Inside Apollo's mansion, the atmosphere was lively as ever, lit by golden lanterns and polished marble that caught and multiplied every flicker like trapped sunlight. Apollo reclined on a velvet chaise, swirling pale wine in a crystal glass—the image of leisure, as if the world existed solely for his amusement.
The front doors opened, and a figure stepped inside—cloak dusted from travel, posture tight with coiled tension. He dropped to one knee before the god without ceremony.
"My lord," the spy said, breath steady but urgent. "Today, I saw him leaving Miach's shop."
Apollo's expression shifted—not triumph, not excitement, but something colder. Curiosity honed into calculation.
Freya. Hephaestus. And now Miach.
Too many gods paying attention to the same person.
Under normal circumstances, Apollo wouldn't have cared for someone so obscure — someone who barely even showed his face in public. But after hearing the whispers — that someone had slain Goliath with a magic weapon — Apollo understood. A man with such a weapon could no longer be ignored.
Craftsman or not, Luthar was capable of arming an entire Familia alone.
One man with the power to shift alliances, economy, strength, and even a Familia's standing within Orario.
Apollo leaned back, gaze distant, weighing risk against opportunity. To steal him from Freya outright would be suicide. He needed allies—a foundation strong enough not to collapse under her heel.
Once the idea took shape, he turned to an attendant.
"Go to Ishtar," Apollo ordered. "Tell her I have business to discuss."
His mind already surged ahead, planning, calculating.
The messenger bowed and ran, unaware that every step carried him closer to death.
Next apollo dismissed the spy while instructing him to continue observing Miach's shop—and to buy any unusual weapon discreetly should one appear.
While Apollo plotted, Cassandra stood quietly in the corner, struggling to steady herself. She looked pale and exhausted, her gaze fixed beyond the present—watching futures no one else could see.
She watched Apollo's confident smile with nothing but helpless pity.
Not as a friend.
Not as a rival.
But as a god walking willingly toward his own grave .
Seven days. Seven futures. Each one was different, yet every path ended in ruin. She saw blood on marble floors, smoke choking the halls, chains dragging down the people and Apollo's shining mansion ripped apart in a single violent blast.
She knew that even if she spoke, no one would listen—no one ever did.
So Cassandra turned away, fingers tightening around her shawl, already bracing herself for the disaster only she could see coming.
Taking a quiet breath, she slipped from the room without a sound. The voices behind her faded into careless celebration as she crossed into the living area, eyes searching with urgent purpose. She sought only one person—the only one she truly cared for in the Apollo Familia.
She found Daphne near a long couch, arms folded, expression bored and half annoyed. Cassandra hesitated, then forced herself forward.
She would have to measure every word.
"Can we talk somewhere quiet?" she asked, tone light and casual, though her eyes betrayed the truth.
Daphne saw the tension beneath her calm and understood immediately: another prophecy. Another nightmare. She did not argue—only nodded, following Cassandra through the silent corridors to her small, private room. The door closed softly behind them.
Ten minutes later…
The room was still. Daphne sat on the bed's edge, hands clasped, absorbing every detail Cassandra had shared. She was not afraid—not because she doubted the dream, but because she recognized the danger if Cassandra was right.
"I still don't think that red-priest can do something like that," Daphne said quietly, voice steady but guarded. "But if Apollo provokes Freya, then yes—none of us will see another day."
She was confident that one person could never crush Apollo Familia even with the magic and weapon. But Freya was a different case —with a single word her entire family would start killing everyone in Apollo Familia.
Daphne did not believe in prophecy.
But she believed in Cassandra.
If Cassandra said Apollo would fall, then he would fall—the identity of the executioner was merely a detail.
She studied Cassandra's pale face a moment longer, usually she wod a just tumble till she pressure her to speak but now she was proactively looking for her and talking about these things.
"You don't need to worry too much," she said gently. "If things turn bad, we could just leave Orario for short time and Lay low. Return once it's over."
Cassandra's grip tightened around her sleeve. Her voice was soft but clear enough to hold Daphne's attention.
"There is one possibility," she murmured. "A woman named Natasha. I saw her in my dreams. She always helps us. I believe she may be able to save us both."
Daphne blinked—uncertain, yet willing.
"Then we'll look for her," she decided. "This weekend we'll ask the Guild staff. If she's an adventurer or a new resident, they'll know."
Of course, both of them understood how difficult it would be to obtain information from the Guild.
On the other hand, if Cassandra's visions were true—Natasha existed, and they would eventually find her.
Daphne took Cassandra's hand, grounding her.
"You don't have to worry too much. If we can't find her, we just take a quest, leave the city, and return after a few months," she said, trying to comfort Cassandra.
Hearing this, Cassandra nodded, feeling lighter. Daphne had not rejected her—and that alone was enough. Now they only needed to survive the coming month.
As for Natasha—Cassandra's hope—she and her team were already outside the city.
Originally, their documents were supposed to be submitted directly to the Guild, but after discussion, they decided to hide the fact that they were teleported inside—keeping the teleportation device secret for a little longer. As for registration, this was easier; as long as they entered through the main gate like normal people, they could register like any other ordinary newcomers without raising suspicion.
Author's note: So this month I uploaded a sample of a new story, which is also 40k on Patreon. Depending on the support, I might continue or just end up writing one or two chapters a month, as I already have the Taking a Battleship to Fantasy World, which while it hasn't generated any money, it has study updates, same as TPM. Basically, each novel is currently being uploaded twice a week. As for if I can continue at this pace, it all depends on the people who are supporting and actually enjoying the story. Enjoying is more important since if nobody is enjoying it, even if people donate, I won't feel any good.
https://www.patreon.com/Silvervir?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator