rachlnoah - Thank you!
leonroyce - I am not sure if she use primary bow, I know that she is good with bow, but let say in this story she will primary use the sword :D
CasualFictionWriter23 - I am glad I improve, I am trying. Biggest difference between this story and story about Nyxaria is that I have friend as Beta Reader for this story :) Yea that reason why i choose Alicia, I wanted try something new and must say I have so much fun writing this story so far :) About your idea: He will not use only dagger, that i can say. And about more members lets wait for future chapters :D
jessetugi - Thank you!
Caadiz - Thank you! And I can say there will be more than Stellar Catalyst!
Cobb - Thank you! As I wrote above biggest differnce is that I have Beta reader for this story :)
SSJ3 Kyuubi Gohan - oh i never expected that one of my favorite author will comment my story! Thank you!
Chapter 3: Watchful Eyes
The morning sun cast long shadows across Orario as Bell made his way through the bustling streets toward Babel Tower. After yesterday's training in the dungeon's upper floors, he felt a renewed confidence in his abilities. Though still a novice, he had managed to defeat several goblins and kobolds with greater efficiency than before, his movements becoming more fluid with each encounter.
Bell's ruby eyes were fixed on the imposing structure of Babel Tower in the distance, the massive building that marked the entrance to the dungeon. The streets grew more crowded as he approached Central Park, adventurers of all levels making their way toward the same destination, some in groups discussing strategy, others alone and focused like himself.
As he crossed through a particularly busy section of the park, a sudden, strange sensation prickled at the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.
Bell slowed his pace, trying to appear casual as he glanced around. The feeling was distinct—an intentional gaze rather than the random looks of passersby. He scanned the crowds, but nothing seemed immediately out of place.
The sensation persisted, growing stronger. Trusting his instincts, Bell stopped completely and turned in a slow circle, carefully examining his surroundings. Other adventurers flowed around him like a stream around a stone, some giving him curious or annoyed glances for blocking the path.
Then, following the feeling upward, Bell's eyes were drawn to Babel Tower itself. High up on one of the balconies, he caught a brief glimpse of a figure looking down at the plaza. The distance was too great to make out details, but Bell was certain—that was the source of the gaze he felt.
"Excuse me," a feminine voice called from behind him, breaking his concentration. "You dropped this."
Bell turned to find a pretty gray-haired girl standing there, her gentle smile framed by her maid uniform. In her outstretched hand was a magic stone, its blue surface gleaming in the morning light.
"Oh," Bell said, momentarily caught off guard. He looked at the stone, then back at the girl. "I'm sorry, but that's not mine. I exchanged all my magic stones at the Guild yesterday."
The girl tilted her head slightly, her smile unwavering. "Are you sure? I saw it fall from your bag just now."
Bell glanced at his backpack, which was securely fastened. "I'm certain," he replied with a polite bow. "But thank you for trying to return it."
The girl studied him for a moment, her gray eyes seeming to look right through him. There was something knowing in her gaze that made Bell feel as though she was assessing him rather than simply speaking to him.
"My mistake then," she finally said, pocketing the stone. "You must be headed to the dungeon. Are you a new adventurer? I don't believe I've seen you around before."
"Yes," Bell admitted. "I've only been at it for a little more than two weeks now."
"Two weeks?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "And you're going in alone?"
Bell nodded, feeling a familiar warmth rise to his cheeks at what felt like judgment of his inexperience. "I'm part of a small familia. It's just me for now."
Rather than the concern or derision he expected, the girl's smile widened. "How interesting. You should stop by the Hostess of Fertility sometime. It's a tavern not far from here, popular with adventurers." She gestured vaguely toward the north. "The food is excellent, if I do say so myself."
"You work there?" Bell asked.
"I do. I'm Syr, by the way. Syr Flover."
"Bell Cranel," he replied with a small bow.
"Well, Bell Cranel," Syr said, her tone warm but with a hint of mischief, "be careful in the dungeon today. Sometimes it's the monsters you don't see that pose the greatest danger."
With those enigmatic words, she gave him another smile before turning to leave. Bell watched her go, puzzled by the strange encounter. First the feeling of being watched, and now this unusual conversation with the gray-haired maid. Something about it left him feeling as though there were layers to the interaction he wasn't grasping.
