Chapter 115: I Do Not Wish to Be Too Impolite

"Lord Loki, please, you have to help!"

Misha Flott hurried ahead, leading the way. Back when the boar-man had provoked Roland, she—as Eina's close friend—had immediately rushed into the Guild to fetch reinforcements. To her surprise, before she could even summon the Guild’s security staff, she had stumbled upon a far better candidate on the way.

"Oh, how could I possibly miss out on something so interesting?"

The one Misha had pleaded with was a woman with vibrant vermilion hair loosely tied into a ponytail. Her eyes were narrowed into thin slits, and though her features were beautiful, her aura leaned toward an androgynous sort of charm. She showed not the slightest concern for the impact of this conflict; that characteristic, flighty temperament of a deity was especially prominent in Loki, and the words that tumbled from her lips were hardly flattering.

"I was just complaining about how bored I’ve been lately, with no fun to be had. If that upstart Level 2 really ruined my precious, loving time with Ais-tan on a mere whim, I’ll make sure he leaves that next Divine Banquet with a memory so profound he’ll never forget it for the rest of his life!"

Loki stated this as if it were only natural. Deities are creatures who live in pursuit of amusement; it is their nature to want to join in whenever they see a spectacle. As a renowned goddess who led the Loki Familia—one of the two strongest familias in Orario, equal to the Freya Familia—she certainly had the authority to back up such words.

As a patron deity, she was always accompanied by the powerhouses of her familia, and today was no exception. This was precisely why Misha had sought her help. The blonde girl following closely behind Loki possessed a magical presence that instantly eased Misha’s panicked heart.

Ais Wallenstein, a genius whose fame echoed throughout Orario, had reached Level 5 at the age of just sixteen while possessing the frail human body. She was known as the strongest swordswoman in Orario. A mere Level 2 wouldn't even last half a move against her.

Before long, the trio arrived outside the Guild’s main hall. Just then, as if sensing something, Ais tapped her toes lightly and leaped to the front, preventing the other two from advancing further.

The next moment, cracks appeared on the wall before them. A heavy figure was sent flying through it, accompanied by a cloud of dust, and slammed violently into the ground.

"Oh no... that newcomer didn't get beaten out, did he?"

Misha covered her mouth, watching the motionless figure on the ground with worry. It wasn't until the dust began to settle and she realized it wasn't the handsome young man that she breathed a sigh of relief—only to realize a far more terrifying fact.

"Wait... the one who was thrown out... that looks like Allen, who’s already Level 2!"

As if noticing their arrival, Roland, who stood quietly in the center of the room swinging his arms, raised his head to look over.

An unfamiliar Guild receptionist, Loki, and... Ais Wallenstein.

Roland’s gaze quickly settled on the girl standing in front of Loki. She had a slender, tall figure wrapped in form-fitting light armor. Her limbs were long, supple, and delicate, and her appearance was made even more aesthetic by a dress that left her shoulders and back bare, featuring a white base with blue trim and a hemline reaching the top of her thighs.

Yet, compared to her elegant figure, her face—as exquisite and beautiful as a porcelain doll’s, though devoid of expression—was no less striking. But what drew the eye most was her long, golden hair that fell to her waist, shimmering like gold dust under the sunlight.

Paired with her clear, water-like eyes and that stoic, refined face, she didn't seem cold; rather, she carried an innate nobility. In this world, of which Roland had little remaining memory, this girl was the only one whose name he still remembered.

Ais Wallenstein—a high-ranking adventurer in the truest sense. In any familia, she would be a core force. The records of her heroic feats in the Dungeon were rewritten by her time and again. The record she set at age eight, reaching Level 2 in just one year, was still discussed with awe. Because of her exquisite swordsmanship and the strength of her patron deity, she was given the title "Sword Princess," but those who had seen her fight often used the more fitting moniker "Battle Princess."

With a legendary history and beauty that even goddesses from heaven envied, her fame among adventurers surpassed even that of many gods of smaller familias. Indeed, many adventurers around Roland had already been drawn by the arriving Ais, casting looks of envy and adoration.

