(Ryuu Lion's POV – Hostess of Fertility)
The air in the Hostess of Fertility was thick with tension, though the patrons—blissfully unaware—laughed and drank as if the world hadn't just shifted on its axis.
Ryuu Lion stood frozen behind the counter, her elven ears twitching at the remnants of the conversation that had just shattered the evening's peace.
Lady Freya had been here.
Syr had cried.
And Bell Cranel—that white-haired boy who smelled of blood and secrets—had walked out carrying his goddess like a shield against a storm none of them could see.
Ryuu's fingers tightened around the glass she was polishing. It was a miracle it hadn't cracked under her grip.
Ever since that night Bell Cranel stumbled into the Hostess—wide-eyed, jumpy, yet carrying an aura that made her instincts scream—Ryuu had known something was wrong.
First, the bloodlust.
It clung to him like a second shadow, subtle but undeniable. Not the raw, unfocused rage of a berserker, but the cold, honed edge of someone who had killed—recently—and was still coming to terms with it. As an elf, Ryuu was attuned to the flow of life and death, and the dissonance in Bell's magic signature was glaring.
He flinched at bloodlust. A reaction born of experience, not fear.
Then, the drunk adventurer.
The fool who'd lunged at Bell with a knife, only for Ryuu to intercept and drag him to the cellar. Bell's eyes had flickered—not with shock, but with recognition. The look of someone who'd faced death before and knew its weight.
And Syr.
Syr, who never looked at adventurers the way she looked at Bell Cranel.
Syr, who laughed and teased and charmed, yet whose gaze lingered on the boy with something akin to hunger. Not romantic infatuation—something deeper. Something that made Ryuu's skin prickle.
And now…
"When is your birthday, Syr?"
"What are you hiding?"
A simple question. Innocent. Yet the way Bell had asked it—like he already knew the answer would be a lie—had sent a chill down Ryuu's spine.
Then came Lady Freya.
She doesn't know why Mama Mia is talking about her Goddess and Syr like they are the same person.
From what she knows.
The Goddess of Beauty is like a storm, her presence bending the very air to her will.
She was someone takes someone she wants and with her charm she can obtain what she wanted just like lady Loki has told.
Ryuu had seen the way Syrs eyes lingered on Bell—assessing, possessive—before shifting to Mama Mia when she rebuked her while using something called whammy.
She and her Goddess Astrea had met Lady Freya during war council to deal with Evilus remnants. She saw her once and was easily captivates.
Only with her Goddesses protection she and her divine presence she could ignore it.
Then she felt the same presence when Syr was trying to stop and ask what was wrong as Mr.Cranel was petrified.
Then she felt something like a rebound similar like charm she felt long ago.
She saw a pink hue and a purple hue clashing like two auras arose from Mr. Cranel and Syr.
It seemed they clashed and syr's aura rebounded.
But to her knowledge Syr was not an adventurer did she do something that caused Bell Cranel to be horrified.
It seemed she was shocked and angered
with an intensity that bordered on fury.
And Syr…
Syr had cried.
Not the theatrical tears she sometimes used to manipulate tips from drunk patrons. Real, shaking sobs that made Ryuu's chest ache.
What does Lady Freya want with Syr?
The answer was obvious, yet unthinkable. Lady Freya collected treasures—people who shone brightly in her eyes. Bell, for whatever reason, hadn't fallen into her grasp yet. But Syr…
Ryuu's thoughts were cut short by the memory of the divine pressure that had followed Lady Hestia's departure. A crushing weight, ancient and merciless, that had stolen the breath from her lungs.
She had only felt this like once before—when Lady Astrea, her goddess, had passed judgment on Evilus members.
This was Lady Hestia's fury.
The Virgin Goddess had stood there, small yet unyielding, her divine aura unleashed. And Bell…
Ryuu's breath hitched heard something she though was impossible and Bizzare what she heard.
He resisted Lady Freya's charm.
Not just resisted—ignored it entirely. As if his soul had already been claimed by something—or someone—else.
Mama Mia and Syr was talking about something about "IT" interfering before she took the dinner which Bell Cranel in his haste left during that evening.
Now, the boy was gone, vanishing into the night like that same evening with Hestia in his arms. The only one left standing in the wreckage of a strom of conversation was Mama Mia, her massive arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
All three of them gave a look for explanations the only thing they got was a shake of his head and only a sentence.
"Let me handle this"
Then she left giving May the Kitchen chef charge much to the charging of Anya who declared herself as the senior but got a fist to her head.
Chloe and Lunoire hovered nearby, their usual banter silenced by the evening's events.
"What," Chloe finally muttered, "in the nine hells was that?"
Lunoire adjusted the glasses she was carrying, her voice hushed. "Trouble. The kind that gets people killed."
Ryuu said nothing. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments:
Syr's strange fixation.
And beneath it all, that feeling—the one that had haunted her since the night Bell first walked in. Then at last today.
He knows something. Something about Syr. Something about Syr herself.
She set the glass down with deliberate care.
"Ryuu?" Chloe frowned. "You've got that look. The 'I'm about to do something stupidly heroic' look."
Ryuu didn't deny it. "I need to speak with Bell Cranel."
"Why?" Lunoire asked.
"Because," Ryuu said softly, "whatever is coming… he's at the center of it."
And if Lady Freya was involved, then Syr—her friend, her family—was in danger.
Ryuu Lion had walked away from vengeance once.
She would not walk away from this.
(Freya's POV – Folkvangr, Dawn)
The first rays of dawn painted the sky in bruised hues of purple and gold, but Freya saw none of it.
She paced the length of her opulent balcony in Folkvangr, bare feet silent on cool marble, her silver hair a tangled cascade around shoulders tense with coiled energy.
The night had been an eternity. Every rustle of silk, every chime of a distant bell, had sparked hope – Mia? – only to leave her hollow.
Behind her, radiating silent concern, stood her pillars: Ottar, a mountain of stoic calm; Helun, her expression unreadable but posture attentive; Horn, her youthful face creased with worry.
Ottar held a crystal goblet of untouched wine. Helun clutched a silken shawl, offered and rejected hours ago. Horn fidgeted, her gaze darting between her goddess and the horizon.
"Where is she?" Freya hissed, not for the first time, her voice raw with impatience. She stopped abruptly, gripping the balcony rail, knuckles white.
The sprawling city of Orario below was beginning to stir, oblivious to the storm raging in its most powerful goddess. "That stubborn dwarf takes too long!"
A knock echoed through the chamber door – sharp, precise. Freya whirled, hope igniting like wildfire in her violet eyes.
"At last!" She practically flew across the room, flinging the door open herself.
Her eager smile faltered. It wasn't Mia Grand. It was Hedin, the elegant Sword Elf, his expression carefully neutral, though a flicker of apology touched his eyes.
"My Lady," Hedin bowed. "Allen sends word. He located Lady Idunn."
Disappointment warred with duty. Freya stepped back, gesturing him in with a curt wave. "Speak."
"She descended long ago, Lady Freya," Hedin reported. "She serves as a teacher at the School District."
Freya blinked. "A… teacher?" The image of the wise, often enigmatic Idunn surrounded by children was unexpected.
Then, she nodded slowly, a ghost of understanding softening her features. "Yes. That… suits her. She always had patience for unraveling knots, be they of thread or of the mind. Where?"
