The Spartan had been, to utilize terminology that was more ancient than even this place, 'Grinding'. He'd cleared the levels up top several times over and gotten cash to expend on gathering supplies, although he didn't find another one of those creatures. He was making a steady sixty thousand Valis with each day, meaning he was acquiring just enough to keep a steady flow of proper food and water into his belly and the belly of his supposed 'Goddess'.

He'd had some time to consider if what Hestia even said was true. To be fair, the place seemed to be rife with all kinds of weird shit, ranging from Demi-Human creatures to humans proper, to Elves and to other such weird Fantasy crazy. He wasn't too fond of the Demi-Humans or other races, he had to admit. Bad experiences with aliens would not be easy to forget and so trust for anything xeno would be hard to reach. Anyways, to the point of there being Gods.

Gods and Goddesses descending to live with man didn't seem so far-fetched in the grand scheme of things. Hell, he'd seen weirder items in his own world, like the Forerunner tech below SWORD, but still, this was well and far beyond that.

Still, at least he could have his catharsis any time his mind wandered too far when he walked into the battle for the day's second or third dungeon strike. He was pretty sure he was dulling the knives at this point with the amount of creatures he was gutting. He had been here for less than a month and had already gotten into the standard dayjob grind that one would normally find civvies and desk jockeys doing... Well, not really. He was pretty sure they never ventured into ancient dungeons to kill respawning monsters with knives and guns

He hummed, rolling his Bowie knife between his fingers as he looked at the disappearing corpses around him. He'd gone into the fifth floor directly with a plan to clear out anything that respawned on one through four later on. A half a month of business as usual for the Spartan, honestly. He started picking up the gems dropped by the creatures on this floor, stowing them away in his now-empty backpack, which contained nothing but gems, an MRE he made out of some of the food they'd gathered and his water canteen. Good enough.

Picking up one of the gems, the Spartan hummed, examining it for a moment. He hummed, then sighed and slid it into his back pocket, standing to his feet. Haul alone should bring at least fifteen thousand Valis, but he'd have liked to get a little extra. He saw a restaurant on the way over. He recalled having eaten at one once, a while back. Turning to leave, the man had noticed the new contact on his Motion Tracker, just in time.

He heard the thunder of hooves smashing against the floor and turned a full one-eighty, drawing his twin knives just in time to block the first strike. Standing on two triple-jointed legs that ended in hooves instead of feet, twice Six's height, with a body full of hair and muscle and with the head of a bull, one of the tougher monsters of the Dungeon, a Minotaur, stood before Six, its eyes shimmering scarlet with hatred for the life of any sentient being.

Instead of being afraid for his life as many Level One adventurers should technically be at the sight of a monster that was more powerful than them, however, the young Supersoldier simply stared down the animal, blades drawn and ready to kill it for even trying to go up against him. He shifted his footing, watching as it roared at him in pure, spit-filled anger. He hummed, then thought to himself this was as good a test as any to make sure he hadn't freaking lost it...

After rolling out of the way of another strike, he rolled off to the side, then surged forth with both blades drawn. Steel made contact with hard, leathery skin and dug deep, drawing the dark ichor that was the creature's life-blood. He dodged another strike, planting the tip of the hooked-knife that was the kukri into its skin and dragging it along its waist, blood splattering the walls.

It managed a hit on the Spartan with a clenched fist, sending him skidding across the Dungeon's stone floor, causing a ripple through the man's shields and dropping them to sub-optimal levels for taking another hit. He had felt the punch in his gut, but didn't take any major damage thanks to the armor. He grit his teeth, catching the creature's second attempt at a punch with his open right hand before digging the tip of the Kukri into its wrist.

He then jumped off to the side as the creature howled in pain, bringing its weapon down upon where the Spartan had once been. Chunks of the floor shattered, but the Spartan continued his onslaught of strikes. Slashes and gashes appeared in the monster's body as the Spartan deftly struck with both of his blades. He could've easily gone for the pistol and killed the thing in a headshot...

