Johanna stood awkwardly beside Larz, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. After revealing who he truly was—the chosen of the Progenitor Gods—she had expected at least a reaction from the others. Something visceral. But instead, she was met with skepticism, aloof disinterest, and silence.

Drogun lounged across the pew like he had every intention of napping through the rest of the meeting. Nixi seemed receptive, but not exactly convinced. And Mireya… well, Mireya just looked annoyed, her arms crossed in silent protest, like this was a waste of her time.

Larz remained calm. Unshaken. His spine was straight, chin up, expression gentle yet firm. Even with the heavy air of judgment thickening around him, his resolve didn’t waver. He didn’t expect immediate acceptance—just as he hadn’t expected the gods’ path to be an easy one. But he had asked for their aid, and he would not regret that. Not now. Not ever.

Beside him, Johanna finally dropped her arms and exhaled.

“Will each of you come and introduce yourselves to Larz?” she asked, voice taut with fatigue. “Tell him your name and what you specialize in.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Nixi shifted, glancing at Drogun and Mireya on either side of her. Drogun hasn't budged an inch, and Mireya’s expression could’ve cut glass.

“Guess I’ll go first then,” Nixi muttered softly to herself.

With a light grunt, she hopped down from the pew. Her little leather boots clicked crisply against the stone floor in the otherwise deafening silence of the temple. Larz watched her approach with curiosity and, to his own amusement, a hint of delight. There was something undeniably endearing about the way she carried herself—confident but also somehow shy.

She reached the steps leading to the raised dais where Larz and Johanna stood, clutched the strap of her shoulder bag with both hands, then dropped to one knee.

“My name is Nixi Branwyn, Sir Larz,” she said clearly, golden eyes bright with sincerity. “My special ability is Augmentation—specifically speed augmentation. I hope to be useful to you!”

Her eyes met his without flinching, and Larz smiled.

“Just Larz is fine,” he replied kindly. “Thank you for joining the team, Nixi.”

The warmth in his tone sent a deep blush rising up her cheeks. She squeaked in embarrassment, turned, and practically scampered back to her pew, hiding her burning face behind her bag. Johanna let out a soft chuckle—just a hint of amusement—before the sound of shifting leather and creaking wood drew attention to Drogun.

With a groan, he sat up, brushing his hand through his bright red mohawk. The style was a blazing torch of personality—unapologetic and unmistakable, just like the man himself.

“Hmm. Guess it’s my turn, yeah?” he muttered, jerking his thumb lazily at Mireya. “Pinkie back there looks like she’d rather hug a cactus than say hello.”

Mireya didn’t even blink, though her wings gave a faint twitch at the nickname.

Drogun sauntered to the front with all the grace of a man who knew he was being watched and lived for it. When he reached the dais, he threw himself into a ridiculously over-the-top bow—one hand over his chest, back bent low.

Johanna groaned under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Is this a proper greeting?” Larz whispered to her.

“For him? No, not at all. He’s just showing off.”

Drogun grinned and looked up with a sparkle in his eye. “Aw, come on, little Jojo! Aren’t you proud of me for being respectful to the heavens’ envoy?”

“My opinion doesn’t matter. State your name and abilities so we can all move on to more important matters, please and thank you.” Her voice was ice, but her eyes darted down the aisle toward Mireya, silent pressure building in the air.

“Alright, alright.” Drogun stood tall again and turned his focus to Larz. “Name’s Drogun Ironside, wolf boy. Think of me as your shield, and we’ll get along just fine.”

He gave a roguish wink, then burst into his usual booming laughter. Larz couldn’t help but crack a smile at the unfiltered energy pouring off of him.

But suddenly—without warning—the laughter stopped.

Drogun’s face became unreadably serious, eyes narrowing with a focus that Larz hadn’t yet seen in him. The laughter was gone. The humor drained. The facade had melted away, revealing the iron beneath.

“But don’t think I won’t want a piece of the action just because I’m a shield,” Drogun said slowly. “Not many get to say they’ve gone up against a god, after all.”

And with that, the storm passed. Drogun turned, sauntered back to his pew, and sprawled out again, one arm draped behind his head as though nothing had happened.

“Wolf boy?” Johanna hissed under her breath. “What happened to being respectful?”

Drogun laughed, eyes closed. “Can’t expect good manners all the time, little Jojo.”

Again, silence reigned. All attention now shifted to Mireya.

She remained exactly as she was—lounging in her pew like royalty on a reluctant throne. Her wings were folded behind her, and her legs still propped up as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Mireya,” Johanna said, voice steady. “Please come forward and present yourself to Larz.”

There was a beat. Then Mireya tilted her head down slowly, locking eyes with Johanna. A sigh escaped her lips—long and dramatic—before she stood. But instead of walking, she spread her large pink wings and took to the air. With a few beats, she rose up above the dais and hovered there, her silhouette backlit by the warm glow of the sun filtering through the open ceiling.

“Must you do this?” Johanna scolded, eyes narrowing. “It’s disrespectful to hold yourself above—”

“It’s alright,” Larz said gently, placing a hand on Johanna’s shoulder and smiling. “If she feels more comfortable doing that, I don’t mind.”

His eyes shifted upward—just in time to truly see Mireya. Her wings caught the light perfectly, framing her like an angelic vision. The power, the presence—she was stunning.

“Beautiful…” Larz breathed, not realizing he’d spoken aloud. Mireya’s scowl deepened, but Nixi—watching from behind—caught the faint pink flush rising at the tips of her ears between each flap of her wings.

“Anyway,” Mireya said dryly, folding her arms as she hovered, “you wanna know my name and what I do?”

She smirked, tilting her chin upward with confidence.

“I’m Mireya Valbryn, and I’m the best healer in all the land.”

Larz felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. That smirk suited her far more than the icy walls she wore before. With a gentle descent, Mireya returned to her pew, wings folding neatly behind her as if she hadn’t just lit the air on fire with her presence.

Johanna exhaled, her shoulders lowering as the tension finally dissipated.

“Moving on,” she said, clearing her throat, “as you all know, the Progenitor Gods had me summon you here to assist Larz on his quest to hunt down the former gods of the pantheon.”

She paused, letting the gravity of those words settle.

“Now that you are all acquainted with one another, I will now reveal the name and location of the first god they have requested to be eliminated.”

To be continued…