Chapter 12 : Aftermath
Author's Notes: Hey, back with another chapter! I recently started writing another Danmachi fanfic, but this time it's not a crossover. Now, I'm wondering: should I publish both fanfics at the same time (which means fewer updates for each) or just focus on the Nier Automata crossover? Let me know your thoughts in the review section!
"Speech."
"Thoughts."
Bell's consciousness flickered like a dying candle as he drifted between dreams and reality. Shadows clung to his vision, and with a groan, he rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the disorientation. The world around him sharpened into focus—a cold, rough staircase stretching into mist. The air buzzed with tension, heavy and unnervingly quiet.
"Where am I…?" he muttered; his voice swallowed by the silence.
A faint, glowing light beckoned from above, drawing him onward. As he climbed, a strange pull seemed to guide his steps, like the very stones beneath him were alive, urging him forward. Shadows flickered in the corners of his vision, a haunting presence lingering at the edges, but Bell pushed through the unease, his footsteps echoing in the eerie stillness.
At the top of the staircase, a figure appeared—2B, standing silently, her back to him. Relief washed over him, though confusion gnawed at the edges of his mind, the warmth of familiarity clashing with the unsettling atmosphere.
"2B!" Bell's voice echoed through the silence, but she remained unmoving, a distant silhouette against the blinding light.
He reached out, but the ground beneath him shuddered, cracks splintering across the steps. Panic surged as the stone quaked beneath his feet, threatening to collapse.
"Wait!" he cried, but the step gave way. The world lurched as he plunged into darkness.
The sensation of falling seemed endless, the air rushing past him in a chilling embrace. He felt weightless, suspended in the void, until an icy grip of fear surged through him. Just as he braced for impact, a jarring shock pulled him back to reality.
With a grimace, Bell slowly pried his eyes open. The room came into focus, a blend of warmth and medieval charm. Rough-hewn wooden beams crisscrossed above him, casting soft shadows against the sunlit walls. Tapestries depicting heroic deeds and grand battles adorned the space, while the scent of healing herbs mingled with something metallic—blood, perhaps. His gaze drifted to the side, and there she was—2B, slumped in a chair at his bedside, her posture rigid even in sleep, as if keeping vigil over him.
"She stayed with me..." Bell thought, a mix of gratitude and awe flickering in his chest.
As he lay there, pain surged through him, vivid and overwhelming. A sharp sting radiated from his ribs, making each inhale a struggle and each exhale a punishment. His arms throbbed with a dull ache, the muscles tight and sore as if they had been pulled beyond their limits. His legs felt heavy, a dull burn settling in his thighs and calves, reminders of the battle that had pushed him to his breaking point. But it was his head that was the worst—a relentless pounding that made the room spin, as if the very walls were closing in.
Memories of the previous day flooded back, each one a stab of dread. The Hostess of Fertility, the dungeon, the War Shadows, his reckless charge, the pain that had overwhelmed him—it all played out relentlessly. And then there was the fear that gnawed at him: What would Goddess Hestia say when she found out he had once again put himself in danger? Would she be angry? Disappointed? He also worried about 2B—would she be upset with him too? The thought that he had let them both down weighed heavily on his mind.
Mirroring his turmoil, the sheets shifted softly beneath him. Hearing this quiet commotion, 2B stirred, her eyes slowly opening to meet his. A hint of relief crossed her face. "You're awake," she spoke softly, but the look in her eyes betrayed a storm of disappointment and anger.
Bell, sensing the tension, decided to play it dumb, sheepishly feigning ignorance. "W-Where are we? W-What happened?" he asked, forcing a confused expression.
Her gaze sharpened, understanding his attempt to deflect. "Lies do not work on me, Bell," she replied, her voice steady, a clear challenge in her tone.
He stiffened, caught in her penetrating stare, the warmth of their usual camaraderie replaced by an icy tension. A moment stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and the weight of his recklessness.
"Why did you do it?" she finally asks, her voice steady yet laced with concern.