He dodged a weapon side-swipe by jumping, then landed on the monster's wounded hand and dug the twin knives into its wound again. He felt the tearing of sinew and blood vessels beneath the sharpened blades, slashing away at it in a masterclass, if reckless and dangerous display of knife-wielding skills learned during the early days of training within the confines of Onyx. He needed to disarm the thing before it got a good swipe on him. He dug the Kukri into the monster's skin as it flailed its arm around, trying to get him off of it. He then continued cutting until its left hand was hanging by a thread of skin.

Kicking off, he removed the monster's hand, causing it to howl in pain. A resounding, beastly roar that filtered throughout the corridors of the Dungeon's fifth level. The Spartan landed in front of it, glaring with a barely-suppressed anger at the monster. His adrenal glands kicked into high gear, allowing the Spartan to start entering what was familiarly nicknamed 'Spartan Time', akin to a moment of heightened awareness in which time seemed to slow around him.

His blades once again met flesh. This time, he slid under the minotaur and cut at its knees, causing it to stumble. Turning around and still bleeding from the stump of its right hand, it swung at the Spartan just as he emerged out of the slide. its club, or whatever it was, made contact. The shield flared, then snapped and shattered upon the heavy weapon. It made contact with Six's plate and stopped him dead in his tracks, somewhat staggering the soldier.

The boy, however, quickly recovered, staggering to his feet and scoffed, coughing out spittle onto his helmet's inside. Thankfully, that didn't obstruct his vision, but the SPARTAN soon realized he was fighting far more recklessly than he should've been, especially with his damned training. It was, however, not the moment to think about his own mental faculties as jumped back to dodge another of the creature's strikes, which shattered the ground.

He'd have time to ponder that after he killed this thing, though.

He advanced, a hint slower than before. It raised its weapon and struck toward him. Dodging, the Spartan judged the creature's attack speed and its strength by the amount of reverbs he felt through the floor of the Dungeon's Fifth Level. He pushed himself forth, time slowing down around him seemingly out of nowhere as his enhanced reflexes and finer motor controls kicked in again.

He dodged below a swipe to the left, then hummed again. A surge of adrenaline kicked him into high gear. Bouncing from his left foot to his right, the Spartan jumped up like a coiled spring from the low dodge, then brought his knives up. Both blades pierced the skin of the chest, followed by the sound of a third blade tearing through the back of the monster and poking out the other side.

Blood washed over the Spartan's armor as he pulled down on the twin blades while the person on the other side cut upward. Together, the two split the monster in twain, letting its two halves fall off to the side as it screamed a bloody scream of death. Without so much as having broken a sweat, the Spartan looked past the Monster's vanishing corpse to see his timely reinforcement. He hadn't been sure if his two blades would've been enough to kill the damn thing, but whoever it was had just saved him the trouble of having to go through the motions again.

He looked up through his blood-soaked visor as the shields started boiling said blood away and gazed upon... A beautiful blonde.

Shorter of stature than him by a foot and a half, maybe two, with piercing amber eyes and a beautiful face that resembled a mask of porcelain, the girl was clad in a light armor set. A breastplate with an expanded left side, presumably to protect the heart, a plate in front of her throat to protect against stabbing and a crown of sorts made of the same matte silver metal. In her hand resided a thin double-edged sword with a strange handguard, the back of which seemed to protrude above a section of the blade, probably to act as a hook.

Below the armor plate, she wore a white, form-fitting sleeveless dress with blue accents and a pair of black arm gloves that were also covered over with armor plating. Her skirt also had two plates off to the sides, to protect her hips and the upper thighs and, over a pair of blue thigh-highs, she wore knee-guards. Her shoes were also armored and fit for combat duty, with a steel toe.

He averted his gaze. He'd been staring like a moron for half a minute there... He had to at least be honest with himself. He found her a little cute.

And SPARTAN-IIIs weren't as lucky as the IIs, who had those damn hormone suppressant implants in their thyroids...

She seemed to stare with a hint of bemusement at him, though he couldn't tell much behind the proper, steely poker face she wore. He sheathed his blades, then said in as calm a tone as his elevated adrenaline levels allowed him, "Thanks... Let's keep what just happened here between us. I'd rather nobody knew I went toe-to-toe with something over my own level," before, much to her seeming surprise, he walked past her. He wasn't going to interact with anyone today.

