Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The church was silent in the middle of the night, the only sound was the whistling of the wind through the holes in the stone and the wood. But if one stepped inside, and went through a secret door, the scene witnessed was much different.

Incense and candles were spread through the mostly empty room, trying to mask in vain the scent of blood. Only a bed, a couple of rocking chairs and a wooden crib were inside, besides its occupants.

Meteria lay on a bed, trembling with exhaustion and pain. Her silvery-white hair was slick with sweat, and her already pale skin seemed almost translucent under the candlelight. Her body tried to curl on itself with every contraction, fingers clawing at the sheets beneath her. Childbirth was agonising, not even the worst pains that her illness inflicted upon her could compare to it.

When she had learned that she was pregnant, it was the happiest moment of her life. Even if the father of the child was a pervert and a fool, but that was fine, she was not planning on marrying him anyway, she just had been charmed by him, and they had a one-night stand.

Her goddess and mother figure, Hera, had fainted when she learned of it, and then fainted again when she learned that Meteria was not going to marry the father of the child. It was an affront against the values that the goddess stood for, but for Meteria, her most beloved child, she was willing to look the other way.

But every night, dark thoughts came, and Meteria could not stop thinking about the illness that both she and her sister Alfia suffered from. Her heart felt faint every time she thought about her child inheriting it, since apparently it ran in the family. She fervently prayed to whichever gods were still on Tenkai, to keep her child from inheriting it.

Another contraction. Her body felt as if it was about to break, but finally she could feel that the baby was coming.

Hera dabbed Meteria's forehead with a cloth to remove the sweat, wincing everytime she saw her have another contraction. She also knew that things had to end soon, otherwise if the baby was not delivered, they both would likely die.

She gently grabbed Meteria's hand and kissed the back of it, not noticing how hard the pregnant woman was clenching her own, pain was irrelevant. The goddess' purple eyes looked tenderly at her beloved child. “The baby is almost here, you need to push, dear.”

Meteria wearily nodded and clenched her body, trying to push with all her remaining strenght with a shout.

A moment after, a ragged cry was heard through the chamber.

The moment the child slipped from Meteria's womb, Hera was there, hands trembling as she caught the tiny baby. The Goddess let out a shuddering breath, staring at the newborn in her arms. He was very small, and his breathing was uneven.

Zeus, who had been staying out of the way, but still nearby, sighed wearily. He had expected something like this, in fact, it was much more surprising that the child hadn't been stillborn. Premature births were always dangerous, and trying to use healing magic had negative effects on Meteria and Alfia. So they did not dare call up a healer to help, it had to be a purely natural birth.

Hera slowly rocked the newborn, who could not even cry properly, wheezing as he tried to breath and cry at the same time with his undeveloped lungs.

Meteria weakly turned her head, her emerald green eyes unfocused. “Hera.” she rasped. “Let me see my child...”

The goddess let out a strangled sob and lowered the baby into his mother's waiting arms.
The mother carefully tucked her son, resting his fragile body against her bosom. She observed him, how slowly he writhed, his frail body fighting with all its might against the hostile world.

But he was still alive.

Her son.

“Bell.” she whispered, kissing his bloody forehead. “You're so beautiful. I love you, so so much...”

Hera let out another sob and collapsed beside them, wrapping her arms around Meteria and Bell.

Zeus rubbed his wrinkled face. He felt so old, his heart aching in ways he could not express. He kneeled next to Hera and reached out with his hand, his calloused fingers brushing the baby's tiny hand. Bell stirred at the touch, his tiny fingers curling weakly around Zeus' finger.

It had been a shattering revelation, when they had noticed in their own souls how their children were perishing in droves against the One-Eyed Black Dragon, with only a handful surviving and being able to run away.

Yet the world was not done, it still was going to take more from them, he knew Meteria would not survive childbirth. Alfia was going to be devastated.

But at least the tiny newborn was doing his best to live. It would have to be enough for now, a small flickering light in their world, which had been plunged into darkness.

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Orario was no longer theirs, it was a fact.

The two most powerful Familias had been all but destroyed, with barely a handful of survivors between the two of them. It was no wonder that vultures and crows had wasted no time to swoop in and pick at their corpses.

The only surviving messenger from the Zeus Familia had managed to arrive to Orario and ask Hermes for help for the injured and dying members of both Familias, who were slowly making their way back.

But the meeting had not gone unheard, and even though Hermes tried his best, an emergency Denatus session had been called, after “rumors” of the Zeus and Hera Familias being eradicated by the One-Eyed Black Dragon had circulated. And their so-called rivals, the Loki and Freya Familias had managed to exile them, planting themselves on their place as the strongest.

It had been the first time most of these deities had seen Hermes truly furious, a far cry from his usual self. But it had been for naught.

What a joke.

A cloaked female adventurer ran through alleyways, trying to not to be noticed. Not because she was afraid, but because being recognized would be a hassle at that moment.

Then she twitched her eyebrow after observing her companion, who didn't bother at all with a cloak to cover his much taller frame. “You could have at least made an attempt to disguise yourself, Zald.”

The brown-haired adventurer ruffled his spiky hair and scoffed in response. "What would be the point? If anyone tries to do something, I'll just cut them to pieces.”

The female sighed. “Whatever, hurry up. We still need to find my sister.”

The city that once had adored them was now filled with hostility. She could smell the acrid scent of ashes from the alleyway of the neighborhood that hosted the manor and grounds of the Hera Familia. The food stalls, vendors and business that once lived within those streets had been looted and set on fire.

