One, two, three, four. Four slashes against four monsters. It was instinctual, reflexive—like an actor reciting their lines or a dancer rehearsing their choreography. Blood spewed from their freshly fallen corpses which soon dissolved into embers and shadow, leaving only their crystalized cores and drop items. They were swiftly picked up by Lili who trailed behind him twenty paces away, allowing him to fight freely without fear of injuring those around him. It permitted him to maintain the mentality of a vanguard and surrender his trust to those behind him whilst he focused solely on whatever lay ahead.

And yet, he could not seem to focus. His mind wandered about as he engaged his body into a sort of autopilot mode—instinctual, poised, and reflexive—slashing and gashing the various monsters on the twenty-third floor.

Bell let out a cool exhale as he re-sheathed his blade, his instincts telling him that the coast was clear. He looked to his right to see Aisha flick blood off of her greatsword; before strapping it to her back. She turned to face her vanguard partner and curled her lips to a sultry smile, idiosyncratic to her Amazonian heritage. She even licked her lips.

"Staring are we?"

The words manifested in her mind but as she opened her mouth to speak, she paused. The boy wasn't blushing. Her eyes narrowed as she began to study him. His crimson eyes were clouded, unfocused. His eyes fell on her but it was as though she was entirely transparent. She was about to ask him what was bothering him, Lili called out from behind the two of them.

"Master Bell!"

The boy's eyes quickly refocused themselves back into reality before turning to face his pallum companion. She approached the two leading adventurers of the party. Her posture was slumped, her steps weary. Traversing twenty-three floors sounded easier on paper, especially with the number of party members they had. However, it was only due to the exceptional efforts of the vanguard. If not for them, the group would easily have been forced to stop right on the eighteenth floor, and restock their supplies at Rivira. The group was seemingly slogging on. Though, it could have very well have been the imaginations of the five Hestia familia members. They had gotten used to Bell's extraordinary pace by which he traversed the dungeon. The Takemikazuchi and Miach familia members certainly weren't used to it. It was rather astonishing to them how swift Bell was.

Just like a rabbit.

"Lili thinks that we should try for one more floor and then rest."

"Alright Lili, I have one more floor left in me."

He flashed a smile to Lili as he turned to Aisha. She gave an indifferent shrug to the request. Lili began walking off to rejoin the rest of the group. Bell was about to regroup as well, but Aisha called out.

"Oi, Bell Cranel."

He turned to her.

"Something bothering you?"

Her question had a hint of aggression to it. She was angry, rightfully so. But she held back her tongue and tone, understanding that it was the boy's first-ever expedition in the dungeon. But that gave him little to no right to be distracted. He was their leader, their rock. If he were to falter in whatever form, they would all follow. She couldn't let that happen.

Bell froze. He mentally chastised himself for surely what Aisha was about to berate him for. He couldn't get his head out of the clouds. For whatever inexplicable reason, his mind refused to focus on the expedition. He couldn't explain it with his words. Something was gnawing in the back of his mind. He tried to stave it off but slicing through hordes of monsters only seemed to further distance himself from reality.

There was the dream, there was the flame, and now, there was—

"Is something bothering you?"

Aisha asked once again, her tone angrier than before. Bell was at a loss for words. The truth—he could not tell the truth. But that seemed like a pathetic solution, almost as unpropitious as not saying anything at all. He felt his fingers clench and his mind race. He felt like a helpless child about to be scolded by an angered parent (not that he ever had such things). He felt his jaw loosen as he was about to open his mouth, but before he could speak, he was interrupted.

"Tch. It may not be my business what's going on in your head, but it's damn sure my business how you act outside of it."

Bell winced as the gravity of her words sunk into him.

"I don't think I need to remind you that we're in the dungeon. And the people we are with are expecting you to lead. Frankly, if you have nothing more to offer than your speed and skills in combat, then leave."

Bell's eyes widened as Aisha continued.

"If you can't focus on the monsters and people around you, then this expedition is already lost. Best to save face and turn back now."

Blunt, crude, but necessary. Bell understood her words. Focus. The dungeon, the party, the quest. That is all that matters.

Sensing that he understood her words, Aisha began to make her way back to the party. Passing by Bell, she gave his tush a playful slap. As the sensation registered in his mind, he immediately jumped and turned to better cover himself.

"Still distracted I see~," she said with a devilish grin.

Bell felt his ears burning as she left laughing. He took a few moments to calm himself back down. With nothing left for him to do, he began to follow suit with Lili and Aisha. However, he only made it five paces before he sensed a presence behind. He spun around, unsheathing his Hestia knife but froze as his eyes landed on the being.

It was made of snow-white marble, chipped and carved into the shape of a humanoid figure. A robe was carved onto it to cover itself. It had a pair of majestic wings on its back, tucked back and folded. Its hands were clasped together in front of its chest, resembling the zealous posture of prayer.

An angel.

But it gave no feeling of divine comfort or relief. Dark shadows covered its eyes. Upon closer look, it was soot, as though its eyes smothered out to blind it. The sheer sight of it was enough to completely unnerve Bell, and then, it spoke.

"Why do you fear what you already know? Why do you choose to forget? Why do you resist my message? You will be punished for your transgressions. You will remember what you have done. You will remember your greatest sin. You will remember their faces. You will remember the pain."

A black liquid began to pour from its eyes as it began to shake violently. Its mouth began to open slowly, emanating a hellish whispering screech.

"TraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitorTraitor—"

Suddenly it lunged forward at Bell. He had no time to give a reaction as it tackled him to the ground, wrapping its stone-cold hands around his neck. Still stunned, he lay there as the weight on his neck grew.

Air. I need air—!

Frantically, he tried to wiggle and squirm beneath the statue to regain access to his windpipe, but to no avail. Despite his recent level up, the statue did not budge. It only reacted by shrieking more of that cursed word.

"TraitorTraitorTraitorTraitor—!"

Panic further set in as he flexed his fingers, unable to feel his Hestia knife. It must have been knocked out of his hand when he fell back. His hand scrambled to find his knife. He tossed and flailed his arm around in search of it, but it was far from his reach. He felt his vision grow increasingly hazy and blurred, and his adrenaline running dry. Slowly, painfully, his consciousness began to slip from his grasp.

Pathetically, he made a fist and beat the statue off of him. Nothing. It still continued to curse him. Soon, its words grew distant as darkness began to swallow everything in sight.

Without a scream of terror, or a roar of defiance, was this how his life was supposed to end—his will choked into pathetic wisps of air? The names of the closest things to a family he knew of rang out.

Goddess, Lili, Welf, Mikoto, Haruhime… Grandpa— But they only came out as gags and chokes of air.

One, two, three, four. And then, silence.

.

.

.

And so, the boy laid motionless on the stone floor of the dungeon. The statue stood over him. It seemingly moved as though it were a choppy stop-motion image, making its way inexplicably from point 'a' to point 'b'. It clasped its hands back together and said a prayer. It was neither one of compassion nor condemnation. It simply prayed for that was its nature. And after its prayer, it vanished into the nothingness from whence it came.

As for the boy, lifeless and limp, but strangely still, not dead. For death was merely a work of fiction for him. There existed only life, and life alone—his life, moving from one dimension to another.