44 The two sides of a coin- Heads.

The luminous sky shimmered above Orario graceful as ever, lighting up the darkest parts of the city in its gentle radiance.

And up there, lit up by the moon and candles- closest to the stars above- atop Babel was Freya's throne… vacant, lifeless.

And behind the throne was a room beyond lavish: a bed to the right draped in the creamiest of velvets; a bed huge beyond normal imagination. To the left were bookshelves filled to the brim with knowledge, precious enough to blaze wars. In place of the 'celling' was an aquarium housing fishes so beautiful; vibrant enough to put rainbows to shame. And at the center was a couch, a center table, and a mountain of a man sitting quietly in wait, his rusty eyes reflecting three glasses and a bottle of wine.

Ottar always believed, after so many years as her loyal companion, he had seen his Mistress's every color, expression, emotion, state- her fury, her laughs, excitement, her tears.

But it turned out he was dead wrong.

For the first time, he saw her not in control, not wishing to Have control.

Everything she ever gazed at- every one she ever looked at, his Mistress always had an aura of unmatched authority; of control- her eyes would always blaze in dominance, superiority be it Gods, or the world itself. Everything was hers to claim anytime she wanted, she just chose not to.

But not when she looked at him, described him.

In those moments, Freya was not the Mistress he knew since he was but a child.

That dreamy smile, those hazy eyes as she gazed at him- spoke about him as though she saw an equal in him.

Equal- that's the word, Ottar concluded. His mistress thought of him: an equal.

And the second he did, his mind as though exploded-

'For a being above Devine… For Mistress to think of a human boy as an equal? Just because of his soul alone? Indeed, he's shown enormous potential, rivaling that of The Silence in both combat and magic. But is potential enough? Is he a fabled Demi-God? But Mistress doesn't even put actual Gods in her eyes, then he is but a half-bred. So, just his soul alone? Is that all that makes him so special? Her equal? Or am I just not willing to accept it?'

It would've been one thing if Argus was his successor- her new companion, her favorite- Ottar wouldn't have such thoughts then. His Mistress was as the wind; nothing could ever hold her. He knew from day one that a time will come when someone else will take up his place by her side, but the boy was more than just his 'replacement'- it was as though she had found a… kindred spirit.

Ottar's own conclusions had long stolen his sleep away, if not for his Mistress's orders to keep him a secret and let him be, The King would've long knocked on Argus's doors just to see for himself- take a good hard 'look' at her so-called kindred spirit.

And what would the others do when they find out about Argus? Surely, they will never harm him, but his existence is bound to cause more than just sparks.

And so, after making the nth circle around his thoughts, The King's eyes spared the third glass at last before turning to the starry sky to the left.

"Argus Hale" he murmured the cause of this shift in the wind, "Argus from the Hall of Heroes, huh? Maybe you're one they wanted… 15 years ago."

Another tale, another spiral of thoughts- conclusions to reach- A dive he didn't get to make-

-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP…

Footsteps he couldn't be more familiar with approached the golden black doors, but the rhythm was anything but familiar.

"She's here," Ottar whispered as he stood up and stood straight, but his brows couldn't help but scrunch a frown, "She's alone?"

His question was answered the next second as the doors opened, only to spawn even more.

"Mistress…"

But Freya's, his Mistress's eyes never steered his way as she brisked in. The lips which always adorned a smile of control were parted in a child-like grin, eyes fixated on the inky sky.

While Ottar was just left standing there, shoulders slumped, gaping at what just happened. For the first time, she ignored him.

"Mistress," he called out again.

It was as though snapping from a trance, Freya finally noticed the 6 feet tall man standing in her bedroom, "Ah! Come, darling… Witness him in all his glory!" She spoke, walking past the stunned King.

The lifeless throne came to life the second Freya took her place. And the moment she did, her riveting violet eyes shimmered a silvery glow as they scanned the skies for him: and there he was- a shooting star, the brightest of all, soaring through the night sky, nearing Soma Familia.

'Just in time~' Toes curled, she giggled as though her pizza had arrived.

But Ottar needed answers. Just as he opened his mouth to speak-

"Wondering why I came back… empty-handed?" Freya read him like an open book without even looking his way.

A sigh then escaped her lips as her shoulders slouched, sinking into soft cushions while her eyes followed her shooting star, "Simply put… I waltzed with my head held a little too high and tripped on a mountain I thought was a pebble."

"Then give the word and, that mountain shall be no more," he replied, presenting her a wineglass.

A chuckle- a forced one replied to him as her fingers curled the wine. But her next words froze the strongest where he stood as Freya gazed his way, "Not even a thousand of you could ever harm a single speck of the mountain I speak of," sighing she then brought the red to her lips, "But on the bright side… the chain of events she flicked shall answer all your… questions."

"Mistress, I-"

"Come now, my dear… since when did you start keeping your thoughts from me?" While Freya chuckled.

And not even a second later, out of the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of bright firework rushing up to the sky, setting her heart on fire as she gasped, "Look! It has begun! Oh, and… he just slew a Level-1"

"So soon? Shall I send-"

"No need~ He won't disappoint me… I'm certain of it!"