"Near the Port of Altena," Hedin replied. "Leveraging the new Orichalcum trade routes. The Guild repurposed the old trading post for the school."
Freya recalled the bustling stone exchange that once stood there. "Practical." Her impatience resurfaced instantly. "But Mia… has she come?"
Ottar and Hedin exchanged a brief, loaded glance.
Before they could answer, the chamber door exploded inwards, not opening, but detaching slightly from its hinges with a thunderous CRACK!
Mia Grand stood in the doorway, dwarf-sized but radiating the presence of a titan, dust motes dancing in the dawn light behind her. "Oi! Stop yer frettin', lass! I'm here!"
Hedin twitched, his elven sensibilities deeply offended. "Must you be so… crass?" he muttered under his breath, smoothing his immaculate tunic.
Mia's hearing, honed by decades of bar fights and rowdy patrons, was legendary.
She stomped forward, her hand a blur. THWACK! A solid, open-palmed slap landed on Hedin's upper arm, staggering the surprised elf.
"Crass?!" Mia boomed, hands on her hips. "Better crass an' alive than proper an' stale as week-old bread, ya pointy-eared prune! Standin' there lookin' like a fancy coat rack!" Hedin rubbed his arm, muttering curses that would blister paint, the sheer absurdity of the situation momentarily diffusing the tension. Ottar's lips twitched. Horn stifled a giggle.
Freya ignored the comedy. She rushed to Mia, her regal composure vanishing, replaced by the eager anxiety of a child awaiting news. "Mia! Tell me! What did he say? What did he say?"
Mia's expression sobered. "Met 'em both. The boy an' his fiery shrimp of a goddess." She met Freya's intense gaze. "The lass… Hestia… she knows. 'Bout Syr."
Freya's jaw tightened. "Tch. Of little consequence." Her focus was laser-sharp. "The boy? Bell Cranel?"
"Said he'd meet ya," Mia stated, watching Freya's eyes instantly light up like captured stars. "In a week."
"A week? I—"
"BUT," Mia cut her off, her voice dropping, heavy with warning.
"His goddess… Freya, she ain't just upset. She's volcanic. Used her Arcanum right then an' there, I swear! Felt like the sky was 'bout ta fall. Talked 'bout goin' back to Tenkai… permanently. An' takin' a chunk of Orario with her, I reckon."
Freya visibly flinched, taking a half-step back. The color drained slightly from her face. The threat wasn't idle.
A goddess pushed to the brink, unleashing her divine power fully? It wouldn't just be Hestia's end; it would be an unmitigated catastrophe. "She wouldn't…"
"Wouldn't she?" Mia countered grimly. "When cornered? When protectin' her child? Don't push her, Freya. Blazin' glory ain't just a phrase."
"She might as well Leave Orario from the looks of it the boy was not being subtle with about a week, more like taking time to leave"
Freya shrieked as she shuddered if that happens that wasn't rejection but ignoring her Love.
Ottar stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling. "Then we meet the boy alone. Without the Goddess. I will bring him."
Mia shook her head vigorously. "Ya great lumberin' oak, look at ya! Yer the strongest, sure, but yer presence alone would scare the lad stiff! He'd bolt or freeze, thinkin' it's a threat, not a chat. An' Syr'd skin me."
"Then how?" Freya demanded, frustration warring with caution.
"De-escalate," Mia stated firmly. "Start small. Start… familiar. I go. An'…" She pointed at Horn. "Syr goes." Horn blinked, startled.
"We meet the boy first. Casual-like. Talk. Then, when he's settled, we move ta a private spot – a closed pub, back room – an' then ya reveal yerself, Freya."* She jabbed a finger at the goddess. "Not in yer full glory, mind! But as yerself. Controlled."
She turned to Horn. "Little Boar. Yer job is ta watch. Horn Take her appearance." She nodded at Freya.
"Be seen near the dungeon gates or his church. Look like Freya waitin'. But just look. Don't approach. Don't interact. Let 'im know the meeting's on, but the pressure's off him for now."
Mia looked back at Freya. "He usually hits the dungeon early. Comes out late afternoon, near sunset, if he goes deep. If not, by midday's end. We'll catch 'im when he surfaces."
Freya processed the plan. It was cautious. It lacked the immediacy she craved, but Mia's warning about Hestia's wrath resonated deeply.
She couldn't risk the explosion. Not yet. She needed the boy willing, not broken or hidden behind a goddess-shaped bomb.
"Very well," Freya breathed, the tension easing slightly into steely resolve. She turned to Horn. "You know what to do." Then, to Mia: "Make the arrangements."
With a shimmer of divine power that momentarily filled the room with the scent of night-blooming flowers and distant stars, Freya's form shifted.
The overwhelming aura dimmed, the silver hair darkened to Syr's grey violet, the violet eyes softened, the regal posture relaxed into Syr's friendly slouch. Only the intensity in those eyes remained purely Freya.
Simultaneously, Horn concentrated. Her youthful features sharpened, her posture straightened into imperious grace, her hair shimmered into liquid silver.
She became a mirror image of Freya, though lacking the goddess's crushing presence – an excellent decoy.
Mia looked at "Syr" and "Freya" (Horn). "Right. Let's play this smart. No fireworks. Just talk." She patted the disguised Freya on the arm. "C'mon, 'Syr'. Time ta go wait near the rabbit hole."
As Mia led the disguised Freya out, Hedin still rubbing his arm and glaring at Mia's back, Ottar watching with silent vigilance, and Horn-as-Freya preparing to take her position, the real Freya – hidden within Syr's familiar form – felt the anticipation coil tighter than ever.
The hunt wasn't over. It had just changed terrain. And the destiny – the enigma of Bell Cranel – was now closer than she'd been all night.
She just had to wait. And have patience. The hardest part for a goddess like her used to taking what she desired when one was not willing, will face the greatest challenge. The sunset meeting couldn't come soon enough.
~(Scene Change) ~
(Bell Cranel's POV – Exiting Babel Tower, Late Afternoon)
The trek out of the Dungeon's upper floors felt unnervingly quiet. Monsters that usually lurked in ambush seemed to shy away, deterred by the sheer, palpable aura radiating from Ais Wallenstein.
Bell watched her, a silent golden storm at the periphery of their ragged group. Her speed was breathtaking – a flicker of movement, a whisper of wind (Ariel), and a War Shadow or Orc would simply cease to exist, bisected or pulverized before it could fully register the threat.
Her swordplay wasn't just skill; it was an elemental force, a whirlwind of precision that made the monsters he'd struggled against weeks ago seem like mere annoyances.
He kicked aside a Kobold that dared skitter too close, his own enhanced strength making the motion effortless, almost contemptuous.
Vigilance remained, a hard-wired instinct after the ambush, but the immediate danger felt distant.
Alone with his thoughts amidst the party, the weight of the day settled like lead in his bones.
He had killed again. Not the assassin – that had been grim necessity, a brutal dance ending in cold steel through the heart.
That act, chillingly, didn't shake him as deeply as he expected. The numbness was its own kind of horror. No, the crushing blow was the abandonment.
Leaving those seven Soma thugs – wounded, pleading, crawling – to the encroaching Orcs and Imps. Hearing the wet thuds, the screams cut short.
He could have disabled them. Could have tried. A small, insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind: They deserved it. Their fault. The fault of the ones who sent them.