"... Was that that new level one...?" The girl murmured to herself, sheathing her blade. She looked over to the right, beside her shoe, to see the gem dropped by the horned monster the two had slain together. Kneeling, she picked it up and slid it into her gem pouch, considering heading to give it to him and apologizing for her failure to contain the monster before it came to face him.

She sighed. She'd do so after her party came out of the Dungeon's lower levels...

... Outside, Six marched with a full pack of gems toward the Guild as nonchalantly as his mind allowed him to. Now that he was out of the dungeon, he had the time to process what'd just happened. A Minotaur slipped past some adventurers down in the lower floors and attacked him while he was out doing his clearing job on the upper floors. It attacked him, he fought back and it met its gruesome end at the blades of his knives and that blonde's sword.

He had to admit, she must've been pretty tough if she managed to penetrate the creature's back, slice up and split it in half from that point up. Respectably strong, to note. Still, he couldn't help but wonder why the hell she was upstairs when Level Ones are usually supposed to be the ones grinding things out there. She could've been one of the adventurers that had fought the damn thing before it gave them the slip.

Eh, it didn't matter. Six'd had a bit of a conniption down there, too. He could've easily taken the thing down if he had spent a single moment to think tactically, to utilize the very weaponry he was saving specifically for something of that size. He didn't know why he would've pressed himself this hard, just fighting the damn thing in melee. It was bigger than him, but only slightly stronger.

He could've drawn his gun, but he felt like that'd have been a waste of bullets, anyhow, considering he did nearly kill it with just his knives...

"WHAT?!"

Eina didn't seem too pleased with him, though.

"I told you. I'm fine," He spoke with a deadpan, "I nearly had that thing dead to rights. Someone just decided to steal the kill. Didn't wanna bother hauling the gem with me, either, so I left it for her..."

"That's not the point! A Level One should not be facing a Minotaur alone!" The girl balked, then sighed and fell into her couch, covering her face with her hands. She sighed, then murmured desperately to herself to see if she had an answer, "What was a Minotaur even doing in a Level One area anyhow...?" before she looked at the Spartan. Right, he was standing. Letting out a breath out of annoyance, she asked, "Aren't you gonna sit down?"

"Saying what I said to Hestia... Do you want me to? I weigh half a ton in this thing..." He noted, motioning to his armor. The girl winced.

"Huh... Fair, I guess..." Eina shook her head, then looked to him. She slowly turned her frown into a smile, stating openly, "Still... Glad you're alive, Lieutenant. Not a lot of people can say they went up against a Minotaur and survived, especially Level Ones," and she looked toward his back, specifically the purse he carried all the other gems in. She asked, "Other than that... Good haul today?"

She'd chosen to utilize his rank over his name. She must've noticed it was making him uncomfortable.

"Another twenty thousand in the bank, I think," He replied, crossing his arms to his chest, "Now... If you don't mind me asking, what do you know about the blonde?"

"The girl... You said she had blonde hair, amber eyes and wore a light set of armor, right?" Eina raised a brow. He nodded, to which she smiled and said, "That'd be Ais Wallenstein, then. One of the highest-level adventurers currently in Orario. She belongs to the Loki Familia and currently stands at... I believe level five or six, so some tiers above you. Was given the title of Sword Princess by the Gods because of her skills with a blade."

The man hummed, then said, "Fair enough."

She had the strength of a Spartan. And she was... Cute.

He sighed after, "So, Loki... Like... The God of Mischief?"

"Goddess, yes. She and her family are one of the strongest contenders in Orario," the girl corrected, to which he hummed. Of course, another Goddess to deal with. Nordic mythological one, who based most of her escapades on Mischief. The fact that it was still less surprising than it would've been to him told Six just how acclimatized he'd gotten to the place. He scoffed, then leaned his chin into his chest as he took a moment to consider the situation. Eina offered, "What's the matter?"

"Just considering how little I still know of Orario," The man stated, "I should've been spending time, gathering intel..." he then murmured. Instead, he'd gone to play Dungeon Crawler and kill monsters that would respawn in that cesspit anyway. He was probably doing them favors by killing them. It gave them some respite from hanging out with their comrades and themselves.

