Astrea Record: Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? Tales of Heroes - Volume 2 - Chapter Pr

PROLOGUE

A City Shrouded in Darkness

Somebody said, “Remember the stars. They have not forgotten how to shine.”

Somebody cried. “How can we see the stars when dark clouds gather and hide them from us?”

Somebody sneered, “Just like how evil swallowed the justice everyone took for granted.”

It was raining. Water fell like tears from the clouds above. The color of the sky didn’t seem real. An all-encompassing gray, neither light nor dark, like a rotting lichen spread out across the heavens, trapping those who still walked the earth in the crevice between night and day.

It could have been mistaken for limbo, teetering on the precipice between this world and the next, if not for the presence of graves—countless graves that lay unmoving beneath the pounding rain. No, this was very much the world of the living. And this was a garden of the dead, a bleak cemetery located within the walls of the Labyrinth City.

“………”

A handful of gods stood together, vastly outnumbered by the graves. Even calling them graves was a stretch, for many were little more than holes in the ground, covered with dirt and simply marked with broken weapons or wooden sticks. No coffins, no headstones. Nothing but the cold earth to entomb the soulless bodies of their fallen children.

All of them lost their lives in a single night. The night that evil was born in Orario.

“This tragedy has claimed the lives of many adventurers and innocent townsfolk…”

Her walnut hair glistened with tears. Astrea, goddess of justice, addressed her fellow deities with a profound sadness in her eyes, which were the same color as the sea of stars. She stood, as they all did, exposed to the pouring rain while staring across the field of death that stretched far into the distance.

“Even now, their numbers grow,” she added.

The never-ending burials. Ceaseless blood and tears. Even the First Cemetery, where adventurers were usually buried, was not enough to house them. Instead, the congregation stood in a hastily constructed extension.

The atmosphere was beyond dismal. Astrea stared down at her feet, while the god beside her let out a wail.

“Oh, my children, my children, I have failed you! No words can possibly express how sorry I am!”

It was Ganesha. His loud, booming voice was almost enough to dispel the gloom, and his tears nearly outpaced the rain. They poured from under his elephant mask, staining his clothes.

“It is pathetic! Pathetic! That I, the god of the masses, can do nothing but scream and holler!!”

Today, no one begrudged him his tears. No one told him to shut up or be quiet. In fact, they envied him for his ability to grieve so openly. They all wished they could do the same.

A little off to the side, Hermes spoke to the graves of his fallen followers, so numerous he didn’t have the luxury of visiting them one by one. “The souls of our children are long departed,” he said cynically. “There is no one beneath the earth to hear our pleas or ease our regrets.”

The ways of an eternal god could seem callous to mortals, yet as he thought of those he’d lost, Hermes pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes.

“This is just a mortal custom,” he told himself. “A meaningless gesture, and yet…”

“And yet, if we do not pray for them, who will?”

Astrea finished his words with a firm nod, her sad indigo eyes now set on the uncertain sky.

“Our other children fight on, even now. Evil denies them their moment of grief.”

Soon, the rain dried, as though the sky had run out of tears with which to cry. But there was no one left to enjoy the improved weather. The streets were either burning or broken, a grim reminder of what had transpired overnight.

Today was the second of the Seven Days of Death, and all of Orario was consumed by fear.

Over at the city’s west entrance, a crowd had gathered.

“Open the gate! Why the hell are you trapping all of us in here?!”

“Let us out! Let us out of this place!”

“The Evils could return at any time!”

A huge number of people were clamoring, their clothes covered in soot and their faces marred by blood as they screamed at the adventurers manning the barricades that sealed off the city gate.

“The Evils are waiting for you out there!” shouted back an adventurer of Hermes Familia. “They’ve surrounded the whole city!”

His name was Falgar Batros, a war tiger who stood head and shoulders over his peers. Despite his imposing stature, the terrified citizens seemed almost ready to attack him for standing in the way.

“If you leave the city,” he pleaded, “we won’t be able to protect you! Please understand!”

But this only seemed to enrage the townsfolk further.

“Who cares?!”

