Chapter 3: Heart of a Hero
The sound of a hammer striking an anvil woke him. It wasn't that early in the morning, but even so, he felt reluctant to open his eyes.
Welf had already begun his morning forging routine, and there was simply no convincing him to skip it—not even for a day.
Bell yawned.
He hadn't been sleeping well since returning from hell alongside Ryuu. Nightmares plagued him—chilling night terrors that froze his blood and filled him with dread.
Those days were seared into his memory like a brand.
Unconsciously, he clutched his left arm. It was perfectly fine—no wounds, no scars—but sometimes a phantom pain would creep over it. According to Armid, the daughter of the Dian Cecht Familia and the most renowned healer in all of Orario—perhaps even the entire world—the pain was purely psychological.
Something that neither magic nor potions could heal.
It had been some time since those events—two full months, to be exact—during which he hadn't set foot in the Dungeon. Not because he didn't want to, but because he was forbidden. He wasn't allowed to descend until his body had fully recovered from the damage he had sustained.
Even when he asked his goddess to let him venture into the upper floors, he was completely denied. And not just by her—Lili, Welf, Mikoto, and Haruhime were all against it. Thinking they were overreacting, he had secretly gone to the Guild, only to be thoroughly scolded by Eina.
Still, it wasn't as if all that time had been wasted.
Today's a big day.
With renewed determination, he got up, grabbed his weapons, and stepped out into the mansion's back garden.
Adjusting his stance, he took a deep breath of the cold morning air, which froze his lungs before he exhaled a plume of steam.
Over the past months, his physical growth had come to a halt—but his understanding of himself had made a significant leap.
Understanding his own powerhad been one of his greatest challenges, something that had plagued him ever since his growth began accelerating. Each time he returned from the Dungeon, his stats would spike absurdly, and he leveled up at a breakneck pace—breaking record after record.
He had barely managed to adjust when he reached Level 4, fighting with his life hanging by a thread.
His surprise had been immense upon returning from hell and seeing that his overall stats had surpassed 600 points across the board. He had only just become a Level 4, yet he already had the potential to reach Level 5 without the slightest issue...
Another level-up in such a short time would be the last straw. Gods and adventurers alike would begin digging for the truth. No one—no matter how talented—could advance so rapidly, regardless of how much effort they poured into it.
Power-hungry factions would take notice, and Bell would be thrust into the eye of the storm.
Although the Hestia Familia had grown in influence over time, they still lagged far behind the true titans of Orario. If the Freya or Loki Familias sought to uncover the reason behind his accelerated growth, it could ignite another war between Familias—and that would be the best-case scenario.
According to his goddess, the stat increase had been dramatic, even for him. So, they had agreed to keep his Falna hidden and delay his level-up, at least until the fallout from the Juggernaut incident settled.
Understanding the stakes, Bell had focused all his efforts on fully adapting to his own strength.
He drew his daggers, and his body entered a combat stance. His eyes sharpened, muscles tensed to their limit.
Before him, a mental image began to take shape—slowly, deliberately.
A ghost from his memories.
Golden hair cascaded like sunlight, accompanied by a gaze that revealed no emotion.
She was like a glacier—something that would, unintentionally, drive others away with its sheer presence. Yet for Bell, that coldness was no barrier. He saw the gentle warmth hidden beneath that seemingly impenetrable exterior.
Every time their eyes met, he caught fleeting glimpses of something more—subtle sparks of emotion trying to break through the icy wall shielding her heart.
To the rest of the world, she was distant, reserved. But Bell knew there was more—a quiet, inner beauty waiting to be uncovered. To him, that girl had become a captivating mystery, a story waiting to be told. And he was determined to be the one who unraveled it.
His heart raced for a moment. Even as a mental projection, he couldn't help but be drawn to her.
She was Aiz Wallenstein, the Sword Princess—executive of the Loki Familia and a level six adventurer.
His teacher... his savior... his goal...
The blush on his cheeks faded, replaced by an expression of unwavering seriousness.
He closed his eyes, heightening every sense to its limit—then slowly opened them once more.
There was no fear in his gaze, no trace of doubt. These were the eyes of a true warrior. Crimson flames burned within them, forging his resolve.
Today, I'll win!
How many times had he told himself those words in this very moment?
Even he had lost count.
After two months of relentless sparring, he had never once managed to stand on equal footing with her.
But today was different...
The world around him blurred, and the ghost of his memory became sharper, more solid—more real.
Like him, Aiz drew her sword and shifted into the same battle stance she always used when training him atop the city walls.
The atmosphere grew tense—both locked in silent analysis, searching for the slightest weakness in the other.
As adventurers whose strengths lay in speed, they both knew: the first strike could decide everything.
Even the sound of a dewdrop falling on the grass might have been enough to shatter the stillness.
