The night was as dark as ink.
Outside the Bashe Mountain Range, the military camp had already ceased its drills.
Aside from a scant few patrolling soldiers, the rest of the combat personnel had returned to their tents to rest.
A shadow darted through layers of cover, swift as lightning yet light as a raven’s feather.
Hermes—the troublesome god who held countless secrets of Orario and its surroundings, yet always acted so flippantly—had now withdrawn all divine intent, even reducing his breathing to the lowest possible rhythm.
“Good grief…
I didn’t sense that wrong, did I?
The ten thousand soldiers in this camp are almost at Level 2 in strength?” Level 2.
Even in Orario, that qualified one as an upper-tier adventurer, a backbone combatant worthy of being granted a title by the gods.
Ten thousand Level 1s and ten thousand Level 2s were entirely different concepts.
Not to mention, judging by this trend, Rakia’s other combat personnel would likely break through to this stage very soon as well.
At that point, it would be a hundred thousand Level 2s.
Excluding the Loki Familia and the Freya Familia, that force could practically drown all of Orario, could it not?
Of course, even a hundred thousand Level 2s were still insufficient in Hermes’ eyes to truly shake Orario’s status.
At the very least, for the Level 6s and Level 7s under the Twin Kings, they were not an insurmountable enemy—merely one that would require more time and effort.
But if Rakia went on to cultivate large numbers of soldiers comparable to Level 3, Level 4, or even Level 5…
then the balance of offense and defense might truly reverse.
“Though that should be Loki’s, Freya’s, and Ouranos’ concern.
What does it have to do with me, a neutral information broker?” At worst, I’ll just switch sides.
I’ll stand wherever things are more interesting!
With his signature wicked grin curling at his lips, Hermes tapped lightly across one tent after another, as if probing for something worthwhile.
Under the moonlight, his smile stretched to his ears.
“Let’s see…
water with living aura, this stone seems suspicious too, such vigorous biological flesh and blood—oh?
And here’s a cultivation notebook, and armor forged from special materials.
My friend, I’m sorry…” His ten fingers danced, sweeping through like a gale.
Another dozen or so minutes passed.
The shadow flitted back and forth through the camp, and at last, apparently satisfied, Hermes stuffed his pockets full and prepared to make his escape.
“My thanks for your generosity.
I’ll visit again next time…” Dodging one patrol after another, it was not until he had left the core area of the camp that Hermes smugly waved behind him, adjusted his direction, and prepared to leave Rakia to rendezvous with his familia at the border.
The next instant— A god descended from the heavens, wrathful and ferocious!
“HERMES!!!” The roar exploded like someone had stuffed a war drum into a cannon and set it alight.
The thief, laden with spoils, bolted to flee—only for a violent gale to crash down upon him.
The moonlight was torn apart by a crimson figure plummeting from the sky— Ares’ golden hair stood on end.
Crimson flames burst from the gaps in his armor.
He was like a burning warhammer, smashing straight toward the ground!
BOOM!!
Hermes only had time to freeze his trademark smile on his face before a punch blasted him into the earth.
His back plowed a trench nearly thirty feet long through the ground.
Stones flew.
Turf overturned.
“You dare steal right under my nose?!” Ares pinned down the brother with whom he had once played house among the gods, his knuckles cracking sharply.
With his other hand, he seized Hermes by the collar, lifting him until his feet dangled off the ground, teeth clenched in fury.
“I just strengthened my army, and you have the nerve to sneak in and steal?
If word gets out, where’s my dignity as Ares?!” “Wait!
I can explain—” “Explain my ass!” With a furious roar, what followed was a storm of iron fists.
Left hook.
Right hook.
Uppercut.
Warhammer-style smash downward…
Every blow struck flesh with dull thuds, like a blacksmith hammering raw iron in a forge.
The more Ares punched, the more heated he became.
Veins bulged at his temples.
Outside the camp, a curved trench was rapidly carved into the earth, dust billowing everywhere.
At the thought of nearly becoming the laughingstock of the gods again, he added another thirty percent to the force of his swings.
“Die for me!” The final axe-like chopping punch descended.
Hermes’ body was driven into the earth in the shape of a spread-eagle.
“Gaaah…” The battered thief’s eyes were unfocused, unconscious groans spilling from his swollen lips.
Even with his divine power sealed, a god’s inner divinity still offered slight protection.
Otherwise, after such a savage beating, Hermes would already have been forcibly returned to Heaven.
“Tch!” Panting heavily, Ares delivered one more kick before dusting off his hands.
Then he stepped forward into the shadows ahead, dropped to one knee, lowered his head, and clasped his fist in salute.
“Your Majesty, it was my negligence that allowed a petty thief to infiltrate the camp.
I await your punishment.” In the night, the figure of Sanjouno Haruhime emerged beneath the moonlight.
Her fox ears trembled slightly, yet within her pupils shone a deep golden radiance that did not belong to a young girl.
Tian’el, descending into his shrine maiden, stepped forward and arrived directly at this small battlefield.
Behind him, Deimos, god of fear, carried a miniature siege hammer over his shoulder.
The goddess Eris bit her finger as they watched with relish, all the subordinate gods witnessing Ares’ brutal beating of Hermes.
“Rise,” Tian’el said, glancing at Ares—whose ears were red to the tips, clearly humiliated and furious—before shifting an amused gaze toward the half-dead Hermes on the ground.
“How long do you intend to keep playing dead?” If he had not informed Ares beforehand that the man needed to be captured alive, Hermes might truly have been beaten to the brink of death, instinctively unsealing his divine power to defend himself and thus being forced back to Heaven.
As it was, these were merely fatal wounds.
For a god, circulating divine power within the body a few times would naturally restore mobility.
Tian’el lifted his right foot, originally intending to step on Hermes’ forehead.
But he suddenly remembered that he was currently descending through his shrine maiden.
Given the perverse tendencies of the Danmachi gods, that might very well be considered a reward.
Thus he stomped the ground instead.
The earth surged instantly.
Soil roiled upward, startling Hermes into coughing blood as he scrambled to his feet, terrified of being buried alive.
And so this extracted thief found himself surrounded by the gods of Rakia.
Under the moonlight, Eris and Deimos wore half-smiles.
Ares bared his teeth, flashing rows of white fangs, his knuckles cracking sharply once more.
“Hahaha…
Good evening, everyone.
Out for a midnight snack, perhaps…?” Hermes forced out an awkward laugh.
Sensing the atmosphere grow increasingly heavy, killing intent faint yet ever more palpable, Hermes decisively leapt into the air, spun three hundred and sixty degrees, then dropped flat to the ground in a tiger-pounce prostration and shouted: “I surrender!
I sincerely surrender!” “Boss!
Great God!
Your Majesty!
Please don’t kill me!!” Tian’el: “…” Looking at Hermes prostrated before him, he could not help recalling their first meeting—when Ares had likewise shouted ‘Father!’ Are the gods of this world all so utterly devoid of dignity?