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Good evening, everyone. This message is to let you know that I'm having trouble at university. My grades are dropping A LOT, and now I need to study harder.
Updates will take longer (at least until I pass the toughest exams, which are in one week and two days).
New change: [Divine Blessing of Hero Growth]: Once the stat cap is reached, any accumulated surplus will be retained and automatically applied to the next level with a 1.5 multiplier.
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"That won't be necessary."
The voice, firm as a sentence, cut through the air.
Bell, Riveria, and Ais instantly turned around. Amidst the lingering smoke of battle and the remnants of recent chaos, a figure emerged with confident steps: tall, imposing, with an unmistakable presence.
Ottar.
Silence followed him like a shadow. Even Yharon, still glowing faintly with fire, stiffened at the sight of the newcomer. Ais tightened her grip on her sword, not yet drawing it. Riveria, however, stepped forward, frowning.
"Ottar." Her tone was measured, but not friendly. "What do you mean by that?"
The captain of the Freya Familia stopped a few steps away. His eyes briefly scanned each of them: Bell, Yharon, Ais, and finally, Riveria.
"That information," he said calmly, "is confidential to the Guild."
Bell frowned. Deep down, a part of him understood. Or at least, sensed it. They don't want him talking. About his abilities, about Yharon. The word "confidential" wasn't meant to protect the Guild. It was a fancy way of saying "shut up for now."
And Ottar… he didn't seem to be here for that. Not entirely.
Riveria watched him with sharp eyes. The fact that Ottar had stopped on the 18th Floor and stayed to chat without descending further was strange enough. But for him to appear right after such a significant fight… It was no coincidence. Ottar didn't move of his own volition. He didn't speak more than necessary.
Freya had sent him. Of that she was certain.
But why?
Bell remained silent. He didn't reply. Not another word. He wasn't prepared to lie, but he wasn't a fool either.
The dragon behind him didn't roar or move either.
And Ottar, satisfied with that silence, looked away at the devastated surroundings… as if he had already done his part.
Yharon raised his head, his blazing eyes scanning those present one last time. His wings, marked with glowing runes and lingering fire, spread out powerfully.
Without a roar, he turned toward the large natural entrance to the 18th Floor, where the collapsed ceiling revealed an open tunnel leading to the upper levels. He took a couple of steps, then pushed off.
With a flapping of wings that raised a wave of wind and ash, the dragon took flight.
Bell followed him with his eyes, feeling a strange emptiness in his chest as he watched his companion disappear into the darkness. No one tried to stop him. No one could. And, oddly enough, no one would.
Beside him, Riveria watched him silently, with a mixture of confusion, doubt… and a hint of respect. Ais also followed him with her gaze, her hand still on the hilt, but no longer tense with attack. Her face didn't have its usual neutral expression: something more complex was brewing there. An internal conflict, silently contained.
The fire in Yharon's body became a trail as he disappeared into the air, and soon, only the sound of the air and the distant echo of his departure remained.
"He's gone…" Riveria murmured, not really knowing whether she said it with relief or disappointment.
And no one else said a word.
Bors emerged from the rubble, accompanied by a small group of wounded and dusty adventurers. Some limped, others helped the wounded walk. Their faces reflected the strain of what they had experienced, but when they saw Ottar's figure, a wave of relief spread like a collective exhalation.
"Ottar!!" Bors exclaimed, raising both arms as if greeting a divine savior. His face, flushed with exertion and adrenaline, lit up with a beaming smile. "I knew it was you. There's no way anyone else could have taken that thing down!"
Bell, still standing beside Ais and Riveria, watched the scene with a slowly darkening expression. Not out of jealousy, not out of pride. But because of the unfairness of the assumption. No one else, apart from the three of them, knew what had really happened. Of the effort, the fear, the helplessness… and of the dragon who had just saved them. But Bors didn't spare them a single glance. It was as if their existence didn't matter.
Ottar remained motionless, looking at Bors with his characteristic cutting serenity. He didn't deny anything. Nor did he affirm anything. He just watched with his icy, calm eyes… until he spoke.
