/A/N Start/

Heyo guys! Been a while huh?

Well, regardless of what all has been going on, here's the first chapter that will have both the Crook's and Bell's POVs.

Let me know what you guys think, as always I appreciate whatever reviews you guys leave: criticism about a plot element, pointing out a typo, or just what you like and where you hope things lead!

(Aside, I've come up with some less… generic names for some of the demihumans. Below will be a list.)

Caprinid - Sheep

/A/N End/

Chapter 3 - Warm Up

Following Gareth, Bell felt his eyes wander about his surroundings, taking it in. Red irises flitted from mongers and stall hawkers, comparing and contesting prices with one another in a bid to gather passerby, trying to move pies, swords, and anything in between.

Those passerby, however, drew his attention in upon themselves.

Long and rigid rabbit ears that stood high and twitched to the slight noises around, short and floppy dog ears that seemed to flap with each movement of the head, horns of spiralized bone that protruded like an ancient regalia; he had never seen so many… things on peoples heads. It was frankly boggling.

Bell was, of course, aware of the existence of demihumans. He learned from Grandpa of the different species and their relations as well as, unfortunately, the ranking of how cute each was… Even aside from that, he knew one in person from his home. But still, the variance was staggering.

Thinking again of Gerty, a young Caprinid girl, Bell starts to lose focus of the world around him, even as the constant roar of the market shrinks to a low din and the walls of the surrounding buildings grow in height. His thoughts trapped in friendly wool and playful horns, his body comes to an unexpected stop against Gareth's back.

"Wha-!?"

The wind knocked out of him by a four foot roadblock, he doubles over with a grunt.

"We're here. Get yerself some wind in ya and lets get in." Gareth speaks with a good-hearted chuckle.

Bell, wincing slightly, looks up to see where 'here' is and is met with a veritable jungle of stone, spires and parapets jutting like trees, bridges and stairs crossing as strands of granite silk in a spider's web. A castle and half resting precariously on one foot of land, stacked and balanced with each masoned card more unsteady than the last. He knows of this place only by reputation: The Twilight Manor, home to the Loki Familia.

He stands slack-jawed, mouth agape at sight of the vertical labyrinth even as Gareth pushes him further towards it. Even as they go through the wrought iron gate with a nod from the dwarf to the pair that stand watch, Bell's heels scrape against the stone path, kicking up dust and small pebbles. Only once his upturned sight of the Manor is eclipsed by a vaulted ceiling and magic stone lamps does he close his mouth and get his eyes, ears, and brain on the move again.

Unfortunately, that doesn't last for long once he sets his gaze on those with Gareth and him in the lobby.

He spots a few adventurers, at least, that's what he assumes they are. Who else would be so varied in their dress and stance? Unless it was common for servants to wield swords and don breastplates in Orario.

Walking to a far door, Gareth turns back and shouts,

"I'll be right back, alright? Just keep yer self here 'til I get back. Oh, and well… just keep yer eyes open."

Chuckling nervously, Bell folds his arms and lowers his head, trying to make himself as small as possible. Gareth's shout drew momentary attention from the other people within the room, but all of it waa quickly lost when they caught sight of the boy. Almost all of it, at least. There is a… strangely clad girl that seems to be interested and begins to stride towards him.

'Wait, what is that she's wearing? Oh Gods save me.'

Bell's face instantly flushes neon red as he gets a good look at the girl. A cute, wide face framed by short black hair sits atop a short body, barely taller than him, but covered in far more wiry muscle. Very apparent muscle, as her clothes only amount to a strip of red cloth around her chest and a short woven skirt of sorts that contrasts with her olive skin. He pales slightly once he identifies the slab of gold on her back as an absurd sword.

Forcefully entering what little personal space he has, Bell flinches as she thrusts her arm forward with surprising quickness and introduces herself.

"Hi! Who are you?"

