The dim light of the Church basement glinted off the dark metal of the chestplate as Bell secured the final buckle of his new Pyokichi Mk. Alpha armor. It wasn't the gleaming silver of his first Crozzo piece.
This was forged from a deep, shadowy gunmetal grey, traced with veins of crimson that seemed to pulse faintly with inner heat like cooling embers. It hugged his torso and limbs tightly, the Crozzo craftsmanship evident in its surprising lightness despite its sturdy appearance.
Knee guards, reinforced greaves, and vambraces completed the set, giving him the look of a warrior ready for the abyss, not a hopeful adventurer.
"Hold still, Bell!" Hestia chided, her small hands patting down his chest plate, ostensibly checking for loose straps but lingering suspiciously long over the defined planes of his abs. Her cheeks held a faint red tinge. "Must... must ensure everything fits perfectly! No chafing!"
Lili, standing nearby holding a small hand mirror, watched Hestia's 'inspection' with narrowed eyes and a slight, unconscious pout of jealousy.
"The Goddess is quite... thorough," she muttered, focusing instead on the articulated joints at Bell's shoulders and elbows, giving them experimental tugs. "Seems secure, Master Bell. No obvious weaknesses."
Bell endured the attention, running his own hands over the cool metal, checking buckles and straps around his thighs and waist. The armor felt like a second skin – protective, yet granting freedom of movement. "Feels good," he confirmed, his voice slightly muffled by the high collar. "Solid. No looseness."
Satisfied, Lili finally held up the mirror. "See for yourself, Master Bell."
Bell looked. The reflection that stared back was startling. Gone was the bright, hopeful " Rookie" in white armor that seemed to shine with idealism. In his place stood a figure cloaked in shadow and blood-red accents.
The stark contrast was jarring. He remembered the white armor – the symbol of a knight setting out to save a damsel, pure and untainted. This... This black-and-red armor radiated a different aura: grim determination, a soldier marching to war, someone who knew the cost and was ready to pay it. The irony wasn't lost on him. He sighed, a soft exhalation heavy with the weight of his changed path.
Hestia, immediately picking up on his stress, stopped her 'inspection' and looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. "Bell? Are you alright? Do you have everything you need potions and bandages?" She bit her lip. "Are... are you sure you shouldn't take Lili with you? Even if it's dangerous? Two are better than one..."
Bell shook his head firmly, the movement crisp within the armor's confines.
"No, Lady Hestia. The danger rank is too high. I barely survived conquering those lower rank dungeons myself at Level 1. Lili..."
He looked at the Supporter, his gaze serious but not unkind. "...facing a higher tier dungeon now would be certain death for her. She needs to level up, gain strength safely first."
Lili's ears visibly drooped. Her small shoulders slumped, and she looked down at the stone floor. "Lili... Lili understands," she whispered, her voice thick. "Lili is sorry. Useless." Tears welled in her large eyes, but when she looked up again, they burned with fierce resolve and red tint of her skill Blood Geas.
"But Lili will become stronger! Strong enough to stand beside Master Bell! Strong enough to destroy his enemies!" The vow was fierce; a promise etched in the fire of her frustration and loyalty.
Bell gave her a firm, approving nod. "I know you will, Lili. That's why your task is crucial here."
He shifted gears, his tone becoming businesslike.
"While I'm gone tonight, gather intel. Focus on the lower floors – safe routes to Rivira, monster patterns, any recent disturbances. And keep tabs. Listen for any whispers about Kali Familia... and Ishtar Familia."
Hestia blinked, confused. "Ishtar? Kali? Why them specifically? Shouldn't we be watching Freya more than ever?". If I remember correctly, both Freya and Ishtar don't get along and Kali the less I talk about her the better. Last I heard she was at Teleskyura.
Bell hesitated. Explaining the vile plan and of pitting goddesses against each other, the forged emblems, the planned provocation... it was too much, too dangerous for Hestia to carry right now. "I'll explain later, Lady Hestia," he said, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument.
Hestia folded her hands under her ample chest and gave a look.
"It's complicated. For now..." He turned to Hestia specifically. "...you need to leave the church. Go to Hephaestus Familia. Tell her you're feeling bored and lonely here, wanted to visit. Make it seem casual. Stay with her tonight. It's important."
Hestia puffed out her cheeks slightly, clearly wanting answers but recognizing the urgency in his eyes. "Fine... I'll go bother Hephaestus," she grumbled, though the underlying worry remained.
Lili straightened, the momentary vulnerability replaced by Supporter efficiency. "Understood, Master Bell. Information gathering on lower floors, Kali, and Ishtar. Lili will begin immediately." She gave a sharp nod.
"After Work I'll head to Hephaestus make sure miss supporter stays close by to bable if you need any help"
Lili gives a firm nod "I'll be nearby if master bell needs help"
Hestia followed Bell to the church entrance as he prepared to leave. The late afternoon sun slanted across the steps, glinting harshly on his dark armor.
She grabbed his armored forearm, her small hand looking fragile against the metal. "Bell," her voice trembled slightly, "promise me. Promise you'll come back home."
Bell turned, looking down at her. He placed his own gauntleted hand over hers. The metal was cool, but his gaze was warm with unwavering sincerity. "I always will, Lady Hestia. I promise." He squeezed her hand gently. "After your work stay safe at Hephaestus's."
With one last, long look at his goddess and his Supporter – his fragile, precious Familia – Bell Cranel turned and strode into the bustling streets of Orario.
His dark armor drew fewer overt stares than his old white set, but it radiated a different kind of intensity that made people subtly step aside. He didn't head straight for Babel. First, he detoured to the Guild.
He navigated the familiar halls, ignoring the usual buzz and looks of adventurers and clerks. He spotted Eina at her desk, deeply engrossed in paperwork. He approached quietly.
"Miss Eina."
She looked up, her professional demeanor softening slightly with concern when she saw him, especially in the imposing new armor. "Bell. Is everything alright? You look... ready for war."
"I need an appointment," Bell said, keeping his voice low and steady. "For lower floor authorization. Tomorrow morning. As early as possible."
Eina studied him, the worry in her green eyes deepening. "Bell... are you sure? After everything? You need rest, proper—"
"Tomorrow morning, Miss Eina," Bell repeated, his voice firm but respectful. "Please. It's urgent."
Eina saw the unyielding resolve in his crimson eyes. The resolve she'd seen hardening over the past few days. With a sigh, she pulled out her ledger. "Alright, Bell. First thing. But my test will be thorough. Be prepared."
"Thank you," Bell said, genuine gratitude in his tone. "I will be."
Leaving Eina with her concerns, Bell finally turned towards Babel. He didn't take the main entrance. Instead, he slipped into the network of service tunnels and maintenance corridors Eina had told him about – Babels veins within the tower itself.
He moved like a shadow, his enhanced senses alert, avoiding main thoroughfares and potential observation points. Freya's eyes could be anywhere.