"Where were you," he said in a deep voice, "when these adventurers died?"
He nodded slightly at the bodies still scattered around the area. Some had been covered with cloaks or mantles, others were still as they had fallen: severed, torn apart by a brutal attack. The group that had come with Bors fell silent. Even those being cared for by their comrades stopped moving for a moment.
Bors hesitated.
"I… I gathered everyone I could," he murmured, as if his voice already knew it wouldn't be convincing. "I got them out of the way, we retreated. I tried to save as many as possible."
Ottar took a step toward him. He didn't raise his voice, but each word felt like a lead weight.
"So you ran away. Like a coward."
The silence was absolute. Bors lowered his gaze, his earlier smile already dead. The tension in his jaw was evident, his fist clenched at his side as if searching for something to hold on to. He bit his lip, his lips trembled for a second… but he didn't respond. He couldn't. Because talking back to Ottar wasn't just dangerous. It was foolish. There wasn't an adventurer in Orario who didn't know that confronting him was a death sentence.
Finally, with a barely contained effort, Bors murmured:
"I saved as many people as I could…"
He said no more. He didn't dare.
Bell looked away, his stomach churning with a mix of discomfort and pity. It wasn't as if Ottar was wrong… but there was something raw about seeing him like this. Seeing Bors, who had so often led Rivira with such boisterous energy, now so… small. Humiliated. Silent. While his actions hadn't been heroic, they hadn't been vile either.
Bell didn't want to watch any longer. Not out of contempt for Ottar or Bors, but because he felt something was broken in that scene. Something that couldn't be immediately fixed. He slowly, quietly, backed away, while Ottar stood like an immovable shadow before the defeated Rivira leader.
With heavy steps, he approached Ais. She was still standing, looking in the direction where Yharon had flown to, as if she could still see him through the mist of the 18th floor.
"Ais-san…" he called softly. The blonde didn't respond immediately, barely blinking. Then Bell cleared his throat slightly. "Do you know if the Takemikazuchi Familia is okay?"
Ais turned her face slightly toward him, her eyebrows barely furrowed. She tilted her head in an almost childlike gesture and asked, in her typical neutral voice:
"Who…?"
Bell blinked, somewhat surprised, but not annoyed.
"They're the ones with Far Eastern clothing," he explained, gesturing with his hand to accompany his description. "Purple hues, dark hair, and one of them was carrying a huge axe. They were fighting near where the Goliaths appeared. They were also providing support."
Ais nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Her eyes wandered toward the distant battlefield, as if trying to remember, as if images of the fight flashed through her mind. She didn't say anything yet... but she seemed at least beginning to place them.
Ais narrowed her eyes for a moment, as if mentally rewinding everything she had seen during the battle. Then, with her typical unwavering calm, she nodded slightly.
"They're still there. With the green hood."
Her tone was simple, without added emotion, but those words were enough.
Bell let out a long breath, as if he had been holding it in all this time.
"Thank goodness…" he murmured, feeling something in his chest finally loosen. Not only was the Takemikazuchi family safe… but so was Ryuu. She was with them. Safe.
Bell lowered his gaze slightly, letting that relief wash over him for a few seconds. After everything he'd been through, he needed some good news… even if it was just one.
While Bell was still breathing in relief, a large hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.
The young man jumped, turning around immediately. It was Ottar.
The man's expression was as imperturbable as ever, but his presence imposed an almost tangible pressure.
"We have to go," he said in a deep voice, leaving no room for reply.
Bell opened his mouth, still confused. "The Takemikazuchi familia… they were waiting for me…"
But he stopped. Ottar's gaze, firm, unyielding, pierced him without words. He wasn't going to accept excuses. No matter how valid they were.
Bell pressed his lips together and nodded in resignation. He turned to Ais, who was still watching him silently.
"Could you let them know…? I had to leave."
Ais nodded, but this time it wasn't just her usual automatic gesture. Her eyes, always so serene, reflected something else. Sorrow? Concern?
