Danmachi Familia from Hell

13

As soon as they approached the village, they adopted empty expressions. Not neutral, emotionless ones like Hades almost always wore, but faces that conveyed complete emptiness, as if they had just returned from hell itself—because, in a way, they had seen it with their own eyes.
They walked with slow, unsteady steps, making their bodies tremble slightly. When they crossed the threshold of the inn, Darius saw them. Every time a traveler returned from the Field of Doom, they looked exactly like the elf and the god.
The innkeeper knew how to bring such people back to their senses or rather, how to reset them. Without hesitation, he poured the strongest liquor he had into shot glasses for his guests, knowing that ten, maybe a few dozen, would be enough to make them pass out. By morning, they would be too preoccupied with their splitting headaches to dwell on the horrors they had witnessed.
The man was absolutely convinced that his customers were terrified to the core. He would never have suspected that it was just a damn good act.
Hades had learned how to control his emotions so that they could never rule over him. For many years, he had developed this skill to its absolute limits. It was not his mood that dictated his actions, it was he who dictated his mood. Of course, he couldn’t change what he truly felt deep in his chest, but that was still enough to deceive even most gods.
Belakher, having learned from his god, had not become quite as exceptional an actor, but when in his patron’s company, he could mimic his behavior and fill in the gaps in conversation. They were like a duo performing on stage—one that had agreed on the play's theme and general direction beforehand but left room for improvisation based on the audience’s reaction.

- How the fuck can you even live here?! - The golden-eyed one nearly tore his throat screaming. - Corpses… Thousands of corpses! There! And you… And you… And you just go on living like nothing’s wrong?!

The King of the Underworld made sure to sound as hysterical and broken as possible. Even with his divine powers sealed, he was still an incredibly tall, muscular man, but even the mightiest would tremble in fear at the sight of the decorations surrounding the self-proclaimed ruler’s home.

- Because what is there, is there. What is here, is here - Darius replied calmly.

- What the hell is that supposed to mean?! - the elf shouted in frustration.

The innkeeper sighed heavily before pouring another round for both guests. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out a shot glass for himself as well, quickly filling it.

- I asked you this before, but let me confirm again. Have you heard why this province was cut off from the outside world for centuries? - he said, raising his glass.

The elf and the god drank with him before beginning to recount the legend they had heard from Ares and his followers.
Darius didn’t interrupt them until they reached the part where the demon had cleansed the area of monsters in a single night, slaughtered the castle’s inhabitants, and declared himself lord of these lands. When Belakher got to the moment where the demon swore to protect the villagers in exchange for their recognition of his rule and their promise to steer clear of his new home, the innkeeper finally spoke.

- Let’s stop there - he said, pouring again. - Whatever lives there, it keeps its word like hell itself. For centuries, my ancestors and the ancestors of the other villagers have found the mangled corpses of monsters whenever they crossed the province’s borders. Not once has a beast ever gotten close to any of our homes. So yes, we’ve had protection - he said, downing his drink with the others.

- I get that protection from the Dungeon’s plague was important to your ancestors - Belakher said, pretending to be shocked. - But for over a hundred years, it’s been the monsters running from intelligent races, not the other way around. Doesn’t it bother you that you’re still dying for nothing?"