Survival demanded it. But the rationalization tasted like ash. Luck hadn't been on his side; his own limitations had failed him.
He hadn't been strong enough to subdue without slaughter, to protect without becoming a monster himself.
He was still weak. Weak enough that survival meant compromising the very ideals he'd carried from his grandfather's stories.
He watched Ais's golden figure glide ahead, expression aloof, untouched by the blood drying on Bell's own borrowed dagger, Raksas's Fang.
He envied that apparent detachment, that effortless strength. But he still couldn't achieve it. The phantom drip of blood on the blade was a constant reminder.
His gaze hardened as the name crystallized in his mind: Zanis. The orchestrator of this misery. The one who saw him, saw Lili, saw desperate girls like Momiji and Kaeda, as easy prey. Rage, cold and sharp, replaced the numbness. This ends. Now.
Since my hands are already stained… what's one more life? The thought was chillingly pragmatic. Leaving Zanis alive meant more assassins, more ambushes, more innocent lives used as bait.
His earlier naivete had cost lives – Canoe's men, the Soma thugs, the assassin. The System had forced his hand, yes, but indecision had been the root.
No more. He needed to be bold. Quick. Smart. He would end the threat at its source.
The sudden shift from dungeon gloom to the orange-gold light of the setting sun outside Babel Tower momentarily blinded him.
Blinking, he took in the scene: people milling about, adventurers returning, merchants hawking. And eyes. Many eyes, drawn to their haggard group.
Lili, small and determined but covered in grime. Momiji and Kaeda, clothes torn and bloodstained, the Hume Bunny trying desperately to hold her tunic together, both radiating trauma.
Ais, pristine yet emanating an aura that made the crowd instinctively give them a wide berth. The stares weren't all sympathetic; some held morbid curiosity, others less savory intentions.
Bell shook his head, pushing past the discomfort. "Miss Ais, Lili," he said, his voice low but firm. "Can you take them to a clothing shop? Get them something decent.
Lili, reimburse Miss Ais from the drops and stones we have." He met Ais's golden eyes. "Miss Ais, could you… watch over them for a while? Please."
Ais gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Mn."
Bell's gaze, sharpened by the System's passive awareness and his own honed senses, scanned the periphery. There. Two men near a recently repaired café – the one damaged in the Minotaur incident months ago. One wore the Soma crest, glasses askew, face pale with horror as he recognized the rescued girls.
The other… Bell's blood ran cold. The man in the expensive black suit, currently releasing a terrified Zanis's collar. The partner. The Black Fist. Level 3. The System confirmed the threat assessment.
[HOSTILE INTENT DETECTED]
[Level -3]
Zanis met Bell's eyes across the plaza. Pure, unadulterated terror contorted his features. He stumbled back, turned, and ran, shoving through the crowd towards the labyrinthine depths of Daedalus Street.
The Man In the Black suit didn't run. He locked eyes with Bell, his expression a mask of raw, hate-filled fury. The message was clear: I know what you did. You will pay.
Bell closed his eyes for a brief moment, exhaling a sigh that felt like it carried the weight of the Dungeon itself. Two lives. The thought was resigned, almost weary. It seems two lives need to be cut short tonight.
He turned back to Lili. "Lili. Go with Miss Ais and the girls. Get them clothes.
Then, take them to the Guild. Wait for me there with Miss Eina. Explain… what you can." His voice was flat, devoid of its usual warmth.
Lili's eyes widened, understanding dawning. "Master Bell… what are you going to do? What are you planning?"
Bell's crimson eyes met hers, hard as rubies.
"I have some business to attend to. A rat infestation to deal with. Permanently." He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, quickly replaced by grim acceptance. She nodded tightly.
Before anyone could react further, Bell gripped the still-bloody Raksas's Fang tightly. Stealth activated.
One second he was there, the next, he simply vanished from the midst of the group, leaving only a faint ripple in the air.
Gasps rose from the onlookers. Momiji and Kaeda stared at the empty spot, stunned. Ais's golden eyes widened fractionally, a spark of intense curiosity igniting within them. So that's how he evaded notice before…
Unseen, Bell pushed off the ground. Sprint flared. He became a phantom, a blue-tinged shadow flowing through the gaps in the unaware crowd, his senses fixed on the fleeing figure of Zanis and the lingering, hate-filled presence of the Black Fist.
The bloody knife felt heavy, purposeful, in his hand. He wasn't reacting anymore. He was hunting. Orario's cesspool of forsaken dreams was about to claim two more victims, and Bell Cranel would be the one to deliver them into the dark.
~ (Scene Change) ~
(Zanis's POV – Soma Familia Headquarters, Office)
Panic was a exploding in Zanis's chest, sparking with every ragged breath as he slammed the heavy oak door of his office shut, throwing the bolt with trembling hands.
The Sword Princess. The Sword Princess had seen him! And she'd been with the rabbit and those traitorous girls.
Reporting to the Guild was inevitable now. Ganesha Familia's investigators would come knocking.
Normally, a few hefty bribes slipped to Royman Mardel's pudgy hands would wash away accusations from nobodies like Bell Cranel or Lili.
But Loki Familia? They were an unstoppable avalanche. His carefully constructed world of shadows and soma was crumbling.
Born in the gutter, died in the gutter? The bitter thought echoed as he stumbled towards his ornate desk. Orario had always been cruel.
He'd been the scrawny rat, kicked by bigger boys, robbed of the meager Valis he begged for, surviving on scraps others discarded.
Salvation had come unexpectedly – a stray Evilus bomb obliterating his childhood tormentors.
Fate repeated itself when the previous Soma Captain, another obstacle, conveniently vanished after Zanis whispered a location to Evilus contacts.
The weak perish. The strong rule. He'd seen it with Zeus and Hera's fall. They had built their empire on that brutal truth.
Lilicua Arde… her eyes had mirrored his own burning ambition once. It infuriated him. He wouldn't let another gutter rat rise and threaten what he'd clawed from the filth.
He couldn't lose it all!
He burst through the main hall, ignoring the groaning, soma-drunk bodies littering the floor like discarded bottles.
Chandra, the weary Vice-Captain, called out, "Captain? What—?" Zanis didn't pause, shoving past him, taking the stairs two at a time. He slammed his office door shut again, leaning against it, heart hammering against his ribs.
Run. Hide. The plan formed in a frenzy. The Valis he'd siphoned for years – millions, hidden away. Enough to vanish, buy a powerful Grimoire far from Orario, become someone new.
Someone strong. He kicked aside the expensive woven carpet near his desk, revealing a cunningly disguised iron panel set into the floorboards.
Fumbling with the key hanging around his neck, he unlocked it, heaving the heavy panel open.
The hidden compartment exhaled the scent of dust and secrets. Inside lay his true legacy: damning files detailing shipments of "special" Soma to Evilus for brainwashing recruits; meticulous records of bribes paid to Guild officials to discredit and ultimately destroy Astrea Familia –
Hypocrites preaching justice while wielding slaughter; bank receipts tracing the Familia's funds diverted into his private accounts across multiple cities; and chillingly, correspondence stamped with the discreet seals of Ishtar Familia and Ikelos Familia. Partnerships in the flesh trade and dungeon loot smuggling.
He grabbed a sturdy travel bag, shoveling thick stacks of high-denomination Valis notes, a few bottles of the purest Soma (liquid currency), and a change of plain clothes.