Bell noticed. And for some reason, it made his stomach churn. He didn't know whether to feel worried... or just sorry.
He thanked her with a slight bow and then began walking beside Ottar, without saying anything else.
As he passed Riveria, she looked at him too. She didn't say anything, but her gaze spoke volumes.
"This is not over."
Bell lowered his head slightly, uncomfortable.
…
Bell walked silently beside Ottar, leaving the echoes of Rivira behind. Each step toward the 17th floor felt heavier than the last, not from physical exhaustion, but from the tension that hung in the air between them.
The path was clear, the remnants of chaos still fresh, but no longer threatening. Only the footsteps echoing on the stone remained.
It was then that Ottar broke the silence.
"You should be grateful to my goddess."
Bell looked at him sideways, puzzled.
"Why do you say that?"
Ottar continued walking without stopping, the same stony calm in his expression. "Your dragon. Your secret. The goddess Freya had to call in many favors… for that to become confidential information of the Guild."
[A/N: They weren't THOSE kinds of favors.]
Bell paused for a moment, shocked. "So it wasn't a lie…?"
Ottar also stopped and looked at him sideways.
"No."
A single word. Plain. Direct. Irrefutable.
And yet, heavier than any elaborate phrase.
Bell swallowed, feeling the pressure in his chest. Then he looked up, forcing himself to remain calm.
Bell resumed walking, not looking back at him. But as they climbed the uneven steps of the passage, he couldn't help but feel a persistent discomfort creeping up his spine.
"There's no point in letting her wait for another day."
His voice was low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. Then he took a deep breath, as if surrendering to something inevitable.
"I'll see her now," he muttered resignedly, glancing sideways at Ottar. "Anyway… the Takemikazuchi familia will take a while to return to the surface."
Ottar didn't say anything for a moment. He walked silently a few more steps, but Bell noticed it. A smile.
Small. Subtle. Almost imperceptible.
Without exchanging another word, the two continued their journey, ascending the tunnels. The atmosphere became less oppressive with each step, the air thinner, and natural light began to filter faintly from the upper levels. Bell felt the tension in his chest gradually loosen, but it didn't disappear entirely. Ottar remained at his side, imposing, silent... like a shadow too large to ignore.
Finally, Bell and Ottar emerged from the dungeon, crossing the massive entrance that led directly to the first floor of the Babel Tower, where there was always a steady stream of adventurers entering and exiting. Despite the typical bustle, Ottar's presence had an immediate effect: conversations diminished, glances shifted, and the atmosphere became tense for a few seconds. Bell sensed curious eyes and murmurs as he passed, but pretended not to notice them.
The tower, imposing as ever, loomed above them, and they didn't have far to walk to reach the lobby where the magical elevator was located, reserved only for the upper floors... the floors that only a privileged few could visit.
Bell sighed and muttered, more to himself than to Ottar:
"Alright, let's get this out of the way before the Takemikazuchi family returns to the surface."
Ottar didn't respond with words, but silently pressed the button indicating the highest floor.
The elevator began to rise, silent as ever, as the young adventurer mentally prepared himself for his upcoming conversation with the goddess who never stopped watching him.
The elevator stopped with a soft click, and the doors opened directly in front of the entrance to Freya's suite. Bell stepped out, and there it was: the large door decorated with elegant inscriptions, marking the threshold to the goddess's domain.
Ottar stopped by the entrance, standing to the side with his arms crossed.
"I'm staying here," he said in his usual tone, firm but not aggressive.
Bell nodded silently. He took a deep breath, resisted the urge to tense his shoulders, and, without looking back, pushed open the door.
The interior greeted him with its characteristic atmosphere, as luxurious as he remembered. He didn't need to see it again to know that everything there exuded an air of power and refinement.
In the center, seated on her throne, Freya stood with the innate elegance of someone always in control. But as soon as her eyes fell on Bell, she slowly stood up, never taking her eyes off him.
