.
.
Bell stirred awake, his body feeling as though it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together. Pain radiated from his arms, chest, and legs, making even the slightest movement a challenge. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft morning light streaming through the window.
The room was unfamiliar, sterile, and quiet. Bandages wrapped tightly around his body served as a stark reminder of his brutal fight in the dungeon. His mind replayed fragments of the battle: the relentless swarm of killer ants, the mutated monster, and the sheer desperation to survive.
I made it out... but what about them? His thoughts snapped to the two adventurers he'd risked everything to save. Were they alive? Had his efforts been enough?
With a groan, Bell sat up, each movement igniting a fresh wave of pain. His legs dangled over the side of the bed, feet brushing against the cold floor. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the quiet hum of the infirmary.
I really pushed myself too far this time...
The sound of the door unlocking pulled him from his thoughts. Bell looked up as a tall figure entered. The man's red hair and confident stride were unmistakable.
"Hey, kid," the man greeted, his voice casual but friendly.
Bell blinked, recognition dawning. It was the red-haired swordsman he had saved.
The man walked over, pulling out the chair beside Bell's bed. "Mind if I sit?"
Bell shook his head. "Go ahead," he said quietly.
The man sat down, leaning back in the chair with a grin. "Name's Welf Crozzo," he said, extending a hand.
Bell hesitated for a moment before taking it. "I'm Bell Cranel."
As they shook hands, the name "Crozzo" rang in Bell's ears. He furrowed his brow, searching his memory. "Crozzo... I've heard that name before. Isn't it connected to... magic swords?"
Welf's grin faded slightly, replaced by a more somber expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Yeah, you've got it right. My family was famous for making magic swords—legendary, even. But that was a long time ago. Now, it's more of a burden than anything else."
Bell tilted his head. "A burden? Why?"
Welf sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's just say that when you're born into a family with a reputation like mine, people start expecting things. Big things. They want weapons, power, and they'll do just about anything to get it. Even if it destroys lives."
Bell frowned, sensing the weight behind Welf's words. It sounds like he's carrying a lot more than just a famous name.
"But I don't make magic swords," Welf added, his tone firm. "I refuse to. I want to create weapons that rely on the skill of the wielder, not some shortcut like magic. That's why I joined the Hephaestus Familia. They believe in craftsmanship, in forging something with your own two hands."
Bell nodded, his respect for Welf growing. "That's... admirable. I can tell you're passionate about what you do."
Welf chuckled, some of his usual humor returning. "Thanks, kid. I just hope I can live up to my own ideals."
Their conversation shifted, and Bell asked, "How are you feeling? Took quite the beating back there."
Welf smiled. "I'm fine, thanks to you. But enough about me—come on, I'll show you how the girl's doing."
Bell braced himself, swinging his legs off the bed. Pain shot through him, and he gritted his teeth, steadying himself before slowly rising to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he managed to follow Welf down the quiet hallway.
As they approached a door, Bell's heart raced. Please let her be okay.
Welf opened the door, stepping aside to let Bell in.
Inside, the girl was sitting up in bed, looking far healthier than the last time Bell had seen her. Her cheeks were flushed with color, and her once-pale face now held life.
When she saw him, her eyes lit up. "You're awake!" she said, her voice filled with relief. "Thank you... for saving me. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
Bell froze, unsure how to respond. She's okay... thank the gods.
He rubbed the back of his head, his face turning red. "It's nothing, really. I just did what I thought was right."
The girl smiled warmly. "I'm Lili, by the way."
"Bell Cranel," he replied, returning her smile. "I'm glad to see you're okay."
Welf leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with a smirk. "Alright, now that we're all properly introduced, why don't we sit and talk for a bit?"
They pulled chairs around Lili's bed, the conversation flowing easily.
"I'm with the Hephaestus Familia," Welf said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "I'm a smith, and not just any smith. I make some of the best weapons and armor you'll find."
Lili chimed in next, her tone softer. "I'm from the Soma Familia... for now. I'm planning to leave soon, though." She hesitated, glancing away. "It's... not a good place for someone like me."
Bell nodded, sensing there was more to her story but deciding not to press.
When it was his turn, he hesitated. "I'm with the Hestia Familia. It's a new Familia, so... it's just me right now."
"Just you?" Welf raised an eyebrow. "That's rough. Must be tough handling everything on your own."