Shaking his head to clear it, Bell turned back toward Babel Tower. The figure he'd spotted on the balcony was gone, if they had ever been there at all. Perhaps his imagination had been playing tricks on him.
With a deep breath, Bell refocused on his objective for the day: exploring the sixth floor of the dungeon. It would be his first time venturing that deep, but after yesterday's success, he felt ready for the challenge.
"One step at a time," he murmured to himself, his thoughts briefly flicking to hazel eyes and golden hair. "I'll get stronger. I'll become a hero worthy of standing beside you."
With that promise renewed in his heart, Bell joined the stream of adventurers entering Babel Tower, unaware of the multiple sets of eyes that continued to track his progress from the shadows—some curious, some calculating, and some with intentions yet to be revealed.
The sixth floor of the dungeon was different from the upper levels Bell had grown accustomed to. The ceiling stretched higher, the passages were wider, and the light emanating from the dungeon walls took on a faint bluish tinge. Most noticeably, the monsters were stronger, more numerous, and disturbingly strategic in their attacks.
Bell pressed his back against the cold stone wall, breathing heavily. His white hair was matted with sweat, and a small cut on his cheek trickled blood. Three slain kobolds lay dissolving into ash before him, their magic stones gleaming amidst the remains. But there was no time to collect them—the howls echoing from the adjacent passage told him more were coming.
"They're hunting in packs," Bell muttered to himself, gripping his small knife tighter.
He had discovered this the hard way after being ambushed by a group of five kobolds less than an hour into his exploration. While he'd managed to defeat them, the commotion had drawn more monsters. Since then, he'd been fighting almost continuously, barely able to catch his breath between encounters.
The sound of claws scraping against stone grew louder. Bell closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. The teachings from his grandfather's stories came back to him—a hero doesn't just fight with strength, but with intelligence and adaptability.
"Observe. Anticipate. Act," he whispered, the mantra steadying his racing heart.
The first kobold rounded the corner, its canine features twisted in a snarl. Bell remained still, waiting. The monster paused, sniffing the air, then called to its pack with a series of yips. Two more kobolds appeared, their red eyes gleaming in the dim light of the dungeon.
Bell assessed the situation quickly. Three kobolds—manageable if he moved fast enough. He needed to prevent them from surrounding him.
The moment the lead kobold lunged forward, Bell exploded into action. Instead of retreating, he charged directly at the pack, catching them off guard. His knife slashed across the first monster's chest before it could raise its claws. Not waiting to see it dissolve, Bell pivoted sharply, using his superior agility to dodge the second kobold's attack.
There was a fluidity to his movements that hadn't been there before, as if his body was remembering techniques he had never actually learned. Bell felt a strange warmth spreading through him, his senses heightening with each passing second of combat.
The second kobold howled as Bell's knife found its mark, sinking deep into the creature's shoulder. The third monster attempted to flank him, but Bell had anticipated this. He kicked the wounded kobold into its companion, creating momentary confusion, then pressed his advantage with a flurry of strikes.
In less than thirty seconds, all three kobolds were defeated. Bell stood among the dissolving remains, his breath coming in controlled gasps. He quickly collected the magic stones, adding them to the pouch at his belt, which was growing satisfyingly heavy.
"That makes seventeen," he murmured, allowing himself a small smile of accomplishment.
The brief moment of satisfaction was interrupted by a distant rumbling—a sound he had never heard before in the dungeon. The floor beneath his feet trembled slightly.
Bell frowned, his instincts screaming a warning. Whatever made that sound, it wasn't a kobold or goblin. It was something bigger, stronger.
"I should head back," he said to himself, calculating the safest route to the stairs. He had pushed deeper into the sixth floor than intended, and while his confidence had grown, he wasn't foolish enough to take unnecessary risks.
Bell began making his way toward what he believed was the direction of the stairs, moving cautiously and listening for any signs of danger. He had gone barely fifty paces when the rumbling sound returned, much closer this time.
From a side passage burst a monster Bell had only seen in the Guild's guidebooks—a Killer Ant. The insect-like creature was three times his size, with massive mandibles that could easily crush stone and a heavily armored exoskeleton. Its compound eyes fixed on Bell, and it emitted a high-pitched screech that echoed through the dungeon corridors.
"This is bad," Bell whispered, his grip tightening on his knife.
