss.

"Wait."

Sigurd stops her, grabbing her shoulder before the deed is sealed. His eyes dart around the room, and Freya mutes her presence as much as possible so Sigurd can't tell she's here.

A second later, Sigurd meets Brynhilda's eyes. The girl's heart is pounding, each rhythmic beat reverberating through her body with such intensity Freya wonders if Sigurd can feel her trembling in his grip.

"There is already someone else I love."

NO! Sigurd, you fool!

The admission shatters Brynhilda's world. Her heart stops for a few moments. She straightens, distancing herself from Sigurd's face. The bare millimetres between their lips has turned into an untraversable gap.

"What?" she says.

Brynhilda's pain mixes with Freya's. That bumbling fool. Why? Why doesn't he understand this is his last chance at happiness?

"I should have told you earlier," Sigurd says.

No, you shouldn't have told her at all.

"I'm sorry, Hilda. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Then take those words back. Pull her in for a kiss. Tell her you love her.

A breaking heart is a world of hurt. Because their emotions are still linked, every word Hilda hears stabs Freya. For more than a whole week, Freya has done nothing but build up love and affection for Sigurd. Now, her efforts are crumbling before her, each painstaking block crashing onto Hilda's heart, crushing it with their unreciprocated weight.

Brynhilda stands up and gets off the bed.

Don't go. You musn't give up yet. You're his last hope.

Freya grabs onto the shred of hesitation in her heart, and wrings it for all it is worth: 'you will never find another man like him.'

Brynhilda stiffens, and Freya allows herself to hope. But the girl cannot bring herself to love a man whose already heart belongs to someone else. She feels guilty for even trying.

Damn it all to hell!

Sigurd does nothing as Brynhilda scoops up her clothes and dashes out the room. Only when the sound of bounding steps on the staircase fades away does the man let out a sigh.

Freya finally reveals herself, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "I hope you're happy, Sigurd."

Sigurd spins toward her so quickly he nearly falls off his bed. "Lady Freya? How long have you been here?"

"Long enough. She's heartbroken, you know. She may never love again."

"She will. Hilda's a strong woman. She'll get over it."

"Why, Sigurd? She loved you. And you like her. Don't deny it. I can tell."

"Because I love you, Lady Freya," Sigurd says, like it's the obvious answer.

"Sigurd. I'm a God."

He shrugs. "And I'm a Champion. Hilda will only get hurt."

"And so will you, if keep chasing that pipe dream."

"I'm willing to accept it. And it doesn't matter, does it, Lady Freya? The war will end soon. The Gods will kill me once it does, won't they? I'd rather Hilda not be anywhere near me when that happens."

Freya stares at Sigurd. "How did you know?"

"You always change the subject when I ask what I am supposed to do after the monster threat is gone."

Freya doesn't want to lie to him. But sometimes she can't bring herself tell him the truth, either. "I'm sorry, Sigurd. I tried my best to protect you."

"I believe you, Lady Freya," Sigurd says. "I know you never meant to hurt me."

"And I'm sorry that love has only brought you pain, Sigurd. That you never got to enjoy it. I wanted you to experience love at least once, even if it was for a few short days."

"Love has never brought me pain, Lady Freya."

Freya looks at him. "But I can't love you, Sigurd."

"I know. That doesn't change my choice to love you, Lady Freya. Nor does it change the fact that I was supposed to have died several hundred years ago. Every day I have lived as a Champion has been a blessing, Lady Freya. I have you to thank for that. I will never feel hurt that you cannot love me, because you have done more for me than I can ever do for you. So please, Lady Freya, do not feel bad for my sake. You have already done more than enough."

Freya stares at Sigurd's smiling face and she instantly knows, with the wisdom and foreknowledge only a God can have, that she will never meet another man like him again.

XxXxXxXxX

"A good morning to you, Fre-ya!"

Freya cracks an eye open. Above her, swirling galaxies and floating nebulae drift across the Celestial Sky. There are billions of stars shining above her, perhaps trillions of them. Yet, none of them, she thinks, holds a candle to Sigurd's soul.

What had she been dreaming about?

Then Loki's red-haired head pops into view, ruining her thoughts and the view.

Freya sighs as she sits up on the bench. She chose the Gardens of Heaven to nap in precisely because she thought nobody would disturb her here.

"What do you want, Loki?" she asks.

Without asking, Loki slides onto the bench next to her. "Well, I haven't seen you around in so long, so I thought I'd say hi!"

"I've been busy."

