A loud thud shattered the morning silence in the church courtyard. Dust plumed into the air as Bell Cranel's body was slammed into the ground for the umpteenth time. The white-haired youth coughed violently, his chest heaving wildly as he grasped for oxygen. Sweat drenched his entire body, making his training clothes cling tightly to skin now covered in bruises.
Standing before him was the figure of his aunt, Alfia. The silver-haired woman didn't even look slightly winded. Her breathing was steady, her posture perfectly upright, and her black dress remained completely unsoiled by dust. She stared at Bell with her ice-cold heterochromatic eyes, as if she had just finished a light morning warm-up.
"Get up," Alfia commanded curtly. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute pressure that made Bell's muscles tremble. "The enemies in the Dungeon will not give you time to lie on the ground."
Bell gritted his teeth. Gathering whatever strength he had left, he forced himself to stand, gripping his wooden training sword with numb hands. The pressure of facing his aunt felt far more suffocating than fighting Ottar and Leon-sensei. Every single one of Bell's attacks was broken with minimalist movements, and every opening he left was immediately punished with brutal precision. Facing a Level 8 truly pushed Bell's mental state to its absolute limit. He felt like giving up and begging for mercy right then and there.
At the edge of the courtyard, under the shade of a large tree, two men were sitting casually, watching the torture unfold. Zald had his arms crossed over his chest, sporting a smile, while Venti sipped a cup of apple cider with a cheerful expression. Not far from them, little Ais and little Asfi peeked from behind a stone pillar, occasionally wincing as they watched Bell getting tossed around like a ragdoll.
"Now you're feeling it firsthand, Bell-kun," Venti chimed in casually, his voice flowing lightly on the morning breeze. "Why your aunt is dubbed a monster of talent. The Silence of the Hera Familia is not just an empty title. Any martial art, any movement you execute—your aunt only needs to see it once and she can immediately read, mimic, and simultaneously counter it. Fighting her is like fighting an infinitely deadlier reflection of yourself."
Bell swallowed hard. He tried to shift his stance, taking a lower position to launch a rapid assault. In a single breath, Bell dashed forward.
Thud!
However, the tip of Alfia's wooden sword had already pinned Bell's wrist before the youth's attack could even be completed. Alfia narrowed her eyes, carefully observing the position of Bell's feet and the angle of his slash.
"This movement..." Alfia muttered, swatting Bell's sword aside, causing the youth to stumble backward again. "That counterattack stance and the way you rotate your wrist... it's very similar to the fundamental sword techniques Sylphie often talks about. Who taught you this technique?"
Bell braced his hands on his knees, panting as he looked at his aunt. "A-Ais-san... I mean, Miss Ais Wallenstein in my timeline. She was the one who trained me to fight when I first became an adventurer."
Hearing that name mentioned, little Ais, who was hiding behind the pillar, immediately blinked. Her innocent golden eyes stared straight at Bell. The seven-year-old's brain was working hard to process the complex string of logic.
So, I'm the one who taught this big boy how to fight? Even though he's the baby inside Aunt Meteria's tummy right now? little Ais thought, staring blankly. Even though Uncle Venti had explained at length about the trees and branches of time last night, Ais still didn't quite understand. All she knew was: in the future, she becomes the sword teacher of this crybaby, white-haired boy.
The training continued mercilessly until the sun shifted westward.
For hours, Bell was battered physically and mentally. Alfia dismantled every bad habit in Bell's fighting posture, forcing the youth to move beyond the limits of his instincts. They only stopped for a brief rest and lunch, before finally returning to the courtyard until the twilight dust began to fly.
As the sky turned a reddish-orange, Bell Cranel collapsed on his back in the training area. He stared blankly at the Orario sky. Amidst his exhaustion, an absurd thought suddenly crossed his mind. Bell suddenly felt incredibly sorry for the version of himself that had yet to be born in this world. If his aunt was already this strict and terrifying toward the version of him from the future, he couldn't imagine what kind of torture the "Bell Cranel" of this world would have to endure as he grew up.
"That's enough for today," Alfia's voice finally rang out, sounding like a saving bell from heaven to Bell's ears.
The woman stepped closer, then sat down on a chair situated on the courtyard terrace. Even though her face still displayed absolute strictness, the killing intent had vanished from her heterochromatic eyes. She gestured for Bell to sit beside her.
This was the time for a heart-to-heart talk, from an aunt to a nephew whose existence she had never known about.
After gulping down the water he was offered, Bell sat down awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing where to begin.
"So," Alfia broke the silence, her eyes staring straight toward the reddening horizon. "In your world, who raised you?"
Bell lowered his head, a melancholy smile slowly blooming on his lips. The exhaustion in his body seemed to fade as his childhood memories flowed back.
"Since I was little, I lived with my grandfather in a remote village in the mountains, far to the north of the city of Orario." Bell's voice trembled slightly; there was a deep longing and a hint of sadness when he mentioned the word "grandfather". "It was just the two of us. Grandpa took care of me, fed me, and always told me stories of heroes at night."
Upon hearing the word "grandfather", Alfia's left eyebrow immediately twitched.
A bad feeling crept into the woman's mind, but she remained silent. She simply crossed her arms over her chest, signaling for Bell to continue his story.
