Danmachi: Goliath

Gold.

Pure Gold.

Like molten sunlight, the mere sight of that blazing beacon halted Freya in her tracks. It shone amidst the shadows of the rainy back alley, casting aside the murky veil that lay upon Orario and bathing even the desolate streets in an aura that radiated warmth and grandeur. For just a moment, the world held its breath in awe. The raindrops that fell from the storm-laden sky froze mid-air, caught in the brilliance of the golden glow. The arcs of lightning painted across the heavens seemed to pause, refusing to fade and yielding to the radiance that dominated the night.

Time, space, sound, and the very elements themselves stood still, reduced to an audience for the spectacle before her. The boy—no, his soul—was nothing short of magnificent. It was like Ais' own golden soul—no.

This brilliance surpassed even that of Loki's favored child. 

Freya's heart raced as she stared, unable to look away, a thought reverberating in her mind: this was like the brilliance of the one she had yearned for, the one Hera had kept from her grasp. 

A level 9—that girl. 

No, this was even more. 

This boy's soul—its brilliance was untamed, pure, and unclaimed.

It was marvelous.

She almost didn't notice the dull, gray soul beside him—a color so easily lost in the vibrance of his aura. Worthless, insignificant, utterly devoid of value in the presence of such light. All that mattered was this soul—this beacon of radiance that pulled her closer.

"..."

"Lady Freya?"

Ottarl's voice shattered the silence, and time resumed its flow. The droplets of rain resumed their descent, the thunder rumbled once more, and Freya took a deep breath.

"Ottar..."

Her words were barely more than a whisper, her eyes still fixated on the boy across the road. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, her heart pounding louder and louder with every step. Each beat seemed to resonate with the golden glow that shone through the night. The gentle patter of rain against her umbrella was the only thing grounding her as she found herself pulled into the vastness of his soul.

Ottar followed her without question, holding her umbrella steady, his focus solely on his goddess. His massive frame moved with surprising grace, careful not to let even a single drop of rain touch the one he was sworn to protect. The sight of the towering captain, holding an umbrella for two yet refusing its cover for himself, would have surely seemed strange to any passerby. And yet, his devotion was absolute, his dedication unwavering. This was his queen, and her desire was his command.

Freya pulled her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth, her violet eyes gleaming from beneath her hood. They narrowed, catlike, as she watched the boy. He stood there, staring at something beside him. Something she couldn't see nor care about. 

She had to reach him. 

She had to know him.

Then she saw it—a change. The golden glow seemed to falter, ripples of fear distorting its brilliance. The sight struck her like a blade to the chest, an unfamiliar pang of urgency seizing her.

She hurried forward, her breath hitching as she moved closer, her eyes never leaving the boy's trembling form. She had to comfort him, reassure him, protect the light before it was snuffed out by the darkness around him.

As she stepped up to him, her lips curved into a gentle smile behind her scarf. The boy's eyes were still fixed to the thing beside him, his form frozen in time, unaware of the goddess before him.

"What's wrong, child?" She knelt beside him, trying her best to calm him.

The boy slowly turned to her, his face pale and his eyes wide with horror. His gaze met hers, and Freya felt a pang of pain as she saw the fear etched into his features. His soul—so bright, so radiant—was now marred by a shadow of terror.

'Why?' she thought, her heart tightening. 'What could have caused such fear?' She spoke again, her voice gentle yet insistent, "What terrified you?"

'Am I to blame?' The thought gnawed at her, a moment of doubt piercing through her confidence. 

Her gaze shifted, finally noticing the dull soul beside him. It was just like many of the mundane adventurers that crowded the streets of Orario. A soul so similar to countless other mundane adventurers in the city. Insignificant, worthless. But as her gaze sharpened, recognition dawned upon her. 

It was the giant of Ishtar—the brute who served that vile goddess, the creature that had once ruled over those filth-ridden streets. Disgust welled up in her as she looked at him.

Freya's eyes narrowed, and she watched as the man's face twisted into a grotesque grin, his eyes narrowing into crescent slits as he looked down at her. The crimson, predatory glint in his eyes showed clearly, even behind the rectangular lenses of his glasses. 