"We all have been, haven't we? I can't count how many miracles I did just this week alone. But maaan, those Elves really are something else, aren't they? Did you see how all their tribes united against that Black Dragon? Blasted off so many magical spells the explosions didn't stop for a whole hour. Of course, I gave that princess the vision that the Dragon was coming in the first place. It feels good to do a good deed, doesn't it?"

"Well done, Loki," Freya says. Sigurd can kill a Black Dragon alone.

Loki grins, even though Freya didn't bother hiding her sarcasm. "Moody, aren't we? I guess that means you haven't heard the good news yet."

"What good news?"

"The mortal armies have formed a giant strike force between all the races. They begin their march to the Dungeon tomorrow."

Freya's eyes widen. "Tomorrow? That's too soon, isn't it?"

"That's what I thought too, but it seems the Behemoth that was guarding the mountain pass retreated somewhere. The commanders want to make a dash for the Dungeon before it returns. Then they'll hold it down and suppress any monsters that try to leave while they build the wall around the Dungeon."

Freya is speechless.

"I know right?" Loki says. "I can't believe it, either. The end of the war is finally here!"

XxXxXxXxX

Freya pressed a palm against the glass window in front of her. The city of Orario was sprawled out beneath her, the tall walls surrounding it stretching over the horizon. Tens of thousands milled through the streets and alleys, their souls dancing like a swarm of fireflies in the evening.

No, it was more like a candlelight vigil—an uncountable number of embers that flickered and wavered beneath her.

Time flies, she thought. She still remembered when the great stone wall was a hastily-constructed fence. When instead of taverns and homes, Orario was filled with battlements and siege towers. The monsters had made their last stand here. She closed her eyes and tried to recall that final battle. Catapults raining boulders onto the mouth of the Dungeon. Formations of ballistae sniping dragons and wyverns out of the sky with each volley. Legions of mortals, with Spirits aiding them, eradicating the monster host.

It had been glorious. Hundreds had died. Brilliant souls, shining defiantly, extinguished in the blink of an eye. It had been like watching fireworks. Freya opened her eyes and sighed. Even a single one of those fallen souls would have burned brighter than an entire plaza's worth of Adventurers today.

Where was their resolve? Their fearlessness? How could they call themselves adventurers, when their force of will barely exceeded the dimmest of candles? This pathetic lot was supposed to be a tribute to the Champions of the past?

A strong enough gust of wind could snuff out the whole lot of them.

She wondered what Sigurd would say if he saw Orario today. He had killed a Minotaur on his own when he was twelve years old. What would he think of the Adventurers who never dared to venture deeper than the Tenth Floor, who could spend their entire careers as Level 1 and be satisfied with it?

Disgraceful. Freya tore her eyes away from the masses and looked to the walls. She smiled when she saw brilliant flashes clashing on it. Two of them—one gold, the other crystal clear.

Just looking at Bell Cranel's colorless soul wrenched her heart. Would Sigurd have turned into someone like Bell Cranel, if tragedy hadn't befallen him as a child? She shook her head. There was no point thinking about what-ifs and could-have-beens. There were more pressing matters to consider.

She hadn't expected Loki to lend a hand to Hestia's Familia, but then again, Loki was anything but predictable these days. She thought back to the other evening, when she'd caught her and Kusanagi Godou wrapped around each other on the top of the wall. Just thinking about it made her frown.

Something caught her eye. In the town square near the Guild, a void roaming through the crowd of ember-like souls. An empty spot where a soul should have been. It was not a God—even Gods gave off a weak aura when she looked at them. Kusanagi Godou, on the other hand, emanated nothing at all.

"Soon, Sigurd," Freya whispered. "Soon, maybe we can meet again."

XxXxXxXxX

Kusanagi Godou shuddered. Someone was watching him, but whoever it was, they were too far away for him to see.

The evening rush of adventurers returning from the Dungeon and ordinary folk finishing work pushed against him as he made his way to the town square. He didn't have much time—he needed to return to the Hostess soon, but he'd heard something he had no choice but to look into.

It was a path he was used to taking, and he was just a few paces away from the end-point when a man blocked him. A tight-fitting black uniform, the Apollo Familia's symbol etched above his right breast. "Go to another stall. We've reserved everything here."

Godou raised an eyebrow. A line of Apollo Familia members—eight of them—formed a semicircle in front of Hestia's fried potato stall. Intimidating looks and scowls made sure any prospective customers didn't dare come close. He waved to the goddess, who was sitting on her seat, a dejected look on her face.

She stood up, returning the wave with a big smile. "Hi, Godou! What are you doing here?"

"Just here for my free daily fried potato, Lady Hestia," he called out to her.

"Didn't you hear me?" the Apollo Familia member puffed his chest out. "This store's off-limits."

