The world did not merely hear. The world felt it.
The sound came from the north, piercing through thousands of kilometers of physical distance, ignoring acoustic laws, and slamming into Orario like an invisible tidal wave.
It was not thunder. Thunder is the voice of nature, the sound of electricity splitting the air. This sound was more primal. It was the sound of condensed hatred, a roar from something that had slept eternally within the nightmare of history.
"GRRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
In the brief moments before Barbatos's Temporal Severance had fully hardened—during the short seconds when the rift in reality was open as he fought the One-Eyed Black Dragon—the roar leaked out into the outside world.
The sky above Orario, which had just welcomed the Dawn, trembled. Clouds shattered apart. Small hearts stopped beating out of pure terror.
Windowpanes across the city vibrated in unison, creating a horrifying hum that sliced at the ears.
To those who did not know, it was the sound of the apocalypse. To those who did, it was a death knell.
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Prayer Room, Beneath the Guild
The first to realize it was the god sitting in the depths of the earth.
Ouranos, the God of the Sky who had long discarded his wings to uphold the world's foundation, opened his pale blue eyes in the darkness of the Prayer Room.
The blue torches surrounding his altar flickered wildly, nearly extinguishing. Yet, it was not the wind that disturbed them.
It was the Dungeon.
The Tower of Babel above him shook, but the vibration came from below. From the depths of the countless floors of hell.
"The Dungeon... is rejoicing?" whispered Ouranos, his heavy voice echoing in the vast stone chamber.
As an entity who had merged with the Dungeon's will for hundreds of years to suppress monsters from escaping, Ouranos could feel faint emotions from the giant labyrinth.
Usually, the Dungeon felt hatred toward the gods. But today, in this second, the Dungeon quivered in ecstasy.
It felt its king awaken. It felt its strongest child—the Final Calamity—stirring in the distance.
The resonance between the "Mother Labyrinth" and the "Dragon Child" created shockwaves that shook the Guild's pillars.
"Fels," Ouranos called out without turning his head.
From the shadows, a black-robed figure with skeletal hands emerged. Fels, the Immortal Sage, appeared to be trembling. His bones rattled due to the sudden heavy atmospheric pressure.
"Ouranos... wh-what was that?" asked Fels, his hollow voice sounding terrified. "Magic sensors across the city have exploded. Mana pressure from the North spiked to a scale that cannot be measured."
Ouranos gazed at the stone ceiling, as if his vision could penetrate the layers of earth, pierce through the city, and look directly at Dragon Valley.
"He is awake," Ouranos answered briefly. "The One-Eyed Black Dragon... he is awake."
"Impossible! Aria's seal should still be holding!"
"Something happened," Ouranos's eyes narrowed. "Something—or someone—has disturbed his slumber. Prepare yourself, Fels. If that roar is followed by the flapping of wings heading south... today is Orario's last day."
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Twilight Manor, Loki Familia Headquarters
In the vast courtyard of the Loki Familia headquarters, the usually disciplined Training Grounds turned into chaos.
Young adventurers fell to their knees, clutching their tight chests. Several beastmen with keen senses covered their ears, howling in pain.
Finn Deimne, the Captain known as Braver, was discussing something with Riveria and Gareth when the sound wave hit.
The spear in Finn's hand slipped, falling with a clang to the floor.
His right thumb throbbed. Not just the usual warning twitch. The pain in his thumb was so intense, as if someone had just smashed it with a hammer.
"Finn?!" cried Riveria, whose own face had gone pale. The high elf could feel the mana in the atmosphere going haywire, as if nature itself was panicking.
"This is bad..." Finn gripped his trembling thumb. His intelligent, calm eyes were now filled with extreme vigilance. "This is not a lower floor monster. This is not a Monster Rex. This sensation... this is on par with the old stories."
"Old stories?" Gareth, the tough old dwarf, frowned deeply. He looked north with a grim face. "You mean... Him?"
Finn nodded stiffly. "The Dragon King."
From the upper balcony, Loki descended. Her usually mischievous grinning face was now flat, her slit eyes opened slightly, revealing serious blood-red irises.
"Oi, Finn! Get everyone ready!" ordered Loki, her voice sharp. "Level 3 and up, arm yourselves with your best gear! No one leaves the Manor gates unless I order it!"
"Loki," Riveria stepped forward. "Do you think he will come?"
"I don't know," Loki bit her thumb, a habit when she was thinking hard. "The sound was clear. The vibration was real. If that damn monster decides to take a stroll here... Finn, Gareth, Riveria... even with you guys now at Level 5, we'd just be appetizers."