His small weapon would struggle to penetrate the ant's natural armor. He needed a strategy, and quickly. The monster charged forward with surprising speed for its bulk. Bell dove to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed against the wall.
He landed in a roll and came up running, trying to create distance to think. But the Killer Ant was relentless, smashing through the narrower passages of the dungeon as it pursued him. The chase led Bell deeper into the maze-like structure of the sixth floor, away from his intended path to safety.
After several minutes of desperate evasion, Bell found himself in a larger chamber with multiple exits. He had seconds to make a decision before the monster caught up. Looking around frantically, he noticed a section of the ceiling that appeared less stable, with cracks running through the stone directly above one of the entrances.
As the thunderous sound of the Killer Ant approached, Bell positioned himself beneath the weakened section, then waited. The moment the massive creature appeared in the entrance, Bell shouted to draw its attention, then darted away.
The Killer Ant charged, exactly as he had hoped. Its massive body slammed into the wall as it tried to follow Bell's quick change of direction. The impact sent tremors through the chamber, and with a grinding crack, the weakened section of ceiling began to collapse.
Bell threw himself forward, diving for safety as chunks of stone crashed down behind him. A cloud of dust filled the chamber, and the Killer Ant's screeches were abruptly cut short.
When the dust settled, Bell found that his plan had worked—partially. The Killer Ant was pinned beneath the fallen rubble, its back half crushed, but its front remained active, mandibles snapping furiously as it struggled to free itself.
Bell approached cautiously, knife held ready. The monster was wounded but still deadly. He would need to be precise.
Taking a deep breath, Bell darted in, aiming for the joint between the creature's head and thorax. His first strike glanced off the hard exoskeleton. The Killer Ant's mandibles clacked just inches from his arm as he pulled back.
I need more force, Bell thought, looking around for any advantage. His eyes fell on a sharp fragment of stone from the ceiling collapse. It was heavier and sturdier than his knife.
Bell grabbed the improvised weapon and approached again. This time, when he struck, he put all his strength into the blow, driving the pointed stone deep into the vulnerable joint. The Killer Ant thrashed violently, then went still, its body beginning to dissolve into ash.
Bell sank to his knees, breathing heavily. His arms trembled from exertion, and he realized his leg had been grazed during his narrow escape, blood seeping through a tear in his pants.
"Too close," he muttered, applying pressure to the wound.
As the adrenaline ebbed, pain began to make itself known—not just from his leg, but from a dozen minor injuries accumulated throughout the day's battles. He needed to rest, to recover, but the dungeon allowed no respite.
Already, he could hear the distant sounds of more monsters, drawn by the commotion of his battle with the Killer Ant. The sixth floor was proving to be far more dangerous than he had anticipated.
Bell forced himself to his feet, wincing at the pain in his leg. He retrieved the Killer Ant's magic stone—substantially larger than those from kobolds and goblins—and added it to his collection.
"I need to find the stairs," he said, orienting himself in the unfamiliar chamber.
But as he started toward what seemed like the most promising exit, the sound of approaching monsters grew louder from multiple directions. Kobolds, goblins, and the distant screech of what might be another Killer Ant—they were converging on his position.
Bell's hand instinctively went to the potion Alicia had given him, still secure in his pocket. Would this be the time to use it? No, he decided. That was for true emergencies. He could still fight.
Drawing a deep breath, Bell readied his knife and faced the nearest tunnel from which monster sounds emanated. His body ached, his stamina was depleting, but something within him refused to yield. The same determination that had caught Alicia's attention now burned even brighter.
"I won't give up," Bell declared to the empty chamber, his voice firm despite his exhaustion. "I'm going to become stronger. I'm going to become a hero. This much... this is nothing!"
As the first wave of monsters appeared at the tunnel entrance, Bell charged forward to meet them. His movements were no longer as fluid as before, but what he lacked in grace he made up for in raw determination. Each strike was fueled by his unwavering resolve, each dodge powered by his refusal to fall.
One after another, monsters fell to his blade. Five kobolds. Three goblins. Another kobold pack. Bell lost count as the battle stretched on, his world narrowing to the simple rhythm of combat—strike, dodge, move, repeat.
He didn't notice the faint glow emanating from his back, where his falna was responding to his determination. He didn't see how his wounds began to close slightly faster than normal, how his stamina seemed to replenish itself just enough to keep him fighting when he should have collapsed from exhaustion.
