In the dimly lit basement of the Hestia Familia home base, Waver Velvet carefully carried the unconscious Bell Cranel, his usual stoic expression betraying a hint of concern. The air was tense as they entered, with the flickering torches casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Goddess Hestia, her black hair cascading down her shoulders, paced nervously as she awaited their return. As Waver gently laid Bell on a bed, Hestia's eyes widened in shock and worry as she noticed the bruise on his chest. A mixture of anger and concern flashed in her eyes.

"What happened to him?" Hestia demanded, her voice sharp with worry as she approached the unconscious adventurer. She shot a stern look at Waver, whom she called Caster. "Explain, Caster. What happened?"

Waver met Hestia's gaze with a calm demeanor, "We were attacked by an enemy servant. It was a fierce battle, and Bell took a hit to protect me." His eyes conveyed a sense of regret for the unfortunate turn of events. "We had no choice but to retreat."

Hestia's face contorted with a mix of emotions. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought back the urge to unleash her divine wrath. "An enemy servant? This early?" Her voice rose, echoing through the chamber. "How dare they harm one of familia!"

Waver, sensing Hestia's anger, spoke quickly to defuse the tension. "It was unexpected, and we did our best to escape. Bell's safety was my top priority."

Hestia's eyes softened slightly, concern overtaking her anger. She knelt beside Bell and gently touched his forehead, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "We need to get him healed. Do you know anything about this enemy servant? Why would they target us?"

Waver nodded, his gaze steady. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get a good look at the enemy servant. They were powerful, and our priority was escaping. But I promise, we'll find out who they are and ensure they face justice."

Hestia sighed, her anger giving way to a determined resolve. "Alright, Caster. We'll deal with this later. For now, let's focus on Bell's recovery." She shot one last glance at the unconscious adventurer before turning back to Waver. "Thank you for bringing him back. Come with me let's get a couple of Potions and bring Miach with us."

--

In this dream, Bell Cranel found himself at the back of a classroom, but everything was fuzzy and unclear. Caster, also known as Waver Velvet, stood at the front, seemingly teaching something important. Bell strained to hear and see, but the details eluded him. The students in the class were just blurry figures, heads down, engrossed in the lecture.

Waver continued teaching, writing on the board, but Bell couldn't make out the words or symbols. He tried to focus on the faces of the students or understand the lesson, but everything remained mysterious and out of reach. The dream created a sense of wanting to learn and understand, yet the details stayed hidden.

As the dream unfolded, Bell felt a strong desire to grasp the wisdom being shared, but the dream played tricks on him. The classroom became a place where knowledge seemed just beyond his reach. Despite the haziness, there was a feeling that something important was being taught, a lesson that went deeper than the surface.

Bell's mind replayed the humiliating encounter with Lancer, the formidable woman who effortlessly defeated him without breaking a sweat. The memory gnawed at him, a relentless loop of inadequacy.

He reflected on the vast power gap between them, feeling as if he was light-years away from being a worthy opponent. The realization that he hadn't even made her exert herself in the fight weighed heavily on his self-esteem. In his own eyes, he seemed like nothing more than a novice, a powerless presence in the face of true strength.

The echoes of the battle echoed in his mind, each moment a painful reminder of his perceived worthlessness in the eyes of that skilled adversary. He questioned his abilities, his training, wondering if he could ever bridge the gap that seemed insurmountable.

Bell mentally flogged himself for not being stronger, for failing to make a significant impact in the fight. Every blow she landed, every move she effortlessly dodged, carved deeper into his confidence. The internal dialogue became a harsh critique, each self-inflicted wound a testament to his perceived failure.

Bell Cranel awoke with a start, finding himself in the dimly lit basement of the Church, the familiar home of the Hestia Familia. Pain surged through his body as he sat up, groaning softly. The silence around him hinted at an emptiness, and a quick glance confirmed that no one was present.

Wincing, Bell stood up, a hand pressed against his side where the pain throbbed the most. His eyes caught the glint of his knife nearby, and he instinctively picked it up. The moonlight spilled through the Church's windows, casting an ethereal glow that guided his way.

With cautious steps, Bell silently left the Church, the night air cool against his skin. The pain in his body served as a constant reminder of an unseen struggle. Determination etched across his face, he headed towards the Dungeon, the place where challenges awaited.

Each step resonated with discomfort, but Bell pressed on, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Moonlight illuminated the cobblestone streets as he navigated through the city, a lone figure moving with purpose beneath the night sky. The Dungeon loomed in the distance, a daunting silhouette against the darkness.

As he reached the Dungeon entrance, Bell took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead. The moonlight guided him through the labyrinthine corridors, and with each painful step, he descended the floors. The echoes of his footsteps in the emptiness spoke of determination, a silent resolve to face whatever lay ahead.

Finally, after enduring the pain and pushing through the challenges, Bell reached the sixth floor of the Dungeon. The moonlight filtered through the gaps in the stonework, casting shadows on the worn floor. Standing at the threshold, Bell surveyed the floor, ready for whatever trials awaited him in the depths of the Dungeon.

--

Hestia and Caster, accompanied by Miach with his distinctive dark blue hair and eyes, returned to the Church to find Bell conspicuously absent. The usually vibrant atmosphere within the familiar surroundings now felt hollow and foreboding.

Panic gripped Hestia as her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for any sign of Bell. "Where is he? Did someone kidnap him?" she exclaimed, her worry etched across her face.

Caster, his usual composure intact, surveyed the area with a thoughtful gaze. "It can't be a simple kidnapping. The Bounded Field is still intact," he stated, his voice calm despite the growing concern. "If someone had breached it, I would have been notified immediately."

Hestia's panic persisted, her mind racing through the possibilities. "Then where is he? Why isn't he here?" she questioned, her voice tinged with frustration and fear.

Miach, wearing his black robe and tan brown stole, exchanged a knowing glance with Caster. "We need to find him," he urged, his normally serene demeanor reflecting the urgency of the situation.

Caster nodded in agreement, his analytical mind already at work. "We'll search the vicinity. There must be some explanation for his absence. Stay calm, Goddess Hestia. We'll find him."

Throughout the night, the trio tirelessly searched for Bell, their worry escalating with each passing moment. Caster diligently checked the guild, combed through the library, and scoured the garden. He even ventured to the Dian Cecht Familia, but Bell remained elusive.

Miach and Hestia sought information from Hephaestus, who, to their dismay, hadn't seen the missing adventurer. The tension grew with the moon's journey across the night sky, and as the first rays of dawn emerged, they returned to the Church, their hearts heavy with concern.

Standing outside the Church door, Caster's sharp expression conveyed a mix of frustration and determination. "I may have an idea where he is," he declared, his voice resolute. "The Dungeon."

Before they could act on this insight, Caster's keen perception caught movement behind them. There, battered and bruised, Bell emerged from the shadows. Injuries marred his entire being—broken armor, torn clothes, and the unmistakable signs of battle. Despite the visible strain, a determined smile graced his face as he limped toward them.

Caster, flabbergasted by Bell's appearance, stammered, "What happened to you?"

With a weary yet contented expression, Bell turned to Caster. "I want to become stronger," he said, his voice carrying an earnest resolve.

Caster, caught off guard, responded, "As a teacher, it's my duty to make my students' potential bloom."

Bell smiled, gratitude in his eyes. "I see. Thanks, Caster." However, the toll of the night's endeavors caught up with him, and with those words, he succumbed to exhaustion and his injuries, falling unconscious at their feet. The morning light painted a poignant scene—the unyielding quest for strength etched in Bell's determination and the unwavering commitment of those who cared for him.