The next few days were spent doing what any group of seasoned, insane, world-class adventurers would do before heading to their probable deaths: they went on a shopping spree that could crash a small economy.
An inhuman amount of money was poured into acquiring the finest, rarest, and deadliest gear the world had to offer. This wasn't just "get strong" money—it was "if we die, it won't be because of shoddy equipment" kind of money. Harry could likely one-shot the enemy, sure—but this was a team mission, and they weren't about to let anyone end up on the casualty list.
Bell stood before the mirror of Hephaistos' forge, twisting his body to test the silver armor's mobility. It clung to him like a second skin—light, durable, and imbued with divine runes that shimmered faintly with each movement. Two sleek daggers sat holstered at his hips, pulsing with divine energy. They were beautiful, lethal things, curved elegantly, designed for speed and precision.
"Feels like I could dance in this," Bell grinned, twirling one dagger in hand.
Hephaistos, arms crossed, smirked. "Then don't trip over your own feet in front of the Black Dragon, hero."
(AN: Imagine Bell in armor like Igris from Solo Leveling, but silver and embedded with red gems. Absolute drip.)
Leon, Finn, and Ottar took the opposite approach—raw, radiant power. Golden armor gleamed under the forge lights, radiating the unmistakable pressure of champions. It wasn't just battle gear—it was a statement. Finn looked like a war general of old, while Leon and Ottar resembled golden titans ready to part mountains.
"Are you sure this isn't overkill?" Leon asked, tapping the shoulder plate. It echoed like a bell.
"If the black dragon sneezes fire, I'd prefer it to bounce off instead of turning me to ash," Finn said with a shrug.
Ottar remained silent, flexing once. The armor didn't so much as creak.
Harry forwent any kind of armor; his skin was the toughest defense available here; being a combination of Godlike beings from multiple universes made him quite tough. He was the personification of Death, beyond any concept. He also became an immortal Otsutsuki-like being in the Narutoverse and became the Soul King who absorbed Yhwach, Mimihagi, and the original Soul King, and he exploited the hell out of the Falna from the Danmachi World, so one could say he was quite unbeatable.
With all this free time, Harry went about making the girls he liked from this world fall for him even more, seducing them beyond return. Hestia, Ryuu, Loki, Ais, Riveria, and Hephaistos were victims of his gentlemanly charms and advances; he slowly snuck into their hearts and made them his own over time. (AN: I swear, this dude, first he becomes OP as hell and gets himself a roster of baddies, and now he doubles the amount?! Why don't I have such charm, huh?")
Once preparations were complete, the Guild sent out a global announcement using the Arcanum network—magic-powered broadcasting systems that lit up screens across cities and villages alike.
"The Brave Heroes of the Modern Era—Harry van Hestia, Bell Cranel, Finn Deimne, Ottar, and Leon Vardenburg—will now challenge the Black Dragon, a force of ancient apocalypse. A monster that erased Zeus and Hera Familia. Will they rise… or fall? Tune in, and witness history!"
All across the continent, silence fell, followed by a roar of cheers. In marketplaces and taverns, homes and temples, people gathered in crowds, watching the glowing Arcanum screens with wide eyes and tighter hearts.
Children pointed at Bell, idolizing him. Veterans stared at Ottar and Finn, hands clenched, praying silently. Old priests made offerings to distant gods. And across the sea, even monsters paused, sensing the shift in destiny.
The moment they stepped out of Orario, cheers erupted loud enough to shake the heavens.
Magic screens flickered on, showing the group from multiple angles. The god responsible for the projection poured immense mana into the system, ensuring not a moment was missed.
They walked in silence—calm, collected, radiating power.
Then, Harry smirked.
"So, let's make this interesting, guys."
All across the world, heads tilted closer to the screens as his deep, pleasant voice echoed through the crystal receivers.
"Hit us up, man," Bell replied, his voice lighter, bright and endearing. Women across the world gasped in unison.
(AN: looking young and cute, a killer combo with women, I tell ya.)
Harry didn't hesitate.
"I'll race y'all to the Dragon Valley—"
He vanished, shooting forward like a meteor. But the screens, through divine manipulation, kept pace. Harry's figure blurred like lightning, yet the camera tracked him with godly precision.
The others looked at each other—and took off.
Bell kicked into high gear, his silver armor barely visible. Ottar thundered like a freight train, leaving cracks in the earth. Leon and Finn sprinted side by side, gold gleaming in the sunlight.
All of them grinned like madmen.
They didn't look like warriors heading into battle.
They looked like brothers chasing joy.
They looked like heroes.
They were having fun—a huge amount of it.