Bell shrugged. "It's not so bad. Lady Hestia's really supportive, and I've gotten used to it."
The conversation shifted to their recent fight. Welf gestured toward Bell's battered clothes. "Your armor didn't make it, huh?"
Bell looked down and sighed. "No... it's completely destroyed."
Welf smirked. "Alright, here's the deal. I'll make you armor for life—no charge."
Bell blinked in surprise. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Of course," Welf said, crossing his arms. "But there's a catch."
Bell tilted his head. "What kind of catch?"
"You join our party," Welf said simply. "Lilisuke and I could use someone like you. You've got guts, and I think we'd make a great team. You're the kind of adventurer who doesn't back down, and that's the kind of person I want to fight alongside."
"Lilisuke?" Bell thought.
Lili nodded eagerly. "I agree. It'd be amazing to have you with us."
Bell hesitated, the weight of their words sinking in. A party... could I really work with others like this? Would they depend on me as much as I'd depend on them?
He looked between them, seeing the sincerity in their eyes. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.
"Alright. I'm in," he said, holding out his hand.
Welf grinned and shook it firmly. "Good choice, kid."
With their plans set, they agreed to meet later that afternoon at the front of Babel Tower. Thanking the infirmary staff on their way out, they each went their separate ways.
Seeing Welf and Lili fade into the distance, Bell sighed and began his walk home. His feet moved almost on their own, but his mind churned with conflicting thoughts.
Was it really a good idea to join their party?
He frowned, kicking at a stray pebble on the road. He'd always felt uneasy about the idea of working with others. The possibility of betrayal lingered in his mind like a shadow, gnawing at his trust. His grandpa's warnings echoed faintly in his memories, cautioning him about relying too much on others.
It's easier to stay alone, he thought. Safer.
A small smirk tugged at his lips as another memory surfaced, one of his grandpa reading stories of heroes—grand tales of knights and warriors who triumphed over evil. The heroes who fought alone, who defied the odds without relying on anyone, had always seemed the coolest to him as a child.
But now, with the weight of his sword on his hip and the sting of fresh wounds reminding him of how close he'd come to death, the idea felt... childish.
"Still," he muttered under his breath, "free armor for life isn't so bad."
As he passed a familiar corner, his eyes landed on a small bookstore. He stopped for a moment, staring at the shop's wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. It was the same place where he'd met Syr not too long ago.
His thoughts wandered to her. The grimoire she had given him—it had been no ordinary book. The magic it had taught him was something incredible, almost too good to be a coincidence.
Did she know? Bell wondered, his brow furrowing. Was it intentional? Did Syr really mean for me to have it?
The questions swirled in his head, but answers felt out of reach. He made a mental note to visit her later that evening, maybe even ask her directly. For now, though, his priority was getting home and preparing for his meeting with Welf in a few hours.
The sun hung lower in the sky by the time Bell reached the small, cozy building he called home. Pushing open the door, he glanced around the familiar space.
"Goddess?" he called out, but the house was silent. She was likely out working or visiting one of her many part-time jobs to support their Familia.
The thought weighed on him, and guilt crept in. She did so much for him, more than he could ever repay.
Bell unsheathed his knife and grabbed a cloth, carefully wiping the blade clean. His fingers traced the edge, still sharp despite the countless fights it had seen.
"How much did this cost?" he mused aloud, thinking not just of the monetary value but the sacrifices his goddess had made to support him. He paused, a pang of gratitude tightening his chest.
She believes in me so much, he thought, gripping the hilt tightly. I can't let her down.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he glanced around the small room. Joining a party didn't seem as terrible an idea anymore. At the very least, it would reduce his chances of dying in some dark corner of the dungeon.
He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it's not so bad after all."
For now, he'd take it one step at a time. First, Welf. Then, perhaps, some answers from Syr.
placing down his sword, he lays down on the bed closing his eyes.
He couldn't sleep.
With a groan, Bell sat up in his bed, the quiet of the church weighing on him. No matter how much he tossed and turned, rest wouldn't come.
I need to do something, he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. Sitting idle only made his thoughts race more. He grabbed his knife and quietly left the church, careful not to disturb anything. The cool fresh air greeted him, crisp and refreshing, as he stepped into the empty streets of Orario.