“A fat lot of good your protection did us!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be adventurers?!”

“Let us out of here!”

Men bellowed and women shrieked. At their feet, little children trembled, frightened by their screaming parents. This mob was far more terrifying than any monster the adventurers had ever faced.

Asfi watched from a distance, wearing a troubled frown.

“The Guild must be desperate if they’re enlisting the help of Hermes Familia,” she muttered under her breath.

This was unrestrained panic. There was no other word for it. In this state, no instructions from the adventurers or the Guild staff would do any good. Asfi understood why citizens who just wanted to escape Orario and flee to the supposed safety of nearby Port Meren were treating them like the enemy.

And she could hardly fault them. The previous night’s events had shaken the whole city to its core.

“We have to do something, Ankusha!” she said, urging the woman standing by her side. “At this rate, we’ll have a full-blown riot on our hands!”

Asfi was talking to Shakti Varma, captain of Ganesha Familia, a group that acted as the city watch. Shakti’s subordinates were stationed not just here, but at all the other gates as well. In fact, it was mainly her familia’s members keeping the city’s residents at bay.

Shakti’s expression was grave as she answered Asfi’s call.

“This must have been their plan all along,” she said, referring to the Evils, who had all strangely withdrawn from the city after the battle the previous night. “They’ve trapped us inside these walls, certain we’d eventually turn on each other.”

“…!”

“And if we take even one step outside, we’ll be walking right into their trap. Not that we could attempt to break out, even if we wanted to.”

Everything was going according to plan for the Evils. There was no need for them to take risks and endanger their winning position. They could bring the city to its knees without lifting so much as a single finger.

The proof was right in front of them. Shakti clenched her fists in anger and turned her gaze to the city walls… That’s when she saw it—red stones falling from the skies. Inferno stones.

“Run!!” she yelled, jumping clear even as she raised the alarm. As soon as the stones hit the ground, fire bloomed. Then the screams began.

“Aaaaaaaagh!!”

“The Evils! They’re dropping bombs from the city walls!”

“Gaaaaaaaaaagh!”

Laughter echoed as the bombs fell, and panicking townsfolk ran for their lives. Those unfortunate enough to be at the back toppled over and the crowd trampled them as people fled with wild abandon. In a matter of seconds, there was a fresh wave of wounded for the harried adventurers to deal with.

Falgar leaped into action, carrying townsfolk away from the flames. Asfi protected the Guild employees, sweat coating her brow from exertion, while Shakti met the explosions with her greatshield in an attempt to keep the people around her safe. The bombs kept coming until Shakti commanded her mages to put up a barrier overhead. Shards of broken flagstones were flying in every direction, and the air was thick with smoke. Asfi turned her eyes skyward and was shocked by what she saw.

“The Evils have taken the walls!”

They were dressed head to toe in white robes and face coverings. Asfi could see more than a dozen of them already. She wiped her bloody cheek with the back of her hand. Beside her, Shakti’s face looked grim.

“Damn. They’ve turned Orario into a prison!”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Look at them run! They’re so predictable!”

Atop the walls, Valletta laughed as the townsfolk below scattered. She was one of the Evils’ commanders, and she was delighted to watch her subordinates who were tossing bombs into the crowd below. Hearing the callous laughter of their leader only encouraged them. One ran up to her to deliver a message.

“Lady Valletta. The foolish townsfolk are gathering at the other gates as well. Your orders?”

Valletta was not perturbed, for there were forces stationed on the walls all around the city.

“Same as here,” she said. “Chuck shit down at ’em. And if they’re stupid enough to step outside the city, kill ’em.”

Her lips twisted into a sadistic grin.

“We gotta make sure they give Finn and those other bastards a hard time, yeah?”

“The enemy has encircled Orario.”

The meeting room at Guild headquarters had become a war room. Finn glanced across the table with a grim look on his face.

“All supply routes have been cut off, and there is little hope of reinforcements. Even getting refugees to Port Meren is an impossible task.”

“So it’s a siege, then,” said Loki, the only other soul present. “They plannin’ to starve us out?”

