Chapter The Second! I have to say, I am particularly proud of the final segment of this entry. To this day, I think of it as the best thing I've posted outside of an action scene, perhaps the best thing "period."
Enjoy…
The space adjacent to Babel, the massive tower built atop the dungeon and serving as both a seal and entrance to its depths, was a grand, wide open plaza. In addition to Babel and the Guild House itself, the perimeter of the square sported many fine shops and eateries. Trees dotted the area, breaking up the cobblestone ground, several benches lain beneath each. A large fountain sat in the center, three tiers high and carved from polished marble.
On a good day this place could see thousands of people, mostly adventurers going to and from the dungeon. At this point in the day, the sun risen and morning well under way, the amount of foot traffic was starting to swell. Bell usually got out early enough to avoid the crowd, save himself a bit of hassle. His late start would bear some fruit, however…
"Yo, Bell!"
The young adventurer stilled as he ran past the fountain. Seated on its rounded base were several of his fellow dungeon delvers but two familiar faces caught his immediate notice.
Ghiran had stood up to wave Bell over, again reminding the boy of how tall he was. Ghiran wore a bright smile, accentuating his soft features and smooth skin. A cascade of luscious brown hair fell over his shoulders in long waves, the image giving Bell some pause. Yesterday, even after being hounded by monsters, the young man had kept his mane tied back in a low tail. Bell couldn't help but note the oddly feminine aura held by his new friend.
The scars were at odds with that image, tiny reminders of Ghiran's lifestyle. A trio of thin lines ran over the older boy's left eye; a fourth, deeper wound ran across the right side of his chin.
Ghiran's leather armor was well worn, the once earthy tone faded to a dry tan. The set contained the usual: rigid vest to cover front and back, long bracers for the forearms, tall boots ending at the knees, and leather plates covering the upper arms from shoulder to elbow with similar pieces guarding the outside of his thighs. It was overall a fairly standard set, almost low quality if Bell was being honest. Beneath these he was garbed in a grey sweater and dark leggings.
"Are you… giving me the once over?"
That snapped Bell out of his thoughts. Ghiran's expression was one part alarmed, many more parts curious. The white haired youth began dismissing this notion with frantic hand waving.
"Put your hair up Ghiran, you're making the boy confused."
Foust effectively shut down the entire exchange, Ghiran's mouth parting into an "O" as a look of supreme surprise overtook his features. As the tall warrior retrieved a band from one of his hip pouches, Bell turned his appraisal onto the short mage.
Whereas Ghiran held a strange contrast between feminine countenance and hardened brawler, Foust was more straight forward. His appearance could best be summed up as "childlike, in all aspects."
Foust stood a full head shorter than Bell. The young rookie had questioned if his new friend had some kind of prume ancestry during their return to the surface but the small caster couldn't say. He'd never known his parents or any sort of blood relative.
His steel hair – it really was like polished metal – was styled in a pageboy cut, the bangs flanking his face tapering off in blade-like points near his chin. The remainder of Foust's lustrous lockes ended in straight cuts around his skull, the back draped down to his earlobes while the front was edged above the brows. Mint green eyes stared out from beneath, regarding the world with a tired calculation. Though most of Foust's facial features could be considered boyishly cute, his overall nonchalance and silent demeanor supported Bell's thoughts that the mage was probably older than him.
Foust's attire was lain in shades of blue, silver accents and trinkets dotting his garments. The heavy mantle draped over his shoulders was a dark navy, the ends reaching to just below his elbows and lined with a strip of sky blue. A silver broach in the shape of a flat gemstone sat perched over his heart.
What little could be seen of the mage's shirt revealed indigo fabric and a single metal button around his navel. Said undershirt was tucked into the buckled waistline of heavy pants, their rough exterior in contrast with the smooth look of his upper garments. A plethora of pockets, pouches, and holsters dotted the thick material, the majority bulging with unseen contents.
Bell's appraisal halted about a third of the way down Foust's lower legs, his leggings disappearing into the tops of a tall pair of maroon boots.
Ghiran took notice of the boy's pause. "Foust has some pretty nice shoes, right? That's most of our fortune covering his little feetsies, ya see." The mage in question promptly employed said footwear in punting his comrade's shin. Ghiran laughed it off, stumbling away.
"Accurate summation or not, you could serve to be a bit less crude. You know why we had to spring for higher quality."
At the mention of the craftsmanship, Bell paid greater attention to the mage's boots. Their surface appeared remarkably solid, less like hide and more like stone. It seemed to do little to hinder Foust's movement, the material bending and flexing easily with every motion. Thick straps covered the tops in place of laces, bound tightly in place.
Most curious of all were the coffee colored studs running around the soles of both boots, not unlike a repeating line of tiny pyramids. They were especially well polished.
"They're for channeling."
Bell snapped his sight off the footwear and onto the young man in them. Foust had a rather… pleased look on his face as he clarified, "The studs, they're for channeling. Universally designed to facilitate one's ability to draw mana from an outside source. These were special made to help a certain brilliant caster draw energy from the ground."
"Oh," Bell popped, actually smacking his fist into his palm, "does that make you an earth mage?"
Foust's smile could at best be considered deprecating, the kind reserved for when a child says something cute and idiotic all at once. Ghiran snorted.
"You didn't get that impression yesterday when he pinned that monster with a crystal javelin?"
Bell gave an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his head. Ghiran laughed flat out.
"Yes new friend, I am an elementalist of the earthen persuasion. I've found it quite fortuitous for work which so often involves delving underground."