A thought struck him, and a small smile crept onto his face. He jogged through the winding roads, his destination clear in his mind. It didn't take long to reach the bookstore he'd visited before. The wooden sign creaked faintly in the breeze, and Bell pushed the door open, the bell above chiming softly.
The shopkeeper gave him a curious glance but said nothing as Bell scanned the shelves. His eyes darted from spine to spine until they landed on it.
Argonaut.
His heart skipped as he pulled the book from the shelf. The weight of it in his hands felt like he was holding a piece of history. He carried it to the counter, paid quietly, and stepped back into the streets.
...
Instead of returning home, he turned toward the city walls. The climb up the narrow staircase was steady, his steps echoing softly. When he reached the top, he was greeted by a gust of wind. The cool breeze tugged at his hair and clothes as he took a deep breath, letting the stillness of the moment settle over him.
This is perfect, he thought, finding a spot against the wall and sitting down.
Bell traced the worn leather cover of The Tales of Argonaut with his fingers, its texture grounding him in the quiet solitude of the city walls. He adjusted his position against the cool stone, glancing briefly at the clear sky. The words he had just read swirled in his mind, lighting a spark he didn't realize he'd been missing.
"A hero isn't someone who never falls."
Bell couldn't help but think back to his own struggles in the dungeon. The countless close calls, the overwhelming enemies, and the moments of doubt all resurfaced. He had fallen many times—both in body and spirit.
"Maybe that's why Grandpa loved this story so much," Bell murmured to himself. "Argonaut wasn't perfect. He wasn't strong or skilled. He just... never gave up."
He let the thought linger, a small smile tugging at his lips. For so long, he had idolized the lone, unyielding heroes his grandfather spoke of. They were invincible, larger-than-life figures who conquered everything without breaking a sweat. But Argonaut? He was human—fallible, vulnerable, yet undeniably courageous.
Maybe I don't have to be perfect either.
Bell turned the page, diving deeper into the tale.
(Authors note: The next part may or may not be accurate, I don't know for sure because I didn't really play the Danmemo argonaut event something something yeah allgoods)
The Tales of Argonaut
(Deleted, for now..)
Bell leaned back against the wall, closing the book with a soft thud. The story had left him breathless, his mind racing with inspiration.
"No matter how many times you fall," he said quietly, the words almost a mantra." You just have to keep rising."
...
He stayed on the wall until the first rays of dawn touched the horizon, the tales of Argonaut still vivid in his mind.
Bell wiped the sweat from his brow, his knife still held firmly in his grip. He'd spent the last hour working through stances and practicing his swings, his body now covered in a light sheen of perspiration. Each movement was more fluid than the last as he focused on finding the most comfortable stance, testing his balance and form. His blade cut through the air with a sharp whoosh, and he could almost feel the improvement in his muscles with every practice swing.
I still have a long way to go, Bell thought, as he adjusted his stance one more time. But this feels more natural... this is good. His arms were starting to ache, but he pushed through it, knowing the pain was part of the process. With each slash, jump, and dash, he felt like he was getting closer to his goal, getting closer to being strong enough to survive the dungeon and protect those he cared about.
Eventually, Bell wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic, his breath heavy but steady. The sun was beginning to rise higher, signaling that it was time to meet Welf. He grabbed the book, tucked it under his arm, and started back toward the church.
When he arrived home, he quickly changed into his usual clothes, grabbed a towel to wipe off the remaining sweat, and made his way toward the Tower of Babel. His mind was still buzzing from his practice session, but he had to focus on the task at hand now—meeting Welf.
Soon, he spotted the familiar figure of the red-haired blacksmith, standing near the entrance of the tower. Bell called out to him, and Welf, noticing his voice, turned with a smile.
"Hey, Bell!" Welf greeted him, waving him over.
Bell approached, wiping his hands on his pants, still a little out of breath from his practice.
"So, where are we going?" Bell asked, eager to know what Welf had in mind.
Welf grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Follow me," he said, "I've got something special I want to show you."
Curious, Bell followed Welf through the bustling streets of Orario, weaving through the crowd until they arrived at a small cabin tucked away near the edge of the city.
"Uh, what's this?" Bell asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the unamusing workshop.
Welf turned to him with a teasing smile. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna kidnap you. Just trust me."