She jumped on top of a nearby building, trying to get a better picture of what was going on. Her companion silently landing beside her.

The whole neighborhood had been plunged into darkness, the magic stone lamps shattered and destroyed, with the only light being from the places that were still on fire. Her own Familia manor included, she could see it from there, how one of the towers that hosted dormitories had collapsed on top of Hera's beloved garden.

The banner of a woman crowned by a flower wreath sitting sideways next to a scepter that represented their Familia emblem had been cut down from its perch and then stomped and defiled.
She could see people coming and going from the parts of the manor that weren't on fire, running out with treasures and other valuables.

Involuntarily magic started to gather at her clenched fists, her body instantly fighting back against her, reminding her of her illness, but she was furious. Even if she disliked Hera, this had been a place where she had grown up alongside Meteria.

A place of happiness and rest for their weary bodies. Now it was a smoking ruin, with thieves running off with things that once belonged to them. The thought of such scum taking something that belonged to Meteria was enough to make her shiver with revulsion.

Even though they ran all the way back to Orario once the messenger had returned with news from the ill-fated Denatus session. They were too late.

She could feel a vice grip on her heart, squeezing it, hurting like nothing she had experienced before. Her level 7 body was powerless against it.

Her breathing quickened, and her body protested at the amount of magic gathering in her hands. Once she was done channeling, she set it loose. “Gospel. Lugio.”

A second after, an invisible bomb of sound crashed against the Hera Familia manor, distorting the air with a pressure so immense that it felt like reality itself was being squeezed. Then, in that same instant a deafening roar followed, it was a sound akin to the loudest thunder Orario had ever heard.

A sonic explosion rippled outward, shredding everything in its path. The manor did not have time to crumble, in the span of a second it disintegrated. The nearby streets fared no better, stone and buildings turning into dust, and whatever else was left, falling inside an enormous crater, swallowing everything that once stood there.

For a moment, the entire city shook beneath the weight of Alfia’s rage.

The silver-haired beauty pursed her lips in a sneer, her cloak barely ruffled by the buffeting winds.

There was only silence now.

Even then, her soul wept, and such petty revenge tasting like ashes in her mouth.

They quickly moved onto another neighborhood. Landing on top of a smithy and assessing the situation of the Zeus Familia manor.

Zald's face was stern, like a carved statue, but his grey eyes were betraying his mounting rage.

The Zeus Familia manor and grounds also had been defaced and set on fire much in the same way as Hera's. Specially the apple orchard that Zeus had planted for Hera so she could enjoy tending to it whenever she visited. Many trees had been uprooted, some of them crudely cut down and then set on fire for good measure.

He remembered the face of Lady Hera when Zeus had presented it to her, how happy she was and how much she cried. And how it had led to a good couple of decades of slow healing on their marriage, before that pervert god of his inevitably messed up again.

But they had been good times, and this was what remained of it. All of it gone, like dust in the wind.

“Enough of this.” Said Zald darkly, unclasping the bastard sword from his back, before settling on a stance and slashing twice in quick succession.

Two crossed wind slashes tore through the Zeus Familia manor, causing the stone and wood to collapse on itself, trapping the looters inside and briefly stopping the fires.

But he wasn't done, and quickly started to chant with a murmur. “Father, I beg forgiveness. I took part in the banquet of the gods, consumed by endless hunger. Devour, my fangs of flame: Rea Ambrosia.”

The bastard sword lit up like an enormous torch, and this time Zald slashed even more times in succession, launching five blades of wind coated in flames towards the remains of the manor.

When they clashed, a firestorm formed and briefly turned night into day, sweeping through the ruins of the manor with unrelenting fury. It was as if a Fire Spirit was venting out its rage into the world.
Anything that could burn was turned into cinders in an instant, even stone and steel surrendered, twisting and melting into rivers of slag.

The grand manor crumbled as fire purged it of everything. Ash drifted through the sky, carried by searing updrafts like a tree shedding its leaves. The earth split as molten stone surged forth, leaving a mixture of charred ruins and holes filled with magma.

There would be nothing left for scavengers and thieves.

Zald nodded in satisfaction and sheathed the sword on his back.

The silver-haired adventurer was tapping her foot impatiently and gripping her cloak. They had wasted too much time, and they still had to search in more places.

After running out of places to search, they finally reached the entrance of the church that Meteria loved, slipping inside without hesitation. Walking towards a wall that was next to a church organ, Zald opened a hidden passage after flicking a small switch, leading them into a darkened room that smelled like blood.

Alfia's breath stopped.

The old god was sitting on a rocking chair, silently cradling a bundle in his arms, his face lined with grief.

His wife was kneeling beside the only bed in the room, her hands clutched around Meteria's limp body.

Alfia couldn't speak, as reality settled over her like a cloud of despair.

Zald exhaled, his eyes briefly looking at the deceased Meteria before moving to Zeus. “You should have waited for us.”

The old god did not look up. He was still rocking the newborn. “There wasn't anywhere we could go to. We ran out of time and we couldn't afford to be caught.”

The only sound in the room was Hera sobbing and the soft, wheezy breaths of the child on Zeus' arms.

She couldn't bear to look at her deceased sister, who even in death was smiling peacefully. She approached Zeus and slowly took her newborn nephew from his arms.

Her throat closed, and tears slowly fell from her eyes after looking at his frail form. “Bell...” The child opened his eyes, a startling emerald that shone even more than Meteria's ever did.

Alfia quietly sobbed in despair. At the unfairness of the world, at her stupid sister for leaving without so much as a goodbye.