All the desks had been pushed together in the center of the room to form a table, which was covered in war plans, maps of enemy positions, and various reports. However, due to the urgency of the situation, all the Guild staff, as well as Finn’s peers, were otherwise engaged.

“There’s a lot of work ahead of us,” said Finn gravely. “Tending to the wounded, clearing debris, distributing food. And every day that passes means our stores get a little smaller, our forces a little weaker. To top it all off, we have a ticking time bomb right here in the city. Sooner or later, the people will turn on us, and the Evils are doing all they can to speed that process up.”

Enemy forces were operating out of Orario’s own walls. They were perfect fortresses to keep everyone trapped inside. The Evils could safely watch from on high as their prey grew weaker and weaker.

Finn analyzed the maps and calmly went over the information in his head. It was clear this was all Valletta’s scheme. She clearly had no qualms about exploiting any weakness, no matter how cowardly or cruel. The cold and calculating Finn Deimne understood that better than anyone else. He wanted to believe that he was different, that he possessed qualities of respect and honor that Valletta lacked, but he couldn’t deny they were deeply similar. And whenever Finn showed restraint in war, Valletta would find a way to make sure he regretted it. That was what made her such a despicable yet formidable foe.

While Finn mulled over Valletta’s thought process, Loki gave a deep and bitter sigh.

“No attack’s scarier than the waiting until something happens, eh? Here we are, tryin’ to protect the same people who’ll end up stabbin’ us in the back.”

The resentment in her voice was well warranted, after all her familia had suffered the previous night.

“I figured Njörðr might be able to help us get people to Meren,” she went on, “but it seems the Evils got to them as well. ’Bout the one savin’ grace is that they’re too busy holdin’ the walls to stage any more attacks in the city.”

To the southwest of Orario lay Port Meren, the metropolis’s gateway to the sea. When the attacks first began, Meren had sent up countless emergency flares during the night, but the skies had since fallen silent.

While Loki screwed up her face in displeasure, the door opened, and a single old dwarf stepped inside.

“I’m not cut out for all this scheming,” he said. “Give me a good old-fashioned brawl any day of the week.”

“Gareth! Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“I can’t be lying around when there’s fighting to be done,” Gareth insisted. “Whenever I close my eyes, I see that witch’s face again. Makes my blood boil, it does.”

The dwarf was still covered in bandages. The sheer number of casualties meant that the city’s healers had no choice but to triage their patients. With not enough healing magic to go around, naturally robust dwarves such as Gareth were the first to receive plain old treatment instead.

Finn looked at him in shock, but Gareth returned a smile.

“I thought my constitution was all I was good for?” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t think I forgot that snide remark of yours all those years ago.”

Finn’s expression relaxed into a smile. “…Thank you, Gareth.”

A warm feeling filled Loki as her two children bantered. They were the founders of her familia, and she had watched over them ever since.

“Whatever you say, you have to be careful in your condition,” Finn went on. “If you’re out of commission, that puts us at a serious strategic disadvantage.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Gareth replied. “Now tell me, how goes the battle? I’ve heard scraps here and there, but that witch laid me low, and I’m sad to say I missed a good deal of it.”

“Yes, of course. Well, it turns out the enemy are led by an evil god called Erebus. And they have two old members of Zeus Familia and Hera Familia on their side…”

Finn explained everything that happened after Gareth and Riveria were defeated by Alfia, the Level 7 witch.

“…I see,” said Gareth when he was done. “So Zald is here, too. I did not expect the return of two specters in a single night.”

“What a nightmare,” said Loki. “That dirty old man and that creepy hag gave us lotsa trouble in the past…”

“I don’t need reminding,” said Gareth. “Last night was enough to for a lifetime.”

The familias of Zeus and Hera were the two most powerful forces in Orario’s thousand-year history. Even two survivors were enough to chisel a frown into Gareth’s stony brow. Both he and Finn were Level 5, and yet there was a vast gulf between their combined might and that of either one of these titans of the past. It almost didn’t make sense for them to share the title of first-class adventurer.

