Zamasu stood straight, hands calmly at his sides as the questioning began. Ouranos leaned slightly forward on his throne, his deep voice steady.
"Let's begin simply. Who are you, really?"
Zamasu nodded once. "My name is Zamasu. That's what I'm going by now." He paused, then continued. "I woke up alone in the forest near Orario.
"And where do you come from?"
Zamasu stood straight and answered calmly, keeping his voice clear and steady.
"I come from a quiet, remote place far from Orario. It wasn't part of any major city or kingdom—just a small, peaceful area where I lived alone for most of my life."
He paused briefly, then added, "I spent my time studying and learning. I wasn't part of a familia or guild, and I never had contact with adventurers or gods until I came here. I decided to travel to Orario because I wanted to see the Dungeon for myself and gain information"
He kept his explanation simple and believable, intentionally leaving out any mention of reincarnation, other worlds, or divine origins.
It wasn't the full truth, but it was straightforward enough to pass as a reasonable story, especially from someone who appeared as strange as he did.
The room grew quiet after Zamasu's answer.
He noticed the way the gods looked at each other—brief glances, subtle shifts in posture, small frowns forming across their faces.
They didn't speak a word, but something was clearly passing between them. Their expressions told him they were communicating in a way he couldn't hear—likely through telepathy.
Zamasu kept his composure, but inwardly, he wondered what they were thinking. Were they doubting his story? Did they sense something was off? Were they trying to match his vague background with known threats?
Loki narrowed her eyes slightly, while Freya's gaze became more focused. Ganesha, uncharacteristically, remained silent, arms crossed. Even Ouranos, who had maintained a calm presence, now looked more serious.
After a few more moments of silent exchanges, it was Ouranos who finally spoke.
"One final question," he said, his voice firm. "Are you affiliated with Evilus… or do you have any knowledge of them?"
Zamasu blinked, confused. "You asked me that earlier," he said, glancing between them. "Evilus… Is that a person's name? Or some kind of movement? It sounds like something a child would come up with."
The room remained still for a moment.
Then Ouranos leaned forward slightly, his expression unchanged. "Evilus was an organized group of violent familias and individuals who opposed the Guild, the gods, and all order within Orario," he explained.
"They believed in chaos and destruction. Not long ago, they were responsible for attacks across the city, including mass killings, illegal experiments, and Dungeon terrorism. It took many lives—and nearly a war—to put them down."
Zamasu frowned. "I've never heard of them until now. If they were that active, and I had any connection to them, I imagine I wouldn't be walking into the Guild unannounced."
There was a pause, then a few of the gods gave short nods, acknowledging his answer.
The atmosphere in the chamber slowly relaxed after Zamasu's denial.
The gods, once tense and sharp-eyed, seemed more at ease now.
Loki let out a short chuckle, her arms crossed as she gave him a playful look. Freya gave a small nod, her eyes still watching him closely but without hostility.
Even Ottar's presence, while still imposing, felt less heavy. Ouranos leaned back slightly on his throne, the weight of suspicion clearly lifted.
"You're not affiliated with Evilus," Ouranos said calmly. "We can sense that much. You spoke the truth."
Zamasu blinked, confused. "That's it? Just like that?" he asked, frowning. "How can you be so sure? You don't even know who I really am. Doesn't that make you… dangerously trusting? For a group that's supposed to protect this city, you don't seem all that competent."
He couldn't help but feel a growing sense of disbelief. They had questioned him, yes—but after a few vague answers and denials, they had already decided he wasn't a threat. Just like that?
Loki snorted with amusement while Finn and Riveria exchanged knowing glances.
"Lying to a god is impossible," Ouranos replied matter-of-factly. "Not completely. We can sense the truth behind words,
"But," Freya added, speaking up for the first time, "we did sense dishonesty when you spoke of your origin. You weren't telling the full truth."
Zamasu's eyes widened. His posture stiffened, and his usually calm face cracked slightly in genuine shock.
The reaction earned a round of chuckles from several of the gods. Ganesha even clapped once.
"Looks like we hit a nerve!" Loki said with a grin. "Didn't think we'd catch that, huh?"
Zamasu's eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line. He didn't respond immediately, but the brief frown he wore said enough.
They had caught him off guard—and they knew it.