At the middle floors of Babel, far from prying eyes, Bell found a secluded, dusty storage alcove. He leaned against the cold stone wall, the only sound his own breathing echoing slightly in the confined space. The weight of the dark armor felt right now, a necessary shell. He closed his eyes, centering himself, pushing down the fear, the grief, the overwhelming pressure.
Then, he reached into the intangible space within him. His fingers closed around solid warmth. He drew out the S-Rank Key.
[Item: Demon Castle Key]
Item Class: S
A Key that allows you to enter DUNGEON DEMON CASTLE. Can be used in Babel Tower
It pulsed in his hand, the orange-gold metal radiating a soft, potent light that illuminated the dusty alcove, casting long, dancing shadows. The intricate patterns on its surface seemed to writhe with contained power.
A shuddering breath escaped Bell's lips, fogging slightly in the cool air. His crimson eyes snapped open, fixed on the key, then on the featureless stone wall before him. This was it. No turning back. The crucible awaited.
He raised the glowing key. The air before him rippled, reality warping as an ancient, towering archway of shimmering, ephemeral energy began to coalesce out of nothingness. He put it forward and turned a similar fissure opened hot air blew to his face
The scent of ozone and distant, unknown dangers filled the alcove. The light from the key intensified, bathing Bell's dark-armored form in an otherworldly glow as the massive, S-Rank dungeon gate solidified before him, its threshold yawning open into impenetrable, swirling darkness.
(!)Alarm
[The Gate of S-Rank Dungeon Demon Castle has Opened]
Bell Cranel tightened his grip both of the blades as the Key disappeared, squared his shoulders clad in shadow and ember-red, and stepped forward into the unknown. The gate swallowed him whole, then vanished, leaving only dust motes dancing in the sudden, profound silence. The hunt had begun.
~(Scene Change-S Rank Dungeon Entrance)~
Bell now looked around at the hellish landscape the building he could not recognize was on fire rather the whole landscape was on fire giving a scene of utter devastating a picture of death and destruction.
He stood on a cracked obsidian plain under a blood-red sky choked with ash. Jagged ruins of impossible, alien architecture clawed at the horizon, each engulfed in eternal, silent flames that cast monstrous, dancing shadows.
Then he heard shaking like something moving towards him. He looked forward and saw it. A large bronze gate girded by a three headed do or rather a hellhound with gleaming mane coming towards him.
Then, the tremor. Deep, rhythmic, shaking the ground beneath his new Pyokichi Mk. Alpha boots. He turned slowly, dread crystallizing in his gut.
The oppressive air in the S-Rank dungeon didn't just burn Bell's lungs; it seared them. The heat from the environment and the blood Lust was a physical weight, oppressive and reeking of sulfur and charred bone – a landscape sculpted by pure devastation. Death wasn't just present; it was the bedrock.
Beyond a collapsed archway of black stone, it emerged. A mountain of corrupted flesh and bronze-scale hide. Three monstrous heads, each larger than Bell himself, crowned with manes of writhing, living shadow-fire. Eyes like molten lava pits fixed on him, radiating, bottomless hunger. Saliva, thick and steaming like acid, dripped from fanged maws the size of cave entrances, sizzling where it struck the scorched earth.
Kerberus. The guardian of myth that Grandpa used to tell him the Guards of hell, rendered in nightmare in flesh. The Spider boss paled in comparison; this was primordial fury given form. It was huge and hideous nothing compared to the spider he fought.
Saliva was dripping from its face like he is the next meal which he would become if he does not win.
The Return Stone... The thought was a fleeting whisper of sanity. He crushed the thought instantly. He thought about using the Item return stone again and again with each step the beast coming closer but he shut it down.
Freya's predatory gaze, Ishtar's plotting smirk, Kali's looming war machine – they flashed before his eyes.
Then he remembered the eyes of the Lord.
Sick Grin staring at him taunting him.
A wave of heat came from his gut.
HE CAN'T RUN.
If he runs away, he won't get STRONGER.
He needs to Level up even more.
"SPRINT!"
(!)ALARM
[-TITLE: WOLF SLAYER]
[BUFF EFFECT IS ACTIVATING]
(!)ALARM
[-SKILL SPRINT WAS ACTIVATED]
[-MOVEMENT SPEED WILL INCREASE BY 30%]
[-1MANA WILL BE CONSUMED EVERY MINUTE]
He became a blue-tinged blur, darting not away, but around the colossal beast. His new Raikan Edge and Raskas Venom Fang flashed, a desperate series of rapid slashes aimed at the thick, armored tendons behind Cerberus's massive foreleg joints. The Dagger's 7% sharp edge bit – a spark, a screech of metal on impossible hide, and a shallow, almost insulting scratch.
"ROOOOAAAAARRR!"
It enrages Kereberus as it stomped its feet and howled blasting Bell away. Bell flips in air and looks at the Kereberus right infront of him moving faster than anything he ever faced. In slow motion he saw how it was going to chomp on his arm .
The bellow wasn't just sound; it was a concussive wave of heat and fury. The left head snapped down, faster than anything Bell had ever encountered. Time seemed to warp, stretching the moment. He saw the cavernous maw descending, saw rows of obsidian teeth aimed to shear his arm clean off. Pure adrenaline, honed by countless near-deaths, screamed through him.
Disappear.
The Raikan Edge vanished into his Inventory.
He quickly in a split second with adrenaline in his veins made his blade Raikan edge disappear and blasted its open mouth work magic.
"BRILLIANT LIGHT!"
He thrust his empty hand into the descending maw and unleashed his magic point-blank. Pure, blinding radiance detonated inside the beast's mouth.
The left head reeled back with a deafening, pained shriek, smoke billowing from between its teeth, its eyes squeezed shut in agony.
The concussive force of its own recoil slammed into Bell, sending him tumbling end-over-end across the burning plain. He hit a pile of rubble hard, the Pyokichi armor groaning in protest, but he rolled to his feet instantly, already activating Sprint again to put distance between himself and the disoriented, enraged titan.
Hide. Think. Like the Spider. Hide is tough, but the eyes... the joints... weak points. He ducked behind a half-melted obsidian pillar, the heat radiating through his armor. With trembling hands, he pulled vials from his Inventory – a Mind Potion to sharpen focus, a Stamina Potion to replenish his screaming muscles. He downed them both, the cool rush a stark contrast to the hellscape.
Eyes. Only target that matters.
[Warning!]
The warning flashed a split second before the world exploded. The pillar he sheltered behind ceased to exist, obliterated by a swipe from a paw the size of a house.
The impact wasn't just physical; it was telekinetic fury. Bell was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, screaming as the force crushed the breath from his lungs and sent agony lancing through his back. He crashed kilometers away, tumbling through flaming debris, the Pyokichi armor screeching and buckling. He tried to push himself up, but white-hot pain lanced through his back and spine. He collapsed, gasping.