“The wall that protected this city for a thousand years now stands against us…”

Eight years ago, before they were shattered by the Black Dragon, Zeus’s and Hera’s familias were icons of the city. From the moment Finn and the others first stepped into Orario, they were baptized in their glory, and everyone strove to reach their heights. But things were different now. Zald and Alfia were not merely impossible aspirations; they were enemies of the city. Anyone who knew them from back then realized they were a force to be reckoned with. Their return was a nightmare, just like Loki said.

Gareth’s words left a heavy silence lingering in the room.

“…So where has everyone gone?” he asked, hoping to change the mood. “Are they all busy?”

“They’re setting up a forward base in Central Park,” answered Finn. “Or perhaps it’s fair to call that our true headquarters from now on. That’ll be our fallback position in case we need to defend the city.”

“Hm,” pondered Gareth. “I suppose that means you’ve reasoned our enemy’s aim is there. Babel, no doubt.”

“Probably,” said Loki. “If the Evils occupy Babel, they can release a flood of monsters into the streets. It’s what I’d do.”

“Yes,” agreed Finn. “It would be the fastest way to take over the city. And judging by their behavior last night, I’d say it’s very likely they were intending to do just that.”

“Hm, yes. Makes sense. But in that case, why didn’t they?” Gareth stroked his magnificent beard as he tried to decipher the enemy’s intentions. “Zald and Alfia had every opportunity to do so, especially after all those deities were sent back to heaven. Why not finish the job?”

“Consider this,” said Finn. “Our enemy is Level Seven, the equal of a boss from the deep levels, only with the speed and maneuverability of an adventurer.”

Finn placed his left hand on his hip, and his right on the table, staring at the written summary of Orario’s adventurers that populated the papers before him.

“Gareth, even without you and Riveria, most of Freya Familia was there at Central Park with me. If all of us worked together to oppose them…”

“Hm, terrible odds, but a sliver of hope is better than nothing,” said Gareth, seeing where Finn was going with all of this. “Assuming, of course, we’re ready to do whatever it takes.”

“Yes. We would have a shot in one big decisive battle, but only by abandoning the townsfolk to their fates,” answered Finn, picking up on the profundity of Gareth’s words. “Plus, Zald and Alfia are no strangers; we have records of their abilities. And only one of us would need to survive to make things difficult for Valletta and the other villains.”

Without Zald and Alfia at the helm, morale among the Evils would plummet, just like it had among the defenders of Orario when Ottar fell. It was only through those two ex-heroes’ incalculable might that the Evils could even hope to contest Orario’s supremacy at all.

“So the enemy decided to play it safe, then,” said Gareth. “And now they’re holding the townsfolk over us like a weapon. We can’t afford to take any more risks.”

With Gareth apparently convinced by this simple explanation, Finn sank into the deep sea of his own thoughts.

That must be what our enemy is planning—I’m sure of it. But why are they being so passive?

He couldn’t help feeling there was one piece of the puzzle missing…something that was key to understanding the whole situation. Namely, why did the Evils not simply have Zald and Alfia run wild in the city? Orario’s forces already had their hands full managing the citizens and dealing with all the adventurer casualties. Any semblance of defense they could mount would very quickly fold to the might of the king and queen.

Perhaps there’s a reason Zald and Alfia can’t act…or won’t?

Finn narrowed his eyes in thought, scanning the papers laid out before him for clues. Just then, Raul burst into the room.

“C-Captain! Lady Loki! The enemy’s attacking!”

“Here we go!” exclaimed Loki. “Must be the harassment Finn predicted. Where are they?”

“I-in the factory district to the northwest!” replied Raul. “An evacuee camp, where we put all the people who couldn’t fit in Central Park!”

As soon as he heard this, Gareth donned his helmet.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said to Finn. “No doubt our other warriors are busy.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Finn, completely calm. “I already sent Riveria there earlier.”

“What?! But she’s still injured, and a fragile elf to boot. Isn’t that the same as sending her to die?”

A smile appeared on Finn’s lips. “Of course not. If anything, I’m sending her to keep an eye on someone.”