Bell, slightly shaken by the abruptness of her appearance, falteringly replies,

"M-My name is B-Bell. Y-you?"

Gesturing to her hand with a nod, she chips,

"Tiona."

Trying to avoid looking at her as much as possible, Bell grasps her hand and-

"AH!"

He can't help but shout, his hand now caught in a vice of olive skin and Herculean muscle.

"What're you doing here? You from the Guild? A merchant?"

A vice that was getting tighter by the second.

"W-Well I-" "I hope you're not a smith, they don't tend to like me much for some reason."

A vice that felt like the crushing force of an avalanche made human, ignorant or simply uncaring to the damage it wrought.

"P-Please…, I can't…"

Was this it? Was this the end? After coming so close to the start of his story, before even setting foot into the dungeon, would he be ended here? His life force snuffed like a flame in this hurricane of woman through a handshake alone?

"Tiona, stop it. He's obviously hurting."

A stern voice from behind the terrifying avalanche woman cuts through his stupor. As the deadly force stops and his bison returns from the void beyond, he can see a figure approaching.

The first thing that hits, beyond any physical aspects, is a sheer presence. This is someone. Not just a passerby or a dime-a-dozen adventurer, but a person of importance. Of respect. Of power. To back this up are focused eyes framed by mint-green hair falling in the few locks not held behind her head. Cutting through this emerald sea are pointed ears, jutting far off to either side. All crested on a lithe body, clad in fine robes and sashes beyond any quality he'd ever seen.

Once she gets closer, this woman, this elf seems to lose some of her harder edges and soften, almost imperceptibly.

"Are you well, child? I know Tiona isn't the most… restrained when meeting new people."

Child? She had to be no more than a decade or a half older than him, yet she called him child? He didn't look that young… did he?

"Oh, it's not that big of a deal, really. It's just nice to meet people, honestly."

"Yeah, see Riveria! He could take it!"

"Well, that is- I mean, it's not that-"

"Tiona, please, he's just being nice. He looked like he was dying."

Another voice chimed in, this one similar to Tiona, yet less playful and more… teasing? It was hard to place, honestly. It came closer, meaning it was a yet another person to meet.

Already greatly embarrassed, Bell's blush grew tenfold when he turned to meet the voice and was met with another Amazoness-at least, that's what he was guessing at this point. Out of all the races his grandpa had talked about, he was particularly detailed about them-whose outfit was a little more decent. At least, in some places.

Her legs were covered in red wrapping and a series of tied and patterned clothes lie around her waist. However, higher than that, there was… more to cover than Tiona, to put it politely, but less doing the actual covering. If not for that and her hair, which reached to her mid back, one could mistake her for the thinner Amazoness. Both held a physique that could put the strongest men in his village to shame, bronzed and flawless skin, and a burning, furious passion in their eyes.

The second Amazoness stretched out her hand, far tamer than Tiona, and offered a greeting.

"Tione. Hopefully my sister didn't break your hand?"

Cautiously and slowly, Bell put out his hand and grasped hers. Luckily, rather than the tumbling rockslide he expected, he got a normal handshake. No final moments, no vice of the coming void. A firm handshake, nothing more, nothing less.

"Bell. Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you too, Bell."

With a bit of an averted gaze, Bell looks at these three women and smiles. Practically beaming.

'Adventurers! And to think, I'll be joining them soon! I can hardly wait!'

Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Bell doesn't notice a wolf-eared man enter the room, hair the same bleach white as his own. He doesn't notice his angry gaze, derisive snort, and then graceless exit. Nothing.

He does, however, hear one of the people he was talking to pipe up on their cheery, if somewhat annoyed voice.

"You didn't answer my question yet! Why are you here?"

"Oh, that? Well, I'm-"

"He's here ta join the familia, Tiona."

Gareth replies with a laugh, having returned from his trek.

"Gareth! Where did you go?"

