The heavy doors of the mansion swung open with a rhythmic creak that echoed through the grand foyer, marking Draco's official return.
Following their emotional reunion at the gates, Bahamut led the way with a goddess's grace, her footsteps light against the polished marble.
Aasterinian trailed slightly behind, her blue eyes darting across the architecture with the curiosity of an apex predator exploring a new territory.
Draco paused just past the threshold, his breath hitching as he surveyed the interior.
The blueprints he had drafted and approved half a decade ago before his departure from Orario had been executed with precision, but the soul of the building had evolved in his absence.
While the structural integrity and the layout were very close to what he had envisioned, the "flavor" of the home had been seasoned by the hands of those who had lived there.
He noticed the subtle flourishes…..the warm, amber lighting that reminded him of a hearth fire, the floral engravings along the banisters, and the spirited, almost aggressive elegance of the tapestries.
It wasn't just a fortress; it was a home.
'Well, I should have expected as much from them,' Draco mused, a faint, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips.
He could practically feel the lingering energy of his siblings and the former Astraea members in the choice of decor.
It was a blend of justice-tempered steel and the vibrant, chaotic warmth.
However, as the initial awe faded, a strange sensation prickled at the back of Draco's neck.
He came to a halt, his head tilting slightly as he focused.
His ears twitched, catching the low hum of the magical tools and the distant whistle of the wind against the eaves, but something was missing.
The mansion was far too quiet.
He expanded his sensory perimeter, feeling for the rhythmic pulse of life.
But the vast expanse of the mansion felt hollow.
Aside from the presence of Bahamut and Aasterinian, the halls were empty.
For a Familia that boasted over fifteen members, the silence was deafening.
"By the way, where are the others currently?" Draco asked, his voice cutting through the stillness.
Bahamut stopped and turned, a weary sigh escaping her lips.
She looked around the cavernous hall, her expression a mix of pride and dejection.
"Sigh. Vasiliki forced everyone to go on an expedition around two days ago. They have yet to return," she informed him, her shoulders slumping slightly.
Being the sole guardian of such a massive estate was a duty she took seriously as a goddess, but it was a lonely one.
For a deity who thrived on the vibrancy and stories of her children, these past few days of solitude had clearly been a trial of boredom.
"An expedition, huh?" Draco muttered.
Instead of concern, a thrill washed over him.
He felt a surge of genuine joy knowing that his absence hadn't caused his familia to lose their edge.
In the cutthroat world of Orario, stagnation was a death sentence.
He had worried that without his direct oversight, the rapid growth they had experienced under his tutelage might have slowed or, worse, turned into complacency.
He was acutely aware that he had been one of the primary catalysts for their meteoric rise.
But five years was a long time to be away.
He wondered what heights they had reached.
Before his departure, most of the members were hovering around Level 4…..the threshold of a high class adventurer.
'Five years is a lot of time to grow,' Draco thought, his mind racing with calculations.
'It took them less than three years to go from Level 1 to 4. Given the momentum, a few should be approaching Level 6, or perhaps even Level 7 by now. If that's the case, I might actually have to step up my game just to stay ahead.'
An excitement bubbled within his chest, a primal urge to test himself against them.
However, that excitement was tempered by a sober realization.
His own growth had been… unconventional.
The treatment procedure…..the grueling process of forcing his body to mature into an adult dragon-kin…..had effectively put his excelia accumulation on ice for five years.
While the transformation had granted him a massive, instantaneous boost, elevating him from Level 5 to Level 7 in one fell swoop, it was still a theoretical loss.
'If I had maintained my normal trajectory of one or two levels a year… I could have been pushing Level 10 by now,' he mused.
He gave a self-deprecating snort.
'Perhaps the sickness and transformation were the world's way of stopping the birth of an overpowered character. A balancing act.'
Regardless of what could have been, he was back now.
Orario was waiting, and there were countless threads to pick up, debts to settle, and reunions to be had.
But before any of that, he needed to return to his place.
He was the Captain of the Bahamut Familia.
During his treatment, the nature of the situation required him to sever his link to Bahamut temporarily, accepting Aasterinian as his patron goddess.
It had been a necessary move then, but now that the injuries had been settled and his power was his own again, it was time to return to the fold.
He turned to the blue-eyed goddess beside him.
"Lady Asta, can we immediately begin the transfer process?"
He and Aasterinian had already discussed this at length during the journey back.
Aasterinian, however, wasn't one to let a serious moment pass without a bit of theater.
She gasped, clutching her chest and looking at Draco with wide, wounded eyes.