It was Loki who ultimately divulged the meaning behind Finn’s cryptic words. “Yeah. After all, a momma’s gotta look after her kid, right?”

A silver gleam sliced through the air.

“Gah…”

A human man slumped to his knees and fell face-first into the rubble before he even had a chance to wind up. His attacker swept back her long hair before dashing off in search of her next target.

This young girl’s movements drew not only the ire of her foes but also criticism from her own allies.

“Come back, Aiz! I can’t protect you out there!”

Despite her tender years, the girl possessed beautiful golden hair and eyes that would put the most exquisitely crafted porcelain doll to shame. However, her rosy cheeks were now streaked with blood—the blood of her enemies. She was only nine but she carried a silver sword wrapped in her tiny fingers.

Aiz Wallenstein flew across the battlefield, ignoring Riveria’s cries.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can do it.”

She sprinted toward a pack of Evils cultists, the sadistic villains who tormented the innocent people of Orario. The moment they laid eyes on her, fear gripped the thugs and they cried out in horror.

“G-golden hair and golden eyes! It’s the Doll Princess! Who else can move that fast?!”

“It’s the War Princess!”

Aiz only muttered under her breath.

“I’ll beat them all.”

Even the Evils recognized her at a glance. They knew her as nothing but a figurine, crafted to kill. She came to a sharp stop in front of the cultists and channeled all the power within her tiny frame into a diagonal slash, slicing up a brawny beastfolk man. Then, with a perfectly timed follow-up, she rent the flesh and weapon of an Amazon warrior approaching from the side.

“Gahhh!”

One after the other, villains fell to her blade, and in no time at all, the entire unit was reduced to an unmoving heap. The girl’s childishly short arms and legs had done nothing to impede the ferocity and precision of her strikes.

She was Level 3. Not even double digits in terms of age yet, and she had already made a name for herself as a second-class adventurer. Judging by the brutal display, it was no fluke. She moved like a tiny golden storm, devastating all in her path.

She wore a set of blue battle clothes called the “Alice Dress of War.” This was a specialized set of armor refitted from standard heavy-duty prum gear according to Finn’s exact specifications. It was custom-built for use against humanoid opponents, and the prum hero had ordered it specifically for Aiz to wear over the coming days.

In the ruins of a city that had already lost so much, the sword princess delivered her verdict with the impartiality of a judge condemning a criminal.

“They’ve all been defeated already?!” cried the leader of this band of fanatics, revealing the whites of his eyes. “And…she hasn’t killed a single one!”

It was quite a feat to incapacitate such fierce opponents without letting them die. It would have been much easier to just kill them outright. But while Aiz’s sword danced among her foes, never once did she succumb to bloodlust. Her purpose was to neutralize the threat and nothing more.

“I said come back, Aiz! I’ve had it with you ignoring me!”

It was none other than Riveria who came up with this restriction. She shouted as she struggled to keep up with the young girl. She had never wanted Aiz to take part in the battle in the first place. Slaying monsters in the Dungeon was one thing, but she was sure that aiming that blade at people was too much for the young girl to handle.

And yet Riveria couldn’t say anything when Finn accused her of hypocrisy, letting boys as young as Raul fight while forbidding Aiz from doing the same. Perhaps she was merely being overprotective.

In the end, Finn had his way. After the crushing defeat they had suffered the previous night, it was no longer an option to leave cards in their hand unplayed. Even Riveria could see the logic in that. But logic and emotion were two very different things.

“You’ll pay for this, Finn…”

And so the high elf pressed on in spite of her injuries. She cursed their hardheaded leader under her breath while keeping a watchful eye on the girl who was like a daughter to her.

“Sh-she wiped out all three of Valletta’s units?!”

The lone enemy commander wilted as the full scope of the War Princess’s devastating power became terribly obvious. Then he stiffened with grim determination. He reached into his robe and drew the Inferno Stone that had been given to him for such an occasion.

“O Lord! I offer up my life in—”

However, any hope he might’ve had of taking the girl out in a blaze of glory was swiftly dashed, for her blade moved faster than the eye could see.