By now Ghiran had tapered off to a fit of giggles, only further amplifying his oddly feminine qualities. The leather clad warrior threw an arm over his short companion, having crouched down to achieve this. "Enough expositing, we got a dungeon to crawl!"
The rookie adventurer straightened at that statement. "Yeah, best to get going before it gets too busy. Sorry if I wasted your time guys."
Ghiran waved off the boy's worries. Bell made a short show of brushing off his sleeves and leggings.
"Alright, good luck in there guys." His piece said, Bell began towards the dungeon entrance.
A hand snapped up, catching the hem of the young man's jacket. "You heading in alone?" Foust's question caught the boy off guard, stunning him for a moment. When the implication hit him, Bell could only gape in response, utterly dumbfounded.
"What's the deal man?" Ghiran's grin turned teasing, "You decide you don't like us after all? Don't want the extra baggage?"
Bell's hands were up and waving this way and that before anyone could blink. The knife user spoke in a rush, "No, no, no, no, no! I don't think less of you at all – certainly not that you're less than me! You guys are really cool actually and I really wanted to ask if you'd form a party with me – really, I feel like I'd be the burden since we don't know each other very well, but I'd really like to-"
The set of knuckles pressed against his lips could have landed much harder. Really, though Foust's jab had been swift, the impact barely registered until Bell noticed the added difficulty in talking.
"Cease fire," said Foust, "we get the gist of your lacking self-esteem, we'll work on that as we go. The only thing that matters right now is this: do you want to join your new friends on an adventure?"
Bell stared, gobsmacked once again, as the short mage pulled back his fist. That stupefied expression steadily morphed into a full-blown smile. Foust felt the need to step back at the intensity, Ghiran's own lips tugging upwards at the rather infectious atmosphere.
"Yes," Bell shouted, his enthusiasm unparalleled, "nothing would make me happier!"
Foust's face fell, his cheeks bright red as the growing crowd around the dungeon plaza zeroed in on their group's little pow-wow. Someone in the distance threw out a wolf whistle at Bell's unfortunate choice of words. Ghiran spotted the culprit and blew the man a kiss, seductive pose included.
"Foust! Explain this to me again!"
Ghiran's indignant cry came just as the pony-tailed warrior struck out with a hard jab. The rounded buckler on his left wrist, about the size of a dinner plate, slammed into the snout of an approaching kobold. The thin edge of the armor piece drew blood as it smashed the wolfman's nose, sending the monster reeling.
The kobold staggered back two steps before Ghiran's hand axe collapsed into its shoulder, digging some way into its chest cavity. The axe wielder brought up his foot before kicking the parted beast back, freeing his weapon.
"Stone Wall!" The exclamation capped off Foust's short string of chanting. Just to Ghiran's right, the floor erupted upwards, forming a neck high barrier of earth. This routed the pair of kobold's striking at the warrior's flank, the closer of the two having caught the sudden-wall right to the jaw and being launched into the low ceiling.
"The more time I spend explaining things, the less I have for spellwork. Just get what I'm saying the first time and everything will be fine." Foust twirled out of the way of a kobold's raking claws. His left hand pulled out of one of his pockets, tossing a spray of yellow dust into the monster's face. The kobold howled in pain as the irritant burned at its eyes and nostrils.
Ghiran swung his axe over Foust's head, slashing at the blinded beast's neck. "Come on Foust, you know better than to think I'll get anything right on the first go!"
The tiny mage rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically as he began to humor his friend, "An Irregular..."
Some distance away, Bell bobbed and weaved between rocks and sparkling stone formations. The boy attempted to strike out with his blade but was forced to dodge as his foe's longer reach overtook his attack. Bell skittered back as his fur-covered adversary lashed wildly with its white weapon.
The monster battling Bell was similar in shape to the numerous kobolds in the area. Its size was the first point of contrast, the odd beast easily twice the size of its brethren and much more densely muscled. Its fur was also much darker, nearly black, and a good deal thicker. This was offset by the strange inclusion of a pale grey cloak draped across the monster's shoulders.
The pale grey cloak which appeared to be made from the furs of lesser kobolds…
Bell slashed out, his knife deflecting the heavy blow of the wolf monster's blade. The beast wielded its weapon like a sword, even having some worn, tan strips of cloth serving as wrapping around the blade's handle. Its bone white tone was quite fitting as the curved weapon appeared to have been fashioned from some sort of massive fang, resembling those of a viper.
The knife wielder spun around a crop of stalagmites, breaking contact with his foe. This reprieve was less than momentary as the black beast cleaved clear through the middle of the rock formation. Bell dove into a roll as chunks of stone blasted out around him.
"-strike the heavens, take flight! Quartz Spike!"
A familiar lance of fuchsia streaked passed, bolting just over Bell's shoulder. The boy rose to his feet an instant later, sight tracing the missile's path.
The bone sword swung into the head of the javelin. With a shattering crack the projectile burst before the large kobold, spraying the area with a brief plume of glittering dust. A dark-furred limb shot free of the debris, the pointed tip of the bone sword stabbing towards the javelin's source. At once, the surrounding lesser kobolds redoubled their efforts on Foust and Ghiran.
"Ah," the mage spat, catching a raking limb before flinging its savage owner to the floor, "its more than just appearance and size. The big one commands the lesser kobolds, not unlike a pack's alpha."
Ghiran's axe trenched itself into a kobold's shoulder, the warrior swiftly hurling his quarry away. A second found Ghiran's buckler smashing into its gut, the pony-tailed youth surging in with a full body check which put the monster on its ass. The axe wielder swung around, his blade catching the first creature in the side of its head as it attempted to recover.