But Ais, seemingly accustomed to such treatment, simply cast her endearing gaze toward Roland, meeting his eyes with a calm expression.

"So, what exactly is going on here?"

The impatient goddess, however, had no interest in soaking up the atmosphere. She sauntered in, glanced around, and asked, "Wasn't I told to come and keep the peace? How did everything end so quickly?"

"I’m sorry, Lord Loki!" Eina trotted over and explained the ins and outs of the entire incident to Loki.

"Ho," the goddess’s interest was piqued by such an amusing story, and she walked toward Roland with a rather swaggering gait. "Defeated a Level 2 adventurer as a human who hasn't received a blessing, and you still want to head into the Dungeon in that state?"

Loki’s narrowed eyes flashed with a hint of playfulness as she circled Roland, as if trying to see through to his heart. But until the end, the smile on Roland's face remained unchanged.

*He’s good-looking, but it’s a shame he’s a boy. Not as good as my Ais-tan.*

Loki scrutinized Roland, trying to find something special about him. To have achieved such a feat—it was nothing short of a heroic deed. Before long, other gods would surely swarm him.

"Kid, have you really never received a blessing?"

"No."

Roland admitted this with a tone of absolute certainty. The truth contained in this response made Loki’s eyes flicker.

*Could I have stumbled upon a treasure?*

Driven by a simple urge to collect, Loki extended an invitation. "Then, would you like to join my familia?"

This direct invitation caused a stir among the onlookers. As the strongest familia, the Loki Familia essentially had no Level 1s, as their personnel were already saturated; there was no need to recruit new members.

"No. I’ve only just defeated a Level 2. If I joined your familia now, wouldn't you steal all the glory? Everyone in Orario would say it was your discerning eye that found a talent, and my own brilliance would be overshadowed."

Roland looked directly at Loki and said candidly, "What I want is for everyone to praise me, to offer me looks of worship and reverence."

"Hahahaha!" Loki clutched her stomach, as if laughing until tears came. "That’s a level of treatment even gods don't necessarily get. Honestly, unless relying on some special ability, I’ve never seen anyone capable of harvesting the worship of everyone. Among the children of the Lower World, you’re the first arrogant existence I’ve ever met."

Roland smiled and retorted, "Arrogance requires the ability to back it up."

"Besides, such people do exist. People who use their own strength to drive the era forward—just by standing there, watching their backs makes people think from the bottom of their hearts, 'I want to be like them too.' Such people have existed since a thousand years ago."

Loki’s laughter faded. She opened her narrowed eyes slightly, and they sparkled with intensity. If her previous invitation had been a whim, the current Roland had completely hooked her interest.

"I see. So you want to be a hero."

Loki saw through Roland’s calculations. "Since the gods descended, such people have become rare. After all, heroes are often born in adversity; they are miracles worthy of worship. In this day and age, achieving that is far more difficult than in the past. I’ve seen countless people with the potential to be heroes, but in this age of gods, no one has yet accomplished this."

"That is exactly why being a hero carries weight."

The corners of Roland’s mouth curled into a meaningful smile. "Orario today is too boring. The gods are busy indulging in pleasure, the familias fight endlessly over trivial interests, and adventurers treat exploration as a mere job. Progress has stagnated."

"So, they need a new leader."

"Are you provoking me?" Loki looked at the earnest Roland. Not only did she feel no anger, but the corners of her mouth rose slightly due to the interesting turn of events.

"In recent years, I have indeed been a bit lazy, but I am not trying to defend myself. The current state of affairs follows a certain logic; our current prosperity is but a reflection of past pain. Even as one of Orario’s strongest familias, we cannot change the tide of the Lower World’s children."

"Then, isn't it enough to simply be stronger than everyone else?" Roland chuckled, staring at Loki. "In noble dining etiquette, if someone picks up the napkin on the right first, everyone else must follow suit. That is what we call 'society.'"