He hesitated, then grabbed the smooth obsidian communication orb linked directly to Ikelos. Cleaners. He should have hired them for the rabbit job.
They'd silence this mess permanently. No new Astrea Familia would rise from his ashes.
He slammed the compartment shut, dragging the carpet back roughly. His eyes darted to the elegant lighter on his desk – silver, enchanted to burn hot and fast.
He needed to erase the evidence now. He slumped into his plush chair, reaching for the drawer where he kept it.
A wave of unnatural cold washed over him, stealing his breath. His hand froze inches from the drawer handle.
Then, the sharp, icy kiss of steel pressed against the soft flesh beneath his jaw.
He gasped, a thin line of fire blooming across his throat. Warmth trickled down his neck. He looked down, seeing crimson droplets fall onto his fine silk shirt.
"Don't move." The voice was low, calm, devoid of emotion, seeming to come from the shadows themselves.
"Think twice about what you're doing. Scream, and the next cut won't be a warning. Nod if you understand."
Terror, colder than the blade, seized Zanis. He nodded minutely, sweat stinging his eyes.
"Good. Now, you will answer my questions. Lie to me, and your life is forfeit. Nod."
Zanis nodded again, a whimper escaping his lips.
"What are the contents of those boxes and papers?" the voice demanded, the blade pressing fractionally harder, reminding him of its presence.
Zanis swallowed against the steel. "R-Receipts… Familia bank receipts… business dealings…" he stammered.
"Is that all?"
"Y-Yes!"
The pressure increased instantly. A deeper sting. More blood welled. "What did I say about lying? It seems you don't value your life."
Zanis cried out, a ragged sob. "Please! I-I was nervous! Please!"
Silence hung heavy, thick with threat. "Say what is in there. Now."
"There… there are also Familia dealings! With merchants… and other Familias!" he blurted.
"Which Familias?"
"I… I can't! If I tell you, they'll kill me! And you! You don't know who you're dealing with!" Desperation laced his voice.
"Did I say you could ask questions?" The hand not holding the knife clamped onto the back of Zanis's neck, fingers digging in like iron vices. He cried out in pain and fear.
"ISHTAR! IKELOS!" he shrieked, the names torn from him. "It was Ishtar and Ikelos Familia!"
The grip on his neck loosened slightly. "Is that it? Anything else you wish to add? Why do you have these receipts? Where is the money going?"
Zanis sobbed, a wet stain spreading on his expensive trousers. "For… for business! The money… it's mine! I saved it! For myself!"
"So. You stole from your Familia. Filled your own coffers," the voice stated flatly, the accusation hanging in the air like a death sentence.
"Yes," Zanis whispered, broken. "Yes…"
"Now. The final question." The voice was glacial. "Did you hire people today to kill a boy and kidnap two girls?"
Zanis's eyes flew wide. How? Had he been followed? Seen? Was this Loki? He twisted his head slightly, trying to see. "Are you… from Loki Familia?"
The hand on his neck clamped down with crushing force, cutting off his air. He gagged, stars exploding behind his eyes. "What. Did. I. Say. About. Questions?" Each word was a hammer blow.
"Sorry! Sorry! Over and over!" Zanis gasped when the grip eased fractionally. "Yes! Yes, I did! But it was… it was to protect the Familia! To maintain order!"
"And the second part? Did you sell people?"
Tears streamed down Zanis's face, mixing with the blood on his neck. "Yes," he whispered, the admission tasting like poison. "Yes."
The silence this time was profound, filled only with Zanis's ragged breathing and the drip of his blood onto the floor. The grip on his neck vanished completely.
"To whom?" The voice was softer now, but no less deadly.
"Ishtar… for her brothels… Ikelos… for laborers, muscle…" he choked out.
The cold steel pressed firmly back against his throat. The presence behind him shifted. Slowly, deliberately, the Stealth skill unraveled like mist dissipating.
The reflection in Zanis's polished desk drawer became horrifyingly clear: white hair, crimson eyes burning with cold fury, smeared with dirt and dried blood. Bell Cranel.
Zanis's breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping him. Shock warred with dawning, absolute terror. "Y-You…! The record holder?!"
Bell's free hand snapped out, clamping over Zanis's mouth before he could scream. "Answer the question."
His voice was a deadly whisper. "Do you still intend to pursue such vile acts? Will you continue to target me, Lili, or anyone else?"
Zanis thrashed weakly, terror overwhelming him.
He managed to wrench Bell's hand partly free.
"No! Please! Forgive me! I'll leave! Never come near you again! I swear! Gone! Disappeared! Farm work! Anything!" He babbled, tears and snot mixing on his face. "I'll turn over a new leaf! Please!"
Bell Cranel looked down at him, his crimson eyes boring into Zanis's soul. Then, they shifted.
A deep, unsettling violet light ignited within them, cold and alien. They seemed to see through Zanis's desperate pleas, peeling back the layers of fear to the rotten core beneath.
"Lie," Bell stated, the single word carrying the finality of a tombstone slamming shut.
Zanis's eyes bulged. "No! Please—!"
Bell's arm moved with blinding speed. A swift, precise flick of Raksas's Fang, honed by countless battles and empowered by the System.
The blade, already coated in the blood of Zanis's neck, sliced cleanly through the Captain's throat.
Zanis's plea became a wet, choking gurgle. Bell released him, stepping back. Zanis slumped forward in his plush chair, hands clutching uselessly at the fatal wound, blood cascading down his front in a dark torrent.
The unique enchantment on the dagger – the Bleed Effect – ensured the wound wouldn't clot, wouldn't seal. Life pumped out of him with horrifying speed.
Bell watched dispassionately for a split second. I should have asked about the assassins' origins.
The thought was clinical, detached. Heavy footsteps and frantic pounding sounded on the office door – Chandra. "Captain! Captain, what's happening?!"
Bell's gaze swept over the spilled Valis, the damning files, the hidden compartment. Then it settled on Zanis's face.
The terror was fading, replaced first by dazed shock, then a flicker of pure, impotent hate, and finally, as the light dimmed, a hollow, chilling acceptance. It was a look Bell knew would haunt his dreams.
He turned, a phantom once more as Stealth re-engaged. He moved silently to the open window he'd used to enter.
With one last glance at the dying rat king drowning in his ill-gotten wealth, Bell slipped out into the deepening twilight, vanishing onto the rooftops of Daedalus Street.
Inside the office, the door finally splintered under Chandra's shoulder charge. The Vice-Captain stumbled in, taking in the horrific scene: Zanis, lifeless in his chair, neck a ruin, surrounded by spilled blood, scattered Valis, and evidence of profound betrayal.
Downstairs, the oblivious, soma-drunk members groaned or laughed, lost in their artificial paradise.
God Soma, drawn by the sudden violent severing of a Familia bond, appeared silently in the doorway behind Chandra.
His usually vacant eyes took in the carnage, the hidden stash revealed, the bag packed for flight. A flicker of something – sorrow? Disappointment? – crossed his face before settling back into detached observation.
"Chandra," he murmured, his voice soft as always. "Seal the Familia house. Summon… everyone."
Above the squalid streets, Bell Cranel moved like a shadow under the newly risen crescent moon, jumping from roof to roof towards the Guild.
