If Freya had smiled at Tsukihana any harder, Orario might have spontaneously combusted.
The goddess of beauty stood at the edge of the square like she had descended from a fever dream — silver eyes soft and predatory, smile languid, posture perfect, and not a single thread of tension in her immortal body. The world seemed to shift to make room for her, as though the air bent to accommodate a force of nature.
But Tsukihana didn't flinch.
She only tilted her head, tails flicking behind her with serene interest. "Freya-sama," she said, voice wrapped in silk and snowfall. "You're staring."
"And you're worth staring at," Freya replied without hesitation. "I was curious what kind of creature could disarm Ottar with a smile."
Behind her, the King of Warriors stood with his arms folded, as silent as stone. His eyes flicked between his goddess and the girl, a flicker of uncertainty breaking through his usual stoicism.
Tsukihana blinked slowly. "Oh? Was he disarmed? I thought he tripped over his own pride."
Someone in the crowd coughed. Another took a step back.
Freya's smile deepened. "You're not afraid of me."
"Should I be?"
"Everyone is. Even the gods."
The two stood there for a moment, a goddess draped in allure and a fox wrapped in winter. For a brief second, the city's noise seemed to vanish.
Then Tsukihana took a step forward — and Freya's eyes widened, just slightly. Barely perceptible. But it was there.
One step. That was all it took to shift the balance.
Bell stood nearby, absolutely failing to breathe.
I can't tell who's winning.
I think I'm losing just by watching.
He felt Ais beside him, tensing slightly. Even the Sword Princess knew something unspoken was happening — and that it had very little to do with rank or Falna. It was divine, ancient, coiled like a stormcloud of perfume and blood.
"You're not like the others," Freya finally said.
"And yet," Tsukihana murmured, reaching out with one clawed finger to lightly tap Freya's collarbone, "you look at me like I'm yours already."
Freya shivered.
Ottar stiffened.
Tsukihana grinned.
Dangerous, Freya thought. Delicious.
Later, Bell would remember the moment as the second most terrifying thing he had ever witnessed. (The first had involved Tsukihana petting a rampaging Minotaur like it was a confused housecat.)
As the goddess of beauty turned to leave, she offered a single parting glance over her shoulder.
"You'll come to my tower one day, little Queen," Freya said. "And when you do… I'll make sure the stars kneel too."
Tsukihana gave a polite bow. "I'll bring tea."
"And chains, I hope," Freya whispered, too quiet for most — but not for a fox's ears.
🌀 Meanwhile: The Dungeon Reacts
Deep below the city, something pulsed.
The Dungeon — vast, unknowable, alive — curled inward like a living thing that had just felt its predator approach.
Something ancient stirred beneath the lowest floor, a presence wrapped in silence and frost.
❝Nine. Nine again. Not again.❞
And the walls began to weep.
☁️ Back on the Surface…
"You did that on purpose," Hestia hissed, poking Tsukihana's side with both index fingers as they walked back to the inn.
"I do many things on purpose," Tsukihana replied, tail swishing smugly. "Could you be more specific?"
"You flirted with Freya! Freya! That's like poking a sleeping volcano while covered in oil!"
Tsukihana paused, tilted her head innocently, then whispered, "But I'm flameproof."
Bell tripped.
Lili groaned.
Even Hephaestus, who was halfway across the city, sneezed violently for no reason and muttered something about chaos incarnate.