Turning his gaze to his friend, Ghiran supplied, "So dark wolf is the leader and the rest are his mooks. Think we get rid of the chief and the rest will scatter?"
Foust stepped over his downed opponent before stomping onto the creature's skull. With the abundance of earth magic channeling through his boots, the blow easily pulped the kobold's head. Hearing Ghiran's remark, Foust rolled his eyes. "A sensible observation, although..."
Four additional kobolds ran into the chamber, joining the dozen or so currently surrounding the duo. The pack was notably cutting them off from Bell and the Alpha.
"I doubt they'll give us a chance to test your hypothesis."
Bell continued to backpedal, weaving between the enemy's swipes. One backstep plunged his foot into a shallow pool of water, the young adventurer slipping and falling backwards. The resulting splash had hardly begun to fall when the Alpha trudged forward, weapon held high.
Eyes wide, Bell rolled sideways to avoid the blow. The pool exploded, water and muck scattered in all directions. Bell himself was propelled a short ways over the cave floor from the force of impact. His path came to a sudden stop as his side slammed into a mass of rock.
Seething in pain and clutching his ribs with his free hand, Bell only just caught the call from Ghiran. "Get up buddy! He's coming for you!"
Bell flipped from his side onto his back. The rushed maneuver saved him a beheading, the Alpha's white blade slashing past in a rising arc. The black beast brought its weapon back around, readying for a sideways strike.
A lesser kobold crashed into the Alpha's back, sending it nose first into the rock formation. The monster immediately lashed out at its smaller kin, mauling the already beaten kobold into a mangled lump.
"Impassable, immovable, boundary of the earth! Barrier Ridge!"
Foust followed his thunderous chant with a powerful stomp, the very foundations of the cavern trembling. At once a crescent shaped ridge of jagged stone sprang free of the dungeon floor, surrounding Foust and Ghiran. The warrior, positioned beside the caster, looked to be recovering from some extreme exertion.
Like tossing an opponent clear across the room…
"Bell," called Foust, "regroup! Come back to us!"
The young man didn't need to be told twice. Even the first telling seemed unnecessary as Bell was already three steps into his retreat before Foust had finished saying his name. The lack of footsteps pursuing gave the boy confidence, so the sharp blow to the back of his head was and even greater shock.
Bell dropped to all fours as the cracked magic stone plopped to the ground beside him, the young adventurer just managing to keep a hold of his knife. Dazed, the white haired boy began to crawl forward, already halfway to his comrades. There was an added sense of desperation as, even through the muted haze he was experiencing, the thooms of footfalls from behind could be felt through the floor.
"Jealous soil, ever upward gazing, collect thyself and amass thy grudges-"
Foust sat just ahead, crouched low with one palm flat against the earth. By now Bell had become quite familiar with this particular spell, one the steel maned mage opted as his primary offense. One glaring detail was that this incantation, while not as bad as some he had heard of, was rather lengthy. This was normally not an issue; Foust was a quick, concise speaker and Bell had full confidence that the caster could shape his magic with time to spare.
What would be a problem was the group of kobolds scrambling up over the stone wall behind Foust. Ghiran had routed two, cleaving one's snout with his axe and straight punching the other back over the side of the barrier. But a third, out of the fighter's reach, mounted the top of the wall. The snarling beast readied itself to leap towards the earth mage.
Bell turned onto his side, freeing up his knife hand. With a flourish Bell flicked his grip on the weapon, catching the knife by the tip of its blade. The rookie adventurer hurled his arm forward in an overhead arc, flinging his dagger through the air.
The spinning blade sailed into the kobold's chest, catching it right in the center. With a sad whine the pale furred creature collapsed from its perch, crashing face down into the ground below.
Bell released a sigh. Casting a shadow over him, the Alpha raised its sword. All the while it glared at Foust, watching for the caster's next move.
"-present thy rage, strike the heavens, take flight!" Foust hopped backwards, dragging his fingers across the ground, "Quartz Spike!"
Nothing. The Alpha observed nothing, no attack to dodge, no obstacle to surmount. It had placed such focus on this one, dedicated so many of its grunts to occupy him whilst it finished its prey, only to be disappointed-
The Alpha barked, launched into the air as a spike of agony speared into its lower back. The crystal javelin shot out of the ground just behind the fiend, catching it completely off guard.
Bell scurried towards his friends, leaping to his feet as he passed the edge of Foust's circular wall. Ghiran tossed the boy his knife and Bell turned at once, facing the Alpha.
The black beast was on hands and knees, its bone white sword pitched down into the floor. Its pale cloak had fallen over its head, only the tip of its snout and dangling tongue visible beneath. The Alpha panted in exertion, occasional whimpers peppered throughout. The few remaining kobolds as well as the three humans stared in still silence.
Throwing back its head, the black wolf let loose a terrible howl, the trio of adventurers hastily clamping palms over their ears. But rather than strike the dungeon divers in their moment of weakness, the gathered kobolds, invigorated by the haunting sound, began to rush about the large chamber.
Adjusting his stance, Bell snapped whatever meager focus he could muster towards tracking the myriad of forms darting this way and that. Two made swiftly for their dark coated leader, each grabbing up an arm and making to lift the irregular. Bell, with a short gasp of surprise, realized the pack had been ordered to retreat, the panicked display serving as a distraction.
The Alpha batted aside the kobold on its right arm. Forcefully, the black beast urged its cohorts not towards one of the chamber's exits but a few steps towards the surface dwellers.
Or rather, towards its sword.