"Well," Eina hummed, then stood to her feet, hugging a stack of papers, "I'd suggest you go around to a tavern. You have the funds and taverns and restaurants are usually the best places to eavesdrop. Latest gossip in town usually goes through several times in those places," and she stepped up to the man. He still towered over just about everyone he'd met so far, with Eina being in the middle height class of all of the two or three people he actually knew in the place. Three, because Wallenstein was around now.

Then again, he didn't know her.

He nodded, "I'll see..." then he took his pouch of gems and walked up to the counter, with Eina close behind him. Selling the gems netted him the expected amount, which he quickly slid into the other purse he'd brought with him and set in his backpack's side pocket. He turned to Eina and said, "That'll be all, then. I wanna ask you to tell miss Wallenstein not to start talking about what I did to the Minotaur. I'd rather nobody finds out about it."

"I'll pass the message along, though," Eina nodded, then squinted, still smiling, "I still don't believe you actually fought toe-to-toe with it... It'd be impossible for a Level One..."

The man replied coldly, "Let's keep people thinking that way, shall we...?" before turning to the door. He spoke, "Thanks for the help, as usual, miss Tulle. Be seeing you next run," then departed. He needed to train a bit. Run through a course of Physical exercises. He needed to get his mind off the situation at hand. Upon reaching his co-opted home, the man watched as Hestia jumped to her feet.

She smiled, greeting him with, "Odell! Welcome home!" before watching him drop the bag full of coins on the table. She smirked, "Another twenty-k?"

"About," He replied, then stated a firm, "Hello to you as well..." before noticing the stuff on the table. Potato balls. She'd gotten potato balls. He looked to her, then asked, "From where'd you get these?"

"Oh, well," She smiled, tiptoeing toward the table, "I got a part-time job so I don't feel completely useless... At one of the food stalls nearby. They gave me some of the left-over full potato balls."

"Right..." he hummed, then sighed. He undid the seal of his helmet, lifting it up and setting it aside before taking one of the items in a napkin. He spoke, "Surprised you'd go to work, but good on you, I guess..."

"Like I said," She chuckled, picking up one of the potato balls, "I don't wanna feel like I'm useless. I'm contributing a little, because most of our income's on your shoulders."

"It's appreciated," He noted, looking at his own potato ball. He watched her pour a bit of salt on the top from a napkin and gently did the same before he took a bite of it. They had a small pantry full of food, including some of his left-over Meals-Ready-to-Eat, but he wasn't going to deny it. It wasn't bad. Hell, it was actually good. A giant crunchy ball of mashed potatoes fried in a ball of breadcrumbs.

"So..." She chewed, "How'd today go?"

"Fine," he replied in a murmur, "Fought a Minotaur. Damn near won before someone stole the kill."

A bit of the ball got caught in her throat. She violently coughed it out, then looked at him with wide eyes. He hummed, nonchalantly biting into his food again and stating, "Relax. I took no damage whatsoever..." before he continued eating. Slowly, the man finished up his food and stood up. He looked over to her, then said, "I'm going to exercise outside. You can go to sleep."

"You sure...?" She asked, raising a brow, "You ain't tired at all?"

"No. We can do the next skill checkup tomorrow when I come back from the first run..." He replied in a deadpan. He would still rather keep a distance from anyone and everyone here, Hestia herself included. Putting the helmet back on, he stepped away, marching up the stairs to avoid having to look at her pout. It wasn't a good idea to get involved too deeply with anyone here, no matter what. He'd go home as soon as he found a way to. Hell, it might've just been better to listen in around the bend. Some of the local adventurers might've known a few things.

He marched up to the courtyard of a destroyed house in the district and picked out a pillar of stone. After a quick warmup, the man started throwing punches into it with precise, mechanical ease. Every time Six trained, it brought him to a state of calm that he could not achieve otherwise. His fists clashed with the stone, chips flying off as his shields flared with each strike.

The world around him was not his own. it was alien. He had no reason to be here beyond some form of cosmic mistake. His fight was home, he thought as he pummeled the body of the sculpted rock, presumably marble, digging uneven cuts and holes and trenches. Half a month of doing jack shit to get home. Six tasted the recycled air in his helmet and, for the first time, it tasted sour. Beyond the metallic tang, it tasted awfully sour.