Bell, both happy to see the dwarf and partially out of fear from the Amazoness, rushes towards him but stops when he sees someone else in front of the familiar face.

Short and blonde, it's a face youthful enough for a child younger than even Bell himself. However, rather than guess such, Bell can only assume he must be a Prum, cause nothing else could make sense. After all, no child could have eyes like him.

Bell had never met a soldier, let alone a general, but he could only imagine this would be the eyes that would greet him. A whirlwind of calculating assessment, dry dispassion, burning hope, and gnawing fear were held all at once and in equal measure. These eyes had seen the rise and fall of men greater than he could imagine and found it wanting. These eyes were fearless and daunting, a behemoth unable to be conquered.

"He went to get me."

These eyes were cold.

"I am Finn, the captain of this Familia. You must be Bell."

"..."

Bell was dumbfounded. This was it, the captain of the Familia! Just a few more words and he would become an adventurer! Just the thought of him, slaying monsters and delving through the dungeon, even having… encounters there sent him into a daze.

"Is he alright? He hasn't responded for the last minute."

Tiona backed away from the Braver, hastily waving her arms back and forth.

"It wasn't me, I swear! I just shook his hand."

Looking back to the white haired kid, Finn gave a light snort when he noticed his gaze looking off to the ceiling. Well, kid could certainly make an impression.

Bell was shocked out his daydreaming by a firm tap on his arm, causing him to look for the source. There he saw the captain of the Familia, slightly closer and… smirking?

'Oh no! Oh Gods, Oh Gods!'

Bell immediately bent so fast at the waist it looked like he looked like a snapped twig. Hair hanging in front of his face, he practically screamed.

"Sorry sir! I was distracted for having met you, sir. Please sir, forgive me… sir!"

Bell fervently hoped this was a enough to make up for his earlier impression, but given the now barely contained snickering from the other adventurers, he doubted it.

"Stand up, kid."

Bell righted himself so fast he gave himself whiplash and immediately locked eyes with the Prum.

"Now turn around and leave."

Bell, very nearly doing as ask, had the words catch up with him and was quick to protest.

"But, Finn, sir, I-"

"Ain't even gonna give'm a chance there, Finn? We're all new'a one point or another."

Only to be beat by Gareth.

"Gareth, I get you see something in the kid, but just look at him. He's nowhere near where he needs to be."

"Finn, when did ya get so jaded? Why, I remember when we was no greener than 'im, greener than Riveria's hair 'ven. I'll I'm asking is you give 'im a chance."

Gareth, green? Bell couldn't imagine it. There was just no way, the dwarf looked like he was born into the world ready, axe and all.

"Gareth, don't kid yourself. There's just no way"

Bell sat there in silence for moment, crushed. He wasn't even gonna get the chance to try, turned away before he could even ask.

No.

He wasn't going to leave having only been embarrassed and stuttering apologies.

Godsdamnit, no!

"Look kid, I know what Gareth said, but-"

"Then listen to me, sir. Let me speak for myself."

"There's no need, really. I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to ask you to-" "No, I'm sorry. I can't do that."

Bell looked forward, straight into the eyes he feared and raised his voice as it began to crack and hot tears rolled down his face.

"I won't let you or anyone else turn me away before I even get to try. I just won't!"

Finn finally, truly, looked at the boy in front of him for a moment.

He saw what he first assessed, sure. He saw a skinny twig of a child, barely having stumbled into adulthood with gangly limbs. He saw a twitching feather of a kid, ready to bolt at the slightest noise. Even with his fists clenched til they were white, they barely exerted any force at all.

What had changed, however, were the eyes.

Through the tears, he no longer saw the dreaming eyes of a fantasy, someone who was entirely gone from reality. He saw a fire, blazing bright. He saw licks and flames of passionate inferno, uncaring of what could or couldn't be done. He saw a dreamer with the drive to make reality bend to what they believed. He saw eyes like hers.

"Fine. I'll give you chance"

'What? Really, truly?'