All Bell knew was that he would not fall here. Not when he had only just begun his journey. Not when he had a promise to keep.
The image of hazel eyes and a kind smile flashed in his mind, giving him strength for one more strike, one more dodge, one more step toward becoming the hero he was determined to be.
The last Killer Ant dissolved into ash, its magic stone clattering to the ground. Bell stood amidst the remains of what felt like his hundredth battle of the day, his chest heaving with each labored breath. Sweat and blood had soaked through portions of his light armor, and his once-white hair was now matted with dungeon dust.
Bell leaned against the wall, allowing himself a moment of respite. The sound of monsters had finally faded, leaving only the eerie ambient noise of the dungeon. Whether he had defeated enough to temporarily clear the area or they had simply lost interest, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that his body had reached its limit.
"I need to get out of here," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse from exertion.
Gingerly, Bell knelt to gather the magic stones scattered around him. His pouch was nearly full now—a small fortune by his modest standards. Each movement sent fresh pain through his overexerted muscles, but he persisted, meticulously collecting every last stone. These were the tangible results of his effort, his growth.
After securing the last stone, Bell surveyed his surroundings. In the heat of battle, he had lost track of his exact location within the sixth floor. The passages of the dungeon twisted deceptively, designed to confuse and trap the unwary.
"Which way to the stairs?" he murmured, trying to orient himself.
Bell closed his eyes, recalling the mental map he had been building during his descent. If his calculations were correct, the stairs should be... to the northwest? He hoped his instincts weren't leading him astray.
With renewed determination but considerably less energy, Bell pushed himself away from the wall and began making his way down what he believed to be the correct passage. His steps were slower now, measured and cautious. He had no strength left for another extended battle.
Fortune seemed to finally smile upon him when, after twenty minutes of careful navigation, Bell spotted the familiar structure of the staircase leading upward. Relief washed over him like a cool wave.
"Made it," he said with a tired smile.
The climb back through the dungeon's levels was arduous in his exhausted state. Each floor presented its own challenges, though thankfully, he encountered fewer monsters during his ascent. Perhaps they sensed his determination, or perhaps the gods were simply granting him a small mercy.
By the time Bell emerged from the dungeon into the main hall of Babel Tower, the afternoon was well advanced. The usual hustle of adventurers continued around him—some just beginning their day's expedition, others, like him, returning from the depths.
Bell's appearance drew a few curious glances. Even among returning adventurers, he looked particularly battered. His clothes were torn in several places, dried blood marked various minor wounds, and his exhaustion was evident in every step. Yet there was something in his bearing—a quiet pride, perhaps, or an unbroken spirit—that caused several more experienced adventurers to give him approving nods as he passed.
Outside, the sunlight momentarily blinded him after hours in the dungeon's dimness. Bell squinted, adjusting to the brightness as he made his way toward the Guild building. His pace was slow but steady, each step bringing him closer to completing the day's journey.
The Guild hall was busy as usual when Bell entered. Adventurers lined up at various counters to exchange magic stones, register achievements, or seek information. Bell joined the shortest line, patiently waiting his turn while doing his best to remain upright despite his fatigue.
When he finally reached the counter, the Guild employee's eyes widened slightly at his condition but said nothing as Bell emptied his pouch of magic stones. The pile was impressive for a solo adventurer of his level—especially the larger stone from the Killer Ant.
"That's... quite a haul for someone of your rank," the employee commented as he sorted and counted the stones. "Seventh floor?"
"Sixth," Bell replied, too tired to elaborate.
The employee nodded, completing his calculations. "This comes to 21,500 valis."
Bell's eyes widened. It was more than he had earned in total since becoming an adventurer. The amount would cover new equipment, supplies, and still leave plenty for Hestia Familia's modest living expenses.
After receiving his payment, Bell turned to leave, his mind already focused on returning home for much-needed rest. His path, however, was intercepted by a familiar figure with green hair and glasses.
"Bell Cranel!" Eina's voice was sharp with concern. "What in the world happened to you?"
Bell smiled weakly. "Hello, Eina. Just returning from the dungeon."
Eina's eyes narrowed as she examined his condition more closely. "My office. Now." Her tone left no room for argument.