He'd wasted his time...

... For but a moment, he wondered of that girl, Wallenstein...

And his fist seemed to slip off the surface of the stone, taking with it a large chip. He sighed, feeling a slight warmth in his cheeks. Narrowing his lips, he thought to himself that he should perhaps learn to control that bit. Inherently, falling for a local was as dumb a thing to do as they came, not to mention the fact that SPARTANS didn't date... Why was he still thinking about it?

He squelched the thoughts and got back to work.

Early morning had caught the man still practicing his martial skill, this time with his blades. He'd been carving up a rock with precise swipes and strikes, ensuring that the weapons had been properly sharpened. They cut into the rock perfectly, leaving neat marks and probably boosted by the Spartan's own strength. He let out a series of shallow, heavy breaths. He'd been working all night. Removing his helmet, the boy spat some of the salty sweat off to the side, then wiped his brow. An entire night's training helped him.

Sighing, he stowed the blades in their sheaths and marched back into the church, descended and started greeting, "Mornin-" before cutting himself off. She was still fast asleep, meaning her work either wasn't until later, or she had just slept in. Sighing, he approached his bag and retrieved it from the floor, cleaning out and filling his canteen and packing a potato ball and a can of SPAM from his MREs into the pack for later.

Before he turned to leave, his helmet still off his head, he turned to see the girl fast asleep. Her blanket, however, was not fully covering her and she trembled as a slight breeze filled the room. Walking up to her and narrowing his lips, he pulled the blanket over her shoulders, then paused, watching her turn and curl up. She murmured a groggy, "Odell, you dummy..." before seemingly resting her head against her pillow properly.

He hummed, then narrowed his lips. Dreaming of him, huh? Weird.

He stepped away, climbing back up the stairs and heading toward the Dungeon for the first run today. He only paused when he heard his gut rumble. Gritting his teeth, he murmured to himself, "You got fed last night..." as he willed his gut to be quiet. He had been living on one meal a day for his own sake. Been too busy to eat anything, so he'd taken his lunch with him today. Last night had been the only night he'd eaten in half a month.

The Spartan suddenly felt a chill up his spine... Like... Like a pair of eyes gazed upon him for the first time... And not with any particularly good intentions.

He hummed, frowning. That was weird.

"Hello, adventurer!" He heard a young woman greet. He turned to the left, to see a silver-haired young beauty with blue eyes smiling at him. She was wearing a maid's out fit, though colored green and white instead of the usual black and white. She looked right at him as her cheeks glowed red. She stated, "I haven't seen you around before... Are you new?"

"Yeah..." he nodded, then looked behind her, to see the sign of the larger building behind. It read 'The Hostess of Fertility'. The building itself was a large two-story house-like place with a bunch of wood accents, but a quick peek inside revealed it to be a pub with several tables, as well as an inn, presumably. He hummed, then asked, "New place?" somewhat dumbfound.

The girl shook her head, "No. The Hostess has been open for some time now... Oh, yes, where are my manners! Hello, I'm Syr Flova, one of the Hostess's staff. What's your name, Adventurer?"

"Six..." he replied firmly, hopeful that would work.

"Interesting," The girl's smile seemingly grew, "A pleasure to meet you, mister Six."

Good. She took it at face value. Fewer people that knew his name, the better.

"Likewise," He nodded, "Anything interesting happening in the Hostess?"

"All the time," The girl chuckled, "We're a pub that serves everyone from common folk and merchants by midday to adventurers during the evening."

"I see," Six hummed. He'd just found his target for the evening's information hunt. He then stiffened as his stomach audibly growled through his armor. He looked down at his gut, then murmured to himself, "Well, damn... Guess I shouldn't have skipped breakfast..." before waking up with a neatly-wrapped box in front of him. He staggered, both brows quirked up and his hand hovering loosely around his handgun. He saw it was Syr that was handing him the box.

She spoke, "Here. I can tell you're hungry. It's a breakfast box that I made."

"I... isn't it yours?" He inquired, incredulous. She nodded.