Her nephew struggled to breath, but he was alive. The last memento of her sister in this wretched world. Even if he was sick, she would do her utmost to care for him.

That was her vow.

After all, the One-Eyed Black Dragon would surely come back one day to burn down the world, so at least, for as long as she could, she would live for this child with all her strength.

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Ten years later...

The morning sun was beating down on a young, silver-haired boy doing push-ups.

He was feeling pretty proud about his progress, even if his arms were aching by now, he had been able to do more push-ups today than he had done yesterday! But due to his constitution, it was inevitable that he would slow down.

Bell refused to give up, gritting his teeth and gathering every shred of strenght that his body still had. “COME OOONNNNN!” He growled, trying to complete one last set.

It worked, sort of.

“Not bad.” His uncle chuckled. “Even though you ended up flopping on your belly, you did more sets than yesterday.”

Bell mumbled something unflattering to his uncle whilst he was eating the dirt of their backyard.

Zald walked next to Bell and crouched down, carefully lifting him up. “Do your cool-down exercises, or your body'll feel worse tomorrow if you don't do them.”

The silver-haired boy sighed. “Yes uncle, I don't want Alfia to get mad at me.” He shivered, remembering how his grandfather had once been bodily tossed into the garden by his aunt.

The tall ex-adventurer nodded his head sagely. “Me neither, so do them properly and I'll go get started on lunch.” He then left with a parting wave.

Bell smiled, knowing that lunch cooked by his uncle would taste excellent, before frowning in disappointment, as he knew that he wouldn't be able to eat much, because his body for some reason rejected heavy foods. But he still had to try, otherwise he would never build up any muscle.

It was still embarrassing how he ended up puking his guts out the first time he tried gorging on a deer that his uncle had hunted. His aunt's meltdown had been of epic proportions, since he had even vomited some blood due to all that effort his frail body had spent on purging itself.

He slowly started to stretch, trying not to fall because of his wobbly legs. He knew that he had probably gone a bit overboard, but it was the only way that he could get stronger.

It was painful, and he became aware very quickly of how fragile humans were. Himself specially.

When the first years of his life had to be spent indoors, constantly watched over by his grandmother and aunt while his grandfather and uncle worked outdoors.

He wasn't allowed to go and play outside with the other children, not when he caught colds and got sick constantly even when being at home. It had been a long and harsh discussion between his grandmother and grandfather. His grandfather's hide had been tanned so badly that everyone else on the small village had heard about it.

Bell didn't hate his grandmother for it, but it was a bit tiresome being coddled so much. He understood that she was afraid, since the illness that had affected his aunt and his mother had been passed down to him.

Thankfully his case wasn't as severe, it had been slowly evening out, he got sick far less, and he no longer had any trouble breathing, but his body was still somewhat fragile, and his stomach gave him trouble. He could drink only a small amount of potions, and they hadn't dared test healing magic.

His mother's illness likely caused her to die when she gave premature birth to him, being too much of a burden on her body.

The silver-haired boy thanked the stars that his uncle had suggested (pleaded) to his grandmother that letting him exercise and build up his body might have a positive effect. Between his grandfather and his uncle they were able to convince the females of the household.

Thus he was allowed to strenghten his body under the watchful eye of his uncle. But that did not mean any less mothering, because his grandmother insisted on also being present every time he trained.

He finished his exercises and walked towards the house at a slow pace, trying to enjoy the last of the country air he was going to get for the day.

The two-story house was like any other wooden house in the village, but they had a nice outdoors garden where his grandfather grew vegetables. As ever, his grandmother was sitting beneath the shade of the porch, knitting clothes for him.

She moved her head up from her knitting, strands of silvery-blond hair bouncing as she did so, and her purple eyes doing a quick scan of her grandson before grabbing a water canteen from a nearby table and giving it to him as he approached.

“Here you go, dear.” She then sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “And be sure to wash, I don't want you stinking up the house.”

“Yes grandma.” Bell groaned in annoyance. Like every other young boy, he hated baths.

Hera huffed in displeasure. “If you try to sneak out of washing properly, I'll send Alfia to sort you out.”

Bell shivered in fear and ran away at the very credible threat.

His grandmother just shook her head and went back to her knitting.

It was just routine, really.

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Their house was warm and toasty in autumn and winter, but even so, Bell still had to walk around with many layers of clothing due to how much he hated the cold.

His grandmother had probably knitted him more clothes than he would ever wear on his life, but he still loved them. He would do anything for his grandmother, anything that helped mend her broken heart. Even if was such a small gesture as being a walking bundle of clothes.

He was carefully walking down the stairs to avoid slipping on the wooden floors, which had already happened more than once when he rushed around the house wearing woolen socks.

Bell was on the last few steps when he heard raised voices, the kind that adults used when they were arguing and talking about things they didn't want children to hear.

But the joke was on them, the silver-haired boy thought, he had become very adept at sneaking around to avoid the endless mothering of his aunt and grandmother. So he hid behind the banister of the stairs, trying to tuck his small body sideways for an even better coverage, and looked between the bars.

The adults were gathered around the dining table, with a couple of candles being the only source of light.

His uncle was dipping some bread on a stew and having a mug of ale, trying to soothe his endless hunger. “It has been a couple of years, and his pace is starting to slow down, so he either has reached the limits of his body, or the illness is starting to catch up again.”

For a moment nobody spoke, the only sound was Alfia scribbling away on the big book she was always writing on. It must be important, since every time Bell asked about it he got shooed away and chopped on the forehead.