Its clawed fingers grasped the bound handle, drawing the bone blade from the earth in one mighty heave. That seemed to be the last of its strength as the Alpha immediately collapsed into the grasp of its kin. The pair of kobolds didn't waste the opportunity, carrying their leader with utmost haste away from the adventurers.
Bell grit his teeth, grip tightening around his knife's handle. His legs refused to move, still rattled by the Alpha's howl. The others seemed in a similar state, Ghiran actually snarling as Foust glared death at the retreating band.
The Alpha looked straight at Bell, their scarlet eyes locking. Again the monster made to shrug off its escorts though this time it lacked the strength to break free. Instead it pulled back its lips, displaying its sharpened teeth in a jagged smile.
That… expression froze the trio. Though it was hard to believe what they were seeing, there was a clear message being conveyed.
'Next time.'
Hephaestus sat at her desk, brow on her knuckles and propped up on her elbows. A low groan issued from the smithing goddess as she stared, unblinking, at the face of true evil.
The stack of paperwork offered neither comfort nor derision.
The divine smith rolled her eyes at the stack's lack of response, sitting back in her chair and laying her arms flat on the desk top. It was always the quiet, tedious moments like this that reminded her just how difficult it was maintaining a familia. With one deep, cleansing breath, Hephaestus retrieved her quill.
Shadows flickered through the sunlight spilling in from the window beside her desk. Hephaestus turned to the shining slit in her curtains, chalking up the disruption as a flock of passing birds. As she was moving once more towards the paperwork, Hephaestus froze, her gaze wandering back over the sunlit gap.
On any other day, especially one so bright and clear, Hephaestus would have her blinds drawn back, brilliant daylight flooding her personal office. Anything to fight back the dreary reality of filling forms for hours on end. Today though… today she had a very particular reason to shut out the outside world.
Hephaestus stood from her chair, striding across her beige carpet. Reaching the window, the red headed goddess pinched back her curtain and peered down to the main avenue below. Yep, still out there.
Across the street, leaning against the brick wall of the adjacent building (a place that boasted some very high quality, well-fitted suits) was an oddly stoic Hestia. Her sudden appearance in the window didn't seem to rouse the tiny goddess in the least, her posture unwavering. Hephaestus shuddered as her gaze met Hestia's, the twin-tail's eyes catching her reveal with preemptive ease.
It had been maybe an hour since her so-called friend had come a knocking. And in typical fashion, Hestia was asking for her help. What gave Hephaestus pause was the tiny goddess' tone, the stony assertion a far cry from her usual bounce and overflow of emotion. Of course, this did not stop the red head from closing the door on her.
When a follow-up knock did not occur, Hephaestus could only quirk a brow. Shrugging, she made her way back upstairs to her office. She made sure to inform some of her children not to entertain the Goddess of the Hearth when she made her inevitable return.
Upon reaching her work space and being greeted by Hestia's distant surveillance through her open windows, Hephaestus knew this was going to be a long day.
She mused on the idea of sending out one of her more intimidating children to remove the tiny goddess. Perhaps a request to the Guild to file for harassment of some kind…
Hephaestus shook those thoughts away. Honestly, Hestia didn't have the patience or the endurance to stay out there for long. Once it became clear that this stakeout of hers wasn't working, the twin-tail would sulk away in defeat. She could outlast Hestia.
And anyway, she didn't really want to get her friend in trouble.
Bell's party double-timed it to the surface as soon as they collected themselves. Plenty of their fellow delvers gave them perplexed looks, some outright laughed at the "scrubs" fleeing danger.
Currently, the small group were sequestered away on a couple couches in the corner of the Guild Hall, giving a little after action report. Eina was furiously scratching notes onto her clipboard.
"So this 'Alpha' was… commanding the other kobolds? You're sure of this?"
"Definitely," Foust affirmed, "it specifically sent its minions after me, prioritizing the mage. Ghiran had to act as my bodyguard the whole encounter which gave the Alpha the chance to engage Bell one on one."
Eina perked up at this, "Engage?"
Bell sat hunched forward, elbows perched on his knees, his hands clasped together and pressed against his mouth. His gaze remained on the floor as he spoke, "It was too strong, I couldn't even fight back…"
Ghiran, sitting at Bell's side, gave the boy a quick punch to the shoulder. This nearly sent the young man crashing to the floor. "Buck up, man! A level one holding off some kind of… uhh-"
"Irregular," Foust supplied as his friend began frantically snapping his fingers.
"Yes, that! You held off one of those things almost single-handedly. That's pretty impressive for a rookie adventurer, right Eina?"
The half elf remained quiet. In fact, she didn't even seem to be paying attention to the conversation anymore. She was instead leafing through the stack of papers on her clipboard, her eyes darting across pages with frightening efficiency.
Ghiran deflated at their handler's blatant disinterest. Foust on the other hand locked his sight on Eina. Even Bell snapped out of his brooding to focus on her.
"… Ms. Eina?"
The speed with which Eina Tule was shuffling through sheets was becoming difficult to comprehend, Foust abandoning his spot on the couch as the supervisor began tossing useless notes in his direction.
"Here!"
The half elf's sudden cry sent Bell and Foust reeling, the latter snagging his heel on the edge of the coffee table and falling onto Ghiran. The axe wielder caught his friend with one hand, his other continuing to hold his face as he kept moping.
Eina rounded the small table with a single sheet, kneeling over the armrest beside Bell. "Look here Bell."
Scanning the page, the boy's eyes immediately snapped open as the most obvious detail registered. To the top-right of the paper, breaking up the wall of text, was an artist's rendition of a familiar monster. The white pelt cloak and bone sword were absent, but Bell easily recognized the dark form of the Kobold Alpha.