His lips curled back, revealing the prominent fangs that only added to his repulsive aura. Lightning flashed, illuminating his features, and Freya's disgust deepened. 

He was nothing but a beast, a despicable creature unworthy of even a moment of her time.

She didn't need to use much of her charm—a mere flicker of her power, and he, like so many other dirty adventurers, had fallen under her spell. But then, for just an instant, she saw something—his eyes seemed to regain focus, his face contorting in a mixture of rage, disgust, hatred, and every negative emotion one could muster. 

It almost made her flinch. 

But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and once more, he was the pitiful creature she knew him to be. The change was nothing but an illusion, a figment of her imagination.

"Is this the creature that caused your fear?" Freya asked, staring at the creature, but she wished she hadn't because a revolting and sickening sight greeted her—the brute's excitement, his growing arousal straining against his pants like some kind of anaconda. 

Freya's lip curled in disgust. She stood, her eyes meeting his, but still, the man looked down at her from his towering height, his excitement only growing. His exhilaration was palpable, and it made her skin crawl.

She rose to her full height, and yet he continued to look down at her, his exhilaration only seeming to grow. Her Silver glinted with a dangerous light as she watched him. This one—he needed to be ended, not for his actions, but for daring to look at her like that. 

For daring to inflict fear upon her precious, radiant 'Odr.'

"You should be happy," A smile graced her lips—a smile devoid of warmth. "Happy that you were able to be in his presence. Happy that, for just a moment, you mattered." Her eyes glinted like a twin moon in the night sky.

"Castrate," her voice rang. "Yours—"

"Freya!" A voice suddenly called out, and Freya froze, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her Odr's voice. He reached out to grab her hand, and her breath caught in her chest.

Ottar felt a chill run down his spine, a sudden sense of dread washing over him. It was as if the grim reaper himself was standing behind him, scythe poised over his neck. 

A sense worse than when he faced Zald two years ago.

And it was coming from—

Freya's gaze widened. "Ye-yes?" she stuttered, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. She quickly turned back to her Odr, squatting down to meet his eyes. "Wh-what is it, my dear?"

Ottar's eyes snapped to the giant standing to the side, however, the feeling was gone—vanished into the stormy night. Then his eyes turned down to the girl hugging the man's leg. A presence he hadn't even noticed, and her eyes.

Her void black eyes stared at Freya as if unaffected by the goddess' charm, but that is impossible. Utterly impossible, even for a child her age, so he just ignored her and returned his attention to his goddess.

Freya's demeanor softened immediately, and she smiled—genuinely happy, the tension fading from her features. It was as if the boy's very presence was enough to soothe her.

"I was the cause of my own fear," The boy spoke quickly, his voice earnest. "Not this man, but my own self caused it."

"Re-really?" she asked, her eyes still on his golden eyes, not even sparing a glance at the brute. "This man still targeted his rage toward you, so I—no—we should end—"

"NO!" Her Odr shouted, his voice echoing through the storm. 

Freya flinched, startled by the sudden intensity. Ottar, holding the umbrella, clenched his fist at the sight of his goddess being rebuked. The rain poured down on him, but not a single drop touched Freya or the boy beneath the umbrella. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing in silent frustration.

The boy quickly controlled his voice, his expression softening. "He is my guard, and I can't go anywhere without him."

"He is only a level four," Freya whispered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I can give you my executive. No, Ottar can be your guard!" She turned to the giant beside her, her voice commanding. "Right, Ottarl, boy?"

"Yes, goddess," Ottar replied, his tone low. As much as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to say no. 

He was charmed.

"See!" Freya turned back to the boy, her eyes bright. "What is a level four to Ottar? He can take on all the second-class adventurers in this city and win. You don't need this monkey beside you."

"I can't take your guard, goddess," The golden haired boy tried to reason, his voice gentle. "You need him more than I do." Before she could protest, he continued, "Besides, he is the captain of my Familia. I can't have him dying."

Those words brought silence. 

A long, drawn-out silence.

Captain? Ishtar's Captain? His captain?

Ishtar? Freya's mind repeated. Ishtar, Ishtar... hidden level five, the most loyal person of Ishtar. 

Elred. 