Bell slowly tries for get up his back taking a huge brunt of attack causes him to fall over. But he had no chance of rest as the beast with its four legs was rapidly approaching with one his heads unconscious and damaged from the full powered blast and other two darling with fury .
No rest. The ground shook again. Cerberus charged, covering the distance with terrifying speed. The left head still smoked, one eye milky and ruined, but the other two heads snarled with renewed, terrifying fury. Raw, crimson energy crackled around its massive form.
(!)ALARM
Hells Gatekeeper Cerberus is using [SKILL: WRATH]
(!)ALARM
Wrath will last for 3 minutes
Kerberus stats will be doubled
Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the pain. No!
"STATUS RECOVERY!"
A pillar of pure, soothing white light enveloped him. Broken vertebrae snapped back into place, bruised organs mended, torn muscles knitted. The blue aura of Sprint flared back to life around him, brighter than before, fueled by desperation.
(!)ALARM
SPRINT ACTIVATED
He vanished in a streak of azure light, zig-zagging through the burning ruins, using collapsed walls and molten slag heaps as cover. Cerberus followed, a force of nature, demolishing everything in its path, heads snapping and blasting gouts of shadow-fire that melted stone.
Running through mazes. Deadly Quest. Use the terrain. He recalled the frantic chases, the near-misses. He ducked behind a massive, tilted slab of black marble, then spun out the other side.
"BRILLIANT LIGHT!"
He aimed not at the heads, but at the ground near the beast's central head. The flash was blinding even in the hellish glow, reflecting off the polished obsidian shards littering the ground. The central head snarled, momentarily blinded and disoriented.
Now!
"UMBRA MORTIS!"
Darkness flowed from his hand, not as a shield, but as a whip, a lasso. He shaped it with desperate will, hurling the shadow-rope. It snaked through the air and wrapped tight around the thick, scaled neck of the central head. Bell yanked, using the spell's ephemeral strength and his own momentum to swing himself up and onto the beast's massive, heaving back. He scrambled forward, towards the base of the smoking, injured left head, the shadow-rope dissolving as he lost concentration.
Two spells. At once. Can I? The thought was madness, born of utter desperation. He had to try. He crawled up the slope of the beast's neck, the heat from its shadow-mane scorching even through his armor. Cerberus felt him, bucking wildly, trying to shake him off. Bell clung on, dagger reappearing in his hand.
With a guttural scream ripped from his very soul, he raised the Raikan Edge and jammed it with all his strength into the remaining good eye of the left head. Deep. To the hilt.
"BRILLIANT LIGHT! THROUGH THE BLADE! BURN!"
(!)ALARM
[-SKILL BLOODLUST ACTIVATED]
He didn't just cast; he forced the magic down the conductive metal of the dagger, channeling it into the wound. Pure light magic detonated inside the Cerberus's skull.
"SKREEEEEEEEEE—!"
The sound was unearthly. The left head convulsed violently, smoke and gore erupting from the eye socket and mouth. Maddened beyond reason by the agony, Cerberus went berserk. It rammed itself sideways into the nearest towering ruin.
(!)ALARM
[THE ENEMYS RESISTANCE WAS TOO HIGH. THE EFFECT WAS CANCELLED]
Bell was crushed between the beast's neck and the unyielding black stone. He heard the sickening CRACK of his armor, felt ribs crack, tasted blood flooding his mouth. Again and again, the beast slammed into structures, using Bell's body as a battering ram against the unyielding architecture.
(!)ALARM
-AS YOUR HEALTH IS BELOW 30 PERCENT
[SKILL: 'PERSEVERANCE'] WILL ACTIVATE
-DAMAGE TAKEN WILL BE REDUCED BY 50%
He can't die
He wont die
His Goddess is waiting for him.
Lili is waiting for him
He needs to win
He needs to SURVIVE!
THE SYSTEM NEEDS HIM STRONG
SO HE WIL DEVOUR EVERYTHING IT HAS
Pain became his entire world, a white-noise scream drowning out thought. His vision tunneled, darkening at the edges, the blue glow of his eyes flickering, deepening towards an unnatural, desperate violet.
Not... done... Through the haze of agony, pure will flared. He gripped the dagger still embedded in the eye. With a roar that was more a bloody gurgle, he twisted the blade and unleashed another burst of Brilliant Light, much brighter this time, but point-blank in the wound.
"DIIIIIIIIE!"
The explosion wasn't just light; it was the rupturing of bone and brain matter. The middle and the left head imploded in a shower of gore and shadow-fire. The blast tore through, catching the central and left head square in the face, shattering its jaw and melting one of its molten eyes.
Cerberus stumbled. Its colossal legs buckled. With a ground-shaking thud that sent shockwaves through the hellscape, the beast collapsed. The force hurled Bell from its back. He hit the burning ground hard, bouncing twice before skidding to a stop in a cloud of ash and embers.
He lay there, broken. His Pyokichi armor was shattered in multiple places, plates hanging off, the dark metal scorched and warped. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead, obscuring his vision in one eye. His left arm hung limp and wrong, metal protruding sickeningly through the torn leather of his bracer. Every breath was agony, each one bubbling with blood. His vision swam, darkness threatening to swallow him. He could feel the cold embrace of death creeping in.
No... Not... yet...
With a trembling, barely functional right-hand slick with his own blood, he fumbled at his side, accessing the Inventory not through thought, but through sheer, animal instinct. His fingers closed around a smooth vial. He dragged it to his mouth, biting the cork out with his teeth, spitting it aside. He poured the thick, iridescent liquid down his throat.
[SKILL: KANDIRUS BLESSING ACTIVATED]
HP Restored to Optimal levels!
MP Restored to Optimal levels!
Critical Injuries Stabilized! Broken Bones Realigned! Severe Internal Bleeding Ceased!
Debuffs Removed!]
(!)ALARM
[YOU HAVE SLAIN HELLS GATEKEEPER]
It was like diving into an icy, pure mountain spring after crawling through a desert. Clarity slammed back into him, shocking him fully conscious. The blinding pain receded to a deep, manageable ache.
He gasped, sucking in clean, cool air that somehow cut through the sulfurous stench. He looked down. The bone was no longer visible; his arm, while throbbing fiercely, was whole again. The gash on his head sealed itself, leaving only dried blood. The crushing agony in his chest eased to bruised soreness.
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then shakily to his knees, staring at the colossal corpse. The left head was gone, vaporized. The central head was a ruin of melted bone and charred flesh; one eye socket a smoking crater. Only the right head remained relatively intact, frozen in a final snarl of fury.
Luck. Pure, stupid luck. The realization hit him like a physical blow. His desperate blast had channeled through the first head and ravaged the second.
Without that freak occurrence... He looked down at his hands, still trembling slightly, then at the shattered remnants of his armor. Not strong enough. The words echoed in the sudden, oppressive silence of the hellscape, broken only by the crackle of distant flames.