If anyone could have seen through his stealth, they might have noticed faint trails tracing his path – not just the grime of the dungeon, but the clear, silent tracks of water droplets cutting through the dirt on his cheeks.
The boy who dreamed of heroes was gone. The adventurer forged in blood and necessity ran through the night, forever changed.
~(Scene Change) ~
(Eina Tulle's POV – Guild Hall)
The paperwork on Eina's desk might as well have been written in Bell Cranels blood for all the attention she could give it. Her pen hovered over a damage report from the 10th floor, but her mind was miles away, buried under layers of worry and frustration.
Bell Cranel. Where was he? He hadn't shown for his scheduled lower-floor consultation – again. After the Minotaur incident, after everything… he was diving deeper, pushing harder, and avoiding the very guidance designed to keep him alive.
Her lectures were harsh, yes, but forged in the furnace of seeing too many bright sparks extinguished too soon. She'd have marched into the Dungeon herself to drag him out by his white hair if the fallout from the Minotaur escape wasn't consuming her days.
Hermes Familia was proving infuriatingly tight-lipped about the Irregular Minotaur's origins. The sword, however… her investigation had traced it.
A masterwork from Goblinus Familia. The price tag made her head spin – millions of Valis. Only a handful of Orario's giants could casually afford such a weapon: Freya, Ganesha, Loki.
Loki was out – post-expedition repairs and frantic prep for the next one devoured their resources and attention. Ganesha? Unlikely for such clandestine chaos.
Ishtar… possible, but messy. That left… Freya. The thought sent a chill down Eina's spine, intertwined with the secret Bell had entrusted her with: the Goddess of Beauty, masquerading as a waitress.
A secret she'd guard fiercely, even as it deepened her unease. Was Lady Freya playing some dangerous game involving Bell?
Her grim reverie shattered as a commotion echoed near the Guild entrance. Eina looked up, her professional mask snapping into place, only to freeze.
There stood Ais Wallenstein, the Sword Princess, looking characteristically composed but with a faint layer of dungeon grime.
Flanking her were three figures who looked like they'd been dragged backwards through the 18th floor: Lili, her small frame tense, eyes darting; and two unfamiliar girls – a Renard and a Hume Bunny – huddled together, clothes torn and soot-stained, faces pale with exhaustion and lingering terror.
Adventurers nearby stared, some with sympathy, too many with leering, unwelcome interest.
Eina was on her feet instantly, crossing the hall with brisk strides.
"Miss Wallenstein," she greeted, keeping her voice calm and professional despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. "How can the Guild assist you?"
Ais turned those unnervingly direct golden eyes on her. Without a word, she gestured towards the two shivering girls. The message was clear: They need help.
Eina's gaze softened as she took in their hollow eyes, the way the Hume Bunny clutched her torn tunic. "Of course," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Come with me.
We'll get you cleaned up." She cast a disapproving glare around the hall, silencing the worst of the gawkers. "A bath and fresh clothes are in order."
Lili stepped forward, her voice tight. "I'll handle the clothes, Miss Tulle. Miss Wallenstein offered to help me purchase them. We just need… privacy for exchanging drops first."
She subtly nudged Ais, who blinked, seemingly remembering her initial intent.
"I do," Ais stated, her voice flat. "But I have to report—"
"Not now!" Lili hissed, grabbing Ais's armored forearm with surprising strength and pulling her towards the exchange counters. "Private booth, please, Miss Tulle? Away from… eyes."
Eina nodded, her worry intensifying. "This way." She guided them swiftly to a secluded exchange booth usually reserved for high-value transactions or sensitive Familia business.
As the group filed in, Eina caught Lili's arm. "Where is Bell?" she asked, keeping her voice low.
Lili met her gaze, her expression unreadable. "He'll come. After… he finishes some business." Her eyes held a flicker of something dark, resigned.
Eina's lips thinned. "He better. He has overdue lectures piling up." The familiar refrain felt hollow given the scene before her.
Lili managed a weak, humorless smile. "We both do, Miss Tulle."
Eina frowned, confused by the plural, but Lili had already turned to help the girls into the booth, leaving the Guild advisor grappling with fresh unease.
(Later – Guild Bathhouse)
Steam curled lazily in the warm, humid air of the Guild's rarely-used private bathhouse annex. Eina watched as Momiji and Kaeda sank into the deep, clean water, their tense muscles slowly unknotting, though the haunted look in their eyes remained.
Eina had paid for the bath herself – Babel's facilities were too far and too public for their state. It was a small price for a shred of dignity.
Times like this… Eina sighed, leaning against the tiled wall. The harsh reality of Orario – adventurers broken not just by monsters, but by the predators wearing Familia crests.
She watched Misha Flott, her perpetually laid-back colleague, saunter in with an armful of plain Guild-issue towels and simple, clean tunics and trousers.
"Rough day, huh?" Misha murmured, setting the clothes down on a bench and eyeing the girls with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"Heard they came in with the Sword Princess looking like they wrestled a Goliath in a mud pit."
"The Dungeon isn't always the greatest danger," Eina replied grimly.
"Tell me about it," Misha sighed, running a hand through her messy pink hair. "Such is the adventurer's life. Brutal and—" She broke off, her eyes widening as the Guild door opened again.
Eina turned, expecting perhaps Ais or Lili returning. Instead, the gate parted to reveal Riveria Ljos Alf, the High Elf of the Loki Familia, radiating an aura of controlled authority.
Flanking her were Tiona and Tione Hiryute, their expressions unusually grim, and Lefiya Viridis, whose eyes were wide with shock. Behind them, looking small and unusually subdued, stood Lili.
Riveria's sharp gaze swept the room, instantly assessing the situation, lingering on the two girls in the bath. Her eyes narrowed, then shifted to Eina.
"Eina Tulle," Riveria greeted, her voice cool and melodious, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "It has been some time. I trust you are well?"
Eina bowed slightly, professionalism overriding her surprise. "Lady Riveria. I am well, thank you. I was just assisting these two adventurers. They had… a difficult experience in the Dungeon."
Riveria's gaze didn't waver from the girls. "So it seems. Ais has brought us a rather convoluted tale, packed with trouble."
She glanced towards the changing area where Ais presumably waited, having been pulled aside earlier. "It appears she encountered them alongside Mr. Cranel and his supporter, Lili, during an… intervention possibly by the soma familia."
Eina's eyes widened. "An intervention? Ambushed? By their own Familia? When did this happen?" The pieces started clicking horribly into place – Lili's tension, the girls' terror, Bell's "business."
Riveria sighed, a sound like wind through ancient trees.
"That is what we are attempting to ascertain. Ais tried to report, but her account was… fragmented.
When we sought clarification from the Pallum supporter," she nodded towards Lili, who flinched, "she insisted it was merely a Familia dispute and interference was unwarranted.
Tight-lipped, as you see." Riveria's gaze hardened. "However, since Ais Wallenstein of the Loki Familia was involved and potentially endangered, it is my duty to investigate.
What transpired between these two Familias?"
Lili made a small, distressed noise, stepping forward. "Lady Riveria, please, it's not—"
"Silence, Pallum," Tione snapped, her usual fiery temper simmering dangerously. "If Loki Familia got dragged into your mess, we deserve answers!"
Riveria raised a hand, quelling Tione instantly. Her focus returned to Momiji and Kaeda. The warm water seemed to offer little comfort now; they looked like cornered rabbits under the High Elf's piercing scrutiny.