Bell couldn't help but laugh nervously, unsure if Welf was joking or not. He had never been to a blacksmith's shop before, so the thought of entering an unfamiliar place like this was a bit unsettling, but Welf seemed so confident about it.
As they entered, Bell was immediately struck by the sight of the walls lined with swords, armor, and tools. The air smelled faintly of metal and smoke, and there was a faint hum of heat from a nearby forge.
"Whoa," Bell murmured, his eyes wide as he looked around. "This place is... impressive."
"Yeah, this is where I work," Welf said, nodding. "It's not much, but it gets the job done." He moved over to a pile of boxes stacked neatly in the corner, digging through them until he pulled out a small box. He placed it on a nearby workbench and slid it over to Bell.
"So, what do you think?" Welf asked, his tone serious now.
Bell leaned forward and opened the box, his eyes widening slightly at the sight inside. There, nestled in the box, was a chestplate—sleek, lightweight, and perfectly designed. He picked it up, running his fingers over the smooth surface. The metal gleamed softly in the dim light of the shop. It felt sturdy but surprisingly light.
Bell turned it over in his hands, clearly impressed. "This is... really nice," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "It's not too heavy, but it feels like it could take a hit."
Welf chuckled, looking pleased with the praise. "That's the idea. This is thePyokinchi-MK1—designed for speed and flexibility. When I saw your fighting style, I knew that this'll fit you nicely. I thought you'd appreciate something light but tough enough to handle a few hits in the dungeon."
Bell looked at the armor with a mixture of awe and excitement. "It's perfect," he said with a grin. "I've always preferred lighter armor. It lets me move freely."
Welf nodded. "That's what I was thinking. It should fit you perfectly."
Bell hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Can I try it on?"
"Of course!" Welf said, motioning for him to go ahead.
Bell quickly stripped off his tunic and slipped the chestplate on, adjusting the straps. It fit perfectly—just snug enough to feel secure but not constricting in the slightest. He moved around, testing the range of motion.
"Wow," Bell breathed out, testing a few slashes with his sword. "It's so comfortable! I don't feel restricted at all."
Welf smiled proudly as he watched Bell's reaction. "I'm glad you like it. I've been working on perfecting this design for a while. It's durable, but lightweight, and I think it'll serve you well in the dungeon."
Bell stood up, feeling the weight of the armor settle around him. It didn't feel like a burden at all. If anything, it felt like an extension of himself.
Welf's eyes sparkled as he saw Bell's enthusiasm. "You really like it, huh?"
Bell smiled, his heart lighter than it had been in a while. "It's amazing. Thank you, Welf."
Welf chuckled, waving off the thanks. "No problem. It's the least I can do for my new party member... Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask me for a magic sword right away."
Bell blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean?"
Welf gave a small grin, though there was a trace of bitterness behind it. "When people find out I'm a Crozzo, that's all they care about—magic swords. They want a weapon that can do all the work for them, something that makes them feel powerful without actually putting in the effort. It's... frustrating." His tone turned sharper, a hint of anger slipping into his words. "A weapon shouldn't control the person using it. That's not how it's supposed to work."
Bell frowned, sensing the weight behind Welf's words. He thought about it for a moment before speaking, his voice steady. "I don't think it's about the weapon. It's about the person holding it. A sword is only as strong as the one who wields it, right?"
Welf looked at Bell, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment, he was silent, as if Bell's words had struck a chord. Then, a genuine smile spread across his face, one that reached his eyes this time. "You know, Bell, you're different from most people I've met. You actually get it."
Bell rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed by the compliment. "I'm just saying what I believe. I'd rather get stronger on my own than rely on something I don't understand."
"You're a weird one, Bell." Welf replied, holding out a hand. "Take it home and get used to it. It's yours to keep."
Bell shook his hand firmly, feeling a sense of camaraderie he hadn't experienced before. "Thanks, Welf. I won't let you down."
They spent a few more minutes talking about the finer details of the armor, and Bell was eager to learn more about Welf's work. But soon enough, it was time to go.
"Alright, I'll head out now," Bell said, adjusting the armor one last time.
"No rush," Welf said with a smile. "We'll meet up again soon. Maybe we can get some training in together."
Bell nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! I'll be looking forward to it."
With a final wave, Bell stepped outside. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the streets of Orario. The city buzzed with its usual evening energy, but Bell's thoughts were elsewhere as he clutched the box of armor. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about everything that had happened.