Tears, hot and shameful, welled up and streamed down his cheeks, cutting paths through the grime and blood. Weakness. Sheer, terrifying weakness. He had survived by the skin of his teeth, powered by desperation and a fluke.
He took another gulp from a System potion, the soothing effect more pronounced this time, washing away the residual aches, sealing minor cuts and burns. He noticed the stark difference immediately.
Miach's potions were good, lifesavers even, but they were targeted. They healed wounds or restored stamina or cleared the mind.
They didn't mend shattered bones in seconds. They didn't simultaneously flood his body with healing energy and replenish his depleted magic reserves. The System potion was holistic, divine-level restoration in a vial. One less thing to worry about... for now.
He looked past the fallen titan towards the distant, burning tower, its apex lost in the ash-choked sky. It loomed, impossibly large, a monument to greater horrors waiting within this S-Rank crucible. A mountain he wasn't ready to climb. Today had been a brutal, near-fatal lesson. He had conquered the guardian, but the cost was etched onto his body and soul. He was battered, humbled, but alive. And he knew, with chilling certainty, that the climb had only just begun. The path to strength demanded more than he'd yet given.
It demanded everything.
[STATUS]
Let's see if he leveled up from all that suffering.
Name: Bell Cranel
Level [2]
Job: None
Title: None
Hp: 3545
Mp:3490
{STR} H-101-A 899
{VIT} H-123 – S 998
{DEX} H-190 – S-989
{AGI} I-97 – A-878
{MAG}H-164 – SS-1008
{SEN} I-20 – B-739
[Skills]
-Longevity-All diseases, poisons and status effects are healed and sleeping exponentially increases regeneration ability.
-Sprint- Mana Cost 5(+1/Minute) Activates to increase your movement speed by 30%. Costs 1 mana per minute to maintain. "Your running has strengthened your legs".
-Unyielding Spirit- When below 30 % HP, all damage received is reduced by 50 %. "You have an unyielding spirit".
Rasaka's Armored Scales-Physical damage reduced by 20%
Magic:
Umbra Mortis
Brilliant Light
Bell was shaken through his core the status Jump was exponential enough for a normal adventurer to Level up on spot. But compared to other adventures this is such meager change for him as his previous status was in 2000 or even special character "X" 3000.
Bell bit his Lip frustrated there was no shortcut for an easy level up.
Then shaking out of such thoughts, he looked over Rewards. Perhaps than can give him solace.
[ITEM: WARDENS NECKLACE]
ITEM CLASS: A
AGILITY +20 SENSE +20
[ITEM: CASTLE DOOR KEY]
ITEM CLASS: A
TYPE: KEY
A KEY THAT OPENS THE DEMON CATLE DOOR OBTAINED BY KILLING THE GATE KEEPER
[ITEM: CERBERUS FANG]
ITEM CLASS: A
TYPE: MATERIAL
OBTAINED BY KILLING CERBERUS.
"I'll be damned" Bell lost his breath as he looked through the reward.
Except the key to hell a chocker than can buff his speed and sense was an incredible boon. But walking around like this wearing a chocker would make him seems like a pervert.
Then her remembered he can make items worn vanish on sight.
Bell brought out the necklace from the inventory and wore it and his mind and body felt light.
He tiptoed on his feet and felt like he was flying.
"Amazing if I get such items from the system that costs millions of valis it will help me in the long run, I wish I can buy such stuff from shop"
Bell looked through the list of shop and saw the prices of beautiful daggers. Armour and swords. He felt like crying as not only he felt weak,
But Penniless Vagrant.
It was a nice way of the system saying.
Poor Village boy like the first time he came to orario when people sneered when he tried to join a family.
A sour mood made to his face.
Then he saw another Item that can help him forge a new dagger.
Now that Bell was not being killed by a three headed Hell Hound he Looked through his appearance.
His upper body almost bear with lose clinging shirt.
His pants barely holding.
His armor absolutely obliterated.
And mostly they are all coated with blood.
His new knife Raikan edge having cracks running through it.
At least he has Cerberus fang to get his blacksmith get a better one.
Not even one day his newly
Lili and Hestia is going to chew him alive.
With a sigh he brought out Key and opened an exit.
Hopes it's not too late at night.
~(Scene Change Late night)~
The air in the VIP lounge of the El Dorado Casino hung thick with the cloying scent of expensive cigars, spilled champagne, and desperation masquerading as confidence.
Crystal chandeliers the size of small carts refracted light onto walls clad in gold leaf, illuminating plush velvet banquettes and tables laden with glistening hors d'oeuvres untouched by the truly wealthy patrons. At the center of this obscene opulence, two men held court.
Terry Cervantes, owner of the Santiago Corgino empire, was a study in dwarven excess. Short, barrel-chested, and draped in a silk suit that probably cost more than a small house in Orario's outskirts, his fingers glittered with heavy rings.
His beard, meticulously oiled and braided with gold thread, framed a face perpetually flushed with triumph and expensive liquor.
He surveyed his domain – the high-stakes tables, the glittering bar, and most importantly, the collection of stunningly beautiful young women strategically positioned like living ornaments around the room. Their forced smiles didn't reach their eyes.
Opposite him, radiating a different kind of sleaze, sat Zanis Lustra, Captain of the Soma Familia. Taller, thinner, with slicked-back hair and glasses perched on a sharp nose, Zanis looked like a predatory bird eyeing a particularly fat mouse. He swirled a glass of amber liquid that wasn't Soma, but something far more mundane and expensive.
"Terry, my friend," Zanis purred, his voice smooth as oiled silk. "Truly, El Dorado lives up to its name. Your taste... impeccable." His gaze swept appreciatively, lingering on the terrified beauty refilling Terry's glass. Her hand trembled slightly. "Such exquisite acquisitions. And the wealth flowing through these halls... it sings."
Terry chuckled, a deep, grating sound. "Flattery, Zanis? Save it for the suckers at the tables. I have more wealth than the Guild's vaults on a good day.
I don't need trinkets. Get to the point." He took a long drag on his cigar, blowing smoke towards the ornate ceiling.
Zanis's smile tightened, but didn't falter. "Direct. I appreciate that. Very well. I'm not here to sell you cheap thrills. I'm here to offer you... control." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Absolute, effortless control."
Terry raised a bushy eyebrow, feigning boredom, but a spark of dark interest ignited in his eyes. "Control? Over what? The dice? The cards? Child's play."
"Over them," Zanis whispered, nodding subtly towards the women. One flinched as his gaze passed over her. "Imagine, Terry. Not just obedience born of fear or debt... but willing adoration.
Utter devotion. No more sullen silences, no more hidden tears, no more... resistance." He emphasized the last word, his eyes locking onto the girl who had trembled. She froze, terror turning her blood to ice.
Terry's cigar paused halfway to his lips. His gaze sharpened, truly focusing on Zanis now. "Go on."
"The real Soma," Zanis declared, his voice dropping even lower, charged with dark promise. "Not the swill we sell to the masses. A vintage so potent, so pure... it doesn't just intoxicate.