Loki gazed toward Babel.
"Zeus and Hera were destroyed by it. And we aren't as strong as them yet."
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Folkvangr, Freya Familia Headquarters
The atmosphere in the strongest familia's headquarters in Orario was silent, yet gripping.
In the inner garden, a tall man built like an iron fortress stood frozen. Ottar, the only Level 6 adventurer active on the front lines right now, stared at the northern sky.
His large black sword was already in his grasp. His muscles tensed, ready for a battle of life and death.
Beside him, a large middle-aged woman with a maid apron covering her armor snorted roughly. Mia Grand.
Although she had "semi-retired" and was busy preparing for the opening of the Hostess of Fertility pub, her status as the Captain of the Freya Familia remained. She was also Level 6.
"Dammit," cursed Mia, crushing the rag in her hand into powder. "That foul sound again. I thought I'd never hear it again in this lifetime."
"Mia," Ottar's voice was heavy and low. "Is that him?"
"Who else, you fool?" Mia spat on the ground. "Only one creature has a voice that ugly. The dragon that ate Zeus and Hera."
Mia turned toward the highest tower of Folkvangr, where Goddess Freya stood on the balcony. The Goddess of Beauty did not look afraid. On the contrary, she looked... aroused by the danger, yet also extremely wary.
"Mama Mia," called Freya from above, her voice calm yet resonant. "How long do you think we could last if he came right now?"
Mia looked up, her face serious. "With Ottar and me as the spearhead? And your other bratty kids?"
Mia shook her head slowly. "One minute. Maybe five if we're lucky. We aren't ready, Freya. Without the Empress, without Maxim... Orario right now is just a paper city to that dragon."
Freya offered a faint smile, but her eyes held no humor. "Is that so. Then, let us hope the north wind does not blow our way today."
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Streets of Orario
Panic began to spread like fire in dry grass.
Civilians ran, merchants abandoned their carts, and weak adventurers screamed hysterically, thinking a monster raid from the Dungeon was occurring.
amidst the chaos, a booming voice took charge.
"I AM GANESHA!!!"
Atop the giant statue at the north gate, Ganesha stood in a heroic pose, his elephant mask gleaming in the moonlight.
Behind him, hundreds of Ganesha Familia members—who functioned as the city's police force—moved with high discipline. Shakti Varma, captain of the Ganesha Familia, led troops to blockade roads and calm the masses.
"CITIZENS OF ORARIO! CALM DOWN!" shouted Ganesha, using the amplification skill of one of his familia children. "Ganesha is here! The Dungeon is safe! This is just a natural phenomenon... ahem, a thunderstorm from the north!"
It was a terrible white lie, but Ganesha's charisma worked.
"Ganesha troops! Prioritize the evacuation of the elderly and children to the southern district! Do not let looting occur! Anyone exploiting this chaos will answer to Ganesha!"
Ganesha posed again, showing off his muscles. But behind that elephant mask, cold sweat poured down the god's temples.
Don't come here, Ganesha thought, praying to anyone who would listen. Don't do it now. These children aren't ready to be heroes yet.
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Peak of Babel, Meeting Room (Emergency Denatus)
Half an hour after the roar, the meeting room of the gods at the peak of Babel was packed.
No wine, no fancy food, no laughter.
This Emergency Denatus was attended by almost every Principal God in Orario. Loki, Freya, Hephaestus, Miach, Astrea, Dian Cecht—all present with tense faces.
Hermes, who usually arrived late with a cheeky grin, was already seated in his chair, tapping his fingers nervously on the wooden table.
"The report from the Guild has come in," Ouranos was not physically present, but his voice was projected through a crystal in the center of the table. "The epicenter and source of the sound originated from Dragon Valley."
"We all know that, Old Man!" shouted Loki impatiently. "The question is: Why? Why did he wake up? Did the seal break?"
"Not entirely," Ouranos's voice replied. "Sensors indicated a massive spike in energy, then... it vanished. Like something pushed the dragon back, or moved it."
"Moved it?" Freya raised an eyebrow. "Moved the Black Dragon? Who has that kind of power?"
The room became noisy with speculation.
"Maybe remnants of the Zeus and Hera Familia?" "Impossible, they were destroyed." "Maybe a Dungeon phenomenon?"
Amidst the debate, Hermes did not speak. His sharp eyes scanned around the round table. He counted the faces present.
He saw the panicked Loki, the wary Freya, the weary Ganesha, the anxious Hephaestus.
But there was one empty chair.
The chair that should have been occupied by the new god who had caused a stir yesterday with his singing.
The god who recruited two former Hera Familia members.