Bell obediently followed her to the small adviser's office, where Eina closed the door behind them before turning to face him with hands on her hips.
"Let me guess," she began, her voice a mixture of exasperation and worry. "You went beyond the fifth floor, didn't you?"
Bell hesitated, then nodded. "Sixth floor."
"The SIXTH floor?" Eina's voice rose an octave. "Bell, you've been an adventurer for barely over two weeks! What were you thinking?"
"I needed to get stronger," Bell said simply.
"And getting yourself killed would accomplish that how, exactly?" Eina demanded. "The sixth floor is recommended for Level 1 adventurers with at least three months of experience, preferably in a party!"
Bell lowered his gaze, unable to meet her intense stare. "I know it was risky, but I handled it."
"Handled it?" Eina gestured at his tattered appearance. "You look like you were dragged behind a chariot! What monsters did you encounter down there?"
"Kobolds, goblins... and a Killer Ant," Bell admitted.
Eina's jaw dropped. "A Killer Ant? Those are mid-level monsters! Your knife would barely scratch their exoskeleton!"
"I used the environment to my advantage," Bell explained, briefly recounting how he had collapsed part of the ceiling onto the monster.
Eina listened, her expression shifting from anger to disbelief to reluctant admiration. When Bell finished, she sighed deeply, removing her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.
"Bell," she said, her voice softer now but still serious, "I understand your desire to grow stronger quickly. But there are no shortcuts in the dungeon. Rushing ahead unprepared doesn't make you brave—it makes you reckless."
"I know," Bell acknowledged. "But I won't grow stronger if I stay in my comfort zone."
"There's a difference between challenging yourself and suicidal behavior," Eina countered. She replaced her glasses and looked at him directly. "Promise me you won't go to the sixth floor again until you've gained more experience—or at least until you have better equipment."
Bell hesitated, reluctant to make a promise he might break.
"Bell," Eina pressed, "as your Guild advisor, I'm asking you to be smart about this. The dungeon has existed for centuries. It isn't going anywhere. But you only have one life."
Bell finally nodded. "I promise to be more careful," he offered as a compromise.
Eina studied his face, seemingly dissatisfied with his wording but recognizing it was the best she would get. "At least invest in better armor with your earnings today," she said. "That knife of yours isn't going to be enough, either. You need a proper weapon if you're going to keep testing your limits."
"I will," Bell agreed. "Any recommendations?"
The question successfully diverted Eina into advisor mode, and she spent the next twenty minutes discussing various weapons and armor shops in Orario, their price ranges, and quality of goods. By the time she finished, Bell's eyes were beginning to droop despite his best efforts to stay alert.
Eina noticed his exhaustion and softened further. "Go home, Bell. Rest. Heal. The dungeon will still be there tomorrow."
"Thank you, Eina," Bell said sincerely, rising from his seat. "For caring and for the advice."
"That's my job," she replied with a small smile. "Though you make it considerably more difficult than most of my advisees."
Bell managed a tired chuckle as he headed for the door. Before leaving, he turned back to her. "I'm going to become stronger, Eina. Strong enough to stand alongside the best adventurers in Orario. I promise I won't die before that happens."
Eina's expression softened. "Just make sure you live long enough to keep that promise, Bell Cranel."
With a final nod, Bell left the Guild and headed toward home. Despite his exhaustion, despite the pain of his wounds and the scolding from Eina, he felt a profound satisfaction. Today he had pushed his limits and survived. He had faced monsters that should have been beyond his capabilities and emerged victorious.
Each step brought him closer to his goal, to the day when he could stand proudly beside the hazel-eyed adventurer who had saved his life and unknowingly set him on this path. The thought brought a smile to his face that lasted all the way home.
The abandoned church was quiet as Bell descended the stairs to their basement home. The familiar space, humble as it was, welcomed him with its simple comforts—a clean bed, a small kitchen area, and the few personal belongings he and Hestia had accumulated.
"Goddess, I'm home," Bell called out instinctively, then paused when no enthusiastic reply came.
Usually, Hestia would rush to greet him, eager to hear about his adventures in the dungeon or simply to express her relief at his safe return. The silence felt unusual.
"Goddess?" he tried again, moving further into the room.
