Prologue: The Rabbit's Resolve

Bell's lungs burned. His legs moved on instinct, his mind numb as he pushed himself forward, forward, forward. He didn't know where he was running, only that he had to move.

He had failed.

The Minotaur's bloody corpse was still fresh in his mind, its massive body crumbling under the weight of a sword that did not belong to him.

Aiz Wallenstein had saved him.

He had been powerless to stop it.

Her golden eyes had met his for only a moment after the battle. No words were exchanged, no reassurances given.

There was no need.

Bell already knew the truth.

He was weak.

And the worst part? He had frozen. Even as the Minotaur charged him, as death loomed closer, he had been paralyzed by fear. He wasn't an adventurer. He wasn't a warrior.

He was a boy playing make-believe, chasing a dream he didn't deserve.

So he ran.

He ran without so much as a thank you.

Through the winding streets of Orario, past the curious stares of merchants and adventurers alike, past the towering Babel that loomed over him like a god's judgment.

He ran until his legs trembled, until he found himself standing in front of the only place he could call home.

The abandoned church.

Bell stumbled to a halt just outside the entrance, pressing his palm against the cold brick wall to steady himself.

His body trembled. His knees threatened to give out beneath him, but he refused to fall.

The Minotaur's roar.

The fear gripping his chest.

His body refusing to move.

The scene looped in his mind, over and over.

"Damn it…" he whispered.

His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. Then—

BAM.

He slammed a fist against the wall. Once. Twice. The pain barely registered, but the sting was better than the shame clawing at his chest.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He had dreamed of adventure, of heroism. Of becoming someone worthy of stories.

Instead, he was nothing more than a scared boy being rescued by someone else's blade.

The door creaked as he stepped inside. Dust and silence greeted him, broken only by the soft breathing of the goddess waiting for him.

Hestia sat on the worn wooden bench, hands folded in her lap, blue eyes staring down at something Bell couldn't see.

She looked up as he entered, her expression unreadable.

"…Bell," she whispered.

She had felt his emotions through her blessing. She had known he was coming before he had even made the decision himself.

She had begged Hephaestus to let her leave early from work just to be here.

To be waiting for him.

Her one and only, and deeply loved, child.

Bell opened his mouth to speak.

He had so much to say.

But the words wouldn't come.

How could he tell her that he had failed?

That he wasn't strong enough?

That he couldn't stay here?

Hestia seemed to understand without him saying a word.

Her hands trembled as she reached for him, fingers grazing his arm before curling into a fist.

"I know," she said, voice tight with something Bell couldn't quite name.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

Bell's heart clenched.

He hated this.

He hated the way her voice wavered. Hated the pain in her eyes.

But he had already made his decision.

"I… I need to be stronger."

His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue.

"I can't stay here. Not like this."

Silence stretched between them.

Then—

Hestia smiled.

A small, fragile thing.

"…Alright," she said.

Bell blinked. "What?"

"If this is what you want… I won't stop you."

His breath caught in his throat.

He had expected resistance. Desperate pleas. A refusal.

But not this.

Hestia turned her back to him, her small frame trembling as she pressed a hand to her chest.

"There's one condition," she said softly.

"Two years. You have to come back to me in two years."

Bell swallowed hard.

"…I promise."

Something in her seemed to break at that.

She let out a breath—one filled with too many emotions to name—before turning to him once more.

"Then… let me send you off properly."

She stepped forward and lifted his shirt.

Her fingers trembled as she placed a hand against his bare back.

She didn't want to do this.

The divine connection she had with him, the very proof that he was her child, would be severed the moment she willed it away.

A piece of her heart would go with it.

A soft glow surrounded her hand.

Warmth seeped from her palm—

—and then, suddenly, it was gone.

Bell staggered. His breath hitched. His body tensed, as if sensing something was missing, even if he couldn't place what.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say.

Instead, she whispered—

"It's only fair."

"If you're going to prove yourself… then do it without the gods' help."

Something inside him twisted. But he understood. This was her way of letting him go.

Bell took a shaky breath, nodded, and stepped past her.

He didn't look back. For if he did, Hestia's crying visage would surely shake his resolve.

Hestia continued to sob to herself, even after Bell had left the church.

She thought back to the feeling she got from her blessing. It was one of desperation, embarrassment, but most of all, determination.

She had felt Bell's emotions before he even knew them himself.

She had also felt that skill that manifested itself onto his back. A skill she knew, without a doubt, would've kept him in Orario and exploring the dungeon if he been informed about it and its effects.

However, Hestia was not one to meddle with the choices of her children, well, her child. She let him choose her own path, and she'd be damned if she tried to manipulate him to change it due to her own feelings and wants.

The skill would work just fine outside of the dungeon city. Keeping him here would've only been a selfish whim.

With that last thought, Hestia dragged herself into her bed, sobbing silently throughout the night.

The streets of Orario were quiet by the time Bell reached the main gates. The towering stone walls loomed over him, a reminder of everything he was leaving behind.

This was it.

No more safe zones. No more comfort. Only the unknown.

Bell inhaled deeply and stepped forward—

—and then a hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Whoa there, Rabbit," a voice drawled. "What's the rush?"

Bell whirled around, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. A tall man in an orange coat stood before him, golden eyes gleaming with mischief.

A god.

"Who…?"

The man grinned. "You don't know me? That's a little hurtful." He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Hermes. God of trade, travel, and guiding lost souls."

Bell frowned. "I—I'm not lost."

Hermes chuckled. "Really? Then why are you running away like a thief in the night?"

Bell bristled. "I'm not running away."

"Huh." Hermes tilted his head. "You sure about that?"

Bell opened his mouth to argue—only to realize that he wasn't sure at all.

Hermes studied him for a moment before sighing. "Well, I had this whole plan to track you down, but you made it easy for me."

Bell stiffened. "Why would a god be looking for me?"

The grin that stretched across Hermes' face was unreadable. "Let's just say an old friend of mine asked me to keep an eye on you."

Bell blinked. "Who—?"

"Doesn't matter right now," Hermes interrupted. "What does matter is that you were about to walk straight into the unknown without help, without supplies, and without a clue where you're going. So, what's the plan, kid? Let the first goblin that finds you have an easy dinner? Maybe a kobold—oh, no, wait, you're a rabbit, right? Guess a stray dog would be more fitting."

Bell flinched.

The words stung because they were true.

Hermes' grin softened slightly. "Look, kid. I get it. You want to be strong. You want to be a hero. But heroes aren't made by running off to die in a ditch somewhere."

Bell clenched his fists. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

Hermes took a step closer, voice dropping.

"How about I take you on a little adventure instead?"

Bell frowned. "An adventure?"

"Yeah. You want strength, right?" Hermes' golden eyes gleamed. "Then let's go get you some. Real strength. Strength that'll actually make the gods take notice."

Bell hesitated. This wasn't what he had planned. He had intended to find his own way. To grow by himself. But…

Hermes had a point.

He wasn't ready.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the first step toward something greater.

Bell exhaled, meeting the god's gaze.

"I'm listening."

Hermes smirked.

"Good. Because this little adventure of yours? It's about to get a lot more interesting."

And so marked the start of another fantastical tale.

A tale that would become etched into history, leaving its mark on both the mortal, and immortal world. However, that was still a ways away.

After all, Bell Cranel's adventure had only just begun.

Prologue, End.