At this moment, Marie carefully cradled a transparent crystal orb radiating a soft blue light in her hands.
It was a special magic item known as an Oculus, personally crafted by the mysterious "Sage" Fels, capable of long-distance communication and real-time video broadcasting.
At the same time.
In a secret, uncharted sanctuary hidden deep within the Dungeon.
A group of monsters—all wildly different in appearance, yet sharing the unmistakable gleam of intelligence in their eyes—gathered around a crystal orb, their expressions grave as they watched the broadcast.
The leader of the Xenos, a towering Lizardman covered in crimson scales named Lyd, furrowed his brow.
Through the footage transmitted from the 27th Floor by Marie's Oculus, they witnessed the entirety of the Loki Familia's clash with Childe, the sudden ambush by "Aiden," the Familia's devastating defeat and subsequent retreat, and the near-fatal crisis currently trapping Finn, Riveria, and the other executives.
"What do we do, Lyd?"
Ray, a Siren sporting gorgeous golden wings, spoke up, her clear voice laced with worry.
Lyd remained silent for a long moment before finally coming to a decision.
"Let's contact Fels first," he said, his voice deep and resolute. "I've heard from him that the Loki Familia is one of the two strongest factions in Orario right now. If they get entirely wiped out down there, it's going to cause massive problems for the Guild, and for Lord Ouranos."
A sharp glint flashed through Lyd's eyes.
He had always been the leader of the pacifist faction, advocating for peaceful coexistence with humans.
He firmly believed that not all humans were bloodthirsty butchers, and that the relationship between their races didn't have to be limited to an endless cycle of killing and being killed.
And right now, the perfect opportunity had presented itself.
If they helped the Loki Familia, humanity would owe them a massive favor.
Furthermore, Ouranos was the benefactor of all the Xenos; without the god's protection, the peace they currently enjoyed would have never existed.
It was finally time for them to repay that debt.
Surprisingly, Gros the Gargoyle—the leader of the radical faction who harbored deep-seated distrust toward humans—did not voice his opposition this time.
He merely grumbled in his gravelly voice, "We're just passing along a message. It's not like we're throwing away our brethren's lives to save those humans. I can agree with Lyd's call on a minor issue like this."
Though he was a radical, his distrust was aimed at humanity's fickle nature. If they could force the humans to owe them a favor without risking their own skins, he wasn't foolish enough to object.
. . .
Labyrinth City Orario, Guild Headquarters. Outside the subterranean Prayer Room that never saw the light of day.
Fels, the enigmatic figure shrouded in black robes, stood before a desk as an Oculus suddenly began flashing urgently.
When he pressed his hand against the crystal orb and witnessed the battle footage recorded by Marie and relayed by Lyd, even the "Sage" who had lived for eight hundred years abruptly stood up from his chair. The silhouette beneath the cloak shuddered violently.
"Lord Ouranos, this is a disaster!"
Not daring to waste a single second, Fels rushed into the innermost Prayer Room, calling out anxiously to the ancient god resting upon the altar with his eyes closed.
"An abnormal situation has occurred with the Loki Familia! They've taken catastrophic damage in the Water Capital! The Braver, the Sword Princess, and the rest of their executives are trapped on the 27th Floor. The situation is incredibly dire!"
Hearing Fels's words, Ouranos's eyes snapped open.
Fels stepped forward, offering the Oculus radiating its soft blue glow.
Ouranos remained silent. He simply reached out and took the crystal orb.
The moment his fingertips brushed the Oculus, the tragic, bloody battle unfolding on the frozen lake of the 27th Floor played out vividly before his eyes, scene by scene.
He saw the man clad in the pitch-black Demon Lord Armament.
The frantic, masterful martial arts, the overwhelming strength that played with both Hydro and Electro elements effortlessly—it all caused Ouranos's gaze to harden with sheer gravity.
That raw power, existing purely for the sake of combat, reminded him of the past—of the legendary heroes from the Zeus and Hera Familias who had once defined an entire era.
Then, his gaze locked onto the white-haired figure standing atop the cliffs, unleashing devastating crimson slashes.
Ever since the incident with "Alise," he had instructed Fels to have the hidden Xenos secretly investigate the recent anomalies occurring within the Dungeon.
He knew the Dungeon was undergoing a metamorphosis.
But he never expected this "change" to arrive so swiftly, or be so incredibly lethal.
Before his investigation could yield any actionable intelligence, Orario's absolute premier exploration Familia had already run headfirst into an unprecedented catastrophe.
As a god, even if he was only viewing a recording, Ouranos instantly arrived at a conclusion.
The Loki Familia was trapped in a dead end.
Whether it was the "Childe" who simultaneously suppressed Finn and five other First-Class adventurers, or the "Flamescion" who effortlessly slaughtered the entire second-string vanguard while countering all forms of magic—their power had drastically eclipsed anything modern adventurers were equipped to handle.
Without a miracle, without a "variable" capable of shifting the tides of battle intervening, the Loki Familia's expedition was extremely likely to end in tragedy, with its core executives and leadership buried forever on the 27th Floor.
The resulting chain reaction would be a burden far too heavy for Orario to bear.
Ouranos remained silent for a long time, his ancient, weathered face betraying no emotion.
"Give this to Royman," he finally ordered, his voice slow, gravelly, and heavy.
"He will know what to do."
"Understood. I'll go at once."
Fels bowed silently, taking the crystal orb back from Ouranos's hand before slipping away into the shadows like melting ice.
The Prayer Room returned to its eternal, primordial silence.
. . .
Guild Headquarters, Guild Master's Office.
With a satisfied hum, the heavy doors of the office were pushed open from the outside.
An elf, so incredibly obese he resembled a sphere, strolled in, his face glowing with a ruddy, jovial flush.
This was the Guild Master, Royman Mardeel.
Having just returned heavily laden from the hedonistic casinos of the Fifth District, his mood was absolutely stellar.
The valis he had won was enough to add several expensive new pieces to his collection, a thought that left him in utterly euphoric spirits.
However, when he habitually cast his gaze toward his desk—a massive piece of furniture crafted from premium wood, easily large enough for two people to lie down on—the joyful smile on his face instantly froze.
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