That's when he noticed the folded piece of paper on the table. Bell picked it up, immediately recognizing Hestia's somewhat childish handwriting:
Bell-kun,
I've gone out to meet with Takemikazuchi and Miach for some divine business. There's a meeting of the lower gods tonight, and I couldn't get out of it. Don't worry, I made sure to tell them how amazing my Bell-kun is!
There's some leftover stew in the pot if you're hungry. I should be back late tonight, so don't wait up.
PS: NO adventuring after dark! I mean it! PPS: Also, NO visiting other familias, ESPECIALLY Loki's!
Love, Your Goddess Hestia
Bell smiled at the note, particularly the forcefully underlined warnings. Hestia's protectiveness was as endearing as it was occasionally stifling. He folded the paper and set it back on the table, then glanced around the empty room.
The quiet felt strange after the intensity of the dungeon. His body ached for rest, but his mind remained active, processing the day's events. He was too wound up to sleep, despite his physical exhaustion.
Bell considered his options. He could heat up the stew Hestia mentioned and go to bed early. That would certainly be the sensible choice given his condition. Or he could clean his equipment and count his remaining valis. Or perhaps...
The memory of the gray-haired maid—Syr—floated into his mind. She had mentioned a tavern called the Hostess of Fertility, popular with adventurers. Bell had never visited an adventurer's tavern before, always rushing home after exchanging his magic stones.
"Maybe I should see what it's like," he murmured, curiosity winning over fatigue.
The decision made, Bell quickly washed away the worst of the dungeon grime, changed into his cleanest set of clothes, and took a portion of his newly earned valis. He left a brief note for Hestia explaining where he'd gone, should she return early—though he suspected she would be out late, as gods tended to be when they gathered.
Outside, the streets of Orario had transformed with the evening. Lanterns and magic stone lamps illuminated the pathways, casting warm light across the cobblestones. The city had a different energy at night—less frantic commerce, more leisurely socializing. Adventurers, merchants, and citizens congregated in open plazas or moved between various establishments in groups, their laughter cutting through the night air.
Bell followed Syr's directions, heading north from Babel Tower. After a few wrong turns and some helpful guidance from a street vendor, he found himself standing before a large, welcoming building with light spilling from its windows. A sign depicting a cheerful woman holding a mug identified it as the Hostess of Fertility.
The sounds of laughter, conversation, and occasional cheers emanated from within. Bell hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling out of place. Would he look foolish entering alone? Would the other adventurers recognize him as the novice he was?
Before he could reconsider, the door swung open, and a group of rowdy adventurers exited, nearly colliding with him. Bell stepped aside quickly, and in that moment of distraction, found himself face to face with a tall, muscular cat-person woman with striking features.
"Well? In or out, nya?" she asked, her cat ears twitching as she assessed him with sharp eyes. Her waitress uniform did little to diminish her intimidating presence. "Don't block the doorway, nya."
"I... I'm coming in," Bell managed, suddenly very aware of the height difference between them.
The cat-person nodded, gesturing him inside with a sweep of her arm. "First time at the Hostess, nya? You look awfully young."
"Yes, ma'am," Bell replied politely. "I was told it's popular with adventurers."
"Mia's place is the best in Orario, nya," she stated with pride. "I'm Ahnya, by the way. Find a seat if you can, I'll be with you in a moment."
The tavern's interior was warm and inviting despite its crowded state. Wooden tables filled the main floor, most occupied by adventurers of various races and familias. Waitresses in matching uniforms moved efficiently between tables, delivering food and drinks with practiced ease. The air was thick with the aroma of hearty food, ale, and the distinctive scent of adventurers fresh from the dungeon.
Bell spotted a small unoccupied table in the corner and made his way toward it, navigating carefully between boisterous groups. He had nearly reached it when a familiar voice called his name.
"Bell Cranel! You actually came!"
Turning, Bell saw Syr approaching with a warm smile, carrying a tray of empty mugs. "I wasn't sure you would," she continued. "First time here?"
Bell nodded. "I thought I'd see what it was like."
"Well, you've chosen a good night," Syr said. "We have a special stew tonight that's perfect after a day in the dungeon—and you look like you've had quite the day." Her eyes took in his still-visible scratches and bruises.
"It was... challenging," Bell admitted.
Syr's smile widened. "The best days usually are. Take a seat, I'll bring you something special."
