Freya's smile thinned. It wasn't that she couldn't see the mask— But who, in their right mind, would interfere with their own vision?
"So cautious," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can you even sleep with that much fear inside your heart?"
Luther didn't answer. His fingers moved across his workstation, typing silently.
Hephaestus let out a long breath, slow and weighted. Her voice struck like steel on an anvil.
"Enough games Stop selling those weapons, And stop draining the markets. You're making life miserable for every blacksmith in this city."
Her tone hardened.
"Whatever Omnissiah you serve—it doesn't rule here. This city answers to the gods."
Luther didn't flinch. His voice was calm, flat.
"If that's what you want, then I'm already prepared to leave."
He stepped back from the bench, methodically wiping his hands. Then, he met her eyes. The red lens of his mask gleamed, cold and impersonal.
"I should be able to pack up everything in a week," he said. "As for the shop—it'll be shut down today. You've got your answer. Now you can leave."
Hephaestus felt pressure behind her eyes—less from anger, more from the strain of knowing this wasn't the end. Shutting his shop in Orario was a shallow solution. Luther's reach extended further—other towns, merchant, even foreign factions. The kind of groups who would happily buy weapons if it meant power. If war came to Orario, it might be with his creations.
She took a step forward, lowering her voice.
"We just need you to limit the quantity of dangerous weapons. Register them with the Guild," she said. "Why can't you understand this simple thing?"
"Because there is no benefit," Luther answered, soft and cold.
"Benefit?" Her voice tightened. "You're smart enough to know if you followed the rules, it wouldn't cut your profits. You'd just sell fewer pieces at a higher cost."
Still, he said nothing.
Then, a quiet voice broke the tension.
"Is that really all you see, Luther?" Hestia stepped forward, carrying a tray with drinks. Her usual warmth had cooled into something more serious.
"I didn't think you'd be that kind of person who only care about benefit."
Hephaestus adding her own voice.
"Do you even care what becomes of this place in the future?"
Luther finally moved. He tilted his head, weighing their words.
"When did selling better weapons become a reason for condemnation? You and your friend seem to have been selling them for a very long time."
Freya let out a breath, half-chuckle, half-sigh.
"I think both of you are missing the point."
She turned to Hephaestus, her tone wrapped in silk but lined with steel.
"Luther doesn't care about money and So why are he is so desperate for these resources?"
Her eyes lingered on Luther, scanning him as if trying to solve a riddle.
"Figure that out," she said, softly, "then we can have a better solution."
Then, more directly:
"Why don't you just tell me so I can help you?"
Luther was silent for a long moment. Lying wouldn't work here—not in front of gods. So he spoke.
"I'm afraid."
The room stilled. His voice was low but clear.
"I've run from things a thousand times worse than any black dragon. Just knowing about them is enough to shatter a mind. I've never seen them—only know about them—this is also why I'm still alive. Who knows if one day some unknown force decided to put me front of them like a breakfast?
His hands curled at his sides.
"So I build. Because that's what I was taught. If I must face them again, I want weapons—tools—to protect myself."
A quiet passed. Then Freya stepped forward.
"Then why not fight?" she asked. "Join my Familia. Kill monsters. Become strong enough that those nightmares can't touch you."
Hestia followed up quickly as she didn't want to make such a good opportunity. if he join her, she don't have to worried about weapons for bell
"Or join me," she said. "You wouldn't have to face it alone. And I wouldn't have to worry about money anymore."
Hephaestus's eyes scanned the room—the sarv arms on the ceiling, sarv skulls floating around, the tools, and the wasted parts.
"Instead of burning resources on a future that might not exist ," she muttered. "Why not make something that helps, like—prosthetics? You'd make more money. with blessing you can make better weapons."
Luther answered, almost too quietly.
"Did you forget already I have already put a list of different services? it just people are more interested in weapons."
He looked at the three goddesses, one by one.
"As for joining a Familia, You want me to trust someone who is just here to have fun?"
Hestia puffing her cheeks " I am not having any fun here. Then she rays her finger. "instead of judging gods without joining a Familia you should try out and let your heart judge."
While Freya was still thinking Hephaestus, finally deciding to end this nonsense started to speak "if you are ready to trust me and join..."
Hearing this, Freya almost thought, what can she offer?"
His intelligence doesn't seem to be lacking, as for manpower. Judging by the style of her Familia, they might attack him before she can ask them to do anything for him.
Hephaestus stepped closer, her boots ringing faintly on the cold metal floor. With deliberate care, she extended her hand—calloused, warm, and honest.
Hephaestus continue "I've spent centuries shaping metal. If you're willing to listen to my advice and limit the weapon, I'll help you. With everything I have."
She met his masked gaze unflinchingly.
Her words hung in the air, weighty and real.
Luther stared at the hand for a long moment. The red lens of his mask reflected her face—patient and determined.
before he could answer Hephaestus. Freya stepped forward, each movement deliberate, a quiet invitation wrapped in silk. She ran her fingers down her side, brushing over the curve of her waist as though presenting herself.
"I want to be part of it—whatever you're building, whatever you're chasing. Let me linger at your side."
Her voice dipped, low and honeyed.
"And Prove that black dragon is not the greatest terror."
She turned, slow and fluid, her gaze sliding back over her shoulder.
"Prove it—and I won't refuse any of your desires."