The old god scratched his chin and hummed. “I won't say that he should push himself harder than he does now.” He looked sideways at his wife, who had been silent so far in the matter. “But is the training really doing nothing now?”

Zald sighed. “He still will get something out of it, but by next year, he won't get any better even if he does a thousand push-ups a day or runs ten kilometers.” He put down his mug before reaching for a drumstick from a plate nearby. “His stamina growth has reduced drastically, and his body resists muscle growth. He cant even stomach food with high calories to help with the upkeep.”

Zeus looked grimly at the only remaining member of his familia. “Would a Falna help then?”

“Or it might make things worse.” Hera cut in, putting down the ceramic cup she was drinking from with a bit more force than necessary. “What if his illness appears as a debuff skill?”

The silence was deafening, since all of them already were familiar with something like that. Specially Alfia, who suffered from it every day.

The silver-haired ex-adventurer grit her teeth at the very good point, even if she hated to admit that Hera was right.

“I do not want my grandson to get a Falna. But I know that I am clearly outvoted on this matter.” Hera said bitterly. “I just hope that this does not come back to bite us.” She then clenched her hands tightly around the tea cup, while a tear slowly fell from her eyes. “I've had enough of adventurers and enough of Orario.”

“I do not want a Falna for Bell either, do not dare to assume my thoughts on it.” Alfia replied heatedly.

The goddess mockingly laughed. “Is that so? Then why have you been toiling away for years and writing that grimoire? Is it not to give Bell magic?”

Alfia just glared at the goddess. “Shut. Up.”

Hera kept laughing hysterically. “You were always like this, thinking you know better than others.”

SLAM.

“Hera, enough.” The old god said, slamming a fist on the table. “Antagonizing each other serves no purpose here. Everyone should be free to give their own opinion.”

The goddess hissed like a cat at the rebuke. “Do not lecture me on this Zeus!”

Zald sighed in annoyance. “Look, why don't we just ask him?” He pointed with his half-eaten drumstick at the stairs, where Bell was hiding. “He's been there this whole time.”

Alfia stomped on his foot in annoyance. “Why did you not say anything sooner, you fool?”

“Because I knew this would happen. Everyone here wants the best for Bell, me included.” He then stood up and walked towards the stairs, plucking the flailing silver-haired boy and settling him on his shoulder. “But at the end of the day, the choice should be his.”

He then sat Bell on a chair and moved it towards the dining table, before giving a pointed look to Zeus. “Isn't that what you taught us, old man?”

The old god sighed wearily. “I did.” He then looked towards his grandson. “Bell, never let anyone make decisions for you. Own up to your choices, both for good and bad.”

The silver-haired boy looked a bit confused at his grandfather. “Ummm I don't understand...” He then glanced at his aunt and his grandmother, who were still glaring at each other. “But I want to get stronger.” He said, pumping his fists up.

Zald laughed and ruffled his messy hair. “There you have it, the kid wants a Falna.”

“Say it, Bell.” His grandmother suddenly said, turning to look at him with an unreadable look in her eyes. “If you truly want the blessing of the gods, say it clearly.”

Bell nodded determinedly. “Grandma, I want a Falna!”

Hera exhaled with resignation. “Then, I will grant you my blessing.”

Her statement made Zeus choke on his spit. “Wha-? Hera! He was supposed to get my blessing!”

His wife looked at him as if he was the biggest idiot on the planet. “Absolutely not, I do not want your idiocy or your perverseness to pass down to my dear Bell.”

The silver-haired boy looked at his grandmother confusedly, while his grandfather was grasping at his heart, as if someone had shot him with an arrow and making dying noises.

Hera had enough of his stupidity and slapped him over the head. “You can thank Erebus and his resentful little goons, and the stunt they pulled in Orario as the main reason for Bell not getting your Falna.”

That sobered up Zeus very quickly.

After the long discussion the candles had almost run out, so his grandmother had kicked out his grandfather out and told him to go fetch more.

Once the living room was properly lit up once again, his grandmother had made him sit on the chair backwards, before telling him to remove his shirt.

Bell obeyed, and once the shirt was removed he rubbed at his arms for warmth, since it was somewhat chilly.

His grandmother dragged her own chair and set it down behind him, before sitting herself and grabbing one of her knitting needles.

“You will feel a warm sensation in your back when my ichor touches you, and then I will grant you my Falna.” She poked his cheek with a finger to make him look at her. “This is your last chance to back out.”

The silver-haired boy shook his head. “I am ready, grandma.” His emerald eyes glittered with determination, knowing how much it had taken to convince his grandmother.

“Very well then.” Hera finally relented, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment, then reached for the knitting needle and pricking her finger, letting a single drop of ichor fall on Bell’s back.

A golden glow spread across his skin, with lines and ancient runes writhing around, before settling on the Falna emblem of the Hera Familia, a sideways peacock on top of an apple, its lines shimmering faintly.

The room was silent while Hera wrote down his status on a parchment, before murmuring in surprise. “He has two skills...”

Zald scratched his beard in thought. “That's pretty unusual.” Meanwhile Zeus was widely grinning in anticipation, as if he knew something the others didn't.

Hera looked at Alfia in displeasure, before reading out the skills. “[Reincarnation of Talent]: User learns battle-related abilities at an accelerated rate. Increased battle sense. Magic or Skills cannot be replicated.”

“Gyahahaha!” The old god guffawed, causing a vein to pop on his wife's temple in displeasure.

“Zald, dear, would you be so kind as to shut him up?” Hera asked politely.