To Bell's utter surprise, Freya didn't walk or glide with her usual grace. No. She leaped straight toward him.
"Hey-?!"
Instinctively, Bell caught her in his arms, staggering slightly from the momentum. The warmth of her body, the sweet scent of flowers… everything hit his senses at once.
Freya hugged him tightly, hiding her face against his neck for a moment before breaking away just to look into his eyes, shining with suppressed emotion.
"You looked so handsome down there!" she said in a cheerful tone, more like a young woman in love than an ancient goddess. "Especially when you were wielding your sword against those Goliaths. So brave, so determined…"
Bell, still processing the change in behavior, looked down at her slightly.
"…Were you spying on me again?" he asked, not knowing whether to sound annoyed or just confused.
Freya didn't respond immediately. Her expression changed, becoming a little more timid, lowering her gaze for a moment as if she were a girl caught in a prank.
"…Yes," she admitted softly, with a crooked smile. A barely perceptible blush crept onto her cheeks.
Bell blinked, unable to help but notice the stark contrast with his previous image of her: haughty, confident, flirtatious… And now, acting almost like an embarrassed girl.
Bell sighed softly, lowering his arms when he felt Freya's body pressed against him for longer than necessary. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable... but he also didn't know how to react to a goddess hugging him so tightly.
Freya, noticing this, finally pulled away with visible reluctance, letting out a sigh of her own as her fingers still grazed his arms before releasing him completely.
"You were truly amazing down there," she said with a proud smile, as if she herself had something to do with their victory. "Facing two Goliaths and then that… thing. Few adventurers can boast of surviving something like that."
Bell tilted his head slightly, still unsure how to take such praise. "Thanks… although I wouldn't have achieved anything without help."
Freya nodded, but then her expression became a little more serious.
"Even so," she added, elegantly crossing her arms as she regarded him with a mixture of affection and concern, "it was too dangerous for you. You're still growing, Bell. I don't want you to rush into situations where you could be killed by carelessness."
[N/A: Big difference with canon Freya *sends a minotaur to traumatize him*]
Bell lowered his gaze for a second. He knew it wasn't just a superficial warning. There was genuine concern in her words… and maybe a little more.
"I know," he murmured, feeling that uncomfortable mix of pride and guilt grow in his chest.
Bell looked up, a mixture of gratitude and confusion in his eyes.
"Ah… Lord Ottar told me that… you were the one who made the dragon thing guild confidential information. Is that true?"
Freya nodded with a soft, elegant smile, as her eyes shone with barely contained enthusiasm.
"Yes, it was me. I couldn't allow such a fascinating secret to be exposed. You know how the guild members are… and the gods even more so. Such a being at your side would have attracted too much attention."
Bell looked down slightly, still not fully understanding. "I'm grateful, really… but… how did you know that dragon had some connection to me?"
Freya didn't respond immediately. Instead, she walked slowly toward him, as if carefully choosing each word. Then, with a soft—almost dreamy—expression, she murmured:
"I can see the colors of souls, Bell."
Bell looked at her, surprised. "What…?"
Freya smiled wider, almost as if lost in her own thoughts.
"That's why I was interested in you from the beginning. Your soul… shines with a unique, indomitable light. But when that dragon appeared at the Monsterferia, I saw something else."
She paused briefly, raising a hand, as if drawing an invisible lasso in the air.
"A line. A thread of light, subtle but unmistakable, that connected your soul to that creature's. I didn't know what it meant at the time… but connecting the dots was easy."
Bell remained silent, processing every word. The idea of being connected to that being… even before he knew its name, left him frozen.
Freya watched him with shining eyes, still wrapped in that dreamy expression.
"I felt it. As if the two of you were part of the same destiny."
Bell remained silent for a few more seconds, trying to process what he had just heard. Then he tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised. "So… is this how you spy on me?" Freya blinked.
"Hey?"
Her dreamy expression shattered like glass, replaced by a mixture of surprise and mild discomfort. Her face flushed slightly, her lips parted as she tried to regain her composure.