As he approached the old, run-down church, he noticed the faint light from within and quickened his pace. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside to find Hestia seated on the couch, flipping through a book. She glanced up at him immediately.
"Bell! You're back!" Hestia exclaimed, setting the book aside and walking toward him.
"Hey, Goddess," Bell said, offering a sheepish smile as he set the box down.
Hestia gave him a quick hug before stepping back to look him over. "You've been out all day. Did everything go okay?"
Bell nodded. "It was a busy day. I… I met some new adventurers—a blacksmith and a supporter. We decided to form a party."
Hestia blinked in surprise, then smiled softly. "A party? That's a big step for you, Bell. You've always liked going solo. Are you sure about this?"
Bell hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I think so. Welf, the blacksmith, made me this armor. And Lili, the supporter, knows a lot about the dungeon. It feels like the right move, especially since I've been pushing myself so hard alone."
Hestia studied him for a moment, her expression warm. "It sounds like you've thought this through. I'm glad you're opening up to others, but remember to take things at your own pace, okay?"
Bell smiled, feeling comforted by her words. "Thanks, Goddess. Oh, actually, could you update my status? I want to see how much I've grown."
Hestia's face lit up. "Of course! Let's see how my hard-working adventurer has been doing. Go lie down."
Bell quickly made his way to his room, pulling off his shirt and lying face-down on the bed. Hestia pricked her finger with a small needle and let a drop of blood fall onto his falna. The magic activated, and glowing hieroglyphs appeared on his back.
Hestia's eyes widened slightly as she read the updated numbers. "Bell, you've really outdone yourself today.
Name:Bell Cranel
Level:1
Race:Human
Familia:Hestia Familia
Strength: G 276 - D 533
Endurance: G 254 - D 578
Dexterity: G 243 - E 426
Agility: F 302 - D 520
Magic: I 0 - G 297
Skills:
[ Vereath Aevum ]
(Eternal Ascension)
Effect:
Accelerates the growth of a focused stat based on activity (strength in combat, agility when running). The growth speed depends on the situation.
If the user enters intense concentration, all stats can grow rapidly. In addition it also enhances the users over all power providing a power boost, but losing focus ends the effect.
[ Heroic Desire ]
Effect:
In the heat of battle or at moments of peak emotional intensity, the user's heroic will ignites, manifesting as an aura of unstoppable resolve. This ability doesn't shield the user from harm but instead turns every wound or setback into a source of power.
The stronger the desire, the more potent the effect, manifesting as a radiant aura that temporarily neutralizes curses including charms, and enhances allies.
MAGIC:
[ Firebolt ]
Bell's head turned slightly. "Really? That much?!"
Hestia nodded, her tone warm and proud. "You've been working so hard, Bell. It's paying off. Just keep at it."
Bell chuckled, sitting up and pulling on his shirt. "Thanks, Goddess. I'll keep doing my best."
Hestia placed the status paper down on the nearby table. "You've got the rest of the evening free, right? Don't overdo it. Relax for a bit."
Bell smiled as he turned to Hestia, his eyes sparkling with a sense of excitement. "Hey, Goddess," he said, his voice casual but with a hint of enthusiasm. "How about we head over to the Hostess of Fertility for dinner tonight? I want to treat you to something special."
Hestia's eyes widened, her face lighting up with pure joy. "What? You're treating me? Oh, Bell, you're the sweetest!" She practically bounced in place, her arms raised in excitement. "But wait, why the sudden invitation? What brought this on?"
Bell scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit sheepish. "Well… I wanted to visit Syr and ask her something about the book she gave me, and I thought I could also treat you to a nice meal. You've been working so hard lately, and you deserve it."
Hestia beamed at his words, clearly touched by the sentiment. "Bell, you're always thinking of me! I'd love that. Let's go!"
With a contented sigh, Bell led the way as they made their way through the streets of Orario. The evening air was crisp, a soft breeze blowing through the alleyways as they approached the Hostess of Fertility.
...
As they entered the main dining area, Bell looked around, expecting to spot Syr behind the counter. But the waitress wasn't in sight. Bell scanned the room, but she was nowhere to be found.
"Uh... where's Syr?" Bell muttered, trying to make sense of the empty space behind the counter.
A friendly waiter walked over to their table, smiling at them. "Good evening, Cranel-san. It seems you're looking for Syr?"