The tall adventurer nodded and got up from his chair, stopping before his own god, who was almost rolling in laughter. “Old man...” He said threateningly, clasping his meaty hand on Zeus' shoulder.

The god stopped laughing, rubbing an errant tear from his eye. “Ahhh that was too good. Don't you think so, Alfia?” He asked with a mocking grin.

The silver-haired beauty sneered at the old god. “What do you mean?”

Zeus exhaled, before standing from his chair, walking towards his grandson and ruffling his hair fondly. “Little Bell here idolizes his aunt so much that he got a skill to mimic her. Isn't that right?”

Bell rubbed his head sheepishly and flushed, looking at his aunt sideways. “Umm, maybe...” It wasn't his fault! His grandfather kept telling him stories of her exploits, he was particularly proud of how she destroyed the Leviathan with her awesome magic spell.

Alfia exhaled in annoyance at their tomfoolery, before being interrupted by a cough from Hera.

“If you are quite done, I would like to continue.” The goddess pursed her lips in thought. “This second skill is troubling.” At her statement, everyone focused once again.

“...Then, what is it?” Alfia asked shakily, closing her eyes, bracing herself.

“[Fleeting Vessel]: User earns less Excelia for the Endurance stat. Lowers the Strength stat, Increases the Magic stat. Increases the effect of the user's magic.” The goddess exhaled.

The silver-haired beauty rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Not a straight up demerit at least. It could have been much worse.”

Zald gently took the Status paper from the goddess. “Forget about [Fleeting Vessel] and its demerits, they are worthless. There are multiple ways to overcome low Endurance and Strenght.” He then brought it to Bell. “Listen well kid, this skill of yours, [Reincarnation of Talent] is an absolute cheat. If you work hard, it can make you a very strong warrior.”

Bell took the sheet of parchment and started to read it, trying to grasp at the meaning of both his skills. “So I can mimic the fighting styles or battle abilities of others? That's like auntie!”

Alfia twitched at being called aunt, but didn't rebuke him, she had given up on this particular fight years ago.

He then continued reading his status. “Uncle, I don't understand this part about battle sense.”

“Well, battle sense is pretty much your instincts during combat, and it varies from people to people. Some people are more suited than others for battle, and with your heightened instincts, it will lead you to make better decisions in the midst of battle. Sometimes, a split second is all it takes between living or dying.”

Bell nodded in thought. “So I can learn a lot of different things about battle, and then I can fight smarter. Sounds pretty cool.”

The tall adventurer smiled at his enthusiasm. “However, never think yourself invincible and always be cautious.” He told him seriously.

The silver-haired boy clutched his status paper and nodded furiously. “Yes, uncle. I'll keep that in mind.”

Zald scratched his beard in thought. “I don't mind teaching him swordmanship, but the magic stuff is more your expertise, Alfia. He will need to learn at least a magic spell to equalize the demerit from [Fleeting Vessel].”

Bell looked at his aunt who had been silent for a while with hope in his eyes. “Will you teach me magic, auntie?”

She clucked her tongue. “I hated training those idiotic brats in the Familia.” But she still nodded, before opening her eyes and glaring at her nephew. “If you annoy me, I will bury you in the garden like your grandfather. So give your 200%, understood?”

Bell quaked on his seat. “Geh!” Prompting his aunt to keep glaring at him. “I mean, yes! I will give my all!”

His aunt nodded in satisfaction. “I have a grimoire for you, but you will not read it until I am satisfied with your progress.”

The silver-haired boy then yawned, making everyone realize how late it had gotten.

Alfia rose from her seat. “Come on, Bell. I’ll take you to your room. Enough excitement for one night.”

Bell followed her and waved goodnight to his uncle, grandfather and grandmother, before going upstairs to his small but comfortable room.

It was a fairly simple room with a bed, a desk, and a closet. The only thing that stood out was the shelf filled with books, mostly gifted to him by his grandfather, they all contained tales from old heroes whom Bell admired.

His grandfather had always insisted he read them, claiming that someday he could be one, much to the displeasure of his grandmother, who always glared at his grandfather when that particular topic came up.

As he climbed into bed, his aunt pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. She was not very affectionate when others were present, but she always made sure to tuck him into bed.

Bell smiled, feeling cozy and warm. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Would mom have been proud of me?”

Alfia stiffened. Bell didn’t ask about his mother often, because he knew it was painful for both her and Hera. But tonight, he wanted to know.

She exhaled slowly. “Meteria loathed fighting. But yet, she always wished for others to return safe and sound from the Dungeon. She would not have wanted you to risk your life… but she would have supported you, always.”

Bell noticed a faint shimmer slowly trailing down her cheek. Without thinking, he reached up and wiped the tear away with his finger. Alfia blinked in surprise before letting out a trembling breath, then suddenly pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you, Bell,” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “And your mother… she loved you fiercely. Until her very last moment.”

The silver-haired boy swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling an ache within him. He had always felt loved by his family. But there was a part of him that always felt like it was missing, and it would never be whole again. He let his tears fall freely, hiccupping and gripping onto his aunt with all his might.

They stayed like that for a while, until his aunt eventually pulled away, composing herself. She then sighed. “This was supposed to be a happy occasion and I ruined it.”

Bell shook his head, drying the last of his tears. “You didn’t. I’m happy I got to hear more about mom.”

Alfia ruffled his hair, and kissed his forehead one last time. “Sleep well.” She then made a scary face. “Because tomorrow, I will have no mercy on you.”

Bell felt a chill go down his spine, but tried to put on a brave front. “Y-yes auntie, good night!”

