From the Deepest Depths of the Abyss
Emerged the evil that corrupts the world,
cloaked in shadow and scorn,
devouring all in its path.
Orario shall burn in flames,
and bloodthirsty monsters,
driven by lust for slaughter,
invaded the hearts of men,
leaving only despair and pain.
...
Visions of an unavoidable disaster once again haunted the dreams
of a young girl fearful of a cruel future.
...
Upon waking, a muffled scream escaped her lips. Cassandra clutched her chest tightly, which rose and fell in frantic rhythm. Tears of anguish streamed down her cheeks, soaking the sheets.
Her breathing was erratic—in the worst way. She was gasping for air, like a fish out of water, and her entire body trembled uncontrollably.
She shut her eyes, trying to recover from the shock, but all she could see in that darkness was a symbol carved in fire—pressing against her soul, filling her with dread.
A beautiful young woman entered the room, radiating a strong aura, her face visibly worried. She wore a nightgown that clung softly to her skin, and a fresh, fruity scent filled the air.
"Cassandra?!"
The moment she saw her dear friend in a catatonic state, she understood immediately what had happened. It wasn't the first time she'd seen that fear in her eyes...
Although Daphne didn't particularly like the way Cassandra acted after having her prophetic dreams, ever since what happened on the 27th floor, the least she could do was show her a little compassion.
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms gently around Cassandra's neck. The girl flinched like a frightened rabbit, but little by little, the trembling subsided, and her frantic breathing began to steady.
"It's alright... none of that has happened yet," she whispered calmly, her voice full of quiet confidence, close to Cassandra's ear before pulling away.
Cassandra's cheeks flushed red, like ripe tomatoes, and her eyes instinctively turned away from Daphne's gaze.
Unbothered by her friend's sudden wave of embarrassment, Daphne sat at the foot of the bed and looked out the slightly open window, her mind drifting vaguely to the landscape.
Outside the window, a few buildings of Orario could be seen, and on the horizon, a tower rose, almost touching the sky. The first rays of morning sunlight were beginning to appear, bathing the city—her home—in golden splendor.
Daphne turned her head to look at her friend and gave her a gentle smile. "Are you going to tell me what you saw, or will you make me wait all morning?" she asked after a moment.
"I... it's just..." Cassandra hesitated for a second before mustering the courage to tell Daphne what had happened. She began by reciting the poem, then described the visions that accompanied it.
"Orario was in flames and...itwas watching us, like it was enjoying it," her voice quivered as she spoke of the entity from her dreams.
Daphne frowned. "That doesn't sound good, Cassandra. Do you think this could be a warning—like, a premonition of something bad coming?"
Cassandra nodded. "I know it sounds crazy. But my prophetic dreams have always been accurate, and this time feels no different. There's something about that entity that terrifies me."
She let out a weary sigh.
The story Cassandra had told sounded surreal. More than a prophetic dream, it felt like a simple nightmare—one she had mistaken for a vision due to her strange ability.
But something about it wouldn't let Daphne rest easy. What if it came true, like the premonition of the Juggernaut? Could they avoid fate this time? How many would die in the process?
"Get dressed. We're going to see Miach-sama and tell him about your dream. Depending on what he says, we'll go speak with Cranel-san." She didn't need to analyze the poem in depth to know that the white-haired boy had to be involved in the prophecy.
Reckless, with dreams of becoming a hero so strong he'd risk his life—or even die—for his ideals... that definitely sounded like Bell Cranel.
...
The old, rusty bell above the pharmacy door jingled, announcing the arrival of customers.
Naaza set down the potions on the counter and tried her best to wipe the sleep from her face—after all, she didn't want to scare away potential adventurers likely gearing up for a trip into the dungeon.
Unfortunately, it was just Daphne and Cassandra. Naaza looked away, returning to the potions she was carefully diluting.
"Naaza-san, do you know where Miach-sama is?" Daphne approached the counter and asked.
"He's in the back..." Without lifting her eyes, Naaza nodded toward the rear door of the shop.
The adventurers quickly moved toward it without wasting a second, which caught the attention of the usually laid-back Naaza. She immediately set aside what she was doing and followed after them.
Knowing her god's kindness all too well, she didn't feel entirely comfortable letting two beautiful women approach him alone without her there to keep watch.
In that dimly lit storeroom, a dozen containers filled with raw materials were stacked one atop another. The acrid, herbal scent that filled the air was invasive, yet—surprisingly—it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, it felt rather invigorating.
These were the ingredients needed for brewing the potions later sold in the shop.
Miach stood in the center of the storeroom, holding a small notebook where he was logging inventory.
When he saw the trio enter, a smile formed on his face. "Perfect, Cassandra, Daphne—you're just in time. I have a new mission for you," he said, having just finished taking stock and realizing they were running low on the materials needed for the week's potion production.
Since the two had joined his Familia, the supply issues that had plagued the shop had eased considerably, much to his relief. He no longer had to rely on posting frequent guild missions, hoping some passing adventurer would spot the request and accept it despite the meager reward.
"Miach-sama, we need to speak with you. It's very important," Cassandra's face showed such deep concern that it immediately alerted the god. "I... I think something terrible is going to happen."
Naaza, standing to the side, retrieved Miach's notebook and hurried to close the shop. Mornings were usually the busiest time for sales, but no one stopped her—only confirming her growing unease.
...