Taking a deep breath, Bell removed the frightened expression from his face, replacing it with a thoughtful gaze. "I... I couldn't shake the words of that werewolf," he admitted, his voice heavy with remorse. "They hurt because they were true. I did leave you alone to fight the Minotaurs. I was scared, thinking something had happened to you because I fled. I felt weak."
He inhaled deeply again, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I was angry at myself for my weakness. I want to be strong—strong enough to fight by your side."
2B's expression remained serious. "It was reckless," she stated firmly.
"Yes," Bell replied, feeling the weight of her judgment.
"Had I arrived minutes later, I would have had to bury you," she continued, her tone unwavering.
"Yes," he echoed, shame washing over him.
"And you would have left me alone to carry that burden," she added, her eyes locking onto his with intensity.
"Yes," he said again, the weight of her words sinking in.
"But you fought well," 2B added. "You improved. You showed resilience in the face of danger. And for that, I congratulate you. Just don't tell goddess."
For the briefest moment, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile flickered across 2B's face. It was so faint that anyone not looking closely would have missed it entirely, but Bell saw it. His heart skipping a beat.
"Did... did she just smile!?" Bell's mind raced, his eyes widening in disbelief. A strange warmth spread through him, and despite his exhaustion, a small, sheepish smile crept onto his face in response, feeling like he'd just witnessed something rare, something meant just for him.
"I won't say a word," he promised.
As they shared that warm moment, the atmosphere lightening, the door swung open to reveal a woman with flowing silver hair, her name tag reading "Airmid Teasanare." She stepped into the room with a professional air.
"Oh, so you're awake! How do you feel?" she asked, her tone brisk yet kind.
Bell managed a small smile. "I'm... alive, I guess."
Airmid cleared her throat, looking over her notes with concern. "Alright, let's assess your injuries. You've endured quite a lot during that encounter."
She started counting on her fingers. "You have multiple cracked ribs on your left side from the impact of a War Shadow's heavy attack. There are deep lacerations on your arms and shoulders—those came from their claws. Your right leg has a severe gash, nearly reaching the bone. You're also experiencing severe swelling around your ankles; I suspect it's a sprain from the chaotic fighting."
Airmid continued, "You suffered a concussion from that punch, there's noticeable bruising around your temple, and I'll need to monitor for any lingering symptoms or dizziness. Additionally, you have severe abrasions and cuts on your hands from blocking attacks, and several of your fingers are swollen; some of them are fractured."
She paused, her gaze piercing. "Finally, your body is completely exhausted. Muscle fatigue is evident, and your stamina is critically low. I can't stress enough how close you came to death. Had your friend not arrived when she did, the outcome could have been far graver."
Bell gulped, feeling the weight of her words. "Wow… I really pushed my luck, didn't I?"
Airmid nodded solemnly. "Yes, you need to rest and allow your body to heal. No more reckless activities for a while, understood?"
"U-Understo—"
But before Bell could respond, the door burst open, and Goddess Hestia rushed in, her eyes wide with concern. "Bell! You're awake!" she cried, launching herself toward him.
But before she could reach him, 2B swiftly stepped in front of her, catching her goddess mid-pounce. "Goddess, please calm down," 2B said, her tone firm yet gentle. "Bell is gravely injured. He needs rest."
Hestia struggled slightly against 2B's grasp, her face a mixture of worry and frustration. "Let me go! I need to check on my Bell! I need to see if he's really okay!"
"Doctor Teasanare has already checked him over," 2B replied, her voice steady. "He's going to be fine, but he needs time to heal."
Hestia's eyes darted from 2B to Bell, her expression softening just a bit as she relaxed in 2B's grip. "Fine, but I'm not leaving his side until I know for sure."
2B released her, and Hestia immediately moved closer to Bell, her eyes brimming with concern as she reached out to touch his hand. "Don't scare me like that again, Bell," she murmured, her voice quieter now.