He looked at the man. He didn't seem very powerful—Godou barely detected any kind of magic coming from him. Probably a Level 1. Apollo seemed like the kind of asshole that would send his grunts to harass his opponents.

"And if I don't care?" Godou asked him.

The man raised a fist. Is he really going to punch me? But before Godou could find out, the woman next to him grabbed his wrist. She was in the Apollo Familia as well—except she was looking at Kusanagi Godou with a wary look.

"Let this one go, Archus," she said.

So not all of Apollo's grunts were idiots.

"But the Captain said—"

"I recognize him. He's with Lady Loki."

The man, Archus, lowered his arm and looked at Godou with narrowing eyes. "What Level are you?"

"Level none of your business," Godou said. "Now let me through."

Archus stared at the woman.

She shook her head. "He was part of the Loki Familia's main Expedition force, Archus. We won't stand a chance."

Grudingly, Archus stepped aside. As Godou walked past him, he gave the woman a nod of acknowledgement. To his surprise, she nodded back. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Fiona," she said.

"You're too smart to be in this Familia," he said.

Not waiting for a response, he went straight to Hestia. She handed him a fried potato, hot and fresh as usual.

"No business?" he asked.

"Well, unless the Apollo Familia's telling the truth and actually do end up buying my whole stock at the end of the day, then yes. Today's been awful," Hestia said. She sighed and slumped back into her seat. "You shouldn't have done that, Godou. You'll end up painting a target on your back."

He shrugged. "How many fried potatoes have you sold today?"

"Hmm. If I count the three I managed to sell before these thugs showed up, that would make my grand total… three."

He peeked around Hestia's cart. There were a dozen potatoes sitting in the oven, and two whole sacks waiting to be cooked. "You're a God," he said. "How can you let them do this?"

"Because I'm a nice God," Hestia said. "They're just following orders. I don't know if you've heard, Godou, but Apollo and I are at war. Considering they burned down my home, this is nothing. It's better this way, anyway. More goons disturbing me means less of them preparing for the War Game. And if they don't go after me, they might go after Bell instead. This is my way of helping him."

Hestia doesn't deserve this.

"Lady Hestia, this War Game… will you and Bell be okay?" he asked.

She smiled. "We'll be fine, Godou. Thank you. Things are actually going way better than I thought. Did you know? I have four children in my Familia now! Some of Bell's friends—I can't believe they did this—left their Familia to join ours. All so they could help. I mean, 3 new members isn't a lot, when Apollo's Familia has over a hundred, but… at least we have a chance now."

Godou felt relieved somewhat. At least Bell and Hestia weren't alone. "If there's anything I can do to help…"

"Ah. Are you talking about the extra fighter Apollo let us have? I asked Loki about you, actually—"

Why does everyone keep asking Loki instead of me directly?

"—But well, she said you had your own stuff, so finding someone else would be better."

"I'm sorry," Godou said. "Loki's right."

"No, I get it. We found someone else, don't worry. She's strong. It's Ryuu."

Godou blinked. "Ryuu… as in the waitress?"

Hestia nodded.

Now that he thought about, hadn't Syr mentioned something about Ryuu heading into the Dungeon to rescue Bell while he was on the Expedition? He had discounted it like he had with most of Syr's rumors, but… Ryuu was strong, at least. She just didn't seem like the type of person to do something like this.

"Man," Hestia said. "What's the deal with your tavern, Godou? I mean, there's you, and Mama Mia, and most of the waitresses are really strong ex-Adventurers. You know, if you guys found a God to join, the Hostess of Fertility would really be a Top Ten Familia, you know?"

Godou laughed. Hestia, he knew, was going to be fine if she could make jokes like that.

"How much money did you lose today?" he asked. With her Familia too busy training and preparing for the War Game, it meant none of them were entering the Dungeon—Hestia's food carts were the Familia's only source of income for the time being.

"I mean, I try not to think about it, but there's the loss of sales revenue, the raw material cost, and—"

"Will this cover it?" Godou asked, sliding a gold bar onto her cart. "I'll buy every fried potato you have."

Hestia blinked. "What?"

Godou had made quite a sum from the Expedition. Drops and parts from monsters beyond the 50th Floor sold at a high price. To be honest, he didn't quite know what to do with all that money, since he could eat at the Hostess for free. This seemed like a better way of using it than letting sit around.

"This is way too much!" Hestia cried out, picking up the gold bar. "You could buy a whole week's worth of fried potatoes with this!"

"Oh, okay. Then I'll buy your stock for this whole week. You can deliver them to the Hostess. I'll add it to the menu, make it some promotional meal or something. Mama Mia won't mind, since I'm the one paying for it."