"It is, but don't worry. Once the pub opens, I can eat," then she handed him the box, which he took as gingerly as he could, still staring at it with surprise. She still held a smile, tilting her head off to the side, "However, there's a caveat..." and, of course, he was right. There was always a caveat. He tilted his head, as if asking what it was. She promptly answered, "You have to come eat dinner at the Hostess!"

That was it?

"Okay," He nodded, "I was planning to come anyway... Need to hear the talk of the town."

She beamed, "Happy to hear that! We'll see you then, mister Six!"

"Mhm. Safe day, miss Flova," He spoke, then stepped away. His next objective was the Dungeon. And this time, he was gonna hang around for a bit, honestly. He needed the exercise and he had the food to boot, so he walked in and just started clearing the place again. He'd met a few harder creatures this time around, but still stuff that you'd find in the Upper Levels. No more luck or big monsters. Good. He needed the easy battles to clear his head this time around.

Somehow, he felt a bit guilty for leaving Hestia alone as he did. He could easily make it up to her, though. And he knew just how...

Helmet off his head as the evening breeze blew in their faces, Six marched beside a skipping, happy Hestia toward the Hostess of Fertility. The girl had the biggest, dumbest grin on her face as she bounced from one foot to another and sang "To dinner with Odell~... I'm going to dinner with Odell~..." rather jovially, if a hint whispered. She didn't have a bad singing voice, Six thought.

He saw Syr waiting for him in the doorway. She bounced up, smiling, then paused for a moment as she saw Hestia, but regained her smile, though it seemed a tad forced now. She greeted, "Hello, mister Six! And hello to you, miss!"

"Hello, miss Flova. This is the Goddess I'm in a contract with. Hestia," The man stated.

Syr paused for a moment, then hummed and the old, normal smile returned. She nodded and said, "Of course. Welcome to the Hostess of Fertility. Right this way," and she motioned to the inside with her right hand while holding an empty tray close to her chest with her left. The two stepped inside and, for a moment, the entire restaurant went quiet. Six scanned it and saw them. Several gruff faces, blades at their hips or on their backs. Beer, ale or other various alcohols on the tables in pint cups made of wood that resembled barrels in their shape and design. Food also lay on the tables.

There was an empty table in the middle. Six ignored the stares, which soon returned to their own tables as they began laughing, talking, drinking and eating again. The Spartan, helmet under his arm, approached the counter with Syr and a still-happy Hestia. Behind it, the two saw a tall woman, just about Six's height, surprisingly enough. She was buff, well-built and certainly had handsome features. Her brown hair was caught in a ponytail and she wore a blue comfortable dress with a white apron. Turning to face the Spartan and Hestia, she paused for a moment, then hummed and squinted.

"... You Syr's friend?" She then asked.

He paused and hummed. Friend, huh? "... I guess you could say that, yes. Name's Six and this is Hestia, the Goddess I work with," The man introduced himself. Beside him, Syr beamed brightly.

She turned, then hummed as she gave him a once-over... And she smirked and extended her hand, "Pleasure to make yer acquaintance, lad. I'm Mia Grand, though most folks call me Mama Mia because of the amount of strays I take in as my own kids," to which the Spartan firmly gripped and shook. She had the strength of a Supersoldier behind that hand, if he felt it right. She motioned to the seats and said, "Syr told me you may be coming with the armor on, so..."

The Spartan looked at his own stool and saw it was... Metallic. He knocked on it and heard the telltale ring of probably steel or some other resilient metal.

Mama Mia smirked, "Like it?"

"It's... Interesting..." The Spartan remarked, "What kind of metal is it?"

"Eh. Random steel," She shrugged, watching as the man actually sat himself down and set his helmet aside. Turning back, the woman hefted two plates full of what looked to be noodles in a red sauce, setting them in front of the Spartan and his Goddess. The man looked at the massive portion, his stomach rumbling, then looked to the woman who gave a thumbs up.

"... I... We... Wha-" He doubled over.

"Don't worry, pal," She smirked, "We know how much big folks eat," and she patted her own gut, then let out a hearty laugh before she gave him a thumbs up, to which he sghed and turned toward Hestia... Who was already devouring her plate. He shook his head, rolling his eyes. Of course, she'd do that. He surrendered for the moment, took his own fork and started digging in, ever-protesting the arrival of more food on the counter.