Seeing his goddess worry, Bell threw her a reassuring smile. "I'll try my best, Goddess," he said, hoping to ease the concern etched on her face.
After three days of intensive care under Airmid's expert healing, Bell was finally allowed to leave the hospital. Returning to the familiar comfort of their humble church, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. But despite being cleared, 2B's sharp gaze followed him with an unmistakable air of caution.
"We're not going back to the dungeon yet," she stated firmly, her voice cutting through the stillness.
Bell blinked in surprise, glancing up at her. "Wh-why not?"
2B's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she pointed to the corner of the room where the battered remains of his armor and weapons were stacked. The gear was completely destroyed—scratches, dents, and rips barely hinted at what had once been serviceable protection. Even his knives, once reliable, now lay broken in pieces. "Your gear, Bell. It's not just damaged. It's ruined. You can't go into the dungeon like that."Bas du formulaire
Bell winced, the reality of it sinking in. He remembered the state of his armor and knives after the fight with the War Shadows. "Oh... right." He let out a nervous laugh, feeling a little embarrassed by how reckless he'd been.
"We're going shopping for new gear," 2B added decisively.
Bell's heart skipped a beat, his face flushing with awkward excitement. "Shopping? With 2B?" His mind spiraled. "Is this... a date?" Embarrassment flooded him, his face turning red. "No, no, she didn't mean it like that..." He gulped, suddenly self-conscious.
Before he could dwell too much on his flustered thoughts, 2B interrupted them with a more pressing reminder. "But before we go, there's something else you need to do."
Bell blinked, confused. "W-What?"
"You need to apologize to Mia Grande."
Bell stiffened at the mention of the name, and the color drained from his face. "M-Miss Mia?" he stammered.
"Yes," 2B said, leaving no room for debate. "For causing trouble at the Hostess of Fertility."
The familiar sight of the bustling Hostess of Fertility greeted them as they stepped inside. Bell felt a knot in his stomach, the weight of his reckless actions sitting heavily on his shoulders. Before he could gather his thoughts, Mia Grande, the imposing woman who ran the establishment, caught sight of him.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the reckless little adventurer," she said, her arms crossed over her chest. Her tone was sharp, but there was a glimmer of something softer beneath her stern exterior.
Bell swallowed hard and stepped forward. "Miss Mia, I... I'm really sorry. For what happened. I didn't mean to cause any trouble!" He bowed deeply, his voice earnest and full of regret.
Mia's expression softened just a fraction, but her gaze remained firm. "Don't take that mutt's words at heart, kid. As long as you come back from the dungeon alive, you're winning." Her voice held a surprising warmth, though it was still gruff.
Bell straightened up, a wave of relief washing over him. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.
As the tension eased, Syr approached him with a kind smile. "Here, Bell. This was left by a client at the counter. I thought you might like it." She handed him a book, the cover simple yet elegant.
Bell blinked, surprised. "For me?"
Syr smiled softly and extended the book once more. "It's to cheer you up. Trust me, you'll enjoy it."
Bell hesitated, feeling awkward about receiving something so thoughtful, but Syr's gentle insistence left him little room to refuse. "A-Alright, thank you," he mumbled, accepting the book with a bashful nod.
With the gift now in hand, they left the Hostess and made their way toward Babel.
As they entered the imposing structure, Bell couldn't help but marvel at the sheer scale of the tower. The bustling marketplace within hummed with life, and his eyes immediately darted toward the impressive displays of weapons, gleaming under the artificial lights. The craftsmanship of Hephaestus-grade gear was undeniable—every blade, spear, and shield practically radiated power and perfection. But the price tags… millions of valis.
Bell's heart sank. His eyes widened as he took in the staggering costs, realizing how far out of reach these weapons were. "W-we can't afford this!" he stuttered, glancing nervously at 2B. "Hephaestus-grade gear is way too expensive!"
2B's expression remained calm, her eyes unwavering. "We can afford it," she stated matter-of-factly, turning toward a different set of stairs. "Follow me."