Her gaze shifted to the boy who kept speaking, but his words faded into nothingness in her ears. Elred. Why is such a soul loyal to Ishtar? Why not me? Why that jealous woman who can't do anything? 

Why that filthy goddess and not me?

The thought consumed her, repeating over and over. She could not understand it. Her anger simmered, her eyes darkening. Why serve Ishtar? Why not serve her? She didn't even notice the brute's eyes—crimson, blood-like glass reflecting her own face. 

His stare was unwavering, his gaze cutting through her charm as if it wasn't even there. 

'I could...' She could wipe Ishtar out, couldn't she? Just wipe them away like the insignificant insects they were. Then she could claim this golden moth, untouched and unclaimed, for herself. No one would care if they were gone. She would charm the elf—

Charm. 

Her thoughts halted abruptly. The brute. His eyes—he wasn't affected. She had released a great deal of her charm when she had directed her anger at the brute. She could even feel the effect on Ottar.

But his eyes, his soul, his entire being—he looked at her as though he truly saw her.

Freya straightened abruptly. She didn't know what the boy had said, not truly, but she needed to think. She needed to clear her mind. Everything was happening too quickly, and she needed to slow down.

She needed some time.

"I will let him live," Her voice wavered as she spoke, her focus now distant as she released the brute from her charm.

She moved past the boy, almost running, her cloak swirling behind her. Ottar followed immediately, the umbrella staying above the goddess, sparing one last glance at the little girl who did not move her eyes from Freya. 

They walked in silence for a while, Freya moving quickly through the rain-soaked streets. Ottar ignored the sound of the distant elf speaking to his Familia captain, focusing solely on the goddess in front of him. She was still speed-walking, her breath heavy, her right hand gripping her left breast tightly.

"Lady Freya, is something wrong?" Ottar finally asked.

Freya's head turned slightly, her eyes fierce and commanding. "Ottar, stay," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

He paused, stunned, as she rushed out from under the umbrella and into the pouring rain.

"But the rain, goddess!" he called out after her, but she didn't hear him. 

She ran, her feet splashing in the puddles beneath her. She needed to see him one last time before they parted. She needed to burn his image into her memory—the way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he sounded. Everything about him. 

She reached the junction, her breath catching in her throat as peeked out the corner like a teenage girl spying on her crush, and she saw him. His golden iris eyes, with a lighter ring surrounding his golden pupil like an eclipse, locked onto hers.

Then she felt it.

The 'Eyes' looking 'down' on her.

'His' eyes that saw through her soul.

Freya felt an uncontainable surge rush through her. It was as though his gaze had reached out, wrapping around her very soul, gripping her essence so tightly that it unraveled her completely. His golden 'eyes' pierced her being like a lightning bolt, igniting every dormant sensation within her. 

A wave of electricity flowed from her chest, its tendrils tracing along her skin, reaching her nipples, making them tighten and harden instantly, throbbing with exquisite pleasure. The sensation was almost unbearable, sharp and aching, as if they were being caressed by invisible flames. She could feel each throb, each pulse, intensifying, every ounce of pleasure resonating deep in her chest

The heat wasn't content with staying there. It swept through her, coursing down her abdomen, a river of molten need that plunged to her private. The warmth gathered there, pulsing like a heartbeat, each wave growing stronger and hotter, the sensation pounding against her sanity.

It was an aching, all-consuming need that radiated from her very being. Her knees gave way, her breath faltered, her heart pounded. A pressure swelled within her, threatening to break her apart, yet it felt fulfilling, beautiful, and terrifying all at once. The pleasure seized her body, her mind, her very essence.

'Elred' golden gaze reached the depths of her soul, laying her bare, utterly exposed, and utterly his.

Her mind was a blur, drowning under a current of bliss. The golden irises looking down on her burned into her memory, and it was as if his gaze had completely taken over her body, leaving nothing for her to control. Freya was no longer herself—she was his, a vessel, her entire being taken over by the undeniable link to him.

She shuddered, stumbling back under the rain. Her body convulsed, trembling under the tidal wave of heat coursing through her. Her vision blurred, and the world around her seemed to vanish, leaving only Elred—the one who could command her soul with nothing but his presence. 

Her lips parted, her breath catching in a broken gasp. Her legs were unable to hold her, the sensation too powerful, pushing her to her limits, and then beyond. She was coming undone, entirely.