And so it did. In an instant, both stepped forward.
Perfectly synchronized.
Aiz's sword surged toward Bell's chest with blinding speed, while Bell's dagger sliced through the air toward her unguarded abdomen.
Using the mithril dagger Welf had forged for his dual-wielding style, Bell intercepted her strike, parrying it cleanly to the side.
He thought he had her.
But then...
The projection of Aiz vanished from his sight. The Hestia Knife missed its mark—she was no longer there.
A swirl of defeat churned in Bell's chest. He had poured every ounce of his power and speed into that strike.
He was certain—even a freshly ascended Level 5 wouldn't have withstood that blow. But he also knew his opponent wasn't justanyone. There was a reason she was officially recognized as one of the most powerful adventurers in Orario.
With a single leap, Aiz had evaded the attack.
While airborne, her body flipped gracefully, soaring over Bell's stunned figure before landing lightly behind him.
Her footwork was flawless—elegant and precise, devoid of any wasted motion. It was something Bell had yet to master.
Sensing the impending blow, his body froze.
In his current stance, blocking an attack from Aiz was impossible. His daggers lacked both the reach and speed to counter it in time.
His only way to survive was to duck.
His legs bent at the exact moment the sword sliced through the space where his neck had just been.
Their eyes met.
Bell took advantage of his low stance to sweep his leg out in a low kick, forcing the projection to retreat.
They had returned to the starting point once more.
...
After a couple of hours, Bell's breathing was heavy and uneven. His grip on his daggers was no longer firm—they now lacked strength.
That mental training had exhausted him faster than a full day in the Dungeon.
His muscles trembled from fatigue. They couldn't go on. While he bore no wounds, pushing himself to his limit had drained his stamina.
He had lost count of how many times Aiz would've wounded him had this been a real fight.
And yet, a bright smile stretched across his face—a smile that wouldn't look out of place on a child who had finally achieved something they had long sought after.
He had done it!
His arm remained outstretched toward the projection, which no moved anymore. At last, the Hestia Knife had managed to leave a cut—small but visible—on Aiz's cheek.
"I... I did it," he whispered, letting the last bit of air escape his lungs.
Then he let himself fall backward onto the grass.
The projection vanished—it had never truly been there. Had anyone been watching, they would've seen nothing more than Bell swinging his knife over and over, slicing through empty air.
Some might've even thought he was crazy, watching the strange, erratic movements.
Butheknew—after this battle, he had managed to get just a little bit closer to her.
I wonder... how strong is the real Ais?
During their training atop the city walls, she never used her full strength—never struck with the intent to kill.
That had naturally limited what his projection could replicate.
He knew Ais possessed a chantless magic, just like he did—a spell that made her drastically more powerful in battle.
Speed, strength, versatility—everything increased by leaps and bounds.
How long could he last againstthatAis?
Minutes? Seconds? Would he even survive her first move?
Bell had his trustyFirebolt, a versatile spell in battle, andArgonaut, which amplified his power—but evenArgo Vesta, his trump card, was limited to pure destructive force.
In a life-or-death fight, chargingArgonautwas nearly impossible. It restricted his movements too much, leaving him wide open to any attack.
Not to mention the mental fatigue it inflicted.
Firebolton its own lacked impact. A proper chanted spell could turn the tide of a battle in an instant—especially if the adventurer's growth granted them a magic circle.
Unfortunately, Bell possessed neither of those advantages.
Fireboltwas useful against single targets, but that was where its strength ended. And against enemies resistant to fire, it became nearly useless.
According to the adventurer's guide Eina had given him, it mentioned the existence of Magna lakes in the deep floors—places inhabited by monsters highly resistant to fire.
"Bell-sama..." Haruhime's gentle voice called to him from the doorway.
He jumped to his feet, quickly masking his exhaustion, and turned to her.
She was holding her tail between her hands, and tiny tears had formed at the corners of her eyes.
"Haruhime-san, are you okay? Did someone do something to you?"
A few soft sobs escaped her throat before she raised a delicate arm and pointed toward her feet.
"Yesterday... Yesterday I... I planted some beautiful flowers," she said in a trembling voice, motioning toward the ground.
Looking around, Bell immediately realized his mistake. The garden, once vibrant with blossoms, had been completely ruined. Broken stems, torn leaves...
The grass was flattened from his training, and in many places, the earth bore spiderweb-like cracks from the pressure he had exerted. The traces of his intense practice were painfully clear in the state of the garden.
The once perfect and beautiful garden was now in ruins.
Bell's face flushed with shame and regret as he realized just how much effort and love Haruhime had poured into creating that peaceful sanctuary.
She adored spending time beneath the shade of the trees, basking in the beauty of the landscape she had so tenderly nurtured. It was her haven of calm and serenity—a place where she found peace.
Every morning, Haruhime would water the flowers and tend to them with the utmost care.