Confused but trusting, Bell trailed behind her as they made their way to a lower floor. The atmosphere shifted noticeably. The pristine interiors of the prestigious boutiques above were replaced by the rougher, crude scenery of a workshop-like alley. The clang of hammers echoed from various forges, and the scent of burning coal hung in the air.
"This is still Hephaestus-grade gear," 2B explained, noticing Bell's surprised look at their new surroundings. "But it's crafted by low-level smiths. The quality is reliable, and the prices are in our range."
Bell nodded, relief washing over him. "Oh, that makes sense," he said, glancing around. "I've never been here before. It feels a lot more… raw? But I like it."
"You can take what you want," 2B said, eyeing the weapons displayed on racks. "Our budget is generous enough for you to find something suitable." She glanced at him, her eyes serious. "But be careful. Don't get ripped off."
Bell swallowed nervously, glancing at the various weapons. "Um, I'm not really good at choosing these things," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Could you help me pick out a sword?"
"Yes," 2B replied, "I'll go look for a sword for you. You focus on finding some armor."
"Alright!" Bell said, a bit more excited now. "I'll do my best to find something good!"
With that, 2B moved toward the weapon racks while Bell headed deeper into the area, determined to find armor that would keep him safe in the dungeon.
As Bell wandered through the bustling market-place, he noticed that many of the displays featured well-worn armor, but none quite caught his eye. He weaved between stalls, his heart pounding with anticipation, hoping to find something that felt right. Just as he was about to give up, a glimmer of light caught his attention from a corner booth shrouded in shadows.
Curiosity piqued, he approached a wooden box tucked away on a high shelf, almost hidden from view. The box seemed ordinary at first glance, but as he drew closer, the gleam of metal peeked through a small crack in the wood. Bell's heart raced; this might be something special.
He stretched up on his toes, straining to reach the box, but it was positioned precariously. "Come on, come on," he murmured to himself, finally managing to tug it free from its resting place. He nearly stumbled backward, the weight of the box surprising him. With a bit of effort, he set it down on a nearby table.
Lifting the lid, he revealed the "Pyonkichi Mk-II armor", its pristine white surface shining brilliantly. Crimson cracks webbed across the plating, creating a striking contrast that mesmerized him, the armor was sleek and designed for agility. The name "Welf Crozzo" was beautifully engraved on the armor, a testament to his craftsmanship.
The quality of the armor was undeniable, each detail reflecting the efforts that went into its creation. Bell felt a rush of exhilaration, then his gaze slowly drifted toward the price tag.
"Ten thousand valis?!" he exclaimed, his expression shifting from surprise to excitement. "This is a steal!"
With newfound enthusiasm, Bell happily trod toward the counter, eager to finalize his purchase. His heart raced at the thought of how much this armor could enhance his abilities. As he approached, he noticed two men embroiled in a heated argument nearby, their voices rising above the bustling atmosphere of the shop. He tried to focus on the armor, but their shouts drew his attention, momentarily distracting him from his excitement.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged blacksmith, his muscular arms adorned with scars from years of toil. He wore a worn leather apron and had an eye patch covering his right eye, giving him a rugged, formidable appearance. His voice was gruff, infused with a thick accent that made his words sound chewed. "You think yer gonna sell that junk? Nobody's gonna buy somethin' that ain't been forged off proper!"
The other man, a young red-haired artisan, was visibly frustrated. "It's not junk! You're hiding my work! If you'd just let me actually display my creations, I could actually make some sales! You can't keep stifling my talent just because you're jealous!"
The blacksmith huffed, crossing his arms defiantly. "Jealous? Ha! I'm protectin' the good name of this shop! You don't know the first thing about makin' or sellin' armor, lad!"
Bell stood there for a moment, caught in the crossfire of their argument. The tension hung thick in the air, and he felt a sudden urge to intervene. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward. "Um, e-excuse me," he stuttered, his voice wavering slightly. "C-can I buy the armor in this box? The Pyonkichi Mk-II?"