"Sure, but why the hurry? After all we have been through together, do you plan to abandon me like some used rag? Do my emotions mean nothing to you?"
Her voice rose with each word, her tone dripping with mock tragedy as she wiped a phantom tear from her eye.
Draco froze, his expression a bit flustered by the sudden outburst.
"Eh? Wait, what? No, it's not like that, I just…."
He caught the mischievous glint in her eyes and stopped mid-sentence.
He leveled a flat, unamused glare at her, his pupils narrowing into slits.
"Draco, you shouldn't do that," Bahamut chimed in, her lips twitching as she joined the fun. "You have to be more gentle with a maiden's heart. You can't just use a goddess for her blessing and then discard her the moment you get home."
"Not you too," Draco groaned, rubbing his temples.
After a few more minutes of the goddesses' relentless teasing, Bahamut finally relented.
She gestured for them to follow her deeper into the mansion.
"Before we get to business, let me show you what your hard-earned Valis bought you. A captain should know every corner of his ship."
The tour was an eye-opening experience.
The mansion was a marvel of architectural engineering, divided into three main floors, with a sprawling basement complex.
The basement was the largest area, a labyrinth of reinforced walls.
It housed multiple training halls designed to withstand the impact of high-level training, an armory that smelled of oil and cold steel, and vast storage vaults.
There were even emergency living quarters and bathrooms placed with functional magic appliances.
The first floor served as the social hub.
It contained a large kitchen, a pantry stocked with enough supplies to survive a siege, and a dining hall that could easily seat fifty.
The bedrooms on this floor weren't very spacious but functional, reserved for newer members and potential guests.
The second floor was more exclusive.
It featured private offices for the familia's executives and living quarters that were more personalized.
Draco noticed the names on the doors….Vasiliki, Dimitra….and felt a pang of anticipation at seeing them again.
Finally, they ascended to the third floor.
This was the "Sanctum."
It contained the captain's office, the goddess's private residence, and a grand balcony that overlooked Orario's skyline.
Draco stepped into the captain's office and stopped.
The room was the embodiment of a dragon's hoard.
The walls were trimmed in gold leaf, and the furniture was carved from rare, dark woods.
Shiny gems were embedded into the ceiling, reflecting the light like stars.
It was opulent, aesthetic, and undeniably draconic.
"You really went all out on the decorations," Draco said, feeling a strange conflict within him. Part of him…..the primal, draconic part…..was purring with satisfaction at the sheer luxury.
It felt right.
But the rational part of him, the one who had managed the familia's finances, felt a cold sweat breaking out.
He hadn't authorized this level of spending.
He knew what he had paid the Goibniu Familia for the construction, and this interior work far exceeded that budget.
'Either the members have been earning a staggering amount of Valis in the dungeon to offset this,' Draco thought, 'or we are currently in enough debt to make the guild execute us.'
He shook the thought away.
'No, Vasiliki and Dimitra are too responsible for that. They wouldn't let the familia fall into ruin. And even if they did… I can always auction off a few grimoires. That usually solves any financial crisis.'
With the tour complete, Bahamut led them back to her private chambers on the third floor.
She assigned Aasterinian a temporary room on the first floor, much to the dragon goddess's vocal chagrin.
Aasterinian had argued that as a fellow dragon deity, she deserved a room on the "shiny floor," but Bahamut had held her ground with a firm, matriarchal smile, reminding Asta of her guest status.
Once the playfulness subsided, the atmosphere shifted.
The air in the room grew heavy with intent.
Draco laid on the plush bed, baring his back.
Aasterinian stepped forward, her hand glowing with a soft light.
With a practiced motion, she reached out and performed the 'Release.'
The golden script of her blessing on Draco's back flickered and then dissolved into motes of light, leaving his skin temporarily blank.
For a brief moment, Draco felt a strange sensation of lightness…..a void where his connection to the divine usually sat.
Then, Bahamut stepped in.
She pricked her finger, a single drop of ichor shimmering like liquid starlight.
As she pressed it against Draco's skin, the room erupted in a silent flash of silver light.
The familiar sensation of Bahamut's presence flooded his system…..it felt warmer than Asta's, more grounding, like returning to a familiar hearth after a long journey in the cold.
The script etched itself back into his flesh, recording the history of his soul.
Bahamut pulled her hand away, her eyes widening as she read the updated notations on his back. A slow, proud smile spread across her face.
"Welcome back, Draco," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Draco stood up, flexing his tail as he felt the surge of power settle into his bones.
He turned to face his goddess, the weight of his emotions settling onto his shoulders like a well-worn cloak.