Danmachi: The Focalors Familia Starting from the Dungeon

Although he had never used Lord Ravager, Aiden’s intuition told him that if he did, he would be... absurdly powerful.

Ottar was strong, yes, but... could he truly defeat an Aiden who had entered a ”Deification” state?

The omni-directional, transcendental stat boost of the Lord Ravager magic, coupled with the terrifying infinite attack-stacking effect of his Alpha Inforce skill...

For the first time, Aiden realized he had absolutely no idea where his own limits lay.

Once the decision for a rescue operation was made from the very top of Babel Tower, the Freya Familia’s execution efficiency defied all logic.

There were no tedious pre-battle briefings, no lengthy logistical preparations.

When the Goddess Freya’s will was handed down, the entire Freya Familia spurred into motion at a heart-stopping pace.

The rendezvous point wasn’t the bustling Guild plaza, nor was it the Freya Familia’s headquarters, Folkvangr. It was a secluded back alley at the base of Babel Tower, a place rarely visited by anyone.

Night had not yet fully fallen, but the light within the alley was already as dim as the maw of an abyss.

Aiden was the first to arrive.

He had refused Robin and the others’ requests to accompany him.

The enemy this time was too strong, and the battlefield too chaotic.

Furthermore, this rescue team consisted of the Freya Familia.

Traveling alongside the monsters that stood at the very pinnacle of Orario was a pace that even Robin and the girls would struggle to maintain.

He alone was enough.

He leaned quietly against the cold wall, resting his eyes.

Soon, the first figure emerged silently from the shadows at the mouth of the alley.

It was a man as towering and robust as a mountain. Just by standing there, he seemed to compress and distort the space within the alley.

Dark skin, rugged and resolute features, and deep eyes that held the placid stillness of an ancient well.

He wore unpretentious armor and carried a massive broadsword on his back—a weapon as wide as a door.

The strongest in the city, the Level 7 adventurer, the Warlord, Ottar.

He didn’t speak. He simply cast a brief glance at Aiden before standing silently on the opposite side of the alley, like a stone statue.

Aiden could feel that the gaze, though fleeting, carried a sense of scrutiny and curiosity.

Ottar had also seen the crystal orb’s recording. He was bewildered by the ”Lumina Slash” used by the imposter Aiden.

Could a Level 4 adventurer truly master a pinnacle sword technique that even Ottar himself could only perform by compensating for his lack of technique with sheer brute force?

That question was currently circling within the Warlord’s mind.

Immediately following, a second and third figure appeared almost simultaneously.

They were like the antithesis of light and shadow, commanding attention the moment they arrived.

One was tall and slender, standing as straight as a silver birch under moonlight.

He had flowing, silky blonde hair that fell casually over his shoulders.

His features were impossibly handsome, like a masterpiece carved by a master artisan, yet his piercing, eagle-like eyes—hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses—gave him an aura of overwhelming intellect.

He wore a tailored white robe that blended the aesthetics of a mage’s mantle and a military officer’s uniform. The edges were embroidered with complex, elegant elven patterns in silver thread, and a deep blue belt cinched his waist.

In his hand, he held a bizarre double-bladed polearm; one end was a razor-sharp blade, while the other was embedded with a massive, faintly glowing magic stone.

This was the tactician of the Freya Familia, the Level 6 adventurer, Hedin Selland, known as Hildr.

He was the only existence in Orario who could rival the Braver, Finn, in command and strategy.

Standing beside him was another elf.

A Dark Elf.

His skin possessed a healthy, obsidian-like sheen. Beneath his unruly, short white hair was a face equally handsome but tinged with a gloomy, melancholic aura.

His eyes were bright, like stars in the dark night, yet his gaze constantly darted away, afraid to make eye contact with anyone.

He wore a pitch-black, form-fitting combat suit traced with purple veins, radiating an icy aura that screamed at strangers to stay away.

Strapped to his back was a cursed sword of grotesque design. The blade was jet black, the crossguard spread out like a demon’s wings, and the entire weapon emanated an ominous, evil energy that seemed to devour light itself.

He was Dáinsleif, Hogni Ragnar, an equally elite Level 6 adventurer.

Yet, this immensely powerful Dark Elf currently looked incredibly anxious.

He practically hid himself in Hedin’s shadow, hands jammed into his pockets, his body trembling slightly. He seemed to be muttering something under his breath, but the sound was too soft to hear.

It was a display of severe social anxiety that stood in stark contrast to his overwhelming strength.

The arrival of Hedin and Hogni caused a subtle shift in the alley’s atmosphere.

As elves, they both held respect for Riveria of the Elven royalty, so they harbored no resistance toward this rescue operation.

The final arrival was a gust of violent wind accompanied by an impatient clicking of the tongue.

A figure appeared at the alley’s entrance. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his entire being radiated an explosive sense of speed.

Fluffy, short black hair, gold, slit-like pupils as wary as a feline’s, and a face bearing undisguised irritation and murderous intent.

He was Vana Freya, the Level 6 adventurer who held the title of Fastest in the City, Allen Fromel.

The moment he appeared, he shot a displeased glare at Aiden.

”Oi, Hedin, we’re going on a rescue op, not a picnic. Why the hell are we dragging along a Level 4 brat? Just to hold us back?”

His voice was shrill and biting, dripping with contempt for the weak.

To him, anything other than Goddess Freya’s orders was open to questioning.

He couldn’t fathom why, in a race against time, they needed to bring along a deadweight whose strength wasn’t even in the same dimension.

”Shut up, Allen. This is the Goddess’s decision.”

Hedin didn’t even turn his head, his tone flat.

Allen opened his mouth to argue, but ultimately just clicked his tongue resentfully, ”Tch,” and fell silent.

He only obeyed the Goddess, and Hedin, more often than not, represented her will.

Hedin pushed his glasses up his nose, the lenses reflecting the dim alley light, obscuring his eyes.

He turned to Aiden, his voice remaining level. ”Flamescion, Aiden. I’ve read the Guild’s reports, and I’ve seen the combat log Lord Loki brought. I acknowledge your strength. However, for the upcoming rescue operation, every single one of your actions must be dictated by my command. Understood?”

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