"I… I don't know what to say."

"I'd go with 'thank you'," Godou offered.

"This… this isn't fair." Was Hestia crying? "Last time, it was the Grimoire. You're always helping me. I can't always be in your debt, Godou."

Godou waited for Hestia to finish rubbing her eyes with her arm. Then he placed an hand on her shoulder. "Loki told me, you know? The things you said to her back then, before the Expedition. We wouldn't be where we are now if it weren't for you. You don't owe me anything, Hestia."

"You don't have to say things like that, Godou," Hestia sniffed. "I'll be sure to make things up to you. One day. Maybe after I pay back my debt to Hephaistos, but one day, I'm going to be the one to help you when you need it."

He grinned. "I'll hold you to that, then. See you around, Hestia. I have to get back to work."

"Wait, what about your fried potatoes?"

"Oh. Give the ones you've already cooked to Bell and the rest of your Familia. They must be tired and hungry after a day of training."

"But… but…"

He shrugged. "This is my way of helping him." Then he paused. The Apollo Familia was glaring daggers at him. "Actually, I'll take one with me."

XxXxXxXxX

Fiona watched the man known as Kusanagi Godou stroll toward her. He was one of the Names—someone you had to know if you wanted to be a decent Adventurer of any kind. The man who defeated the Loki Familia's Bete Loga with a single kick. The man who tamed a Battle Boar with his bare hands in the Monster Feria. The man who followed the Loki Familia to the 59th Floor, and then somehow managed to win over their goddess' heart.

What did he want with her? She was a nobody. Even in the Apollo Familia, all she did were the things other people told her to do.

"Here," he said.

She looked at the fried potato he was holding out, then stared at him. "What for?"

"You saved me from a lot trouble just now," he said. "I was in no mood for a fight."

"Oh," Fiona said. She took the fried potato, because she didn't really know what else to do.

Kusanagi Godou nudged his head at Hestia—the goddess was packing up her stall. Finally, Fiona could go home. "You know, if you're thinking about joining a new Familia after you lose the War Game, you should consider joining Hestia's. I think you'll like it."

She scoffed. "She sells fried potatoes for a living."

"And you're standing here, blockading her store."

"It wasn't my idea," she said. She did feel bad—she had a conscience, after all. But orders were orders, especially when they came from Clio, the Captain. "And even if we somehow impossibly lose the War Game, there's no way Lady Hestia's going to let any of us join."

Godou smiled in Hestia's direction. "I'm sure she will. She's a really nice God, after all."

And then he left, just like he did the first time—not giving Fiona the chance to even reply.

She frowned. What a weirdo. But he was one of the Names, so she couldn't do anything about it.

She bit into the fried potato. It was surprisingly good.

Then she noticed Archus glaring at her. That idiot nearly got into a fight with the Kusanagi Godou. Hadn't he been there when Clio got beaten up by Bete Loga in that bar? Nothing good came from challenging any of the Names.

"What?" she asked, after swallowing. "It's free food, Archus."

XxXxXxXxX

A/N: Hopefully, the short modern-day Freya scene helped make the transition between ancient Danmachi and modern Danmachi much smoother to read than it was in the last chapter. I'm trying to integrate this as well as I can, but ugh… three chapters ago, I didn't even know I was going to go all historical. So really, all I can do is damage control.

(Hopefully the Brynhilda scene doesn't cross SB's guidelines)

Now, to address some unresolved things, I am hardly a good person. I still mean everything I wrote in that harshly worded statement (and the follow up conversations on SB). I really don't care about making readers happy, because ultimately, I write for myself (and i'm not getting paid). It makes me happy when people like what I write, but that's more of a pride and look-at-me! thing, than from any sense of selflessness or gratefulness. You can have your own thoughts on me as person/author, and about this fic, but if they don't help me become a better writer/make this a better fic, and don't encourage me to write further, well… then they're of little value to me (I still read them, though). You're more than welcome to leave, if you think the value of this piece of fiction is more dependent on the author's values, instead of, well, the fic itself, but personally, I'm the type of person that still loves Harry Potter despite JK Rowling's shenanigans. You will be missed.

But for the rest of us who don't mind reading on despite me being a shitty person, thanks! :) On that note, the next chapter should (hopefully) be the last of Freya's backstory. I really wanted to explore in-depth why Freya is the way she is, particularly concerning her attitude towards Bell and Adventurers in general. I think I've come up with something decent.

Anyhoos, as always, leave a review/comment on the way out. Likes, favs, follows, are always appreciated. Onwards.