"I wouldn't call it spying!" she said quickly, turning around with exaggerated dignity, though her tone betrayed how nervous she'd become. "Just… watching. Lovingly."
Bell let out a small sigh and a half-smile, unable to help but find the reaction amusing. Freya, still with her back to him, crossed her arms in feigned indifference.
Freya, still with her back to him, quickly recovered. She turned elegantly, as if the previous scene had never happened, and looked at him with that serene, charming smile that always seemed to hide a thousand intentions.
"That aside… you did something incredible down there, Bell. You nearly took down two Goliaths, you faced off against a nameless threat, and… you were very brave. I think you deserve a reward."
Bell narrowed his eyes slightly, already having a bad feeling. Freya approached him slowly, her steps soft on the marble floor, until she was close enough to lean slightly toward his ear.
"Ask for whatever you want. Anything." Her voice was almost a whisper, seductive, enveloping. "I'm willing to please you."
Bell swallowed. His mind filled with red warning lights. He knew exactly what she meant… or at least he had a pretty good idea. That bright, expectant look on Freya's face wasn't that of a goddess offering a simple dinner or a break. It was that of someone who wanted him to take the next step, one that would change their relationship completely. A kiss? Something more?
He looked away awkwardly, scratching his cheek.
"No… it's not necessary." His tone was polite, but firm.
Freya blinked. For a moment, she looked puzzled. Then she smiled again, but this time with a hint of melancholy… or resignation.
"You're too pure for your own good, Bell."
He didn't respond; he just lowered his gaze slightly, somewhat nervous. Although inside, he felt relieved to have gotten out of that trap with as little emotional damage as possible.
Freya turned gracefully, taking a few steps away as her long gown billowed around her. With an almost musical lilt to her voice, she said:
"So… if you don't want a kiss, or anything intimate…" she paused playfully, looking over her shoulder with an amused glint in her eyes, "would you like something else? Perhaps a grimoire?" Bell tilted his head, confused.
"A grimoire?"
Freya walked over to an elegant bookcase carved with ancient symbols, placed against the right wall of the room. She ran a delicate finger along the spines of several books, each with unique bindings.
"It's a special book," she explained casually, as if she were talking about an ordinary gift. "When you read it, the grimoire is consumed… and in its place, you gain a spell. A completely new one. It's the fastest and most mysterious way to obtain magic." She paused, gently removing one of the books. "And also one of the most expensive. Some of these are worth more than a mansion in the upper boroughs of Orario."
Bell's eyes widened.
"More than a mansion?"
"Easily." Freya turned to him, the grimoire held carefully in her hands, as if it were a crystal egg. "That's why only the most privileged can access them… or the most beloved."
Bell felt an imaginary drop of sweat run down the back of his neck. He swallowed as he watched the magical book, dazzling, float in front of him as if testing his fate. In that instant, a fleeting thought crossed his mind, one as embarrassing as it was inevitable.
Is this what it feels like to have a sugar mommy…?
His face tightened, a mixture of horror and disbelief. Freya studied him closely and, as if reading his mind—or at least his expression—she smiled mischievously.
"Did you think something about me, Bell?" she asked, her voice sweet but mischievous. She took a step closer, tilting her face to the side with a look that sparkled with amusement.
Bell blushed immediately, almost as if his body reacted before he could deny anything.
"N-no! I didn't think anything was wrong!" he said quickly, taking a half step back, his hands raised as if Freya were a dragon about to attack him with a breath of fire. Freya let out a soft, feminine, charming laugh.
"You're so adorable…" she murmured, holding the grimoire between them like an almost ceremonial offering. "So, you want it? Even if you see me as your… sugar mommy."
"I didn't say anything–!! That wasn't…!" Bell tried to defend himself, but his brain momentarily rebooted. He ended up closing his eyes and sighing, defeated. "…Yes, I want it."
Freya handed him the grimoire with a triumphant smile, and Bell couldn't help but feel like he'd fallen into another kind of trap.
But… a pretty magical trap.