"You," Riveria said, her voice softening only marginally. "Tell me. What happened? Why would your own Familia attack you?"
A heavy silence filled the steamy room, broken only by the drip of water. Momiji and Kaeda exchanged a look filled with fear and exhaustion. Finally, Momiji took a shuddering breath, her voice trembling but clear.
"Our Captain… Zanis," she began, her vulpine ears flat against her head. "He… he hired assassins. To ambush us, Bell Cranel, and Lili. They wanted to kidnap us… sell us." Her voice cracked.
Kaeda, the Hume Bunny, found her voice, sharp with residual anger and despair.
"He used the real Soma on us! Spiked our drinks! Made us crave it… made us obey! He's been doing it for years! To control the Familia! To sell people to Ishtar and Ikelos!"
The revelations landed like hammer blows. Tiona's cheerful face contorted in pure disgust. "Selling your own?!" she spat, fists clenching.
Tione looked ready to tear down the Soma Familia house brick by brick. Lefiya gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, horror and disbelief warring in her eyes. "Monsters…" she whispered.
Lili slumped against the wall, her face buried in her hands, the weight of the truth she'd tried to contain finally crushing her.
Eina stood frozen, the paperwork, the Minotaur sword, Freya's secret – all forgotten. The true horror wasn't in the Dungeon's depths, but festering right here, in the heart of Orario, wearing the face of a Familia Captain.
And Bell Cranel, once again, was right in the middle of the bloody storm. Wherever he was, finishing his "business," Eina knew with chilling certainty that the lectures awaiting him were the least of his problems.
The Loki Familia, who was not so privy to Soma's rot, wouldn't let this rest. The Guild, and Orario itself, was about to face a reckoning.
~(Scene Change)~
(Riveria Ljos Alf's POV – Guild Hall)
Riveria massaged her temples, the delicate porcelain of her teacup feeling dangerously fragile in her grip.
Upteenth time indeed. Sending Bete Loga screeching across Orario after Ais had been a futile exercise in managing wayward children.
Of course the Sword Princess, freshly scolded about pre-expedition rest, had interpreted "relaxation" as "solo Dungeon dive."
More lectures were inevitable, for both Ais and the wide-eyed Lefiya hovering nearby like a nervous sparrow.
She'd positioned herself strategically near Babel, sipping tea with the grim patience of a general awaiting a truant soldier.
Then, she'd appeared: Ais, surprisingly not alone, accompanied by a small Pallum supporter Riveria didn't recognize.
Did she hire help? Intriguing, but not alarming. They'd ducked into a clothing store. Riveria allowed herself a flicker of hope.
Shopping? A new dress after the viola destroyed it? A healthy distraction? Perhaps Ais was finally developing interests beyond the blade and the abyss within her.
Tiona's then pouted ("She's shopping without us?!") and Tione's sharp observation solidified her decision. She entered the store, the bell chiming softly.
Her hope evaporated instantly. Ais stood rigid, holding a simple tunic against herself to check the size , while the Pallum clutched another garment for a Hume Bunny outfit. Both girls looked like refugees from a war zone. Ais turned, golden eyes wide with the unmistakable look of a child caught raiding the cookie jar.
"Riveria," Ais stated, her voice flat but laced with a hint of panic Riveria rarely heard.
Riveria's intuition screamed. This wasn't shopping. This was damage control. "Ais," she began, her voice deceptively calm, cutting through the boutique's quiet.
"Explain. Why are you in armor? Why were you in the Dungeon without permission? And who are you buying clothes for?" Ais's eyes darted, a trapped rabbit searching for escape.
The Pallum supporter froze like a statue. Riveria sighed internally. A very long day indeed.
(Scene Change: Guild Hall - Later)
Whatever Riveria expected Ais's Dungeon dive to entail – a reckless hunt for rare materials, perhaps a misguided attempt to "relax" by fighting a horde of Killer Ants – it paled in comparison to the grim reality unveiled.
The hunt for Bell Cranel to return a vambrace had spiraled into a bloody rescue mission. A Familia ambush. Inside the Dungeon.
Extracting the full story required… persuasion. Tione, with her talent for combining intimidating glares and unsettlingly calm threats the gave about "extended remedial swimming lessons" for Ais, proved remarkably effective.
The Pallum supporter, Lili, folded quickly under the combined pressure of Riveria's icy scrutiny and Tione's implied aquatic torture.
The half-truths dissolved: the Soma Familia Captain, Zanis, had orchestrated an ambush not just for gear, but to capture and sell his own members, using the cursed "Perfect Soma" to control them.
The hired assassin, a masked Level 3 or 4, sent specifically for Bell Cranel, was the most alarming detail.
Riveria's mind raced even as her expression remained impassive. Finn needed to be informed immediately.
This wasn't just a dispute; it was systemic corruption, slavery, and attempted murder of a record-holding adventurer.
A War Game? Ganesha intervention? Without concrete proof beyond traumatized witness testimony, implicating a God directly would be difficult.
Loki's interrogation skills would be invaluable, but the Guild's bureaucracy was a swamp.
One detail nagged relentlessly: How did a Level 2 defeat a Level 3 or 4 assassin? Hiding his status seemed impossible; Finn had scrutinized his records per Loki's demand.
The boy was an anomaly wrapped in escalating danger.
Her headache throbbed anew. Bell Cranel was neck-deep in trouble far exceeding his experience. Yet, the Dungeon's unwritten law – what happens below stays below – offered a cold comfort.
She couldn't fault him for defending himself against an ambush meant to kill or enslave him.
The Pallum, Lili, had a point: Familia matters were often best settled internally. Ais stumbling upon it forced their hand.
Tiona, blessedly oblivious to the tension, piped up, "Neh, neh, where is Argonaut anyway? We saved his fluffy butt, he should be here for the debrief!"
As if summoned by the name, a palpable shift in the air silenced the hall.
Riveria felt it first – a sudden, oppressive pressure, a wave of exhaustion and something darker rolling towards them. She turned.
Bell Cranel stood in the Guild entrance. He looked… hollow. His white hair was disheveled, plastered to his forehead with sweat and grime that couldn't hide the puffiness around his eyes.
His gaze was distant, resigned, staring through them as if witnessing horrors only he could see. He moved with the weary gait of a man who had just shouldered the world.
Then Riveria felt it. His aura. It wasn't the bright, if chaotic, energy she vaguely recalled. It was a chilling amalgamation – a deep, bruised purple, shot through with flickering veins of unsettling blue.
It pulsed with fatigue, sorrow, and a terrifying undercurrent of cold resolve.
Clad in dark, blood-spattered armor (The Assassins handiwork, she presumed), he looked less like a promising rookie and more like a revenant dragged from a battlefield.
Menacing Black armour. Unapproachable. Utterly spent.
He paused, registering the crowd – Riveria, the Loki executives, Eina, Lili, Momiji, Kaeda. Recognition flickered, then died, replaced by profound weariness.
Eina rushed forward, tears welling in her eyes, her professional composure shattered by maternal concern. "Bell! Bell, you… you need a shower. And sleep. Right now."
Bell's voice, when it came, was a dry rasp, devoid of its usual warmth.
"Talk later, Eina. If I do now… I might empty everything I have in my belly." The implication – of blood, bile, or confessions – hung heavy.
