It was, more or less, only the sort of stuff like school bullying.
For example, back in elementary school, he had once beaten up a boy who was bullying Nishimiya Shouko.
Or, say, fishing Menma out of the river when she accidentally fell in.
Or again, even after Konno Yuuki was forced to drop out of school because of “Incomplete Immune Syndrome,” still keeping in touch with her.
But at the end of the day, those things couldn’t necessarily be summed up as “justice” in any grand sense.
Thinking up to that point, Natsuka suddenly threw caution to the wind and went for broke.
“For me——”
“A harem!”
“That is a man’s true justice!”
“I want everyone to become my wings, so that they can all live happily!”
As he said this, his whole face was buried in the pillow, with only a pair of bright-red ears showing.
His tone, though, was unusually resolute — like he was psyching himself up, and also like he was barely propping up the last shred of his dignity.
Yes.
The young Natsuka had, in fact, once been hooked on harem fantasies and the like.
Back in those days, he had genuinely thought about how to capture the hearts of girls.
And now.
Having this kind of dark history dragged up in front of him to his face was practically like being peeled open for a public execution.
So embarrassing.
Way too embarrassing.
So embarrassing his whole self was practically contorting.
Still, social death — first time it kills you, second time you’re used to it.
Losing face in front of a god, it seemed, was something one could slowly grow accustomed to as well.
After a little while, Natsuka finally calmed down somewhat, secretly nudged the pillow aside just a crack, and snuck a look at Astraea’s reaction.
What met his eyes wasn’t disgust, nor mockery.
It was a very gentle, very tolerant smile.
“Justice is as plentiful as the stars in the sky.”
“There was once a child who said that beauty itself is a kind of justice, too.”
“As for a harem…”
Astraea deliberately paused, a smile in her eyes.
Inside her heart, she had already overlapped the youth before her with the shadow of that captain who had once been lost.
If that child had been a boy, she might well have said something like this in pretty much the same tone.
She might even have actually gone and done it for real.
“Say, Natsu-chan.”
“You chose me — does that mean you’re also counting me among your conquest targets?”
Astraea suddenly lifted a hand and gently patted Natsuka on the head, her voice teasing.
On the spot, Natsuka’s face went even redder.
Seeing that kind of reaction, the goddess was like someone who had discovered an interesting new toy, her smile deepening even further.
Right after that, she slowly let drops of her divine blood fall onto Natsuka’s back.
A flash of white light unfurled in an instant.
Composed of holy script, the [Falna] began to surface, etch itself, and take form upon his skin.
It was a kind of power that turned the body into numerical values, converted experience into growth, and allowed one to, step by step, smash through one’s vessel-limits.
[Divine Falna].
Compared to those power systems in the Myriad Heavens and Myriad Worlds, where people would, at the drop of a hat, soar straight into the sky, its rate of growth wasn’t particularly fast.
But the value of it had never lain in explosive bursts.
It lay in the shaping of one’s “aptitude.”
Translated into a xianxia world, it was like directly helping you reforge your spiritual root and bone foundation.
And within the definition of ‘DanMachi,’ it was equivalent to letting mortals, in the process of leveling up, continually draw closer to the gods.
Without a doubt.
The combat strength of the gods in this world might not be exaggerated to absurd levels, but their lifespans were ridiculously long.
As far as that tiny “harem” wish of Natsuka’s was concerned, this kind of system was already plenty enticing.
Soon enough, Astraea pressed a sheet of parchment against his back.
The holy script on it was automatically transcribed into the common tongue.
Natsuka took it and stared at it for a long while, mentally itching to complain.
This damned thing, complicated like some mutant variant of English, still seemed to contain traces of Latin, but different enough that I couldn’t understand most of what was written — Honestly, I’d rather you just showed me the sacred text directly.
At least that stuff still looked like some distant relative of the country I come from language family.
After fiddling with it for quite a while, he finally managed to roughly decipher his own stats.
LV.1.
Strength: I0.
Endurance: I0.
Dexterity: I0.
Agility: I0.
Magic: I0.
“Magic”.
[Descender] Gatemaster.
Spatial, summoning, and construction magic.
After expending mental energy, can temporarily open a spatial passage.
With the aid of a medium, briefly pull an object or a life form across.
The scale of the gate depends on the amount of magic.
Can also permanently consume other stat values to perform permanent summons.
Chant:
Cornerstone of the world, end-point of space and time, the double heavenly fate is inevitability itself, shine forth, O heroic spirits of the Myriad Heavens and Myriad Worlds, heed the call of the Descender!
Constellation of Stars, gather here!!
Dispel:
The world has rejected me.
“Skills”.
[Mystery Yearning].
Precocious in the direction of Mystery.
Possesses the development ability [Mystery] by default.
[Mystery]’s rate of growth gains a hyper-domain bonus in accordance with the target of yearning and the intensity of obsession.
[Wings of Justice].
Capable of inheriting the stat values of fellow Familia members.
What is inherited depends on the other party’s affection.
The range of inheritance is 0%-50%.
One magic.
Two skills.
Placed against the average line for transmigrators, it could only be called not bad — but it hadn’t yet reached the exaggerated, sky-defying realm.