"It has a bounty sheet… there are that many wandering the upper floors?"
Eina shook her head with a short groan. Clearly Bell hadn't read the summary, his supervisor tapped her finger against the start of the text.
"This is a single, ongoing case." Bell and Eina perked as Foust, seated on the back of the couch, started reading over their shoulders.
"Besides the opening description, the rest of it chronicles a series of encounters between the subject itself and various adventuring parties."
Bell turned to Eina, "Was this all recent? Is that why I haven't heard anything about it?"
Rather than the half elf, Foust answered, "No, each of these incidents are dated some time apart, the shortest intervals are several months and I can see one early gap of just over a year."
"Yer tryin' to say somethin', right?" The speaker's voice was bland and defeated. Bell and Eina sent brief glances towards Ghiran, the young man standing in a nearby corner, his brow pressed against the angle between walls.
Foust acknowledged his friend with little more than a nod. "The incidents are just too remote. Really think about it, you believe some new, superior breed of monster would start spawning and not be the immediate focus of the Guild? Of adventurers in general? And showing up on the beginner floors, no less!"
"So you think its just the one then," Bell surmised, cupping his chin with one hand.
Whilst the white haired adventurer sunk into thought, Eina fixed Foust with a dubious expression. Her next words caught the attention of all three of them, Ghiran roused from his depression session and turning to join the group again.
"You almost make it sound deliberate, like the monster was taking precautions to stay beneath our notice."
The space fell into eerie silence, Eina's eyes narrowing at Foust's nonplussed expression.
Ghiran walked over, speaking in low tones, "It does fit. Strange as it sounds, it makes sense. Not too different from the way a fugitive acts: stay out of the public eye, amass resources, strike only when needed. Hell, if he can command the other kobolds, there could be a lot more encounters he just didn't directly involve himself in."
Eina snatched off her glasses before pinching the bridge of her nose. Mr. Cranel was a hassle on his own, but now it seemed he'd fallen in with a pair just as trouble prone.
"A creature that defies the very rules of logic has its sights on my most problematic subordinate," a tired sigh left Eina's lips, "this is already becoming a pattern of yours, Bell."
The white haired rookie had enough sense to wilt under his instructor's gaze.
"Hey now," Ghiran hurried to the rescue, "its just us little people throwing wild theories around, nothing more. Lets get real here, a monster that thinks like a person? Try sayin' that to anyone else and watch how quick it nets you a one-way ticket to the loony bin!"
Eina at least seemed somewhat amused by the axe wielder's theatrics, a small smirk pulling at her features. Bell's expression turned more neutral as the atmosphere relaxed, though the guilt was still present.
Foust was thankful for his position behind their new friend and his handler. The small wizard had had to visibly school his features, an action which would have been obvious to anyone watching. Foust had always had… difficulty with his conclusions being so easily dismissed. Mostly because he tended to be correct.
Ghiran's sight flicked briefly towards his spellcasting comrade. He held back the desire to wink.
Bell chose this moment to stand up, turning to face his supervisor. The boy bent swiftly into a bow, gaze locked on the floor. "I just wanna say again Ms. Eina, I'm sorry for causing trouble. I don't mean to get in over my head so much, its just..."
Being used to her charge's excitable displays, Eina offered Bell a disarming laugh in exchange. As the boy started to right himself, his face somewhat perplexed, Ghiran clapped a hand over Bell's shoulder. The impact pushed the knife wielder back into his bow before the larger boy hauled him upright.
"No worries," Ghiran cheered, "we'll be there to watch his back! We're a party, don't cha know?"
Foust walked around the back of the couch, eyeing the two young men with a blank expression. He turned to Eina as he paused beside the duo. "Whether that's a comfort to you or not."
For her part, Eina easily crushed the part of her wracked with worry for the three. Her boy had some loyal friends, she could be happy with that for now.
As "penance" for his reckless behavior, Bell was given a prompt appointment with Crossette. Though the old medic had forgone any words of reprimand, her heavy gaze and blank expression did wonders for building Bell's guilt. Sporting only minor injuries, the patch job was thankfully short.
The rookie adventurer made his way swiftly home. Their abnormal encounter in the dungeon had cut their day short and Bell was already going through recipes in his head. If it wasn't sure to cut into their earnings, the boy would happily make coming home early more of a habit.
Having time to prepare a "welcome home" meal for Hestia left the boy elated beyond reason.
So there was a small, minuscule instance of disappointment when Bell walked through the doors of the church only to find his goddess fussing about the main hall. This negativity vanished immediately as Bell realized he could now spend time directly with Hestia. Noting the small brunette's lack of awareness, the young dungeon crawler crouched low, making a swift, silent dash towards his goddess.
Hestia had busied herself for a short time moving pews to the side of the room. Despite their lack of care, some of the seating still held stubbornly to their posts. Upon these the Goddess of the Hearth displayed her physical prowess; days spent lugging around the food cart could be surprisingly intensive.
Hestia's current opponent was of the stubborn sort, already having resisted two solid charges from the tiny goddess. Growing agitated and having taken no notice of Bell's presence, Hestia rushed forward for a third strike. Not only did she snap the pew from its anchors, Hestia's collision broke clear through a rotted section of seating, sending her toppling over.
Bell shot forwards. In two swift steps the boy had both arms wrapped around his falling goddess. With a mighty heave the rookie adventurer pulled Hestia up and out of her impending tumble.