It hypnotizes. One sip, Terry. One sip, and the will dissolves. They become... pliable. Eager to please. Forever." He gestured expansively. "Your collection wouldn't just be beautiful, Terry. They'd be perfect. Living dolls, attuned solely to your desires."
Terry stared at Zanis, then slowly, deliberately, looked around at his "beauties." His gaze was no longer appreciative; it was calculating, possessive, chilling.
He imagined them not just compliant, but enthusiastic. A slow, wide smile spread across his face, revealing gold-capped teeth. "Now that... that is a vintage worth sampling, Zanis. Name your price."
Zanis pushed his glasses up his nose, the lenses flashing in the chandelier light. "A trifle, for a man of your means. I merely need to borrow a few... specialized hands you employ.
Specifically, the services of the 'Black Fist' and perhaps the 'Black Cat'. There's a troublesome little pest in my garden. Thought himself too big, started digging where he shouldn't. Needs... to be removed. Permanently."
Terry Cervantes threw his head back and laughed, a booming, ugly sound that echoed in the gilded room. "Hah! Pests in the garden! We all have them, Zanis. Consider it done. A small favor between... associates." He raised his champagne flute, filled to the brim with bubbling gold.
Zanis mirrored the gesture, his own glass held aloft. "To mutually beneficial arrangements, Terry. And to... perfect collections." Their glasses met with a sharp, cold clink that sounded like a cell door slamming shut.
~(Scene Change: Silent Scream)~
Anna Claues stood frozen near the bar, the empty champagne bottle she'd been holding serving two men momentarily forgotten. The chilling conversation had washed over her like a wave of icy sewage. Hypnotize... Pliable... Living dolls... The words echoed in her skull, shattering the fragile illusion of survival she'd built.
Her mind flashed back – the vibrant marketplace in her small village, her father's desperate, tear-streaked face as he accepted Terry's dwarf representative's heavy coin purse, the promises of a "good position" in a "luxurious resort." The journey in the dark, cramped carriage.
The first sight of El Dorado's gilded monstrosity, a beautiful prison. She'd been naive. She'd thought, hoped, it wouldn't be so bad. They were fed well, clothed in silks, housed in rooms finer than anything she'd ever known. It was degradation, yes, but a gilded one. Survivable. Maybe even escapable, someday.
'Not just obedience... willing adoration...'
The hope curdled and died in her chest, replaced by a suffocating terror worse than any physical threat. This wasn't just being a plaything for a filthy, wealthy dwarf.
This was the annihilation of herself. Her thoughts, her will, her very soul would be dissolved in a cup of cursed wine. She'd become nothing but a smiling puppet, hollowed out and programmed for pleasure. The silks felt like burial shrouds. The glittering lights became mocking eyes.
She looked at Terry, laughing with Zanis, his small eyes gleaming with anticipatory cruelty. She looked at Zanis, the architect of this new horror, cold and reptilian. A silent prayer, a desperate plea formed in her heart, aimed at gods she wasn't sure listened anymore. Please... someone... anyone... save us. Don't let them do this. But the gods felt distant, silent observers to this gilded hell.
In the suffocating silence of her terror, a fragile fantasy bloomed, a desperate coping mechanism. She pictured a knight – not in gleaming, impractical silver, but in worn, practical steel.
A hero with kind eyes and a strong sword, bursting through the ornate doors, scattering Terry's guards like chaff, freeing them all. He'd look at her not as property, but as a person. He'd offer a hand, not a command.
But as Terry and Zanis clinked their glasses again, their laughter a harsh counterpoint to the forced tinkling of the casino's ambient music, the fantasy crumpled.
The knight faded. No hero was coming. Heroes didn't storm places like El Dorado. Heroes didn't fight shadows like Zanis Lustra or gilded monsters like Terry Cervantes. The only light in this room was cold, reflected gold, and it offered no salvation. It only illuminated the depths of the cage.
Anna looked down. The champagne bottle slipped from her numb fingers. It didn't shatter on the thick carpet, but landed with a soft, final thud, like the closing of a tomb lid. A single tear traced a path through her carefully applied makeup, carving a line of pure despair on a face meant only for decoration. Inside, she screamed. A silent, endless scream that echoed in the hollow space where her hope used to be. The deal was struck. The real nightmare was just beginning.
~(Scene Change night)~
The setting sun bled crimson and gold across Orario, painting the towering Babel in fiery hues. Below, the city thrummed with the shift from day to dusk.
Merchants hawked final wares, adventurers fresh from the Dungeon or heading towards taverns filled the streets, and the familiar cacophony of a city built on monsters and money echoed off the stone. Amidst the vibrant flow of life, a stark figure moved like a ghost.
Bell Cranel emerged from a lesser-used service exit of Babel Tower. He wasn't running, wasn't walking with purpose – he was stumbling. His pristine white hair was matted with dried blood and grime, plastered to his forehead and temples.
His face was pale beneath streaks of ash and crimson, etched with deep exhaustion that went beyond physical. The dark Pyokichi Mk. II armor, so imposing just hours before, was a ruin.
Deep gouges scored the gunmetal grey plates, chunks were missing entirely from the chest and shoulders, and the crimson lining seemed dulled by soot and something darker.
One vambrace hung loosely, partially detached. Blood, both dried and alarmingly fresh, seeped from cracks in the armor, staining the dark metal further and soaking the simple undershirt visible at his neck and wrists.
He moved through the bustling crowd like a shipwreck survivor washed ashore. People instinctively gave him a wide berth. Stares followed him – curious, wary, horrified. Whispers rippled outwards like stones dropped in water.
"...Is that the Record Holder?"
"...Gods above, look at the state of him..."
"...What in the Dungeon did he fight?"
"...Did a familia do that? Was the level up a lie look at his state—?"
"…Serves him right he though he was hot stuff and got decked.."
"...Nah, looks like Dungeon work. Rough day, even for a record breaker..."
The whispers died down quickly. In Orario, a bloodied adventurer was a common sight, a testament to the city's brutal reality. Most dismissed him as just another casualty of the lower floors having an exceptionally bad day.
Bell registered none of it. His crimson eyes were glazed, focused on some distant point only he could see, perhaps still seeing the flames and the monstrous maw. Every step seemed an effort, his body screaming in protest, held together only by the lingering effects of the potent System potion and sheer will.
"MASTER BELL!"
The shrill, panicked cry cut through the city noise like a knife. Lili, still disguised as a blonde Pallum, burst from the crowd near the alley entrance Bell had been heading towards.
Her eyes were wide with terror, fixed on his battered form. She sprinted towards him, her small pack bouncing on her back.
Her scream reignited the staring. More heads turned, more whispers intensified. "Who's that?" "Is she with him?" "Gods, he looks even worse up close..."