"It was an accident! I'll help you fix it!" he exclaimed, bowing deeply in apology.
Her quiet sobs stopped the moment she heard those words. "Do you promise?" Haruhime asked softly. She didn't blame Bell—not for this. She knew him too well. This wasn't something her hero would ever do on purpose.
"Yes, I promise!" Bell replied, his voice full of conviction.
Haruhime offered him a smile filled with warmth and happiness.
"Hestia-sama requested a meeting in the main hall. Lili-san and Welf-san are already there." Calmer now, she remembered the true reason she had come.
"Kami-sama wants us to gather?" Bell murmured, scratching the back of his head, trying to recall if there was anything special about today.
...
"How interesting," Loki muttered, her sharp eyes locked onto Miach with a look that seemed indifferent—but only on the surface.
"You should take this more seriously," Miach replied firmly. "So far, every one of my daughter's premonitions... has come true."
"Which premonition?" Loki asked with a serious tone. "The one that said the Hestia Familia's boy would die on the 27th floor? Or the one about the irregular slaughtering adventurers?"
"Those premonitionsalmostcame true," Miach replied. "Which is exactly why we need to be prepared for whatever might happen."
Loki walked over to the window, gazing out at the view from Twilight Manor. It was one of the finest residences in all of Orario—the headquarters of her Familia—and it offered a stunning view of the city.
"I never said I wouldn't act... but my kids are on an expedition in the lower floors. Even if I sent a request to the Guild now, it wouldn't reach them for at least a week—and it would take them just as long to return."
Those words were the final piece of the puzzle falling into place in Miach's mind.
"They were expecting this..."
"It's likely... Evilus—or whoever's planning to attack Orario—will take advantage of this window, while most of my Familia is stuck deep in the Dungeon," Loki said, reaching the same conclusion.
Turning around, the goddess positioned herself with her back to the light streaming into the room, casting her figure in shadow. A chilling grin stretched from ear to ear—one of pure joy and excitement, starkly at odds with the grave nature of their discussion.
A shiver ran down Miach's spine.
"Isn't this just perfect?" she whispered, her voice brimming with twisted delight. "Finally... the rats are going to crawl out of their hole."
The discomfort in the room was thick. Miach struggled to find the right words, taken aback by how Loki, rather than showing concern for Orario's potential danger, was already calculating what she stood to gain.
"Hunting them down in the Dungeon was becoming tedious. This... this is the perfect chance to wipe the slate clean," she added, her expression grotesque in the eyes of any sane observer—reminding Miach exactly why so many gods considered her a complete psychopath.
"But the Black Dragon..." Miach's gaze was difficult to read—wary, burdened. While Loki seemed eager to twist the situation to her advantage, the reality was grim.
The Black Dragon was a true catastrophe, something that couldn't be stopped. Even if a god broke the divine rules and unleashed theirArcanumto face it, the chances of victory were slim at best.
And doing so would break the ancient pact with the Dungeon. Ouranos was already doing everything he could to keep the Dungeon's rage in check. If a god used their power to kill one of her children, she would erupt in fury—and nothing could stop her.
"Do you really believe those crazed fanatics have the power to control something likethat? Even the Dungeon itself—the mother of all calamities—gave up trying to control its mind after giving birth to it."
Clenching her fist in the air, Loki continued, "In the unlikely event those wayward foolsdomanage to bring the dragon to Orario... they'd actually be doing me a favor. After all, my Familia's been hunting that thing for years."
"Loki, please—not in front of the guests," Riveria interrupted, the only executive who had chosen to remain on the surface during the ongoing expedition.
"Sorry,Mom, I got a little carried away... Could you go get everything ready for me?" Loki replied, relaxing with a mischievous grin.
Riveria sighed and left the room, heading off to begin the necessary preparations.
The Loki Familia had long considered the possibility of such an event—an assault on the city during a moment of weakness. That's why, in collaboration with the Guild and the Ganesha Familia, they had devised a contingency plan... one that had been gathering dust for years.
"You should go too," Loki added, her expression returning to a calm, innocent smile that concealed her calculating and sadistic nature. "Tell your daughters to prepare for war."
Just as Miach turned to leave, Loki stopped him. "Your Familia runs a pharmacy, right? Gather every potion you've got left and get them ready for distribution to the adventurers. I'll talk the Guild into reimbursing you when this is all over."
"I'll do it... By the way, do you recognize this emblem?" Miach asked, pulling a sheet of paper from his robe and placing it on the desk in front of her. "According to my daughter, it was the only thing she could see whenever she closed her eyes after waking."
Silence filled the room once more. Loki was left alone, her eyes scanning the symbol.
But she found nothing familiar. No clue. No connection.
"Interesting... This is going to be fun," she whispered, a monstrous smile creeping once more across her face.