The atmosphere within the Bahamut Familia estate was thick and heavy with lethargy.
The dust-mooted embers of sunlight had long since faded, replaced by the flickering glow of magic-stone lamps that illuminated weary faces.
Armor was piled in corners, weapons leaned precariously against the stone walls as some members went about gear maintenance.
Despite the fatigue, it was hard for sleep to come for any of its members especially when the night was still young.
It was a weird state of being, where the body was tired...but their minds were rather hyperactive...hence their lethargic state.
That silence, however, was shattered with the violence of a thunderclap.
The thunderous banging of footsteps along the staircase echoed through the manor as Vasiliki and Dimitra practically tumbled from the third to first floor.
Their lungs were burning, their faces flushed a deep crimson like they had just performed a dead sprint across the city.
For a moment, they could only gasp for air, clutching their knees as the rest of the familia...scattered around the manor, gathered due to the commotion…..and stared at them with worried eyes.
"He's back," Vasiliki managed to choke out, her voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and euphoria.
Dimitra straightened, her eyes shining with a brilliance that seemed to cut through the room's lethargy.
"Draco! Draco-nii is back in Orario!"
The transformation was instantaneous.
It was as if a surge of lightning had been pumped into the floorboards.
The exhaustion that had pinned Michalis, Eleni, Nikolaos, and Vasileios to their seats evaporated as if it had never existed.
They were on their feet in a heartbeat, chairs scraping harshly against the floor.
"Are you sure?" Michalis demanded, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Five years, Vasiliki. Are you absolutely certain it was him?"
"I'd know my own brother's handwriting," Vasiliki replied, her smile widening until it hurt.
"It's him. He's here. He's home."
For the siblings, the news was a tidal wave of relief and nostalgia.
Draco was the anchor through most of their lives, the eldest who basically raised them after that disastrous day.
However, the room was a cocktail of differing emotions.
While the siblings were nearly vibrating with joy, others felt a different sort of heat.
Among the veteran members, Alise, Kaguya, and Clair shared a look that was far more complex. To them, he was a man whose strength was only matched by a quiet charisma that had sparked more than a few unrequited flames.
A "crush" was perhaps too simple a word for the lingering devotion they held, but the flush on their cheeks spoke volumes.
Then, there were the others.
Cecil, Iselina, Schau, and Ulanda sat in a tight cluster, looking like deer caught in the headlights of a charging carriage.
They were the newer recruits, the ones who had joined while the seat of the captain sat empty. To them, Draco was a ghost story, a legend told over campfires.
"Does this mean..." Cecil whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she adjusted her hair clip, "...that the 'Monster' is actually in the city right now?"
"Is he going to be accepting of us," Schau muttered, her eyes darting around.
The estate, once a tomb of tired adventurers, was now a beehive of chaotic energy.
Arguments broke out almost immediately, fueled by adrenaline and the need to do something.
"We need to prepare for a party!" Vasileios shouted, already heading toward the kitchen.
"Clear the tables! I'll go prepare some snacks!"
"It's nearly eight in the evening!" Eleni countered, grabbing his arm.
"The market and grocery stalls are closed, and we've already eaten dinner. What are you going to serve him? Ordinary street food or your horrendous cooking?"
"We can go to a tavern! Most of them stay open all night!"
"And drag him out the moment he steps foot in the door? Let our brother breathe!"
The bickering escalated, a cacophony of voices debating the merits of an immediate celebration versus a planned one.
The tension of the expedition had been replaced by the tension of expectation.
It was only when the shouting reached a fever pitch that Alise stepped onto the bottom step of the staircase and whistled sharply.
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
"While everyone is making fair points," Alise began, her voice calm and authoritative, "the reality is that we are too full and tired to host a party. Look at yourselves."
She gestured to the room.
Despite their sudden burst of energy, the dark circles under their eyes and the lethargy in their movement remained.
"Trust me, I am just as excited as everyone that Draco is back," she continued, her expression softening.
"But we have only just recently returned from a long, exhausting expedition. We need rest. Even if we managed to pull together a decent party tonight, will it be fun for Draco to watch us force ourselves to cater to him? Are we going to sit here in the dark and wait until midnight, or later, not even knowing when he'll walk through that door?"
She paused, letting the logic sink in.
Even the most impulsive among them, like Michalis, looked down at his boots, deflating slightly.
"Seeing as you all are still silent, I will assume that my point of view is being understood," Alise said.
"So, how about this: we rent the Hostess of Fertility tomorrow evening. A full celebration. We'll have the finest food in Orario, the best ale, and we'll be rested enough to actually enjoy his company."