Then, she felt it—a sudden surge, a final burst of heat spreading outwards. She climaxed, her body surrendering to the moment, the intensity consuming every part of her. 

The warmth turned into pure ecstasy, and she could feel herself fall into it, her body convulsing as if trying to contain the power of her release. Her head tilted back, her lips parting in a soundless cry as her eyes lost focus. Her legs gave out, unable to support her, and her entire weight seemed to collapse in on itself.

A wet, hot sensation flowed down her thighs, her private twitching with each pulse of pleasure. It was an uncontrollable response, her body still lost in the aftermath of release, the warmth seeping down her legs, mingling with the cool rain that splashed against her skin. She felt utterly exposed, vulnerable, yet liberated by the overwhelming pleasure that had consumed her.

It was then that she felt Ottar—his powerful arms catching her just in time, saving her from falling to the ground. He was solid, a grounding force in a moment when everything else seemed to slip away from her. Freya leaned against him, her body trembling, her head resting on his broad shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. 

"Lady Freya?" He called, looking down at the wet woman.

*Sniff* Ottar's nose twitched. 

'...' He knew, IMMEDIATELY, what that smell was.

And her action was only more proof.

'No, no, no, no, no...'

He got rock solid.

The smell, her small frame in his arm, her charm, the way she leaned on him for support, her breasts pressing against his chest, her hardened nipples notable through her wet clothes, her wet clothes sticking to her body, the arc of her back, the twitching of her butt and legs.

Everything was too much.

Men, men, men. Big muscular men. Big Hairy men.

"Get on your knees, young boy." He imagined Noah saying. "I will fuck you if you get hard."

He clenched his teeth, "G-Goddess, are you alright?" Noah, Noah, Noah, 

*ARK!*

His member twitched as the veins on his neck popped. 

Not enough! More negative!

Ugly, ugly, children, little girls, Phryne, Phryne, Phryne, PhrynePhryne… he chanted the toad's name like a mantra, trying to remember the creature's face and imagine her tongue around his member.

In the end, you can cancel out infinity with one trillion negatives.

And King Ottar, Warlord of Orario, the strongest man in the entire fucking world;

Jizzed in his pants.

Freya's vision slowly came back into focus, her eyes fluttering open as she stared at Ottar. She nodded, her lips parting in a shaky breath. Her mind still swam, but one thought was clear—she needed to do anything to keep Elred. 

That child, and his eyes, were hers. 

The fire that blazed within her demanded it, and she would not be denied.

Ottar tightened his grip slightly, his voice low and soothing as he spoke again. "Take your time, my goddess. I've got you." He said all while his dick was pulsating, more jizz flowing out. "Just breathe."

Freya closed her eyes, allowing herself to draw from Ottar's strength, her body slowly calming under his gentle care. The storm within her began to settle, through the fire still smoldered, a reminder of the intense connection she had felt. She knew that whatever it took, she would not let go of the one who had awakened such profound sensations within her.

Ottar looked towards the sky and smiled, tears rolling down the side of his eyes.

Ottar, for the first time in more than twenty years;

Cried.

~~~~~1st Person POV — Noah~~~~~

"By the way, where is that child?" Miquella voice on my back made me freeze.

"Alice." Shit!

I quickly turned around, looking for that little bitch. Why didn't she stay close? What if she is kidnapped!

Wait, why the fuck do I care? Not my child. But did she follow Freya due to her charm!? 'Freya!' She shouldn't have gone far so I should be able to see her and the little girl on my map—

Two dots were layered on top of me, one the purple of my familia member and the other one a green.

"..."

"..."

[...]

I looked down and so did Miquella.

Hugging my legs was that creepy child, her wet black hair falling over her eyes like a curtain, making her appear ghostly. Then she smiled.

"Heh." she laughed.

For the first time in my 48 years of living. 

I wanted to stomp on the head of a child.

I really fucking wanted to.

~~~~~~~~~Author's Note~~~~~~~~~

Hope this chapter wasn't boring. Was supposed to be a part of the last one, but I HAD to split it. 

Thanks for reading. Time for me to fucking do some project then sleep for the next 10 hours.