Bell flinched almost imperceptibly at the sudden noise but didn't stop. He just kept trudging forward. Lili reached him, skidding to a halt, her small hands fluttering nervously, afraid to touch him for fear of causing more pain.
"Master Bell! Your armor! The blood! What happened?!" Her voice trembled, her gaze darting over the horrific damage. "Are you alright? Can you walk? We need a healer! We need—"
"Alley," Bell rasped, his voice raw and gravelly. He gestured weakly with his head towards the shadowed passage he'd been aiming for. "Now."
Lili, swallowing her panic, nodded fiercely. She took his less-injured arm, not pulling, but guiding him firmly towards the alley's relative privacy, shielding him from the worst of the prying eyes with her small body.
The crowd's murmurs followed them, a mix of morbid curiosity and Orario's practiced indifference.
Once shrouded in the cooler, dimmer alley, Lili immediately rummaged in her pack. "I... I brought spare clothes! Just in case! Master Bell, please, change! Quickly! Before anyone else sees..." She pulled out a simple, sturdy tunic and trousers.
Bell leaned heavily against the grimy brick wall, closing his eyes for a moment. With a groan that was half pain, half exhaustion, he began the laborious process of unbuckling the ruined armor. Lili helped where she could, her small fingers fumbling with damaged clasps.
The chest plate came off first, revealing the blood-soaked, torn undershirt beneath. As he peeled this off with another pained grimace, Lili gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson.
Even battered, Bell's physique was undeniable – the lean, powerful muscles of an athlete honed by relentless combat and rapid growth. Defined abs, sculpted shoulders, the V-taper leading down... It was a stark, visceral reminder of the strength packed into his frame.
For a fleeting second, Lili understood exactly why Lady Hestia got so... handsy. The thought was immediately drowned out by horror as the full extent of the damage beneath became visible.
Bruises bloomed across his torso like dark flowers, lacerations crisscrossed his skin, and the undershirt was practically glued to him with dried blood.
"Master Bell..." Lili whispered, her earlier blush replaced by sickly pallor. She stared at the discarded, blood-crusted shirt, then back at the shattered armor pieces she was holding – the knee pads spiderwebbed with cracks, a huge chunk missing from the shoulder guard.
"What... what was it? What did you face that could do this?" Her voice was small, terrified. "A Revenant? A Goliath? A Floor Boss?"
Bell pulled the clean tunic over his head, wincing as the fabric brushed raw skin. He fastened the trousers, the simple act seeming to drain the last of his immediate energy. He leaned back against the wall, his breath shallow.
"Hellhound," he mumbled, his voice flat.
Lili blinked. "A... a Hellhound? But... even a pack shouldn't..." Her confusion warred with disbelief. Hellhounds were dangerous, sure, but this level of devastation? On him?
Bell opened his eyes. They weren't glazed anymore, but held a haunted, weary depth that sent a genuine chill down Lili's spine. He met her gaze directly.
"Giant. Three heads. Flames... everywhere. Whole place... burning." A shudder, unrelated to the cold, ran through him. The memory of the maw, the heat, the crushing impacts, was still terrifyingly vivid. "Cerberus."
Lili's blood ran cold. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Cerberus. The Guardian of the Underworld. A myth. A Level 6 threat, at minimum.
He'd fought... that? Alone? The shattered armor, the blood, the sheer exhaustion radiating from him suddenly made horrifying sense. It wasn't just a bad day; it was a brush with annihilation.
"L-Let's go home," Bell repeated, pushing himself off the wall. He swayed slightly. "Church. Dedalus route."
Lili snapped out of her stunned terror, her Supporter instincts kicking back in. "Y-Yes, Master Bell! Lean on Lili if you need to!" She quickly stuffed the ruined armor and bloody clothes into her pack, the weight a grim reminder.
She positioned herself at his side, ready to support him, her small frame bracing against his larger, battered one. "This way."
Together, the bloodied, exhausted adventurer and his fiercely determined Supporter slipped deeper into the alley, vanishing from the main thoroughfare, heading towards the labyrinthine safety of Dedalus Street.
Bell moved with the grim focus of someone desperate for sanctuary, each step a testament to his survival.
High above, perched on a crumbling gargoyle adorning a building overlooking the alley mouth, two figures clad in dark, non-descript clothing watched them disappear into the shadows. Their faces were obscured, but their posture was alert, professional. One made a subtle hand signal to the other. As Bell and Lili melted into the maze, the watchers detached from their perch, vanishing into the gathering twilight with the silent efficiency of predators. Their presence, unnoticed by the weary pair below, was a chilling reminder: Orario's shadows were always watching. The hunt, even if momentarily paused, was far from over.
~(Scene Change)~
The dying embers of the sunset painted the Orario skyline in bruised purples and deep oranges. Perched on the flat, weathered tiles of a high tenement building overlooking the entrance to Dedalus Street, two figures stood silhouetted against the fading light.
One was motionless as a statue: Hogni Ragnar, his expression typically unreadable, his gaze fixed on the alley mouth where Bell and Lili had vanished moments before. The other, Hedin Selland, the "White Fairy Knight," held something decidedly less composed.
Allen Fromel, the "Goddess Chariot," writhed in Hedin's iron grip. Hedin had him pinned, one arm twisted behind his back, a knee planted firmly between Allen's shoulder blades, pressing his face against the cool tiles.
Allen hissed and spat, his feline features contorted in fury, claws scraping futilely against the roof slates. He was a live wire of volatile energy, muscles coiled and straining against Hedin's superior strength and technique.
"Unhand me, you pompous relic!" Allen snarled, his voice muffled against the roof. "That worm just walked past! The one who dared leave Lady Freya like that! I'll tear his—"
"Silence, Allen," Hedin commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that cut through the feline's rage. He applied precise pressure, making Allen gasp. "Your hysterics disgrace the Familia and, more importantly, her."
Hedin's ice-blue eyes, usually calm and calculating, held a flicker of genuine anger. "Our Goddess gave explicit orders: observe only. Her game is intricate, sacred.
We are her honored knights, Allen, not rabid dogs unleashed at every perceived slight. We protect her honor by honoring her will, not by trampling it with your impulsiveness."
Allen thrashed again. "He hurt her! He—"
"He is part of her game!" Hedin snapped, tightening his grip. "A game she finds fascinating, however... distressing its current state may be. Your actions risk disrupting it entirely.
Charging off like a common thug, bellowing commands to the lower ranks to hunt down his name? You shame the position of Vice-Captain." Hedin's voice dripped with cold disdain. "Sometimes, I question deeply the wisdom of placing you there. How can those under your command be expected to follow Lady Freya's divine words with perfect discipline when her own Vice-Captain cannot follow a single, simple directive?"
Allen stilled for a moment, panting, the accusation striking a nerve even through his rage. Hedin took the opportunity to glance towards Hogni. The silent warrior gave an almost imperceptible nod – the white-haired boy and his Supporter were gone, deep within Dedalus's maze. The immediate chase was futile.