"I agree with Alise," Nikolaos said, stepping forward.
"A half-baked welcome is worse than a delayed one. Let's do it right." Maryuu supported.
Celty nodded, her hand resting her waist.
"The Hostess of Fertility is a good choice. Mia's girls will keep the atmosphere lively. I'm in."
Kaguya and Clair followed suit, and soon the room murmuring in collective agreement.
The decision was made.
They would wait.
They would rest.
But the excitement didn't vanish; it merely transformed into a simmering anticipation that promised a sleepless night for almost everyone in the building.
.................
Halfway across Orario, the heavy scent of the forge lingered in the air as Draco stepped out of the Hephaestus Familia compound.
The cool night breeze was a welcome relief against his skin, which still felt the phantom heat of the goddess.
He took a long, steady breath, looking up at the sprawling tower of Babel as it pierced the starry sky.
His conversation with Hephaestus had run far longer than he had anticipated.
Once the goddess of the forge got started on a topic of interest, she was difficult to pause.
A small smile played on Draco's lips as he began to walk.
The confession had been a success.
They were lovers now.
The thought felt strange in his mind, yet there was a satisfying ring to it.
Hephaestus wasn't like his own patron, Bahamut.
Bahamut was like a whirlwind of fire...bold, confident, and direct.
Hephaestus, on the other hand, was like a slow-burning ember: steady, consistent, and possessed of a quiet dignity that demanded a different kind of respect.
He had been careful not to push too hard, sensing that moving their relationship forward would be a process of gradual construction rather than a sudden explosion.
He glanced down at his chest, adjusting the leather straps of his gear. He wasn't usually one for armor; his fighting style relied on a fluidity that heavy plating often hindered.
However, with the possibility...albeit a very low one…..of encountering corrupted or demi-spirit, the gear was necessary.
The maille shirt beneath his leather jerkin was a masterpiece of craft: lightweight, silent, and incredibly durable.
It was flexible enough to accommodate his partial dragon-transformation, a necessity since his body tended to expand and harden during its use.
He intended to never use his 'Raging Ascension' skill again, though he prayed to whatever gods were listening that he would never reach the point where it was necessary.
That skill was a double-edged sword, a descent into a primal fury that left him more monster than man.
He felt a slight pang of guilt as he passed the turning for the residential wing of the smithy.
He hadn't met Tsubaki.
Hephaestus had been uncharacteristically protective of his time this evening, and Draco, sensing the goddess's subtle possessiveness, hadn't pressed the issue.
Relationships, he mused, a huff of laughter escaping him, were more complicated than anything else in life.
He detoured through North Main Street, stopping at a small, unassuming shop that specialized in high-end adventuring gear.
The shopkeeper, who quickly recognized Draco, handed over the custom-made dungeon bag he had commissioned.
It was reinforced and designed to distribute weight evenly across the shoulders.
"Will that be all?" the shopkeeper asked, counting the Valis Draco placed on the counter.
"Yes, and thank you," Draco replied, slinging the bag over his shoulder.
As he stepped back out into the night, the clock in the central plaza struck 9:00 PM.
The city was beginning to settle; the rowdier crowds were migrating toward the entertainment district while the rest of Orario tucked itself away.
Draco began the trek back toward the Bahamut Familia estate.
As he walked, Draco found himself thinking of his familia members.
Their return from their expedition was close, yet here he was, preparing for one of his own.
If they returned during his absence, they would miss each other.
However, the duty he had been given was equally important, so he put such thoughts aside.
Draco expected the estate to be empty.
When he had briefly returned home around noon, Bahamut had told him that she would be going out and coming home late.
As for Aasterinian, she was busy in the Miach Familia's lab and hadn't returned home in a while.
However, as he turned the final corner onto the street where the Bahamut estate stood, Draco stopped in his tracks.
The windows were ablaze with light.
Even from a distance, he could see shadows moving behind the curtain of rooms meant to be empty.
The heavy iron gates were unlocked, and the faint, unmistakable sound of familiar voices drifted through the air.
Draco stood frozen for a moment, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag.
A strange sensation, something akin to warmth but sharper, pricked at his chest.
They were home.
He hadn't even stepped through the door, and already the quiet, meticulously planned night he had envisioned was crumbling.
He took a breath, a smirk forming on his face.
He knew the moment he walked in, his plans were officially over.
He would be bombarded, questioned, hugged, and likely lectured for being gone so long.
He tightened his grip on his new bag, adjusted his armor one last time, and began to walk toward the front door.