It seemed that being friends with Syr was a great boon for getting good service. Still, he had to pay.

Some minutes later, the Spartan had finished three plates and a shared platter full of random meats and was making calculations in his head over what he had to pay. He spun Emile's Kukri, balancing it on its tip and on the counter as he calculated. He looked to Mama Mia and said, "Apologies, but it helps me focus on my calculus..." to which she smirked.

"It's fine, lad," She waved it off, "It's a nice knife."

"Thanks... Belonged to a friend..." he sighed, then stopped its spinning as his calculations reached somewhere around ten thousand Valis for the entire meal plus the multitude of ale pints he'd drunk. Lifting the knife and looking at its curved blade, he murmured to himself, "Whenever this thing came out, someone fucking died... Sorry now's not the case, Emile..."

He sighed, then ran the knife gently across his left gauntlet's fingers, before doing a flourishing trick and sheathing it quickly, then he heard someone call out, "The reservation's here!"

Turning, he saw a redhead woman with a proud smirk and a rather revealing adventurer's blue and black outfit appear through the door. She waved, "Hello, Mama Mia! We're here!" and she stepped forth. Several other members, including two tanned, beautiful girls, one with shorter hair, the other with long, both wearing revealing outfits as well, as well as a grey-haired cat-person of some kind that walked in with a chip on his shoulder. Behind him was a small boy with short blonde hair and, finally, behind him, was a familiar face, side-by-side with a green-haired elf in a mage's outfit.

Ais Wallenstein.

"Welcome, welcome! Glad to see the Loki Familia swinging by again!" Mia laughed, somehow shutting up some of the more lecherous pigs in the group that were shouting all kinds of obscenities... Until they realized that was the Loki Familia.

Six hummed, then slowly turned back to what remained of their dinner and started eating again. Hestia stared for a moment at the Familia. Loki, huh? He saw her frown for a moment, before turning back to her food. That was strange, but better ignored. Again, getting too involved with any local, even the Goddess that provided him her Falna-her blessing-out of an idea that he was going to go home.

He sighed, lifted a freshly-poured mug of Ale, then said, "Mama Mia, please. I think I've had enough alcohol for the day," and he flashed her a somewhat forced smile.

She chuckled, "Sorry, kid. You just look like you need it."

Well, she wasn't wrong. He shrugged, then nodded and sipped the drink, his ears focusing on the Loki Familia table. He hadn't heard anything interesting beyond the standard gossip the entire night. Even some words about the 'lucky new kid'. Him, presumably. Not a lot of them were bad, but not a lot of them were good, either. He felt an elbow hit his own and turned to his left.

"You okay?" Hestia asked, seemingly worried.

He nodded, "Just fine. Listening for info..."

"On?" She raised a brow.

"Anything weirder than the usual of this town," He replied calmly, "A way home... That kind of thing..."

"Ah..." She hummed, then turned to her food and continued eating, seemingly bummed. They'd talk at home. Right now, though? His ears picked up the catboy's words.

"... And then our Sword Princess over here," He clapped a hand on her shoulder, grinning a toothy, fang-filled grin, "Tells me she ran into that rookie that's been talk of the town, armor and everything! Bastard was mad enough to go toe-to-toe with the Minotaur and kept it occupied just enough for our lady over here to put a blade through its back and finish it off!" and he then laughed, "I'll be damned, new kid must be suicidal!"

The entire table, save for the green-haired elf, Ais and the blonde boy let out a laugh.

"Bete," Ais spoke, pushing his hand off her shoulder.

"C'mon, Ais! You saved the guy's backside!" The man laughed, "You can be proud of it! He owes you!"

"He owes me nothing," Ais replied, "I saw him fighting."

"And?" The youngster asked, looking at her.

"He'd removed one of the Minotaur's hands. Put several wounds into it," She stated, crossing her arms to her chest, "And seemed just about ready to finish it himself."

"He's a level one, Ais," Loki, presumably, remarked, "He can't be that tough."