Riveria stepped forward, her voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Mr. Cranel. Where have you been? After such an ordeal..."
Bell's empty eyes met hers. "Loose ends," he stated flatly.
A collective chill swept through the Loki Familia members. Riveria felt it prickle her spine. "What do you mean by that?" Her tone demanded clarity.
Bell shook his head slowly, the movement heavy. "Not safe. Assassins… might come." His gaze flickered towards the door, towards the descending twilight.
Eina gasped. "Why? Bell, what happened?"
"Not now," Bell repeated, his voice gaining a sliver of steel beneath the exhaustion.
"Need to go home. Hestia… might be in danger." The thought of his goddess seemed to inject a sliver of urgency into his hollow frame.
Riveria didn't hesitate. "My Familia will escort you.
If assassins are hunting a promising adventurer in Orario, it is our concern." Protection, yes, but also observation. This boy reeked of secrets darker than dungeon ichor.
Bell gave a curt, almost dismissive nod. "You've done enough.I am already in debt to Miss Wallenstein." Gratitude laced with a clear desire to be free of them.
It was Tione who delivered the blow, her nostrils flaring subtly.
She stepped closer to Bell, her gaze sharp as a dagger. "Cranel," she said, her voice low and dangerous, cutting through the concern. "Why do you smell of human blood?"
The question landed like a thunderclap. Lefiya clapped a hand over her mouth.
Tiona's playful expression vanished. Eina stared in dawning horror. Riveria's eyes narrowed to slits, locking onto Bell.
Bell didn't flinch. He met Tione's gaze with that same hollow resignation. "Didn't have a good time," he murmured, the understatement of the century. "Rather not recount."
He sank down right there on the Guild floor, not caring about the polished stone, drawing his knees up slightly before sprawling them out, a picture of utter physical and mental depletion.
He needed to act calm, let the storm of their questions pass over him.
Tione grunted, a sound of reluctant acceptance. "Figures. According to these girls, you had one hell of a fight." She gestured to Momiji and Kaeda.
Bell just nodded, closing his eyes briefly, his head resting back against the cool wall.
Riveria made a decision. "Very well. We will escort you to Lady Hestia, then directly to the Ganesha Familia estate.
You will be under their protection tonight." She turned to Momiji and Kaeda. "You two will come with us to Twilight Manor.
You need protection, and we need your formal testimony. Lady Loki will wish to speak with your God Soma regarding these… allegations." Her tone brooked no argument.
Lili stiffened visibly but kept her expression carefully neutral, a flicker of panic quickly masked. Riveria noted it.
Eina hovered, her hand instinctively rubbing Bell's back as he slowly, shakily, pushed himself to his feet. "Please," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Stay safe."
Bell nodded, a ghost of his former self. "Going to my Goddess."
He moved towards the door, his steps unsteady but purposeful, deliberately avoiding the route past the Hostess of Fertility, vanishing into the side streets leading towards the crumbling church.
Riveria watched him go, the chilling purple-blue aura lingering in her senses. She signaled to her Familia.
"Tione, Tiona, with me. Lefiya, ensure the witnesses are ready to move." She cast one last look at the spot where Bell had collapsed.
Loose ends. Human blood. A Level 2 surviving a high-level assassin. A Captain implicated in slavery. A boy radiating an aura of profound trauma and chilling power.
It was going to be a very long night. And the storm, she knew, was far from over. It was just beginning.
~(Scene Change)~
Bell's boots scraped against cobblestones, each step echoing the mantra in his mind: I killed him. I killed him. I killed him.
The Soma Familia captain's lifeless eyes haunted him—not the assassins who'd struck first, but his blade that finished it. Justice? Self-defense? The excuses curdled in his stomach. I deserve a cell. Or a noose.
Behind him, Loki Familia's footsteps shadowed his own.
Riveria's quiet vigilance, Aiz's watchful silence—they were his unintended shields against the assassins lurking in daylight. Safety? I'm a murderer walking with heroes.
[MESSAGE(!)]:
[Shadow Veil-STEALTH (Lv. 3) Update: Passive Stealth now obscures Divine Intuition. Divinities cannot perceive host's emotional state or location via innate god-sense.]
Bell froze, nausea rising. It's teaching me to lie. His hands trembled. He'd never lied—only avoided, evaded. Now the System carved a path of deception.
Blame the assassins. Let them take the fall. The thought slithered in, cold and tempting.
What kind of monster thinks like this?
He needed to flee Orario. Now. Before assassins struck. Before Freya's games resumed. Before his own guilt choked him. Ganesha's manor loomed as a temporary refuge—a gilded cage before a trial. And if Freya interferes…
The ruined church came into view. There, perched on a broken column like a vulture, sat Mama Mia. Beside her—a hooded figure draped in twilight-purple silk.
Then He sensed a presence far away.
Bell's blood turned to ice.
[Ottar - Lv. 7].
[Mia Grand-LV.6]
He stumbled back, colliding with Tiona. "Run," he rasped. "Now."
Mia stood, hands raised. "Easy, boy. We're here to talk."
"Talk?" Bell's laugh was raw. "With him hiding?" He jerked his chin toward the shadows. "I know what she is."
The hood fell.
Syr's face—or bells case Freya's face—glistened with tears. "Bell, please—it's a misuderstanding"
"Misunderstanding?" Bell's voice cracked. "You charmed me. Trying to make me a puppet.
Loki familia was confused as all the things they would have expected a lovers spat was the least of it.
Syr's eyes glistened.
"I didn't mean to, I just did't want to have you leave, I did this out of love"
That's not love—
A scream tore through the chaotic aftermath, sharp and terrified. Bell whipped his head around, his argument with Syr – Freya, the knowledge a cold stone in his gut – dying instantly on his lips.
Across the rubble-strewn plaza, the Loki Familia party froze mid-step. Ais's golden eyes snapped towards the source, Tiona and Tione instinctively forming a defensive flank around Lefiya, whose staff glowed faintly.
Riveria, her brow furrowed in lingering confusion over Bell's frantic accusation about Syr's unnatural charm (A goddess? Here? But a charm is…), went rigid.
There, pinned against the jagged edge of a collapsed wall by a figure clad in matte black armor and a featureless, smooth black mask, was Kaeda.
The Humbling's wide, crimson eyes were filled with terror, her soft white fur matted with dust.
Momiji, the fox-tailed Renard who moments before had been clinging to Riveria's robes for safety, shrieked her friend's name, a sound of pure anguish.
"Damn it!" Riveria hissed, her analytical mind momentarily overwhelmed by the speed of the ambush.
The masked figure moved with terrifying efficiency, a blur against the moonlit devastation.
From the deeper shadows near a skeletal building frame, Ottar erupted. Like a golden avalanche, the Boaz crossed the distance in a single, ground-shaking leap, placing himself squarely between the assailant and Syr, his massive sword held low and ready, his expression thunderous. But he was a heartbeat too late.
The masked figure didn't hesitate. With a powerful shove, he sent Kaeda stumbling forward, buying himself a microsecond.
Then, utilizing impossible agility, he leaped. Not just up, but across, using crumbling columns and the fractured rooftops of the ruined buildings as a highway, vanishing into the jagged skyline with the Humbling clutched under one arm like a sack.