Come morning, he had barely slept because of being too excited, and being too scared. He would pay dearly for it.

Chapter Text

A couple of days had gone by since Bell had gotten a Falna, and after a "slight" mishap where his aunt had done good on her promise, he was seriously learning magic now.

Another page rustled quietly as he turned it, sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, the mid-morning sun providing a nice and toasty feeling that warmed his body. The scent of aged parchment tickled his nose, but he had slowly gotten used to it.

His aunt was sitting on another chair next to him, below a parasol that shielded her from the sun, alternating between reading her own book and keeping her mismatched gaze on him like a hawk, ready to berate him if he lost concentration for even a single moment.

Next to her sat his grandmother, who was peeling some fruit and cracking some peanuts out of their shell for when he eventually got hungry. The apples were fresh and harvested from their own garden, and almost every day there was some kind of apple-related dish to eat either as an appetizer or dessert. Bell was somewhat iffy on sweets, but he had become used to apples, and their crunchy texture was enjoyable. Specially when they were baked into a pie.

"Ouch!"

Alfia had chopped him on the forehead.

He rubbed it and glanced with teary eyes at his aunt, who was raising an unimpressed eyebrow as if to say "Don't you dare complain." So he went back to his reading with a pout.

To be fair, he had been paying attention. So far he had learned about how magic manifested in all the different races that lived in the world, finding Renards from the Far East very interesting, since it seemed that they were a very small race, population-wise. It was very rare to see a Renard anywhere in the Far East, much less outside of it. It was a race that thrived in magic, and could innately have access to it.

But his guilty pleasure was learning about Elves. He was an absolute fanboy of Feena, the Argonaut's adopted little sister, and Ryuulu, a traveling Elf bard that had joined them on their adventures after leaving her home forest.

Elves also had innate magic capabilities, and many of them were very powerful mages, even if his aunt scoffed at that. He would never admit it out loud, but the beauty of Elves fascinated him, it was timeless, but also proud and severe. And their long ears also twitched! He had never seen an Elf in person, but he hoped to someday explore the world and learn even more about every race that lived in it.

Much to his disappointment, humans and most other races could only learn magic through the usage of a grimoire. Such as himself now, being blackmailed by Alfia into learning as much theory as possible before being allowed to read one.

According to his Falna status, he had two magic slots, so he could learn two magic spells at maximum. The first magic spell was pretty much guaranteed after reading a grimoire, but learning a second spell was harder.

His aunt had three spell slots, and the third spell had only manifested after she read dozens upon dozens of grimoires over the years, in her words, it had not been worth it, because the spell she learned, "Genos Angelus" had an extremely long chant, and the backlash of using it left her in a weakened condition.

But in exchange, at some point she had somehow learned how to write a grimoire, even if they were not as powerful of a magic item as those created by adventurers with the "Mystery" skill, which by her count were only like one or two people in the whole of Orario. Bell was extremely appreciative of all the years she had spent working on a grimoire for him.

Learning about "Ignis Fatuus" had been scary, because your own spell blowing up on your face was extremely bad news. The book said that novice mages had to concentrate and stay in place while chanting, focusing on keeping hold of their magic power. They were basically artillery, attacking from the rear-guard and relied on their companions to protect them.

Bell didn't mind that, being a super-cool mage that launched fireballs, or frost spears, or even lightning arrows. But he wanted to be more like the archetype of mage that Alfia was, that being a "Magic Swordsman", who could fight in the front-line as well as any physical fighter while being able to chant and attack seamlessly.

He had asked about the concept of "Concurrent Chanting" but his aunt had told him to forget about that, since it was an extremely difficult ability to master, only managed over long periods of time. In her own words, it was similar to fighting while holding a bomb in both hands. A single misstep and you could blow yourself up.

However, there was something that he could learn prior to Concurrent Chanting, since it was a sort of faux copy. Some adventurers were able to weave attacks or move in-between chanting verses. Something like chanting a verse while staying still, then moving or attacking, then chanting the next verse, and so on. It was a much weaker version, but for his purposes he could learn it if needed.

The concept of "Mind Down" was perhaps the most important of all, since running out of magic power, most commonly known as "Mind" caused the user to faint. And fainting when one was fighting or in the Dungeon was basically a death sentence.

The first step once he had obtained his first magic spell would be to figure out his mind capacity, and how many times he could use his spell before running out. Being a mage meant that he would have to use Mind Potions at some point, and seeing as how he could only stomach extremely small amounts of any kind of potions, he would have to be very, very careful.

Dumping a health or mind potion down his gullet to keep fighting on a dire situation was nothing but a pipe dream for him. He would get sick and have to vomit it out.

He had a lot of things to figure out before he became a proper magic swordsman.

The book closed with a thud, and he put it on a table nearby before dragging a hand over his face. Reading from such tiny letters was tiring his eyes, but he would not disappoint his aunt.

"Bell, dear, come get some food." Hera called out from her own seat.

The silver-haired boy rose from his chair, stretching his arms and his back, smiling at the satisfying pops they gave from sitting still for so long. He glanced at the slowly moving sun, whose position indicated that lunch-time would be upon them very soon.

He walked towards his grandmother with a smile on his face, receiving a small smile in turn. It was brief, as if she had forgotten how to smile. It looked awkward in her regal face.

Her silvery-blond hair fell down in smooth ringlets over her shoulders, hidden under a tasteful hat made out of straw, and her purple eyes quickly scanned him from top to bottom, as she always did, as if afraid that he would suddenly fall over or get sick.