Hedin sighed, the sound heavy with weary frustration. He maintained his hold on Allen but relaxed the pressure slightly. His gaze drifted back towards the distant spires of Folkvangr, invisible in the twilight but ever-present in his mind.
He recalled the hushed, tense conversation he'd overheard earlier, thanks to his own preternatural senses, standing outside the closed door of Mia Grand's tavern while Freya spoke within.
The charm. The divine allure that was Lady Freya's birthright, her very essence. Hedin had seen its power sculpt continents of desire. He vividly remembered the scorching sands of Ifsaran, watching hardened mercenary kings and cunning desert princes alike fall to their knees, groveling, weeping, ready to raze their own kingdoms for a single approving glance from their goddess. It was a force of nature, as undeniable as gravity.
And yet... this boy. This Bell Cranel. He had ignored it. Worse, he had actively refused it. Hedin hadn't heard the full context, hadn't witnessed the event at the Hostess himself, but the raw, bewildered distress in Freya's voice, the sheer incomprehensibility of the situation she described, had shaken him to his core.
Something – this mysterious "it" she spoke of – had shielded the boy, had made him an anomaly in Freya's perfect world. That was the source of her turmoil, not the boy's mere existence, but the barrier around him.
Here he was, Hedin Selland, the White Knight, forced to babysit a volatile Vice-Captain on a grimy rooftop, miles away from his Goddess in her moment of profound, unprecedented vulnerability.
All because this "unruly cat" couldn't control his temper or comprehend the delicate, dangerous mystery unfolding. It was galling.
He yearned to be back in Folkvangr, not necessarily to pry into the painful details of the tavern incident, but simply to stand guard, to offer silent strength, to ensure no further disturbances reached her while she grappled with this impossible puzzle.
He looked down at Allen, who had finally stopped struggling, though fury still radiated from him in waves. "Control yourself, Allen," Hedin said, his voice flat but final. "Your recklessness serves no one, least of all Lady Freya. We return to Folkvangr. Now."
Hedin hauled Allen to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arm. Hogni fell into step beside them, a silent, looming shadow. As they prepared to leap across the rooftops towards their distant home, Hedin made a mental note.
Once Allen was securely contained and calmed (or as calm as he ever got), he would seek out Ottar. The Boar understood duty, understood the sanctity of Freya's will far better than this impulsive feline.
He would need the King's steady presence and formidable authority to properly manage the fallout of Allen's near-breach and, more importantly, to help shield Lady Freya while she navigated the unprecedented challenge of a complicated mystery of "IT".
The game had entered uncharted, perilous territory, and knights, not wild cats, were needed at their Goddess's side.
~(Scene Change)~
The air in the small, private back room of the tavern was thick with the scent of cheap ale, fine dwarven spirits, and the faint metallic tang of divine worry. Empty tankards littered the sturdy wooden table.
Slumped heavily in her chair, Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth, was decidedly, gloriously drunk. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears and alcohol-induced haze.
Across from her sat Miach, God of Healing, nursing a single glass of water with a look of gentle concern. Beside him, Hephaestus, Goddess of the Forge, watched Hestia with a mixture of exasperation and deep worry, her single good eye sharp despite the late hour.
"Useless... I'm completely useless!" Hestia wailed, slamming a small fist onto the table, making the tankards jump. Tears spilled over, tracing paths through the flush on her cheeks.
"He... he grows so fast! Like a weed! A scary, dungeon-crawling weed! One month! ONE MONTH, LEVEL TWO! How... how can I keep up? What can I give him? Nothin'! Just... just a crummy basement and cheap lunches!" She buried her face in her arms, her voice muffled.
"He needs magic swords! Divine blessings! Armor that doesn't... doesn't crack like an egg!" She hiccupped violently.
Hephaestus exchanged a look with Miach. The God of Healing offered a sympathetic, helpless shrug. Hephaestus sighed, the sound like steam escaping a valve.
She reached across the table, placing a strong, calloused hand on Hestia's trembling shoulder. "Hestia... breathe. The stress of having a... uniquely talented child is getting to you. It's understandable."
Miach nodded softly. "Indeed. His growth is unprecedented. It naturally raises questions..." His gaze held a quiet curiosity Hephaestus shared, but both deities held their tongues.
Pressing a drunk, distraught goddess about her child's secrets was poor form, even for them.
Hephaestus squeezed Hestia's shoulder. "Denatus is coming up," she said, her voice pragmatic. "The other gods won't ignore this. They'll be like vultures.
There might be challenges, demands for explanations... even talk of War Games if they feel threatened by how fast he's risen."
Hestia's head snapped up, eyes blazing with sudden, drunken fury. "DENATUS?!" she shrieked, loud enough to make Miach flinch. "Let them FUNK OFF! The whole rotten lot of 'em! Grey hair! They'll give me grey hair before my time! I swear on the Heavenly Throne, if one of those smug, pointy-hatted busybodies starts poking their nose into my Bell's business, I'll... I'll BLOW UP THE WHOLE PANTHEON HALL! Then I'm GOING HOME! BACK TO TENKAI!" She gestured wildly, nearly toppling her chair.
Miach quickly steadied her. "Hestia, please! Calm down. Deep breaths. Remember, it's a first time for everyone. This Denatus... it will be new for you, but you'll navigate it. How is Bell doing now? Tonight?"
Hestia froze mid-rant. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a profound, aching worry. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He... he's having it rough. Really rough.
" She shuddered, recalling the glimpse she'd had of him before he left – the grim set of his jaw, the haunted look in his eyes.
"But... but he's Bell. Stubborn. Determined. He'll... he'll pull through. He always does." The words sounded like a prayer she desperately wanted to believe.
Hephaestus nodded slowly. "That is life in Gekai, Hestia. Fleeting, brutal, beautiful. You must trust your child. Trust his strength, his spirit. He carries your blessing, after all."
Hestia slumped again, the fight draining out of her, leaving only profound loneliness. "I just... I feel so alone," she whispered, fresh tears welling. "He's never here... always down there... risking everything. And I'm stuck up here... waiting... useless..."
"You are not alone," Hephaestus stated firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "You have friends. You have me. Whenever you need an ear, a forge, or just someone to sit with... my door is open. Always."
Hestia looked up at Hephaestus, her expression heartbreakingly vulnerable. "I... I wish you could, Hephaestus. I really do. But... but with how things are going... how things might go..." She trailed off, biting her lip.
Hephaestus's brow furrowed. Her eye narrowed. "What do you mean by that, Hestia? 'How things might go'? What are you not saying?"
Hestia flinched, the alcohol haze warring with a surge of sobering fear. "N-Not here," she mumbled, glancing nervously around the empty but not entirely soundproof room. "Too many ears. Walls have ears... especially divine ones.
" She took a shaky breath. "I... I need to talk to you. Privately. About... about possible alliances. Things... heavy things." She looked at Miach, her expression apologetic.