"G-Grandpa was actually a good person," Bell continued, his face blushing slightly, realizing that what he was about to say next was incredibly embarrassing. However, under the intimidating, heterochromatic stare of his aunt, he didn't dare to lie. "It's just that... he often instilled some slightly... strange ideas into my head."
"Strange how?" Alfia's tone dropped, sounding deadlier than any sword.
"Grandpa always told me..." Bell swallowed hard, his face now completely flushed. "...that the main reason a man goes into the Dungeon is to save beautiful girls... and build a harem."
A chilling silence immediately blanketed the church courtyard.
The afternoon breeze suddenly stopped blowing. Bell could feel an intense cold seeping out from the pores of Alfia's skin. Deep within her soul, Alfia was strangling the neck of the God of Lightning.
That bastard Zeus... Alfia cursed inwardly, with a rage ready to explode. How could that dirty old god poison my pure nephew with that kind of garbage nonsense?!
Alfia desperately wanted to blast into the future right this second just to beat Zeus until the god begged for mercy. What kind of advice was the former ruler of Orario giving to a little kid?! No wonder Bell looked so innocent and easily flustered when dealing with women.
Sensing his aunt's increasingly dense killing aura, Bell hastily changed the subject.
"B-But Grandpa never badmouthed my parents!" Bell said quickly. "I never got to meet my father and mother at all since I was born. But Grandpa always said that my mother was an incredibly kind-hearted and extraordinarily gentle person."
Hearing about Meteria, Alfia's killing aura subsided slightly. Of course her sister was a gentle person; that was an undeniable fact.
"Then... Grandpa also told me about my father," Bell continued with a proud smile. "Grandpa said my father was a hero. He was a very brave man."
This time, it was Alfia's right eyebrow that twitched violently. Her jaw instantly clenched.
Brave?! Alfia screamed internally. Remembering the face of that cowardly man, the fastest runner in the Zeus Familia who always hid behind Meteria's back, made Alfia's stomach churn.
What kind of cowardly father is called brave?! If there were no people currently around the church, she would have surely leveled the courtyard because she couldn't stand hearing Zeus's sky-high lies. She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her disgust to maintain her dignity in front of her nephew.
"Is that so," Alfia said with a forced smile. She would make sure to scrub every last trace of Zeus's nonsense from Bell's head for as long as this youth was under her supervision.
As silence took over once again, a fleeting old memory suddenly flashed across Bell's mind. The youth stared intently at Alfia's face, realizing something that had been bothering his thoughts since yesterday.
"Aunt Alfia..." Bell muttered hesitantly. "Actually, I felt a strong sense of familiarity the first time I saw you and Zald-san."
Alfia looked at him with an inquiring gaze. "Familiarity? What do you mean? Didn't you say you never met anyone other than your Grandfather in that village?"
"That's right. But..." Bell narrowed his eyes, trying to recall a detail from his childhood. "When I was seven years old, one afternoon near my village's forest, I felt like I was being watched. When I turned toward the trees, I saw the silhouettes of two people from afar. One of them was very large like Zald-san, and the other was a silver-haired woman... exactly like you, Aunt. It's just that the silhouette I remember looked much older... and somehow, it felt very fragile."
Hearing this confession, Alfia's heterochromatic eyes widened slightly. She remained silent for quite a long time. Her intellect and the sharp instincts of a former Hera Familia executive quickly connected the dots of these fragmented pieces of destiny.
If in Bell's timeline, Venti had never appeared at all, then her past history would surely have proceeded straight toward ruin. Without the interference of the God of Freedom, no one would have saved Meteria and herself from the curse of their congenital disease.
Alfia could guess with pinpoint accuracy what had happened. Meteria must have died shortly after giving birth to Bell, perhaps because her already extremely weak body couldn't withstand the toll of childbirth. And as for herself... Alfia knew exactly how fast the disease was ravaging her body. If she had seen Bell when the boy was seven years old, it was highly likely that those were the final days of her life in that timeline.
Dying me... went to the northern mountains just to see my nephew from afar one last time before death took me, Alfia thought, her chest suddenly feeling tight at the bitter truth of that parallel world.
Alfia looked at Bell with a gaze now filled with tenderness.
"Bell," Alfia called out to him in a much softer voice. "So, in your timeline... Venti truly did not exist at all?"
Bell nodded firmly. "That's right, Aunt. I never met, saw, or even heard the name of God Venti in the future. As long as I was in Orario, there was never a Familia by the name of Barbatos. Most likely, God Venti indeed never descended to the lower world (Gekai) in my world."
Alfia turned her gaze back toward the twilight sky, which was beginning to darken. An absolute conclusion had now formed in her mind.
So, that was the future that was supposed to happen. A dark future where she and her sister died in vain, Zald was probably destroyed by the behemoth's poison, and her nephew grew up alone living a lie. Every difference that had occurred, all the happiness she was currently experiencing alongside Meteria, stemmed purely from one crucial point: their encounter with Venti.
Just because of the presence of a single entity, the history of their world branched out and created a completely new reality.
"I see..." Alfia muttered softly, her voice sounding almost like a sigh of relief. Let the shadow of that dark future belong to another timeline. In this world, she would not let fate snatch her family away again.
The evening breeze blew, sweeping across the courtyard, carrying away the shadows of the past that were beginning to be replaced by a new future woven together.
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