Chapter 118: Freya's Loss of Composure

"What would you like to eat, Est?"

Although Roland was well aware that the waitress before him was a goddess in disguise, he felt no fear. If that goddess were truly to lose her mind, he could simply unleash his solar aspect and eliminate both her and her followers before the matter could spread.

He handed the menu to Est, allowing the curious spirit to randomly point at a few items.

"Please wait a moment."

After noting Est's choices, Syr flashed a sweet smile at Roland and hurried away. Even the most vigilant person would find it difficult to maintain any guardedness against such a sweet and well-behaved girl.

Not long after, it was not Syr who returned with the food, but another elven girl with pale green hair. She set down a portion of noodles—piled as high as Roland’s face, rising from the bottom of the tray—with a firm thud in front of him.

"Please enjoy."

Though she looked like an ice queen with a cold expression, the elf’s eyes softened slightly when she looked at Est and Roland.

"Although Aunt Mia can be a bit scatterbrained at times, she truly means no harm. Please forgive her rudeness."

"It’s fine. The title of 'hero' is one I chose for myself. It would be quite unseemly to get angry over a little teasing," Roland said with a hearty, indifferent smile.

"A hero, you say?"

At the mention of the word, a flicker of sorrow appeared in the elf’s eyes, though she quickly regained her composure.

"I am Ryu Lion. May I ask your name?"

"I am Roland. In fact, it doesn't matter if you don't know my name today; soon, this name will spread throughout all of Orario, and by then, you will be tired of hearing it."

"That won't happen... one can never hear enough legends about heroes."

Faced with Roland’s boast, Ryu flatly denied it, and a subconscious smile graced her cold, delicate features.

"Then you should look forward to it."

Roland wore a confident smile. After chatting casually with Ryu for a few moments, he picked up his fork, ready to taste the food from this other world. Suddenly, a strange sensation caused him to freeze.

A gaze descended from the sky, heavy with scrutiny, landing directly upon him. Even without seeing the person, Roland could feel the scorching intensity of that stare.

Desire. Obsession. Adoration.

These emotions were nothing like the warmth of Medea or Est. It was far too intense, as if it intended to burn both him and itself to ashes. To call it "morbid" would be a compliment, yet it differed from the fanaticism of Kirei Kotomine.

If he had to describe it—though Roland had no personal experience with such things—it felt like the gaze of a stalker or a pervert, magnified a million times over.

Just as Roland looked up, intending to return the gaze, the sensation vanished without a trace.

"A goddess atop Babel? I thought she was only interested in pure souls?"

Roland frowned, puzzled. Being targeted was no surprise; it was natural for the noble soul of a Holy Lord to have a certain allure. But that morbid, lovesick quality felt wrong, especially the way the gaze seemed to tease—noticing that Roland had caught it, yet voluntarily pulling back, as if hinting at something.

Where had things gone wrong?

Silently watching the spire that pierced the clouds outside the window, Roland fell into deep thought.

***

In the heart of the labyrinth city of Orario stands Babel, the tower built directly over the Dungeon. There is no taller structure in the entire world.

Long before the gods descended, the foundation of this tower had already been laid. The monsters of the Dungeon were peculiar life forms; though they could be purged, they would continue to propagate on the surface. To avoid the awkward situation of having to clear out new waves after every extermination, the people of that era built the tower to prevent the monsters from invading.

As the only recognized gateway to and from the Dungeon, it served a vital role. Aside from the public facilities managed by the Guild for adventurers, many commercial Familias also opened shops there to sell various supplies.

The highest floors were reserved by the Guild for the residence of certain patron gods. The requirements were simple: one needed a powerful Familia. Since it was a place that overlooked all of Orario, if one compared the management of the lower world to a game, only the strongest players on the server were eligible to live there.

In all of Orario, apart from the Loki Familia, who preferred to stay with their own members, only one other Familia possessed such status.

The Freya Familia.

Among the many deities of the lower world, she was a heavyweight. Although their divine power was sealed, the essence of a god could not be entirely masked.

Gods skilled in smithing could create unimaginable divine weapons; gods of agriculture could easily cultivate groundbreaking fields. As the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Freya naturally possessed the innate power of charm. With just a crook of her finger, even other gods would be moved by her beauty, and at its full extent, it could even alter the memories of others.

Relying on this ability, the well-connected Freya quickly rose to the top of the Familias. If not for her lack of genuine interest in managing her Familia, their power would have been even greater.

But at this moment, the breathtaking goddess stood blankly before a mirror, watching her own reflection.

Her long, delicate limbs, her tall and flawless figure, her mature air like a ripe peach, paired with a beauty that could make one lose their sanity. Freya always maintained an alluring appearance, but now, she pressed herself obsessively against the mirror, yearning for the shadow that had just flickered across its surface.

Her beautiful face was flushed, and her intoxicating eyes held only complete and utter madness.

"Ah..."

At this moment, as if stimulated, Freya let out soft moans. Her body trembled, and she gasped for air, as if enduring great pain.

Beyond her charm, in her sealed state, Freya possessed eyes that could see through the essence of a soul. She loved the radiance within the souls of the lower world's denizens. She had originally intended to make that rising hero a servant at her feet on a whim, but she had never expected to reap such a surprise.

"What filthy malice... what a chaotic essence..."

Though that soul was incredibly noble, Freya was certain it was the polar opposite of a god. If one were to gather all the evil in the world, it wouldn't even amount to a fraction of that karma and desire.

It was the antithesis of her perfect self, yet beneath that evil, twisted soul, Freya saw a radiance that could fill every void.

It was love—love so deep it seemed as if it could burn away time, space, and history. It was precisely because of such deep love that such terrifying evil was born.

If she could be embraced by such love, Freya would pay any price. This evil, this love—it would surely satisfy her emptiness.

Yes, it surely would.

Her body had already told her so. Freya pressed her legs tightly together, rubbing them against the edge of the mirror, enduring the burning fire and the tingling sensation in her abdomen, along with the pleasure that made one want to fall into ruin.

She wanted to be tainted by him, wanted to be infected by that chaos, wanted to see her own filthy self cast aside all pretense and reason, wallowing like a beast in that eternal pleasure.

Just imagining it caused Freya to lose all composure, feeling a wave wash over her. Her pupils dilated, yet she still stroked the mirror in a trance, savoring the ultimate pleasure as she let out an obsessed, low moan.

"He is my hero... mine alone!"