Unfortunately Bell had overestimated the amount of strength needed for such a maneuver. In rapid order his goddess' fall forward became the two of them tipping over backwards. On instinct, Bell's grip tightened, drawing Hestia flush against him.
The boy's back smashed into the stone floor of the church. The impact was such that he actually bounced once before landing with a dull slap and a pained groan.
"Bell," Hestia cried, scrambling free of his grasp. At once she was hovering over him, pawing at his body in search of injuries. Bell let out a long hiss as his goddess pulled him into her lap.
"What were you thinking Bell," his matron admonished, still scanning for cuts and bruises, "what was I gonna do if you really got hurt!?"
In the midst of her fretting, one of Bell's hands caught her wrist. Clearly rather sore, Bell's squinted eyes met those of his goddess as he groaned out, "T-that… should be my l-line."
Slowly, the white haired youth sat up, rising from Hestia's lap. Properly upright, he turned to face her, noting his goddess' frank confusion.
"H-Hestia, what exactly were you doing just now?"
Her own perplexion mirrored on her child's face, Hestia's thoughts snapped back to her previous activity. "Ah," she blurted, "I guess that was a little out of the norm for me."
The hall fell into silence, the twin-tailed goddess donning a pleasant smile as Bell continued to stare at her. An expectant stare.
"So..."
"I just thought I'd tidy up a bit. We have all this space up here and we never make any use of it. Cleaning sounds like a good first step."
Bell took a good survey of the chapel. His goddess had made a lot of progress, all but two of the old pews pushed out to either side of the hall. Hestia had a point: seeing it so open, they did have a good amount of room up here. It would easily double their living space if they sured up the breaches around the building.
But the boy's confusion did not abate. "I see what you mean, but why didn't you wait for me to come home? I'd have been happy to help."
Hestia stood, patting dust from the hem of her dress. "I've actually been home for a while now, needed something to pass the time."
Again, Bell was confused. "Did they let you off early from work today?"
"No, I told my boss I wouldn't be coming in today." Done preening, the Goddess of the Hearth turned back to the demolished pew, dragging half of the rotted seating towards the "discard pile."
Bell was thoroughly dumbfounded. If there was one description he could not attribute to his goddess, at least as far as her employment went, it was laziness. Sure she huffed, puffed, and complained once the day was done, but as long as she was on the clock Hestia was hustling.
"I may have had… other business to attend to," the little lady added.
The rookie adventurer moved to the other half of the broken bench, dragging it to the side with a deal more ease than the tiny goddess. "Business? Did you manage to take care of it?"
Shunting her quarry against the "discard pile," Hestia wiped an arm across her brow. She turned to fix Bell with a neutral look, eyes searching as the boy finished his own task. After a short moment, a touch of strength entered her gaze.
"Not entirely. But I think I've taken a small step. Work shouldn't get in the way tomorrow… in fact, I think it'll help further things along."
The boy thought his goddess sounded a bit too excited at the end there, but decided he didn't need the details. Hestia seemed happy, that was enough for him. How much trouble could she really stir up anyway?
Smacking his hands together in deference to a job well done, Bell turned towards the cellar door. "So Hestia, any thoughts on dinner tonight?"
Before the boy could proceed, his twin-tailed housemate slipped past him, skipping to a halt with her back pressed against the door. "It's still pretty early in the day, how about we go out to eat for once?"
Bell grinned, matching his goddess' jubilance. "Oh? Has all this heavy labor," he nodded towards the pile of pews, "left you too famished to wait, my Hestia?"
For her part, Hestia's expression of easy joy did not falter even as her lover's words set her heart ablaze. Controlling her luminescent blush, however, was a feat that stayed beyond her.
"Come on Bell! What's the harm in a little date every now and again?" Hestia's smile turned mischievous as Bell's own features gained a nice hue of red.
"W-Well… I guess it couldn't hurt." The boy refused to meet his goddess' eyes, a finger scratching at his left cheek in embarrassment. Hestia was beaming.
Turning on a dime, the twin-tailed girl's fist shot upwards in a show of zeal. "Alright then! Off to the food cart and my precious potato croquettes!" Hestia began marching towards the main doors of the old church.
Bell was far less enthused, standing in place as he fixed his goddess' back with a blank stare. "Hestia… are you actually planning for us to eat at the same food stand where you work? The one you called out sick from a few hours ago?"
The tiny goddess didn't so much as break her stride. "Don't even worry about it! We'll be paying customers and money is money! It's not like my boss is gonna hold some petty grudge or something."
As it would turn out, Hestia's boss was in fact a very petty person. It didn't help that the goddess' sick day had made it so the owner himself ended up working an extended shift, a moderate frustration which the aging, rotund man gleefully took out on his audacious employee. The sheer "ferocity" of the man's ensuing melodramatics had all but two of his customers falling over in hysterics.
Hestia's face ran bright red in a mix between humiliation and guilt, her own stubbornness the only thing keeping her rooted to her seat, munching her troubles away. Bell kept his face carefully schooled into a mildly smug expression, biting back the urge to deliver the precision-strike "I-told-you-so."
Her eighth glass from her tenth bottle. She had been keeping count since this morning. Her attempts to do so yesterday had been simply non-existent, the Goddess of Beauty having gone through half her stores within mere hours of waking.
Freya sat slumped atop her lavish throne, nursing a half finished glass of her finest alcohol. Of which very little remained, the silver haired woman having diverted to Souma's specialty a little over an hour ago. And yet despite its potency the drink did little to muddle her thoughts.
The images replayed themselves once again, slowing and quickening at various points of interest. She did nothing to dismiss the visuals, no matter how upsetting they were. Her mind's eye remained steady, unflinching as she perused her memories of that night, studying every detail with vile fascination.