“Huh?”

A flicker of gold passed him by. A sparkle of silver danced in his eyes. And when the man tried to press the trigger, he found he could not. His hands wouldn’t obey him. It took him a moment to realize why.

They were completely missing.

“Finn told me how you guys blow yourselves up,” came a monotone voice from behind him. “I won’t let that happen.”

As he finally realized what must have happened, blood spurted from his stumps.

She cut my hands…without hitting the bomb. I can’t reach…

Words flashed through his brain as he struggled to process his thoughts. And when he realized what the girl had accomplished was as impressive as threading a needle blindfolded, his mind froze in fear.

“…Th-that’s impossible…”

The last foe fell onto his back, and the sounds of battle ceased. All that remained was silence, like the calm ocean after a shipwreck.

“It’s over…”

Aiz flicked the blood from her sword—almost as long as she was tall—and returned it to the scabbard on her back. Then she got thwacked on the head.

“Uggh!”

“That’s what you think, you careless child! It’s not like the Dungeon out here; there’s a war going on! Never let down your guard!”

Riveria spat words like thunder, shooting a look of deepest displeasure at the headstrong girl.

“Owww…”

Aiz, however, remained unrepentant. She rubbed her head and peered up at Riveria with teary eyes. It was only times like these that she acted her age. If Loki had been here, no doubt she would have tried to spirit away the adorable little girl and take her home.

“Don’t look at me like that, young lady! Why don’t you listen to me when I’m talking to you?!”

Aiz’s crocodile tears were, of course, wholly ineffective against the seasoned Riveria. Shaken, the young girl softened her gaze and began to speak.

“Well, they were no match for me…”

“This is what I’m talking about! You—”

“And besides, you’re hurt.”

“!!”

Riveria froze when she heard those words.

Like her dwarven comrade, Riveria still exhibited signs of recent medical care. She was wrapped in bandages, and her clothes—the Master’s Elf Montante, a set of black-and-white robes with a jade-green cloak—were still in disrepair after the battle with Alfia.

“So I thought…I have to work harder,” said Aiz. “I didn’t want to see you hurting, Riveria…”

It was a gesture of love. Innocent, childlike love for the members of her familia. Aiz was young and shy, awkward with words and expressions. She simply stated exactly what she was feeling.

Riveria closed her eyes in thought for a moment, then kneeled on the ground, bringing her jade-green eyes in line with Aiz’s golden gaze.

“…I’m happy you care about me, Aiz, I really am,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “But do not forget that I feel the same way about you. I worry about your safety, even more than I do mine. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“…Okay.”

At last, the young girl nodded. To anyone else, the pair would seem a perfectly ordinary mother and child.

“Now, come,” said Riveria. “Let’s get that blood cleaned up.”

“Mm…”

Sensing she was no longer angry, Aiz trotted over to Riveria. Like a docile kitten, she submitted her face for a cleaning from Riveria’s snow-white scarf.

Riveria couldn’t help but smile at the girl as she scrubbed Aiz’s cheeks clean, but her smile vanished when she looked down at the crimson stains on her neckerchief.

“Aiz…don’t ever get used to the smell of blood. To kill another person is something that should be abhorred.” She looked down with despondent eyes. “Remember that. Never forget that it’s people you’re fighting, not monsters.”

In the tone of her voice was something rarely heard from the mouth of one so wise and noble as she. Aiz didn’t answer this earnest plea at first. Perhaps she didn’t quite understand. She simply stared back with big, round eyes.

“Riveria…” she said at last. “Why do people kill each other?”

“…!”

Riveria’s eyes flew wide.

“I know about the Evils,” Aiz went on, “but…don’t we have other things to fight?”

From the mouths of babes came the pure and ugly truth.

“Shouldn’t we be fighting the monsters instead of each other?”

A chill wind blew through the shattered city streets. Only after a long silence did Riveria open her mouth to speak.

“…You’re right, Aiz. You’re absolutely right.”

She looked to the sky, for she could change nothing here on earth.

“What fools we are…to spill the blood of our brethren.”