"Venti..." muttered Hermes softly, barely audible.
Suspicion began to grow in Hermes's mind. That Wind God came out of nowhere. He had Alfia, who knew exactly about the Black Dragon. He sang songs about Albert and Aria with emotions too deep for a mere "bard."
And now, when the Black Dragon roared, he was the only god not appearing at the Emergency Denatus.
"Barbatos isn't here," Hermes spoke suddenly, cutting through the gods' debate.
All the gods turned.
"That new kid?" Loki snorted. "He's probably drunk in a gutter somewhere, terrified after hearing the dragon's voice."
"Or..." Hermes's eyes flashed sharply beneath his hat. "...he knows something we don't. Isn't it a coincidence? Alfia, Hera Familia, the Black Dragon... and now the Wind God disappears right when the Wind Dragon roars."
Silence blanketed the room. Crazy pieces of a puzzle began to form in the minds of the sharp-witted gods. Yet, the idea was too absurd.
What could one bard god do against a World Calamity?
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Old Church, Outskirts of Orario
Far from the hustle and bustle of the city center, in an old church whose stone walls had just been repaired, the early morning began with a quiet panic.
The earthquake caused by the dragon's roar had forcibly woken Alfia and Meteria.
"Meteria! Are you alright?!"
Alfia was standing beside her sister's bed in the blink of an eye, the defensive magic Silentium Eden ready to activate.
Meteria sat up with a pale face, clutching her stomach. "I... I'm fine, Big Sis. The baby was startled, but he's safe."
Alfia sighed in relief, but her tension didn't fade. Her sharp ears still caught the echo of the dragon's roar in the distance. A voice she knew very well. A voice that haunted her nightmares.
"That voice..." whispered Meteria, her eyes tearing up. "It's Him, isn't it?"
Alfia didn't answer. She stared at the bedroom door, then to the church hall.
"Wait here. Don't leave the room," ordered Alfia firmly.
The silver-haired woman stepped out into the main hall. Her eyes scanned the silent room.
The church pews were empty. The makeshift kitchen was cold. No signs of life.
"Venti?" called Alfia.
Silence.
"Stupid God! This isn't the time for hide and seek! Did you hear that sound?!"
Still silence.
Anxiety began to creep into Alfia's chest. She walked toward the table in the center of the room, where Venti usually sat hugging a bottle of wine.
There, on the wooden table, lay a piece of parchment and a quill pen.
Alfia snatched the paper. She read the messy handwriting on the surface:
"Gone to find Wine. Don't miss me. If you do, hug the pillow that smells like my wine. - V"
"You crazy drunkard..." cursed Alfia, her hand crumpling the paper. "In a situation like this, he's actually—"
Her words stopped.
As her fingers pressed against the paper's fibers, Alfia felt it. A familiar subtle tickle.
Mana resonance—or whatever foreign energy Venti used.
It was a lock that could only be opened by those who had received his Falna.
Alfia's eyes narrowed. She flowed a small amount of Mind into the paper.
The writing about wine faded, replaced by rows of swirling green letters of light.
"7 days. If longer—you know what to do. Protect them, Captain."
Alfia's blood felt like it froze.
The paper fell from her hand, floating slowly to the stone floor.
Seven days. Protect them.
Fragments of their conversation swirled back in her head. The crazy plan. The theft of Aria.
And this Early Morning, that dragon roared.
Alfia walked slowly toward the large window facing north. Her hand gripped the window frame until the stone cracked.
The northern sky was still dark, remnants of black clouds disturbed by the energy explosion.
"You really went there..." whispered Alfia, her voice trembling between anger and deep fear. "You really challenged that monster alone..."
She knew the meaning of that roar. It was a roar of anger. A roar of loss.
It meant Venti had succeeded in disturbing the dragon.
But did he manage to run?
Alfia closed her eyes, feeling the wind blowing in through the window. The wind felt different today. Restless, yet... free.
"Don't die, Venti," Alfia hissed at the wind. "If you die and leave us after giving us hope... I will drag you out of hell and kill you again."
Behind her, Meteria stood in the doorway, watching her sister's tense back.
"Alfia... where is Venti-sama?"
Alfia turned around. Her face returned to a mask of cold calm, hiding the storm in her heart.
"He is away, Meteria. He is retrieving something very important."
"What is he retrieving?"
Alfia looked north once more.
"The wind," she answered. "He went to steal back the wind."
And in the distance, beyond the limits of their perception, a figure of green light was shooting through the clouds, carrying the weight of the world in his arms, chased by the echoes of past anger.
The seven-day countdown had begun.