Sights gave way to sounds, as vivid and clear as if she had been right there in the room. The rough brush of skin against skin, the wet smack of clashing lips, the pleasured gasps of first time lovers…
How she hated this. Hated their indulgence, how they carelessly paraded it in front of her. She had claimed that boy, deigned him as her own from the moment she first spied his shining soul. To see what was rightfully hers taken so brazenly before her very eyes…
To say Freya was livid would be a gross understatement.
And yet the goddess remained, confined to her chair as surely as a prisoner to his cell. Indeed, Freya could not help but lean in, dipping further into the imagery. Surely she detested this, and yet…
A prickling at the edge of her senses snapped up her attention. At once the Goddess of Beauty fell free of her memories, extending the vision of her all-seeing eyes. Their target appeared clear as day, a beam of light in the darkness.
Bell stepped free of the staircase into their basement abode beneath the church. The young adventurer skipped across the floor, turning back to the stairs with a bright smile in place. The core of his being sparkled and Freya's own lips peeled back in rapture.
Hestia leapt from the stairs, laughing as she sailed into the boy's arms. Freya's mood soured as Bell caught his goddess, drawing the short girl in close before the pair spun across the room.
The two lovers – though she was loath to admit it, that was what they'd become – met the edge of the only bed in the room. The pair toppled onto the mattress, still laughing all the while.
Freya's focus intensified as the humor died down, the two turning to face each other fully. It was as though time slowed as the boy reached out to cup his goddess' face. Hestia's hand covered Bell's own, her smile radiant with a deepening passion.
The Goddess of Beauty found her breath halted, equal parts enraged and enraptured as deity and child closed the distance between one another. Bell's hand slid around to the back of Hestia's head, ushering her closer. Their lips met in a tender kiss, contact broken for a brief instance before crashing together again with burning need.
Confined to her tower, Freya watched as the pair began to explore, limbs roving over flesh, clothing pushed aside, desire building. She leaned too far forward, collapsing from her throne and landing on hands and knees. Heedless of any pain, Freya crawled across the floor, scrambling with increasing speed.
Her palms hit the massive pane of glass hard. The night time cityscape of Orario gazed back at the Tower of Babel, its glittering lights making for a grand vista from the goddess' high vantage.
Freya cared little for the sight, her eyes focused on some undefined point in the sky ahead. Her breathing had become heavy, vapor clinging to the window before her. The obstruction proved no hindrance, Freya's view of the embracing lovers clear as day. She pressed her front flush against the cool glass as Bell reached a hand into Hestia's dress, parting the front opening and freeing her right breast.
Hestia's mewls, muffled by Bell's lips, seemed to reverberate through Freya's room. The boy grasped her naked mound, thumb rolling over the stiffened peak. The Goddess of Beauty could no longer contain herself, one hand trailing down her front, sliding over her belly.
The unaware lovers separated, staring at each other with eyes half-lidded. Deep blue held burning red, both faces flushed a vibrant scarlet. Hestia's fingers danced over Bell's leggings, outlining the obvious bulge. Hunger took hold, the goddess seizing her child in her firm grasp.
Their voyeur had worked herself into a steady rhythm, sweat pooling on her brow and the promise of release imminent, when she recognized the pause in action. Freya's eyes beheld the pair, lying face-to-face, their features flooded crimson.
The animal lust that had once consumed them had fled completely. Both goddess and child stared wide eyed back at the other, stunned expressions etched in place.
Hestia couldn't move, the throbbing heat she felt even through Bell's clothing like a spray of ice water. The sudden "awakening" presented the frank reality that Hestia had no clue how to proceed. Bell suffered a similar problem, his rapidly clearing thoughts unsure of his next action. Seeing the dilemma clear on their partner's faces only amplified the issue.
In that moment, the spying goddess also began to come back to herself. At first, Freya could only express her disappointment. Being brought down from such a promising endeavor so suddenly was never a pleasant experience. Without the wanting haze clouding her thoughts, the panting woman shifted to a state of blank confusion. What had she been thinking of before..?
The slow process of reorganization gave way to an eruption of fury. Freya's small fist struck the reinforced glass with titanic force. The web of cracks formed was easily five times her size, some arcing fissures reaching close to the ceiling of the cavernous room. The sharp sound of the splintering window was short lived, succeeded by the booming howl of wrath which tore free of Freya's gaping maw.
At once a towering figure, broad and powerful, made his approach from the shadows on the far size of the room. His gait was steady, measured, the barest hint of urgency in his casual haste. The man moved like a conqueror.
"Leave!"
The figure had taken three steps, not even halfway to the goddess' vacated throne, when that venomous command was volleyed against him. His mountainous frame rocked backwards, as though repelled by an unseen barrier. A tiny fraction of his stoic mask chipped under the pressure.
Freya regarded her stilled subordinate with a sideways glance. Her teal eyes had shrunken into pinpricks, shifting in short, erratic jumps as tears pooled at their far corners. The sight pained the shadowed figure, almost prompting him to approach once more.
An overriding sense of fear held the man in place. As one of her favored children and personal guard, he had seen her upset many times in the past. But this level of anger was…
"I told you to get out! Move dammit!"
Ottar, the strongest adventurer in Orario and the captain of the Freya Familia, about-faced immediately. The pace he set on the way out could at best be called a power walk. For Ottar, this was the closest he had come to a full retreat in many years. Now especially, this was the one opponent he would never be able to match.