Both men turned to him, the argument momentarily forgotten. The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, his skepticism still evident. "Ye want that? Really?"
The young man's face lit up, his frustration giving way to hope. "Yes! You really want it? It's designed for mobility and protection. You won't find anything like it!"
Bell nodded eagerly, holding up the 10,000 valis he had saved. "I do! I really want it!"
The blacksmith sighed, crossing his arms yet again but looking slightly less combative. "If yer set on it, lad, I can sell it to ya, but don't say I didn't warn ye."
The crimson haired youth stepped forward, a broad smile spreading across his face. "I'm Welf Crozzo, the proud maker of this armor!" he declared, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "If you ever need any maintenance or repairs on it, just ask for my name in the Hephaestus section of the industrial district, and people will point you toward my workshop. I take great pride in my work, and as my first real client I want you to be fully equipped for your adventures!"
Bell's excitement grew as he looked at the armor, feeling the weight of Welf's passion behind each piece. "Thanks, Welf! I'll definitely keep that in mind!"
As Bell stepped away from the counter, feeling the thrill of his purchase, he began to search for 2B. Just as he rounded a corner, he spotted her leaning against a wall, holding a finely crafted rapier. The blade had a sturdy appearance, looking reliable and of solid quality. Bell couldn't help but admire it.
"2B!" he called out, waving enthusiastically.
Acknowledging his return 2B turned her head. "I found this just a moment ago. The craftsmanship is solid, and the quality of the metal is good." Her gaze shifted to him, curiously assessing him. "You look… pleased with yourself."
"I am! You won't believe what I just bought!" He quickly unveiled the Pyonkichi Mk-II armor, lifting the lid of the box to reveal the gleaming armor inside. "Look at this! It's incredible!"
2B leaned in slightly, her interest piqued. "Impressive craftsmanship," she noted. "And the design is quite functional."
"Right? And it was only ten thousand valis!" Bell exclaimed, his excitement bubbling over. "I thought it would be way more expensive. I can't wait to try it out in the dungeon!"
2B's gaze remained sharp as she evaluated the armor. "You made a solid choice."
Bell scratched the back of his head, a bit flustered. "Ah, I f-forgot to ask, 2B... How much did you get that rapier for?" His voice wavered slightly, but his expression was earnest. "I'll give you your money back."
2B shook her head, her tone calm yet firm. "Do not worry about it."
Bell frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "B-but, I can't just accept it like that. It's... too much." His voice grew softer, struggling with his sense of gratitude and pride.
"Think of it as an investment," 2B replied. "You'll pay me back by surviving—and by improving."
Reluctantly accepting 2B's kindness, Bell's thoughts shifted toward her gear. "But what about you, 2B? Shouldn't you get better gear too? Maybe some armor and a more effective weapon? We could find something decent here for you as well."
He frowned at the idea of her going into the dungeon unprepared, the concern gnawing at him. "You deserve to have the best equipment just as much as I do," he added, hoping to convince her.
Waving her head 2B glanced at him, her tone as composed as ever. "My dress… is made of special materials. It offers better protection than most of the armor in this tower." She tapped the hilt of her sword lightly. "And this blade... it's far superior to those millions of valis weapons."
Bell's mouth dropped open in pure shock. "W-wait, seriously?! Where did you even get stuff like that?!" His voice trembled with disbelief; eyes wide as he tried to wrap his head around her statement.
2B set off at a brisk pace, Bell scrambled to keep up with her. "Do not worry about it," she said coolly, brushing off his concern.
"Now that you're geared up," she continued, "I still have some errands to run."
He tilted his head curiously. "Errands? Like what?"
"Restocking potions, amongst other things," she replied, her voice pragmatic as always.
They ventured deeper into the marketplace, the bustling sounds of merchants hawking their wares echoing around them. The air was filled with the scent of various herbs and the clinking of glass bottles as vendors organized their stock.