Seated in the living room, Miach set his teacup down on the small table before him. Though it was still full, the tea had long since gone cold.
Ever since his daughter began recounting her strange dream, a feeling of dread and anxiety had settled over him—and not just him. Naaza, who had also listened to the story, had slightly wrinkled the bridge of her nose. It was a small gesture, one most wouldn't notice, but after all their years together, Miach recognized it instantly.
"It must be just a bad dream, right? This is Orario, probably the most powerful city in the world," Daphne said, still unconvinced by what she had heard and offering her take.
"Incarnation of death..." Miach whispered.
"Perhaps it refers to some god of death..." Miach murmured, bringing a hand to his chin as he analyzed the poem and the imagery described to him. "This could be very bad."
In the heavens, there were many gods of death tasked with purifying souls to allow their reincarnation. Some of them had personalities that could only be described as... dark.
"Evilus?" Naaza suggested.
"I'm not sure... Loki Familia has been cleaning out what's left of Evilus hiding in Knossos, but we can't rule them out," Miach replied, his tone heavy with worry. "It's hard to say for certain. But regardless, we need to be prepared for anything."
A city in flames, death, and chaos everywhere—it sounded like the beginning of a second dark age for Orario.
If Evilus was scheming behind the scenes once again, the very least he could do as a god was to be concerned. The last he had heard of that organization, they were being backed by several chaotic gods.
Though not necessarily evil, as they liked to call themselves, some of them merely sought entertainment, while others simply wanted to indulge their desires and roam freely in the lower world. However, their sense of morality was deeply distorted. The reason Miach couldn't condone their actions was simple: they placed innocent lives in the line of fire for their whims.
Naaza nodded silently, well aware of the weight the situation carried. "What do you plan to do?" she asked after a brief pause.
"Naaza, go to the Guild and report the premonition, take Cassandra and Daphne with you. After that, head to the Hestia Familia. I'll meet with Loki to ensure they prepare—just in case the worst is coming."
"About the eye..." Cassandra interrupted, her voice trembling. Each time she remembered how powerless she had felt under its gaze, she spoke as if it were something she shouldn't even name.
"Mmm... that is the strangest part—an eye that splits the sky and makes the world feel small," Miach mused, contemplating his own words until something clicked in his mind, a revelation that made him see the vision in a different light.
"Black Dragon..."
After those words left Miach's lips, silence fell over the room. There wasn't a single soul in Orario who didn't know of the Black Dragon. It was the last of the Great Quests—the executioner of the Zeus and Hera Familias, a being capable of annihilating adventurers at level eight and nine.
A one-eyed dragon!
"If Evilus is planning to unleash the Black Dragon... Orario will fall," Miach said grimly. "The Loki and Freya Familias aren't prepared for something of that magnitude."
The most powerful adventurer in Orario was Ottar, the Boaz, who stood at the peak of level 7. Meanwhile, most other top-tier adventurers barely reached level 6—creating a massive gap in strength compared to what Zeus and Hera's Familias had in their prime.
Back then, they had captains at levels 8 and 9, and entire squads of level 7 adventurers. Yet even with that power, they were utterly defeated. Their elites died in battle, and their gods were cast out—victims of Orario's political struggle for balance.
Finally, Daphne handed over the sheet of paper where Cassandra had sketched the strange symbol she had seen upon waking from her vision.
Miach glanced at the symbol, but nothing in his memory matched the emblem.
It resembled the crests that gods adopted for their Familias, yet he couldn't determine which entity it belonged to.
There were more gods in the heavens than he could count. Even in his immortality, after years of living among them, Miach still didn't know every deity in his own pantheon—let alone those from others.
Still, he tucked the paper into his robe, hoping that Loki or someone in her Familia might recognize it.
He stood and hurried toward the door, but paused just before crossing the threshold. "Let's hope it really was just a nightmare..." he murmured to himself before stepping out.
...
Suddenly, an elderly man with faded hair and a beard—worn by the weight of time—broke from his routine.
"Is everything alright, Ouranos?" Seated upon his throne beneath the Guild, Ouranos had ceased his usual prayer, catching the attention of Fels, who stood nearby.
"It's nothing... I just feel something is off, as if the world itself is on the verge of change."
It was a sensation that had been stirring in Ouranos since that morning, making it difficult for the god to focus.
"The Xenos report that the Dungeon's been stable lately. While it was a bit unsettled during its recovery from the damage on the 27th floor, things have gradually returned to normal," Fels reminded him.
"That's not it. This is something different," Ouranos said, shaking his head.
"This year, Orario has faced one crisis after another—something we haven't seen since the Dark Era: the revival of Evilus, the rising activity in Knossos, conflicts between Familias, the awakening of Antares, the Xenos... the birth of a Juggernaut."
It's as if all these disasters have been erupting one after another...Ouranos thought.
Fels nodded. "It's the weave of fate. Orario enjoyed peace for too long. Too many evils were left to fester, and now they've begun to surface again."
"Mnnn... Fels, head into the Dungeon. I need to be certain..."
Without another word, Fels left the chamber.
Ouranos returned to his prayer—the sacred rite he used to soothe the fury of the Mother, preventing monsters from escaping her depths and spilling onto the surface. Yet, the unease gnawing at him did not lessen in the slightest.
Like a worm crawling beneath his skin, the sensation stirred something deep within him, unsettling the ancient god in a way he hadn't felt in countless years.