As soon as she was alone, Freya drove her brow into the window's jagged surface. Blood pooled from her forehead, running down her face in numerous streaks. Freya grit her teeth, drops of crimson dripping past her left eye. The sharp pain was barely enough to hold back another explosive outburst.
Movement in her vision caught Freya's attention. Through her clairvoyant sight, she watched her sister goddess turn her flushed features away from her bedmate. Bell's embarrassment turned to concern as he shifted down the mattress, bringing his face closer to Hestia's. As her child moved, Hestia tucked her chin in, rolling over to avoid meeting his gaze.
Bell caught her shoulder before she could turn away fully. The sudden stop and firm grasp jarred the small goddess, her eyes snapping up to meet Bell's.
There was no liquid courage in this exchange, no confident mistress to guide a young man's surging hormones. In their shared gaze, it was clear that neither of them had any clue in regards to their situation.
Hestia felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. This was frustrating, why was this so hard all of a sudden? They'd already done so much more, what was holding them back?
What was holding her back?
Freya's anger ebbed, her focus once more centered on the intimate pair framed within her sight. She was enraptured again, a notion which brought forth sparks of rage. The silver haired goddess glossed over such emotions, losing herself in her observation.
Bell said something, the soft whisper too quiet to hear. Freya pushed into her vision with all her senses, unwilling to miss a single aspect. Whatever was spoken stilled the Goddess of the Hearth. The white haired boy touched Hestia's cheek, running his thumb across in slow circles. After a brief silence, she leaned into his touch, a small smile gracing her features. Freya could just make out the happy hum issued by her sister goddess.
The pair came together in a full embrace. The desire had burned out it seemed, reduced to smoldering embers. But in its place had formed an air of… clarity. Something pure, fulfilling, a feeling that seemed to radiate a gentle warmth.
Freya could do little more than gasp. In her vision the room grew bright, impossibly so. It was nothing compared to their luminescence, the light of their bonded souls. They almost seemed to flow together, Hestia's compassionate flame and Bell's untainted glimmer. Such a thing should have incensed Freya, the very idea of her untouched soul painted in another's colors…
But it was beautiful. Watching their hues spin and dance in easy rhythms, churning in contented motion. She, a goddess of beauty, matron of the strongest familia in Orario, had no words to accurately describe it. Her rage had faded into nothing, leaving her in a state of silent awe.
'I want that.'
This single thought overtook her, flooded her being. The couple in her vision, settled into easy laughter, happy with their closeness and the occasional soft kiss. For Freya, the rest of the world faded away. This casual affection, somehow greater than the burning lust from earlier, was so appealing.
The vexation and hatred she felt towards this display, towards Hestia in particular, was like a distant memory. On weak legs, Freya rose to stand. With a deft swipe she brought up her arm, flicking her thumb across her bloodied forehead.
A brief shimmer touched her torn skin, the wounds closing in an instant. Smoothly, she sailed her thumb over her mouth, giving a slow lick of the scarlet coating.
Gratitude. Freya was feeling gratitude towards Hestia. For showing her something so unique. That gratitude turned to interest, a familiar desire taking firm root. She would have her precious light, her untouched soul. She would have it… and so much more.
A serene smile, her usual expression, graced her blood stained features.
Let's start with my own acclaimed highlight of this chapter: Freya.
Freya, Freya, Freya. Of course in a setting where's Bell's romantic life is a cornerstone of the plot, we have to address his number one fan. I'll preface this by saying that I know we've gotten a lot more insight into Freya as a character since the light novel recently finished an arc wholly dedicated to her. And that's on top of a gaiden story we got a little while back. Again, my knowledge of this universe only really extends a short distance beyond the scope of the anime, so I'm mostly going with inferences, interpretations from other fanworks, and my own wants for the character. We are bashing in canon's brains at the end of the day.
I took a distressing amount of pleasure writing Freya's breakdown. She has this conflicting notion between coveting what she claims as hers and being supremely fascinated with new, beautiful experiences. Bell is "hers" and she detests Hestia for claiming him, more so because as a fellow deus deia she presents a stauncher obstacle than some mortal woman. But at the same time she's baring witness to something incredible, the opening act in a genuine union between a mortal and a goddess. And being able to see their souls laid bare, Freya can more than attest to just how real the relationship is becoming.
And real, beautiful things… are just the sort of things Freya wants.
We get a brief moment with Ottar in this that I had a little laugh at. Of course the one enemy he will never face is an irate Freya. This segues into how I want to handle the deities in this story. Freya's forceful in more than just her personality: she fissures shatter-proof glass with one punch, she insta-heals a self inflicted gash across the brow, and that's not even counting her usual abilities of charm and her soul sight. In this world, even in their sealed states, the gods are a cut above the averge mortal just in baseline physicality. I'd level it as even the weakest deity could probably take a level one adventurer head to head. But we'll put a pin in that idea for now.
The kobold alpha. The concept of "irregulars" crop up here and there in the main story, most notably with the Black Goliath and in the last season with the Moss Huge. Wanted a specimen based on a "beginner friendly" species to serve as a recurring threat to our new-ish party. Also figured a dog-type fiend would make for a good "commander" type opponent, pack mentality and all that. Though, from the kobold pelt it dons, those bonds are not unbreakable.
The party and Eina have their speculations on this strange new adversary. Who's to say where the truth will lead…
Hestia begins the process of securing a weapon for Bell and the little familia start clearing out space in their humble abode. All preparations for the future.
In the next installment: An early morning meet up at The Hostess, Hephaestus' hand is "forced," some champion adventurers cause pandemonium, and Bell gets a promising shot at playing hero.