Once he reached her, he took the offered plate of apple slices and peanuts and set it over on the table, before going in for a hug.

Hera sighed in relief as she held Bell for a while. She then let him go, brushing his now slightly longer bangs out of his face and stroking his cheek. "Thanks for the recharge, dear." She jokingly called it "Bell Energy".

Bell laughed at that, but he suspected that his grandmother held a deep trauma over the death of his mother, who had been her favorite child. So every day he would hug her, to let her know that he was still alive, and that he would not disappear. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes his grandmother was startled if he suddenly showed up in front of her, or if she saw him from the corner of her eye, before realizing who it was.

"Go on now, enjoy the fresh air for a bit before those two sweaty monsters get here." She wasn't wrong, whenever his uncle and his grandfather came back from working on the field or chopping woood or hunting in the forest they always reeked, making the females of the house complain.

He sat on the stairs of the porch, eating the apple slices and munching on the peanuts as he observed the small village they lived at. It did not have a name, or even a village chief, they were just a bunch of people that lived in community because it was convenient.

The firewood chopped by his uncle, the game hunted in the forest, the extra vegetables his grandfather cultivated. All of that got exchanged with the other villagers, giving them other foodstuffs, spools of wool, leather, all of which his grandmother used to make clothes and to cook sometimes. Everyone loved her cooking, even if the main chef was his uncle Zald. There was even a smithy who repaired their tools and cutlery in exchange for some vegetables.

He was lost in thought, seeing the villagers come and go about their business, before a straw hat fell upon his eyes.

It was sweaty. It smelled of dirt, and dung. The smell of someone working in the fields.

"Ugh! Grandpa!"

Zeus laughed boisterously, stealing an apple slice from his grandson's plate. "Heh, have you been working hard?" Completely missing the glare his wife sent him for daring to touch the food she had lovingly prepared for Bell with his dirty hands.

Bell pouted, taking off the hat and running inside the house to wash his dirtied face.

The old god looked at Alfia, who looked back at him after sensing his gaze, a reflex trained from many years of being a subject of his perverseness. She sighed. "He is doing very well, he has all the basics down." She then bit her thumb in annoyance. "I do not want to give him the grimoire this early, but it looks like I have no choice. [Reincarnation of Talent] must have something to do with it."

A mocking laugh came from the goddess next to her. "You reap what you sow. You told him that he would only earn the grimoire if you were satisfied with his progress." She looked gleefully at her child. "You can hardly complain about my grandson being a prodigy, can you?"

The silver-haired ex-adventurer didn't deign to answer the goddess, standing up from her chair and walking towards the house. "Tell Zald to hurry up, I'm hungry."

Hera clucked her tongue in disappointment. "Always a sore loser, that one."

Zeus cracked his back, reaching out for the forgotten plate of food on the stairs and eating what was left of it, before licking his fingers. "Delicious, your cooking improves every day, honey."

His wife glanced at him dismissively. "Empty flattery will get you nowhere, husband."

The old god clutched at his chest in pain. "Not even a little mercy?"

"Maybe when you run out of idiocy, but that is still many years away." She went inside the house as well, leaving the god to his own thoughts.

Zeus sat on one of the vacant chairs. Thinking back on it, he really had messed up, allowing Erebus to whisper poison to the handful of his own children that had survived the fight against the One-Eyed Black Dragon.

He wasn't sure on the entirety of what had transpired, having only received two letters, one from Erebus mockingly thanking him for his assistance, and one from a very pissed off Hermes, telling him that the last of his surviving children had thrown their lot with Evilus and attacked Orario, heaping even more dirt on the already tarnished name of the Zeus Familia.

It was a disaster, the respect that the Zeus Familia once carried, was now was synonym for murder, arson and suicide bombings. The efforts of the new rulers of the city, Loki and Freya, alongside Ganesha and Astrea had brought order back to the city after a few years of what was now known as "The Dark Ages".

Evilus had been stopped for now, but the cost paid in lives had been too much.

Hera had lucked out with the handful of her last surviving children, they had gone their separate paths and refused to return to Orario, they likely married and settled down somewhere, enjoying a peaceful life.

He should have known better, but he had been too focused on Bell. If he had to make such decision again, he would still run away with Bell, Hera, Alfia and Zald. But he could have at least given word to his children, told them to go join up with Hermes or something, instead he had ran way like a coward.

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The training ground was silent except for the huffs of exertion of a silver-haired boy doing stretching exercises in preparation for his swordmanship lessons.

His uncle Zald, a former adventurer, and one of the strongest warriors in the world even still, was going to be his instructor.

The huge man was holding a longsword with a wide blade, a sorry attempt to somewhat mimic the reach and weight of his adamantite bastard sword.

He lazily tossed Bell a much shorter sword, it had a leaf shaped blade and it was lighter than he expected.

Zald told him that it was a Xiphos, a sword that had been popular amongst the Zeus Familia members, since it was easy to carry and to use with a shield. Some members even used two swords at once. They enjoyed the thrill of getting up and close in battle, unlike many members of the Hera Familia, who traditionally learned to fight with the spear, and fought in close shield formations.

"There are some important lessons you need to learn before we begin. They are the basis of swordmanship."

The silver-haired boy perked up, giving his uncle the utmost attention, sword forgotten for now.

"Swordmanship is just not swinging a blade like an idiot. If you fight like that, you'll die the moment your opponent is stronger or faster than you. You need to adapt to every situation."

Bell refrained from mentioning that his aunt had often said that his uncle Zald was a brute, and an idiot.