"There's something about the way he fought..." She sighed, then started, "Never-" and she froze. She and the Spartan had locked eyes at just that instant and she seemed stuck for a moment, taking the sight of him without a helmet in. He hummed, somewhat surprised, then nodded calmly and turned to eat. Bete looked over to her, then tracked her gaze to the man himself.

He grinned, "Well, speak of the Devil..." and he stood up.

"Bete," Ais started annoyedly, glaring at the boy despite her deadpan face.

"Bete, sit down and let the man eat," The young boy seemingly ordered, turning to see him himself. The eyes of the entire place were on them.

"Oh, calm down, folks. I'm just gonna go talk to him," He said smugly. He approached the Spartan, starting, "Hey, buddy! You the new kid?" and Six felt like the girl didn't get the message about not talking about him to anyone. Sighing as he felt Bete's hand slam against his shoulder plate, he looked over to the catboy with a stare that somewhat surprised him. He chuckled awkwardly, then asked, "You good there? You look like you're one too many ales in for the night."

He looked at his cup, then said, "Looks like it to me, too..." Then he set the cup down on the table. He turned to face him, then stated, "Bete, huh?"

"That's me, yeah," He grinned, "So, is what Ais is telling us true? You went toe-to-toe with a damn Minotaur?"

"I was on level five... Aren't they only in the lower levels?" He inquired nonchalantly, , staring the catboy with silver hair square in the eye and not budging. He raised a brow at the Spartan, about to ask something, but he started, "I'm not accusing the Sword Princess of lying. It's just a statement of fact that Minotaurs have nothing to do on the Fifth Floor..."

The boy hummed, then stated with a hint of irritation in his voice, "May be so, but you had the bad luck of actually running into one."

The tension in the room was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife. Six hummed, then said, "Don't know what to tell you, friend... It's not likely that it happened. Maybe she saved some other guy."

"Nah, nah, nah," The man started, "She described the armor you wore, too..."

Six sighed, "Like I said. Don't know what to tell you..." Before he stood to his feet. He slid a purse full of Valis to Mia, then said, "The food and drink were amazing, miss Grand. Thanks. Goddess, let's go..." and put his helmet on, seemingly to the chagrin of the girl sitting at the Loki's table. The Goddess of their Familia stared, interested, before she gasped.

"... Hestia...?" She murmured, grinning ear to ear, "Oh, you gotta tell me about this at the upcoming Gods' Party..."

Hestia huffed, "Oh, no... You're right. Let's go... Thanks, mama Mia! Food was delish!"

"Hah. Happy to hear, Goddess," She nodded, smiling. She nodded to them, then turned back to work, cleaning the mugs.

Bete growled, then clapped a hand down harshly onto the boy's shoulder and started, "I was talking to you, New Kid!" and he gasped as the Spartan's armored hand wrapped tightly around his wrist. He turned slowly, staring the man in the eyes while he looked at his own grimacing reflection in the visor. The crackle of stretching ligaments and slowly-breaking bones echoed as the Spartan twisted his arm off to the side.

"And I think we were done the moment you came over..." He replied, his voice a deadpan. He growled, trying to lift his other hand and free the left, but the Spartan squeezed harder, stating, "So, I'm thinking we do things this way... You leave us alone... And you never have to see me again. Otherwise, if ya don't, I know humanoid anatomy well enough to rip someone's arm out of its socket... Cat-Boy..."

The man growled, "You'll-"

"That's enough," Hestia protested, grabbing onto Six's arm and pleading, "Please, let's go home..."

He looked over to see Loki coming. The redhead goddess ordered, "Bete, leave'em be. Ais's reque... Y'know, to Hel with it, it's an order..." and she turned to Six, stating calmly, "If you let my guy go, I won't declare a War Game and wipe your lil' Familia out, pal," Words to which Six hummed. New term to learn about at home, then. He scoffed, then let Bete go and glared at him from behind the visor as the man rubbed his wrist. He turned to Loki.

"Don't worry... You won't be seeing us any time soon,' He stated, then turned to leave, taking Hestia with him.

Loki turned to Bete, then said, "Nice going, dumbass. You pissed him off."

"How's that my fault...?" The man murmured, rubbing his hand. He glared at them, then growled...

This little humiliation wasn't the end...