Before Bell could request anything specific or ask about prices, Syr had already whisked away toward the kitchen. Bell sat at the empty table, feeling somewhat out of his depth but intrigued by the environment. Around him, adventurers from various familias shared stories, compared achievements, or engaged in friendly arguments about dungeon tactics.
A particularly loud group at a large central table caught his attention. They wore matching emblems that Bell recognized as belonging to Soma Familia, and they were celebrating what appeared to be a successful expedition.
"Six hellhounds on the fifteenth floor, and we didn't lose a single member!" one of them boasted, raising his mug in triumph.
Bell listened with interest. The fifteenth floor—he could hardly imagine what monsters lurked at such depths. The gap between his current abilities and theirs seemed insurmountable.
His attention was diverted when Syr returned, placing a steaming bowl of stew before him, accompanied by fresh bread and a mug of what looked like fruit juice.
"You look like you could use the protein," she explained. "Monster meat stew—Mama Mia's special recipe. The juice is on the house for first-timers."
"Thank you," Bell said, surprised by the generous portion. "How much do I owe—"
"Eat first," Syr interrupted with a gentle smile. "We can settle up afterward."
As she moved away to attend to other customers, Bell turned his attention to the food. The first spoonful of stew sent a burst of rich flavor across his palate, and he realized just how hungry he had been. The monster meat—likely from the upper floors where the creatures were safe for consumption—was tender and flavorful, complemented by root vegetables and herbs.
Bell ate with growing appreciation, his body gratefully accepting the nourishment after the day's exertions. The tavern's atmosphere washed over him—the camaraderie of fellow adventurers, the skilled service of the waitresses, the sense of belonging to something larger than himself. This was a part of an adventurer's life he hadn't experienced before.
As he ate, Bell couldn't help overhearing snippets of conversation from nearby tables. Discussions of dungeon strategies, complaints about stingy gods, rumors of rare items found in the depths—all the everyday concerns of Orario's adventurer population. It was educational in a way that Eina's formal advisement sessions weren't, raw and unfiltered.
"—heard Loki Familia is planning another expedition below the 50th floor—"
"—new drop item from the acid frogs, worth a fortune if you can collect it without getting dissolved—"
"—that rookie who made it to the sixth floor solo, heard he took down a Killer Ant—"
Bell nearly choked on his stew at the last comment. Were they talking about him? How would anyone know about his encounter with the Killer Ant? He had only just returned from the dungeon today.
"Information travels fast in Orario," a voice commented, as if reading his thoughts.
Bell looked up to find Syr standing by his table again, a knowing smile on her face.
"The Guild employees talk, the adventurers listen, and rumors spread," she continued, refilling his juice. "By tomorrow morning, the tale will have grown to you slaying three Killer Ants while rescuing a lost familia."
"That's... not what happened at all," Bell protested.
Syr laughed softly. "Of course not. But that's how stories work in this city. The truth is embellished until it becomes legend." She tilted her head, studying him. "Though taking on even one Killer Ant as a new adventurer is impressive enough without embellishment."
Bell felt heat rise to his cheeks at the compliment. "I was lucky," he admitted.
"Perhaps," Syr replied, "but in the dungeon, luck favors the prepared and the determined." She glanced around the tavern before returning her gaze to him. "You should come here more often. There's much to learn from listening to other adventurers, lessons that might save your life someday."
Bell nodded, seeing the wisdom in her suggestion. "I'd like that."
As Bell was finishing the last of his stew, the tavern's front door burst open with a bang. A chorus of boisterous voices filled the air, and the energy in the room immediately shifted. Bell glanced up, and his heart nearly stopped.
Loki Familia had arrived.
The elite adventurers strode in with the easy confidence of celebrities, claiming a large table near the center of the room. The tavern's patrons greeted them with a mixture of respect, awe, and in some cases, thinly veiled envy. Bell recognized several members from his encounter in the dungeon—the Amazon twins, the werewolf Bete, the regal high elf Riveria, and at the back of the group...
Alicia Forestlight.
She entered last, laughing at something one of her companions had said. Her golden hair caught the tavern's warm light, and her hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. She wore casual clothes rather than her adventurer's gear, but even in simple attire, she carried herself with a natural grace that set her apart.
Bell froze, his spoon suspended halfway to his mouth. He hadn't expected to see her again so soon, and certainly not here. His heart raced as memories of their encounter flooded back—her fluid movements as she defeated the minotaur, her kind smile, the potion she had gifted him.