"Sorry, Miach. Not that I don't trust you, but... you've got your own Familia troubles piled high with Nahza. This... this burden... it's not yours to carry. Just... just Hephaestus. For now."
She rubbed her temples. "And... and I need to crash. Bell... Bell might not be home tonight. Said he... he had plans. Venture in the dungeon."
It was a half-truth, covering the terrifying reality of the System dungeon with the slightly less terrifying reality of the real one.
Hephaestus and Miach both stiffened. "Alone?" Hephaestus asked sharply, her voice cutting through Hestia's drunken fog.
Hestia paled, realizing her slip. "N-No! Not alone!" she stammered too quickly. "He... he has his party! Yeah! His party! Supporter... .. the whole... crew!" The lie was flimsy, her eyes darting away.
Hephaestus stared at her friend, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The secrecy, the fear, the talk of alliances and burdens... it painted a picture far darker than just a talented child growing too fast.
"Hestia," Hephaestus said, her voice low and serious. "What secret are you carrying that requires whispers and private talks? What is happening with your child?"
Hestia met Hephaestus's gaze, the drunkenness receding further, replaced by desperate sincerity.
"You're the only one I can trust with this, Hephaestus. The only one strong enough, discreet enough... and who cares enough. Please. Just... hear me out?"
Hephaestus held her gaze for a long moment. The worry in Hestia's eyes, the genuine fear beneath the alcohol, was undeniable.
Finally, she nodded. "Alright, Hestia. Come home with me. We'll talk. Properly." She stood up, signaling for the tab.
Miach rose as well, concern etched on his face but respecting Hestia's wishes. "Be careful, both of you. Hestia... rest well. We'll talk soon, under better circumstances."
Hestia mumbled her goodbyes to Miach, swaying slightly as she stood. Hephaestus steadied her, one arm around her shoulders.
When the tab arrived, Hestia fumbled with her purse, the cost of their drinks and the private room making her wince even through the haze.
Bell's funds... but still... ouch. The sting of the expense was a sharp, mundane counterpoint to the terrifying divine secrets she was about to unload.
With Hephaestus supporting her, the Goddess of the Hearth stumbled out of the Hostess, not towards her church basement, but towards the imposing forges of Hephaestus Familia, carrying a burden too heavy for her small shoulders alone.
~(Scene Change)~
The moment Bell and Lili stepped into the church, the absence of Hestia's usual cheerful (or clingy) greeting made the air feel heavier. The hearth was cold, no smell of half-burnt dinner lingered, and the usual warmth of home was missing.
"Goddess… isn't here?" Bell muttered, more to himself than Lili.
Lili, ever observant, noted his exhaustion. "Master Bell, you're injured. Lili will prepare a bath and check your supplies."
Bell didn't argue. He slumped onto the sofa, chugging the stamina potion she offered. The liquid burned down his throat, but the relief was minimal. His body ached, but his mind was worse.
Bell closes his eyes as he dozes off remembering the new day the snarl of Cerberus getting thrown across the landscape that felt completely foreign with high rise building that architecture was nothing he ever saw it was like he was in another world.
Then he Questions about what the system truly was was it a God who left it to be found or was it a curse .He in his life never heard of things like making a dungeon giving items of incomparable value. He expected many things for coming to Orario like his grandfather told him Joining a grand familia and going on adventures and falling in love.
What he got was far from his imagination Almost getting killed three months after in orario no he died for sure but came back to life.
Also not to forget that happened before getting to where he was he was rejected by familia's hurling slurs he never even heard in his village. An Obessed Goddess on his tail and people wanting a piece of him stealing his stuff.
If he ever meets his grandpa in heaven, he will give a pat and a strong right hook and say everything is bullshit. Even if he has good looks the only thing he attracts is people wanting him for his looks a one-night stand or hidden agendas.
Should he go back to his farm and buy it from the uncle he sold to and continue farming away from the system and his quest which is not happening anytime soon.
But one thing he Questions why does system want to get him strong? For what purpose and for what reason. Bell opens the panel of the system
No level-up.
After everything—the brutal fights, the near-death escapes—his Status hadn't budged. The System, this mysterious force that granted him impossible abilities, was mocking him.
As his eyelids grew heavy, flashes of the day replayed: Cerberus's monstrous snarl, the surreal skyline of a world not his own, the crushing weight of failure.
"What even are you…?" he whispered, summoning the System's panel.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: EMERGENCY QUEST HAS BEEN ISSUED REQUIRED FOR LEVEL UP.]
Before he could process it, Lili's voice pulled him back.
"Master Bell, your bath is ready."
He opened his eyes to find her kneeling beside him, holding a towel like he was royalty.
"Lili, you don't have to—"
"Lili vowed to serve you," she said firmly, though her cheeks were pink.
Too tired to argue, Bell sighed. "If you need anything, just call me."
Lili hesitated, then in a voice almost too quiet to hear: "We're alone tonight, Master Bell."
Bell, oblivious, just nodded. "You can sleep or use the bath after me."
He made a Mistake. Huge mistake.
~(Scene Change)~
Bell stands under the shower letting the blood fall out of his body. Another day another successful dungeon raid. Another escape from the Jaws of death.
He does not Know how his life changed these few months but he is hanging on. Bell thinks how he is going to manage Freya, Kali and Ishtar familia and how to make them collide.
For that to happen he needs to their level and their base. It seems they will come through a ship by Melen but they don't know the date. So, one conclusion he can make is to follow the Ishtar Familia movements and trail.
For that he might to hang around close to the Entertainment district and to be less discreet as possible.
Also, he doesn't know how Freya will act so it is better to be fat away from her eyes as possible.
Not sure how long he can be away from her not knowing her patience and he refuses to play her game and he is not having any more lies told to him no matter how much she insists it was true feelings or not.
Under the scalding water, Bell watched the grime and blood swirl down the drain. Another day survived. Another step deeper into Orario's madness.
"Freya's the bigger problem."
Bell closes the Knob and used the new towel to wipe out the water and wears the clothes set by Lili. He gets out and calls out to Lili he is done but comes to a very shocking scene that might make his Grandpa Jump in Joy no he might Jump to the. Bed pronto.
Lili lying on Hestia's bed naked looking at him hungrily. Bell was speechless. Not knowing what to do but before he can bring to make sense to the situation. The doors of the Church opened.
With a disheveled Hestia with a bottle. Bell Kun are- you home! waaaaah heph-y hiccup!!! rejected me- Hestia who finally saw what was going on can only freeze in place with Bell Looking at the scenario in horror.
Hestia was stoned Wah wah wha whaaaaaaaaaaa You skank!!!!!!! Hestia in her drunk state Jumped towards Lili with a feral face. With a notification going off from the system.
(!)Alarm
[Killing Intent Detected]
Bell Quickly ran towards both to free up the situation before any one of them does something they regret. Well at least one thing his grandpa told was true. He was certainly picking up Girls in the Dungeon City of Orario.