During their shopping trip, 2B patiently showed Bell all the useful spots—reliable potion vendors, blacksmiths with honest pricing, and shops with quality dungeon supplies. She even took the time to teach him how to gauge the quality of a potion. "The clarity of the liquid tells a lot," she explained, holding a bottle up to the light. "If it's cloudy, that usually means the ingredients weren't properly refined."
Bell watched her with rapt attention, nodding enthusiastically, trying his best to memorize everything. "Wow, I've always just bought what Eina recommended. I never knew you had to check so much detail."
As they continued walking, they came across a long line of adventurers queuing at a blacksmith's stall, each holding weapons or armor in need of repair. Bell couldn't help but notice the dents and dull edges on many of the blades. 2B's gaze lingered on the scene for a moment before she spoke again.
"Maintaining your gear is just as important as choosing it," she said, her voice low but steady. "After each dungeon run, check the edges of your weapons. A sharp blade can make all the difference." She turned to Bell. "And always clean your armor, even if it doesn't look dirty—dust and grime can weaken the material over time."
Bell nodded, absorbing the advice as they passed by the busy blacksmith. A warm sense of admiration grew in his chest. Seeing this more knowledgeable, practical side of 2B made him feel grateful that she was taking the time to guide him. "I… I didn't expect you to know so much. You're really amazing, 2B," he said, his voice sincere, eyes full of awe.
She paused for a moment, glancing at him. "It's important to be prepared," she said simply, before turning back to their task.
they walked further through the market, Bell noticed how easily 2B navigated between stalls, her eyes scanning the merchandise with a discerning gaze. Every step seemed deliberate, as if she knew exactly where to go and what to look for.
Eventually, she slowed her pace, stopping at a stall brimming with various weapon parts and tools. Bell's eyes flicked over the assortment, unsure of what to make of it all, when 2B leaned in slightly, her voice lowering as she glanced at him. "One more thing you should learn… always question the price."
Bell blinked, looking at her curiously. "The price?"
2B nodded, picking up a small dagger from the stall and examining it. "Just because something is expensive doesn't mean it's the best quality. Some merchants here—" she paused, nodding toward the seller, "—they mark up prices when they see inexperienced adventurers coming through. You need to know how to gauge if something's worth what they're asking."
She flipped the dagger over in her hands, inspecting the blade and hilt with a practiced eye before setting it down. "Always ask yourself: is this material good enough for the price? Does the craftsmanship hold up? If it's a common item, you should be able to negotiate it down."
Bell rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed. "I usually just go with what they ask for… I never thought about bargaining."
2B gave a small nod. "That's why it's important to do your research. Compare prices between different stalls before you buy. And don't be afraid to walk away—sometimes that's the best leverage."
Bell absorbed her words, feeling a little spark of pride as he realized how much he'd already learned from her. "So… it's not just about having the money, but knowing how to use it well."
"Exactly," 2B replied, continuing to walk. "Your valis should work for you, not the other way around."
With new gear, potions, and supplies in hand, Bell followed 2B as they wrapped up their shopping trip. The weight of the dungeon equipment on his back was light compared to the sense of readiness he now felt. He glanced at 2B, grateful for her guidance and quiet presence.
They entered the familiar warmth of the church, and Bell felt a comforting sense of home. Candlelight flickered softly, and the scent of old wood greeted him. Hestia looked up from her desk, her eyes lighting up as she saw them.
"Welcome back, you two!" she called out, her voice filled with warmth and energy. "How was your day?"
"It was productive," 2B replied in her usual calm tone, adjusting the straps of her bag as she stood by the door. Her voice had a steady quality that contrasted with Hestia's cheerful greeting.
Bell, feeling the buzz of excitement from the day's events, smiled and began to make his way toward the basement stairs where he lived with Hestia. "Yeah, it was a good day," he added, his thoughts already replaying everything 2B had taught him during their shopping trip.
Just as he stepped down into the church basement, Bell turned around and noticed that 2B hadn't moved. She was still standing near the doorway. "Aren't you coming down, 2B?" he asked, a slight note of curiosity in his voice.