Bell nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I wanted to ask her about something."
The waiter smiled politely. "Ah, I see. Syr-san took the day off today to take care of some personal matters. She won't be here this evening."
Bell blinked, feeling a twinge of disappointment. "Oh... okay. Well, that's fine." He turned to Hestia, giving her an apologetic look.
"Guess we'll have to come back next time. Oh well, let's just enjoy the food!"
The waiter, sensing the shift in the conversation, nodded. "I'll bring your food right away."
Soon, their meal arrived, a feast of delicious dishes laid out before them. Bell eagerly dug in, savoring the flavors. Hestia wasted no time, diving into the food and stuffing her cheeks.
"This is so good!" she exclaimed, a little bit of sauce on her cheek.
Bell laughed, wiping his mouth. "I didn't know you'd get this excited over food!"
Hestia dramatically sighed. "What can I say? I'm a goddess with a refined palate. Now, eat up, Bell! You've got to keep up with me!" She grinned at him, her energy contagious.
Bell shook his head, amused. "You're something else, goddess."
They continued eating, chatting about everything and nothing. Bell found himself laughing more than he expected, his worries about the book and Syr fading into the background for the time being. He was just enjoying this rare moment of calm with his goddess.
...
It was still 4 a.m. I woke up feeling the warm embrace of my goddess, Hestia, her small form nestled against me, her breath soft and steady. I looked down at her innocent, sleeping face and felt a lump form in my throat. The comfort of her closeness, the trust she had in me — I was forever grateful to her. She was the one constant, the one person who always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.
But I had to move. Gently, I freed myself from her embrace, careful not to wake her. As much as I wanted to stay, to just forget the weight of everything and remain there with her, I knew I couldn't. There were things I needed to face.
I entered the shower, the cold water slapping against my skin, but it did little to shake the heaviness inside me. My mind wandered, as it always did when I was alone. The water, cool and sharp, felt like the only thing keeping me grounded as the thoughts began to swirl.
What am I even doing?
I let the water run over me, staring blankly at the tiles. Every fight, every trial — what was the point? Every time I fought, I barely survived, and when it came down to it, I was just a kid lucky enough to still be standing.
I could still hear Hestia's voice in my head, her endless encouragement. She believed in me so much. But... did I believe in myself? Was I worthy of her faith?
The doubts were always there, just beneath the surface, waiting to come up when I was at my most vulnerable. I could hear the whispers in my mind, telling me that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I rose after being knocked down, it would never be enough. I was just lucky. I was lucky that Ais had saved me from the Minotaur, that I met her again when I was on the brink of passing out, that I had received a grimoire when I didn't deserve it, that I survived the encounter with the Silverback.
Every time I found myself in a life-or-death situation, there was always someone — or something — pulling me through. But what did that make me? Was I really strong, or was I just someone who got by on sheer chance?
I couldn't even shake the memory of the Silverback fight. The pain, the terror, and how it all seemed like a blur. How I had barely made it out alive. Was that strength? Was that determination? Or was I simply surviving because I kept running into situations where others had my back?
I gripped the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain grounding me as the self-doubt flooded my mind. I had promised myself I would rise, become stronger, but there were always obstacles — always failures — and each time I came back to this same question. What did it all mean? Why was I still going? The doubts crept in, persistent and overwhelming. But somewhere deep down, I knew I couldn't give up. Because even if everything that had happened so far had been luck, even if I had only survived by sheer chance, I had to keep moving forward...
For her. For my goddess, for Grandpa, and for Ais... Despite everything, I was still standing. That alone was enough to keep moving forward.
I slapped my face, shaking off the weight of my doubts. Ais needs a hero—no more doubts! I'm going to be the one who stands by her when it matters.
Drying my hair with a towel, I grabbed my gear and strapped my Hestia Knife at my side. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the church, determination settling in. I headed toward the walls of Orario, ready to meet her, ready to face whatever came next.
𝒟𝒶𝓃𝑀𝒶𝒸𝒽𝒾
(Authors note: I'll go back to this chapter and redo it. It's not that good—hella boring to read. Fight scenes are way more fun to write (-w-) . Also, I wanted to make Bell relatable by having shower thoughts, but it's kind of cringey. I'm open to any suggestions, I'm still quite new in writing.)