"Didn't you hear me?, I said I'd give you a chance. Now let's go, follow me."

Eyes drying, Bell followed him further into the Manor, hope still shining in his heart. Even as the throngs of adventurers followed behind him: the Amazonesses, the elf, the tens of others he never met, he can't help but break into a jog, putting pace with Finn. His face erupts into a smile, bright and teary.

Finally.

He gets to try.


It's a nerve-wracking instant, a single moment that lasts for an eternity.

Fire in his soul screaming for action, it's all he can do to stay still, body barely trembling and eyes welded shut, as the chittering gets closer.

At first it stops echoing, only a clear original of the horrid noise cutting through the air.

'Closer'

Next comes the hundreds of hardened taps of shell against stone, getting closer with alarming speed.

Even now, over the blood pumping through his ears, he can hear it. Can hear the stillness of air split like an earthquake as it approached, inch by inch.

'Closer.'

He can hear those legs step into wetted stone, their sharp tones changing to muted thumps in the drying blood.

His blood.

'Almost there.'

He can feel it's heat, a sick and humid heat that darts over his skin in pants, drawing ever closer towards his neck with imagined glee.

'Now!'

His eyes snap open just a breadth before he acts, just to put a sight to this terrifying specter.

He wishes he had kept them closed.

To his left is an thin, oily black spot of an insect, more than a meter long. It's long forked tail is raised in alarm at his movement, spikes all on end.

Face to face, however, is the horrid part. Laying under a crown of reaching, bull-like horns are a multitude of eyes, each faceted and tinged a sickly green. Splitting it's gaze is a seam of teeth, gleaming purple and in every direction.

It's hideous and horrifying and surprised.

'Move.'

With renewed vigor, he turns with a snap, dried wounds ripping open and bellowing the smouldering fire.

'Move!'

His back arches, spine creaking in protest as feeling cuts off in his limbs and digits.

'MOVE!'

His muscles twist and strain as if possessed, every last fibre screaming in protest at action until they're pushed to tearing. He screams, body in agony and soul afire, but he hears it: his plan.

*crack*

The cross of iron on his chest comes loose from the stone it's embedded in, turning and cutting with his body as it turns. Turns to the left.

Turns to face the monster.

*CRUNCH*

The blade falls on and into the insect, the weight of it alone cleaving through the tough chitin. It falls out of his chest, hilt pulling back against the beast's shell. It falls and cleaves and… stops.

'No!'

The blade has only cut halfway through it, edge still a long few inches from the cave floor. Enough inches for the eyes and horns and maw to let loose a bellowing screech and lunge towards him.

Body lurching backwards, the pain crests before he can stand up and he falls midway, legs half extended and only a few feet away.

The insect is scrambling now, dragging the blade only barely as it lurches and grasps.

Grasps for his flesh.

He throws himself towards the blade, knees buckling as his hands find purchase against a nearby outcrop to stay up.

He pulls what he can of his body up and curls his legs, aiming squarely at the blade.

'Die damns you!'

His boots slam against the blade, forcing it through more flesh with an audible tear. Purple liquid flies up from the jolt, discoloring the metal and eating away at whatever flesh it lands on, leaving nothing but cauterized wounds behind.

With each kick, the monster quiets. By the second, it's chittering stops. By the third, it's wailing legs. By the sixth, it's been long dead.

It takes thirteen hits to completely sever it.

And, with a flash of light and a cloud of ash, the monster turns to naught but dust and a stone the size of his fist. He grabs the stone and stands fully up, leaning heavily on the now stained blade.

He spares a moment to look at the blade, stains rapidly releasing heady vapors and shrinking. He looks at his wounds, some which have stopped bleeding and now only bare the marks of acid.

'I did it.'

He looks forwards, eyes barely adjusted to the dark cavern, and spots a passage.

With heavy breaths and grunts of pain, he hobbles forth.

'I won.'