2B shook her head. "No," she said, "I have some business at the guild to attend to."
Bell frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head in confusion. "Why did you come back with me, then?" he asked, unable to hide his curiosity. "Couldn't you have taken care of that on the way?"
2B hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding, her eyes meeting his. "I wanted to make sure you didn't do something reckless while I was out," she said, yet there was a hint of something softer beneath the surface—though Bell couldn't quite place what it was.
He blinked, feeling a mix of emotions at her response. On the one hand, he felt a small swell of gratitude—she had gone out of her way to watch over him—but on the other hand, he couldn't help but feel a little stung by the implication. Did she really think he'd do something reckless?
Before he could respond, 2B turned slightly toward the door, her hand resting on the handle. "And don't forget," she added over her shoulder, "you're still on house arrest."
Bell sighed, watching the door for a moment longer. He hadn't even had the chance to offer to help her. Feeling a bit dejected, he turned back toward Hestia.
"Looks like it's just you and me now, Goddess," he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.
Hestia's eyes lit up mischievously. "Just the two of us, huh?" She gave him a teasing smile, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Finally, we can spend some time alone without anyone distracting us, right, Bell?"
Bell tilted his head, clearly not catching her meaning. "Oh, right. I guess it has been a while since we've had some quiet time like this."
Hestia's eye twitched as her smile faltered. "Ugh, Bell! That's not what I meant!" she yelled, stomping her foot in frustration, her cheeks puffing out in comedic anger.
Bell just laughed it off, completely oblivious to what she was hinting at. "You're always so energetic, Goddess!"
Hestia let out a dramatic sigh, still grumbling under her breath. "How can you be so dense…" She plopped down at her desk, pouting at a stack of papers, clearly fuming but trying to act like she wasn't.
After a few moments, she stood up again with exaggerated seriousness. "Oh, right! I forgot I had something very important to do!" She grabbed a random piece of paper from the desk, waving it as if it were of utmost importance. "I'll be heading out for a bit. It's goddess business… super important stuff. You wouldn't understand."
Bell blinked, surprised. "Wait, really? Do you need help or anything?"
Hestia shook her head quickly, already heading for the door. "No, no! You just stay here and rest!" She huffed dramatically, casting one last glance over her shoulder. "Just… don't get into trouble while I'm gone!"
Before Bell could say another word, Hestia had disappeared out the door, leaving him alone in the quiet church.
For a moment, he sat there, staring after her in confusion. "What was that all about?"
With nothing left to do, Bell slumped back into his chair, feeling a bit aimless. But then, something caught his eye—the book Syr had given him. He reached for it, the odd title practically begging for his attention: Magic Even a Goblin Could Understand.
"Huh… I guess now's as good a time as any to read it," he muttered, flipping it open.
Bell opened the book and settled into the couch, his eyes scanning the first few lines of the chapter. The words seemed simple at first, but as he read on, they carried a weight that drew him in deeper.
"Magic," the text began, "is the essence of the world made manifest. It is not simply a tool or a weapon, but a fundamental force that binds life, nature, and all things together. It draws from the flow of energy that surrounds us—the currents of the earth, the breath of the sky, the pulse of every living being."
Bell's brows furrowed in concentration as he continued. "To use magic, you must first understand that it is not about the raw power you possess, but about how you channel it. Magic listens to intent. A healer's hand guides magic with compassion, using it to mend wounds and protect. A warrior's heart shapes magic into a blade, striking with precision and purpose."
The book went on to describe the technical aspects of magic—chants, spells, and the need for focus—but soon, the tone shifted again to something more reflective. "Magic is a mirror," it said, "revealing what lies within you. It draws from your desires, your fears, your hopes. To master it, you must first look inward, because only by knowing yourself can you direct this energy with true clarity."
Bell leaned forward, his heart racing. The chapter ended with a question that seemed to reach out from the page and speak directly to him:
"So… what is magic to you?"