As the last few chuckles from the gods faded, the mood in the chamber gradually shifted.
The playful atmosphere gave way to a more serious air, and the lingering tension returned—not out of fear, but out of unanswered curiosity.
The kind of quiet that settles in before something important is said.
Ouranos, still seated high upon his stone platform, leaned forward slightly. His ancient, calculating gaze remained fixed on Zamasu.
"There's still one matter we'd like to understand, Zamasu," he said, his voice calm but deliberate.
"You descended into the Dungeon—floors one through fifteen—without a falna, without armor, and without a single visible injury. No support team, no equipment. That should be impossible, and yet you did it. How?"
Zamasu opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form a single word, Freya interrupted. Her voice was soft, melodic, but it carried clearly through the hall, halting even the flicker of his tongue.
"In ancient times," she said, her eyes now resting fully on him, "there were heroes who walked the earth long before the gods ever descended. Before falna existed. Before familias and adventurer rankings. They were different. Some were human. Some were monsters. Some were something else entirely."
Her words drew the attention of the entire room. Even Ottar, silent and stoic beside her, seemed to glance her way with subtle interest.
She didn't raise her voice, but she didn't need to. Every person there listened.
"They fought dragons, raised cities, and stood alone against the Dungeon when it was still untamed. Some became legends, others vanished without a trace. These were beings who needed no blessings to carve their names into the fabric of history."
She leaned forward just slightly, brushing a lock of silver hair from her face as her gaze settled more intently on Zamasu.
"I wonder," she said, voice almost a whisper, "are you like them?"
The room went still.
Finn, ever composed, turned his head slightly and gave Ouranos a sideways glance, as if silently asking whether such a thing could even be possible.
Riveria frowned, her arms crossing as her expression turned thoughtful. Her sharp elven eyes studied Zamasu as if trying to peer into his very essence.
Even Fels, quiet behind him, shifted ever so slightly.
Zamasu said nothing at first. He was used to strange looks and speculation by now, but this comparison was new. Ancient heroes? Heroes from a thousand years ago? The idea felt… oddly fitting, and yet entirely alien.
He didn't feel like a hero. He hadn't asked for any of this—hadn't asked to be thrown into another world, into this body, with powers he didn't fully understand.
But the way Freya spoke, with a mixture of awe and curiosity, made it sound like fate. Like he was something important, something rare.
He didn't like that feeling.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Loki broke it with a dramatic groan and a slap of her hand against her hip.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered with a lopsided grin. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. The last thing Orario needs is another round of old fairy tales crawling back from the grave."
She walked forward, her boots tapping lightly against the stone floor, and pointed a casual thumb toward Zamasu.
"Yeah, he might be strong. Freakishly strong. Probably unreasonably strong. But let's not start writing poems about him just yet. We've already got half of the orario singing about him. Don't want it to feel like he's the second coming of Argonaut."
The gods chuckled lightly, even Freya smiling faintly in response. Loki's tone was teasing, but her eyes said something else.
They were sharp, focused—evaluating. She hadn't dismissed the comparison outright. She had only delayed the discussion.
Zamasu noticed.
He also noticed how the room seemed to breathe again after her interruption. The pressure had been building steadily since Freya first spoke, and Loki had relieved just enough of it to let everyone step back without losing face.
The gods and adventurers resumed more neutral stances, their expressions guarded but no longer overly tense. Yet the curiosity didn't fade. If anything, it deepened.
All eyes turned back to Zamasu.
They weren't asking the question aloud now, but it lingered in the room like smoke after a fire.
Who are you?
And more importantly—what are you?
Zamasu straightened slightly, looking back at them with quiet poise. He didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to let the silence stretch just a bit longer, as if reclaiming control of the moment.
"I don't know what kind of people those ancient heroes were," he finally said. "I'm not trying to be one of them. I'm not here to become a legend. I'm simply here to learn."
Freya's eyes sparkled, but she didn't speak. She only nodded slightly.
Loki, arms behind her head, gave a low whistle. "He's humble too. Or pretending to be."
The tension cracked again with a few more chuckles. Zamasu didn't smile.
He didn't like being compared to something he didn't understand. He wasn't a hero, no matter how they dressed the idea.
He had no falna. No family. No allegiance.
Still, he remained composed as the room settled again.
Chapter 12 end
The bitch is onto something…