"Mama Mia!" the goddess Loki called out, her mischievous eyes narrowed as usual. "Your best ale for my children! We're celebrating another successful expedition!"
Cheers erupted from their table as a large, imposing woman emerged from behind the bar. She gave Loki a stern look that would have intimidated most deities.
"You pay up front this time, Loki. I haven't forgotten your last tab."
The tavern erupted in laughter as Loki dramatically placed a bag of coins on the table with an exaggerated sigh.
Bell couldn't tear his eyes away from Alicia. She had taken a seat between Riveria and one of the Amazon twins, engaged in conversation, seemingly unaware of his presence in the corner. He should leave, he thought. He wasn't ready to face her yet, not until he had grown stronger.
"You're staring," Syr's gentle voice startled him. She had approached silently, refilling his juice without him noticing.
Bell's face flushed crimson. "I—I'm not—"
Syr's knowing smile stopped his stammering. "The golden-haired one? Alicia Forestlight, right? Level 4, rising star of Loki Familia." She glanced between Bell and Alicia. "Interesting."
"It's not what you think," Bell protested weakly.
Syr merely raised an eyebrow but mercifully chose not to press further. "Would you like anything else?"
"No, thank you," Bell replied, suddenly very interested in the last few spoonfuls of his stew.
Syr nodded and moved away to serve the raucous Loki Familia table. Bell tried to keep his eyes on his food, but they kept drifting toward Alicia of their own accord. She was laughing at something one of the Amazons had said, the sound barely audible over the tavern's noise yet somehow distinct to Bell's ears.
As the evening progressed and drinks flowed freely at the Loki Familia table, the volume of their conversation increased. Bell remained in his corner, nursing his juice, finding himself unable to leave despite knowing he should. Each glimpse of Alicia seemed to root him more firmly to his seat.
It was when Bete, clearly several drinks in, raised his voice that Bell's attention sharpened.
"Hey, Alicia!" the werewolf called out, his words slightly slurred. "Tell everyone about that pathetic rookie you saved! The one who nearly pissed himself running from a minotaur!"
Bell felt his stomach drop. He shrank further into his corner, hoping desperately that the dim lighting would keep him hidden.
Alicia's expression hardened. "Don't start, Bete."
"What?" Bete continued, either missing or ignoring her warning tone. "It was hilarious! Little white-haired rabbit running for his life! Barely two weeks as an adventurer and wandering around on the fifth floor? He shouldn't even be alive!"
"That's enough," Alicia's voice cut through the noise with quiet authority.
Bete snorted. "You're too soft, Alicia. Weaklings like that have no place in the dungeon. They're just waiting to become monster food."
"And you're drunk," Alicia replied coldly. "That 'weakling' made it to the fifth floor in two weeks, Bete. How long did it take you to reach that level?"
The werewolf's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you actually defending that rabbit?"
"I'm pointing out facts," Alicia said, her hazel eyes flashing. "That 'pathetic rookie' showed more courage and determination than many adventurers with years of experience. Maybe you've forgotten what that looks like."
Riveria placed a calming hand on Alicia's arm, but her eyes held approval. "Bete, that's quite enough. We're here to celebrate, not disparage other adventurers."
Bell couldn't bear it any longer. The mixture of shame at being discussed and gratitude toward Alicia for defending him was too overwhelming. He reached into his pouch, placed payment for his meal on the table—significantly more than was necessary—and rose to leave, keeping his head down.
He moved quickly toward the exit, weaving between tables, desperate to escape before being recognized. But as he neared the door, he made the mistake of glancing back one last time.
His ruby eyes met hazel.
Alicia's expression shifted from annoyance at Bete to surprise as she recognized him. Bell froze for a heartbeat, then pushed through the door into the night, his face burning with embarrassment.
Behind him in the tavern, Riveria's keen eyes had caught the brief exchange. She looked between Alicia and the departing white-haired boy, then gave a subtle nod toward the door.
No words were needed. Alicia was already rising from her seat, ignoring Bete's confused questions and Loki's suddenly interested expression.
"I'll be back," she said simply, then followed the path Bell had taken into the night.
The cool evening air greeted her as she stepped outside, her eyes scanning the street for a glimpse of white hair among the evening crowds of Orario.