"No!" Bell roared. The image seared into his mind: Canoe's sneer, the glint of the Black Cat assassin's blade in the dungeon shadows, the seven Soma thugs closing in. His hesitation then – the split-second doubt – had almost gotten him killed.
The phantom pain of blades, the crushing darkness... it had only been the System's impossible intervention that dragged him back.
And the weight of Zanis's life ending by his hand, the man's blood still practically warm in his memory… it screamed at him.
He should have hunted the assassin down afterwards, found him glaring with Zanis outside the dungeon entrance, waiting to confirm the hit on him, Lili, and the capture of Momiji and Kaeda.
His inaction then festered into this disaster now.
"Not again!" Bell snarled, the words tearing from his throat. Pure instinct took over. "Sprint!" The world blurred around the edges as his Agility stat surged, fueled by raw desperation and the lingering echo of his possible death.
He became a streak of white hair and crimson eyes, launching himself onto the same precarious path the assailant had taken, shattered tiles crunching under his boots.
He gained rapidly. The figure was fast, unnaturally so, but Bell's Skill, honed by near-death experiences and the System's unforgiving demands, was closing the gap.
He felt the familiar cold power surge within him, the shadows around his feet thickening. "Umbra Mortis!" Dark tendrils, like liquid night, lashed out from his shadow, aiming to snare the kidnapper's legs, to drag him down from the rooftops.
A rush of wind, sharp and clean, cut past Bell's left ear. Ais Wallenstein, the Sword Princess, a silver comet in the moonlight, slammed into the masked figure mid-leap.
The impact was brutal, a crunch of armor and a gasp of stolen breath. Kaeda cried out as they tumbled.
"Miss Ais! Stop him!" Bell yelled, pushing Sprint harder.
The masked figure, despite the devastating blow from a Level 6, reacted with chilling precision.
As Ais pinned him, he wrenched an arm free, not to strike her, but to hurl a small, fist-sized object towards Bell. It glowed with an eerie, unstable violet light.
Ais's eyes widened. Recognition flashed in her gaze – and simultaneously, a stark, crimson warning pulsed across Bell's vision:
[ALERT: High-Yield Mana Destabilization Detected - Proximity: CRITICAL]
"Down!" Ais shouted, shoving herself off the assailant and tackling Bell with surprising force.
BOOM!
The violet orb detonated not with fire, but with a concussive wave of pure, chaotic force. It shredded the rooftop they were on, throwing Bell and Ais backwards like ragdolls.
Bell's hastily formed Umbra Mortis tendrils instinctively coiled around them both, forming a tangled, shadowy net that absorbed some of the impact but also bound them together as they crashed through a lower roof and slammed onto a debris pile below in a heap of limbs, shadow ropes, and dust.
Bell gasped, the wind knocked out of him. He frantically dismissed the shadow tendrils. "M-Miss Ais! Are you hurt?" He scrambled towards her.
Ais pushed herself up, brushing dust and small fragments of tile from her hair. A few strands near her temple were singed, and a shallow cut bled on her cheekbone, but her expression was focused, almost detached.
"I am functional. Minor damage." She locked eyes with him, the usual distance replaced by urgent intensity. "He is escaping. Pursue." She was already scanning the skyline.
Bell didn't need telling twice. He reactivated Sprint, pouring every ounce of his Mana and Sense stats into tracking the assailant.
He could feel the fading trail – a cold, malicious intent, the lingering scent of ozone and fear (Kaeda's), the minute vibrations in the disturbed dust.
He followed the trail down to street level, bursting out into Orario's bustling nightlife. Music spilled from taverns, laughter echoed, merchants hawked wares under lamplight – a jarring contrast to the life-or-death chase.
The trail led him down a side alley, then abruptly stopped. Dead end. In the center of the deserted, muddy alley, illuminated by a single flickering lantern, was a crude wooden sign stabbed into the ground.
Impaled on it by a wicked-looking black dagger was a folded piece of parchment.
With a note.
"The Dagger of a man that was Killed because of you"
Bell's heart hammered against his ribs. He ripped the dagger free and unfolded the note. The handwriting was sharp, angular, devoid of personality:
Cranel,
The Beastkin's life hangs by a thread thinner than your shadow's grasp. Your interference is costly.
Come alone. Unarmed. Unarmored.
To the Eldorado Casiono this has an invitation. the Coliseum's roar under casino we fight.
Be there by the tolling of the midnight bell tomorrow night.
Disobey, and the Humbling dies screaming before dawn.
No Familia. No Heroes. Just you and the consequences of your failures.
"ELDORADO CASIONO?!" Bell's roar of frustration echoed off the alley walls as he had no clue where it was. He slammed his fist into the muddy ground, the impact jarring his arm creating cracks. Coliseum.
But he knows what a Coliseum is.
The infamous, lawless fighting pits in history told by his grandfather where champions fought but here deep beneath Orario's entertainment district where a map was given to him in the note.
A place where desperate souls and monsters battled for coin and the crowd's bloodlust. A perfect trap.
The masked man had vanished like smoke, swallowed by the oblivious crowd. The muddy tracks he'd half-followed dissolved into countless others on the main street.
He was gone. Kaeda was gone. Taken because of Syr as he was busy arguing with all his attention on her.
Because he'd been distracted, arguing with the Goddess of Beauty while danger crept close. He hadn't sensed the assailant, his Sense stat failing him when focused on Freya's overwhelming presence.
The realization was a physical blow. He sank to his knees in the mud, the dampness seeping through his pants, mirroring the despair flooding his veins. Failed.
Three figures landed softly around him: Ais, her expression grim; Riveria, radiating icy fury and concern; Lefiya, panting slightly, her staff still glowing.
A fourth, heavier impact shook the ground – Ottar, holding Syr protectively. The disguised goddess's eyes, wide with a complex mix of shock, calculation, and something resembling sorrow, scanned the scene – the muddy alley, the dagger, the crumpled note in Bell's hand, Bell himself broken on the ground.
Her gaze flickered upwards, towards the pinnacle of Babel Tower, as if silently communicating with someone unseen. Then her eyes settled back on Bell, the sorrow deepening as she witnessed his utter desolation.
Bell barely registered them. The weight of Kaeda's terror, Mimiji's scream, the mocking words of the note, the ghosts of Canoe, the Black Cat, Zanis… they pressed down, threatening to crush him.
He hunched forward, hands sinking into the cold mud, breaths coming in ragged gasps. I wasn't fast enough. Strong enough. Aware enough. The shadows at his feet writhed faintly, responding to his inner turmoil.
"Bell!"
The voice cut through the suffocating fog of his despair, sharp and clear and filled with pure, unadulterated worry. Hestia. His Goddess. She pushed past the imposing figures of the Loki elites and Ottar, her small frame radiating immense concern.
She skidded to a stop in the mud before him, ignoring the filth, her blue eyes wide with fear not for herself, but for him.
Bell slowly raised his head. Mud streaked his face, mingling with frustrated tears he hadn't realized had fallen.
He met Hestia's gaze, the unwavering faith and love he saw there a lifeline thrown into his sea of guilt. He held up the crumpled note, his voice raw but suddenly, terrifyingly steady, the despair hardening into cold, shadow-fueled resolve.
"Hestia-sama," he rasped, the shadows around him coalescing into a deeper darkness. "They took her. I'm getting her back."
This did nothing to answer Hestias worry as she looked around all the people around her child.