"Since no one has dared to pick up that first napkin, let me do it."

*How beautiful.*

Even though her preference was for cute girls, Loki couldn't help but sigh at the radiant Roland before her.

Children of the Lower World cannot lie in front of gods. As the famous God of Mischief, Loki retained a keen insight alongside that ability. She knew that Roland truly wanted to do this and believed he could. This unbridled arrogance even surpassed that of the gods.

It was simply too interesting!

Regardless of whether he failed or succeeded, the outcome would surely exceed their expectations. Even the Loki Familia, situated at the pinnacle of strength, might suffer irreversible consequences in the storm that was about to come.

Loki could not refuse. She had descended precisely to see children like this.

"Since that’s the case, you want a stepping stone, right? Then I will help you. You want to gain fame and become a hero, don't you? I have an option for you that is better suited than the Dungeon."

Loki stepped back a few paces, extended a hand, and pointed at Roland, eager to see how many possibilities this child held and how his future would unfold.

"In that case, fight my Ais-tan."

"Whoa—"

With Loki’s declaration, the noisy hall fell into instant, dead silence. Even Ais was slightly stunned.

"Are you joking? Fight the Sword Princess?"

"That’s a Level 5..."

Unlike the usual "level-gap" challenges, the Blessing was a power that unearthed potential and possibility. Each level-up required the courage and ability to complete a heroic feat; therefore, the gap between levels was almost a qualitative change.

At Level 5, one could say she was practically a different species. Against a Level 2—someone who would have been considered a "superman" earlier—Ais could tear their body apart with a flick of her wrist.

But neither Roland nor Loki looked away.

"As long as you can gain her recognition, you win. The Loki Familia will use all its power to build momentum for you, fulfill your plans, and meet your reasonable demands as much as possible."

Loki turned to look at Ais. "Although she is my pride and joy, I have to admit she’s a bit stubborn. She will judge your strength from the most impartial perspective. Even if you lose right away, it doesn't matter."

"And the cost?"

Hearing Roland’s question, Loki, sensing he had taken the bait, narrowed her eyes in delight once more.

"Simple. If you don't meet the requirements, you join my familia. I will still fulfill the previous conditions."

"Fair enough. Then, I look forward to your guidance, Miss Ais." Roland’s mouth curled upward, and he nodded at Ais.

"Don't say I’m bullying you. Whatever weapon you’re good at, whatever preparations you want to make, you can go to the Guild. I’ll cover all the expenses, and Ais won't use her preferred sword."

Hearing Loki’s command, Ais remained expressionless. She retracted the hand she had reached toward her sword, took a step forward, and moved to face Roland.

"That won't be necessary. Winning is all that matters... Then, keep your eyes open. This is the proof of my status as a hero."

Amidst the surprised gazes of the crowd, Roland took the hand of Aist beside him.

"Aist?"

"I am the master’s sword."

The silver-haired, silent girl suddenly radiated a vast divine aura, responding to Roland in a calm yet resolute tone. As her magical power was drawn, feeling the pulsing contract and connection, Roland did not hesitate to chant the incantation to call upon the spirit.

"Cold-hearted Queen of Steel, Holy Sword that slays demons!—Transform into a blade of steel, and grant me your divine power."

The spirit imprint in Roland’s hand glowed slowly. Aist’s body turned into dreamlike particles of light, scattering and then converging into the hand Roland held.

"Miss Ais, you really should draw your sword."

Roland gripped the holy sword, which was entirely silver-white, embedded with golden seals and sacred crystals, and shimmering with light. He lifted it slowly, looking at the inscriptions on the blade, a cold glint flashing in his deep eyes.

Holding this living holy sword, Roland felt as if his spirit had merged with it. In his hands, the destructive power of this holy sword would absolutely not be inferior to a so-called A-rank treasure—it might even be a cut above.

"I don't want to be rude, but if you fight me empty-handed, then you will undoubtedly die by my hand."