And she was right- he didn't.

Souls after souls he sent hurling above, steeling her belief like a blacksmith at work- deaths be the hammer.

Each time he killed, Freya's toes would curl tighter, her heart would pounder harder, her cheeks would take a shade deeper, her trembles would intensify, turning her calm breaths into panting gasps as she witnessed fireworks after fireworks disappear into the sky.

The wineglass had long slipped out her fingers- not even Ottar noticed it as Freya counted him every soul her kindred spirit sent into the afterlife.

And there came a point when she-

"Auh~ Forty-seven!" She moaned, trembling on her throne, hands clamped tight in her thighs.

'I was so right!'

He did exactly what she would've done- acted exactly how she would've. Freya wouldn't have been satisfied with just ending the ones who touched what belongs to her, she would've made sure the whole damn city understood- One doesn't just touch what's mine, and live.

And come morning, the whole damn city will…

But it was a shame though- such a shame he couldn't do that one particular thing she certainly would've- End the system altogether.

Soon, a moment came when the skies turned clear. Hundreds of souls surrounded his's but not one dared to come close, allowing her a chance to catch her breath, but her now sore cheeks never lost the hazy grin.

A second of hesitation followed- what if she took her eyes off and missed a spectacle?

A spectacle- A whimsical thought- An impossibility.

But even without it, she… they both now had their answers.

Finally stealing her heart, Freya took her eyes off the sky at last, and with a smile so captivating, she asked, "Still… uncertain?"

While The King just stood there dumb- just the thought of a rookie Non-Leveler annihilating a legion of Level-1s headed by a Level-2 was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine, even the King himself.

"Ottar?"

"That just proves… his potential. I do not see how he is…"

A heart-melting smile curved her lips as she stood up, "Oh, patience, my dear Ottar… I understand how you feel," She smiled, a palm on his chest, "But right now, we make our move."

'The show is over' she thought. The battle had reached a stalemate; no one dared to enter the mansion any longer. And at the center of the encirclement of hundreds stood her kindred spirit, uncontested- tall as the heavens, daring them all to come close.

'You've done enough, my love.'

"Ottar, assemble the others," Freya said as she strode towards the door, "Soma has served his purpose."

Indeed, Soma had served his purpose- Argus had more than proven himself- and now it was her turn to prove herself to him; to prove her sincerity.

But an invitation was the last thing in her mind- 'I warn you'; the headache from those three words was still fresh in her mind.

'If I cannot claim him… then I'll just make it so he claims me instead'

The plan was simple- to aid Argus in his moment of need and gain his favor before That One made her move.

After all, even 'she' would be powerless if Argus himself chose Freya over her.

But luck truly wasn't on Freya's side tonight.

Just as she walked out of her room-

-BOOOM!!

A thick beam of light, colored in the deepest shade of blood, tore through the sky, drenching the starry sky in sickly red. That scarlet dye spared nothing: the city, the sky, her bedroom- even Freya herself doused in the red hue that Soma's death painted.

Clamors erupted throughout the city below, quaking the asleep awake- Mortals, Fairies, Spirits, Gods; all of them. Every pair of eyes this world had to offer- tinted in red, gaped at Soma's bloody ascend. More than half the city didn't even know what happened, and those who did, trembled where they stood.

Dense as spider webs, blood-red lightning roared up above, crackling every soul below. And soon, rain fell… not of water, but of blood; literally bathing the city red.

And there- closest to the storm, stood a frozen, tinted in red, and gaping Freya beside Ottar in the same state.

"He's killed a God!"

He didn't just render Freya's little plan a spectacular failure, he showed the whole world- no one touches what's his… No one- not even the Gods.

The next second, Freya's eyes caught sight of her 'glimmering shooting star' dashing across the bloody sky- snapping Freya out of her dumb-stun.

"Ottar!" she decreed, "Send our best healers in that direction… it's a Black Market Hospital, I believe- and I want you to destroy all evidence that might lead OPD to Argus!"

"A-at once!"

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.

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Freya wasn't the only one on a balcony, staring at the blood-storm Argus unleashed.

At the north-most corners of the city- in a balcony of her towery Twilight Manor, stood Loki agape. Those forever slit red eyes were stretched so wide as she glared at Soma's ascend; not even a shred of mischief was present.

"Just who the hell dared…" She hissed.

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.

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And in the north-east part of the city- governed by the Warrior Smiths, sat a crimson-haired Goddess in her workshop, gawking outside the window- churned by the shower of blood, 'pitter-pattering' on the window glass- For she knew... they all knew what that signified, for the first time ever, "A mortal has killed a God!"

.

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And there on the streets, streaming blood- stood another Goddess, letting the rain drench her red as she trembled- fists clenched, teeth gritted, her brown eyes raging as she glared up.

"Not matter what you have to do… That monster must not escape!"

"That I swear on my Falna, Lady Themis- Whoever he is… no one can protect him now."