"The most important thing is footwork, different people have different fighting styles, but something they all have in common is their movement. Some are constantly in motion, doing hit-and-run attacks and taking advantage of their agility. Others barely move at all, they stay in place letting their enemies come to them and crash against an immovable wall."

Zald planted his feet firmly into the ground. "I'm the second type, since my natural toughness as a Level 7 adventurer alongside my heavy armor, the long reach of my bastard sword and my strength don't require any extra movement. I can simply just wait and cut my enemy the moment they come within my range."

The silver-haired boy nodded thoughtfully, it made complete sense, his uncle was a mountain of a man, broad shouldered and with arms that were like tree trunks. He had seen him lift immense boulders that shook the ground when they were put back down, it was one of the ways his uncle could get a proper workout nowadays.

"Now, you on the other hand." He gestured to Bell's slim build. "You are exactly the opposite, you will need to constantly be on the move, finding gaps and weak points on your enemy's defense."

Bell glanced at his twiggy arms and feminine hands before sighing in disappointment. "Yes uncle."

He felt Zald's rough hand mess up his hair. "Cheer up kid, you'll find your own fighting style someday. With your cheat skill and my tutelage, you'll be soon running laps around everybody else." He then stepped back, his face serious again.

"There is also another thing, but Alfia will get on my case if I tell you about it." Zald raised his wooden longsword and glanced at it for a moment. "Oh well." His arm muscles bulged, and the sword blurred in a slash towards the sky.

An air slash split the clouds with a sharp whoosh, and the grass at their feet danced with the recoil.

Bell's eyes widened as he saw the outline of the wind crescent disappear into the sky. "W-What was that?!"

"It's called Afterglow, the knight slash." Zald replied, letting the wooden sword that had split in half fall to the ground. "The pinnacle of swordmanship, created by Maxim, my old captain." He looked at the sky, bereft of clouds. "The most basic explanation would be that after an insanely fast and strong sword swing, a wind slash shoots out due to the force. It's a technique that allows a master swordsman to attack from far away as if they were mages."

The silver-haired boy stared at the sky in amazement. "Will I ever be able to learn it?" He looked at his weak arms again in defeat. "I don't think I'll ever be as strong as you, uncle."

Zald scoffed. "Not anytime soon, maybe never. But it's still important to know about it, maybe one day you'll be able to replicate it, or make your own version."

Bell nodded with determination, absorbing every word, promising himself that one day he would be powerful enough to use Afterglow.

His uncle coughed. "Right, enough of that. Let's go back to the basics." He crouched and poked at Bell's legs. "Your lighter build will benefit from the Dexterity and Agility stats. Move efficiently, quickly and attack from unexpected places. That's how you will make up for the Strenght stat deficit from [Fleeting Vessel]."

He tossed Bell his sword back and pointed to their yard. "I want you to run, get a feel of how a sword feels in your hands while moving."

The silver-haired boy picked it up and gave a few practice swings, before turning around and slowly starting to run around the yard.

"Once you've done that, come back here. I will teach you about the basic swordmanship stances and the footwork that will be the basis of your own style."

The rest of the day went by, with Bell constantly running around the yard, and stopping randomly at his uncle's signal to demonstrate what he had learned thus far.

Even if [Reincarnation of Talent] allowed him to quickly learn, mastering was an entire different monster, since he would have to still drill many times to get proper muscle memory and reflexes.

He swung the sword until his arms burned, practicing precise cuts, thrusts and slashes.

He ran until his legs felt like they had pin needles stuck into them. He dodged and leaped at unseen enemies.

By dinner time Bell was absolutely drenched in sweat and tired like never before.

"Not bad for a first day." Zald grunted in approval as they walked back home.

The silver-haired boy nodded, too tired to speak but motivated all the same.

As they stepped into the house, the scent of home-cooked food hit their noses. His grandmother was finishing up dinner, while his grandfather was napping on a rocking chair, and his aunt as usual, had her nose on a book.

Bell slowly walked to his seat, and slumped into the chair, barely having the energy to stay awake.

Then, Alfia spoke, not looking up from her reading. "If you fall asleep now, you will not be able to read the grimoire."

Bell nearly choked. "Huh?! Now?!"

His aunt exhaled. "Do not make me repeat myself, Bell. I told you, you would get to read it once I was satisfied with your progress."

He quickly rushed out of his chair, almost leaping at his aunt in a hug.

She chopped him on the forehead, stopping his foolishness. "Save that for later, you're all sweaty now."

Bell laughed sheepishly. "Eheh, sorry auntie. I'll go wash up now" He replied, before running upstairs.

"If you take too long the food will get cold!" Hera yelled after him.

Zald let himself fall on a chair, making it groan in protest before looking at Alfia. "Is it going to be fine?"

The silver-haired ex-adventurer glared at him in response. "Are you going to make me repeat myself too? You dumb brute." She then clucked her tongue in annoyance. "As much as I hate it, that kid learned with all his might. And I do not intend to break my promises, he will get the grimoire after dinner. There is no point in delaying it."

Said dumb brute just raised his hands in mock-defense at the attack on his character.

Zeus snorted in his sleep.

Hera shook her head at their idiocy.

It was the usual fare.

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Dinner had gone by very quick, with Bell shoveling food into his food, and being yelled at by his grandmother for his horrid table manners. Then punished by being force-fed apple pie by her.

Extremely slowly. She had told him that he had to chew every bite a hundred times.

He had attempted a pout and puppy-dog eyes, but his grandmother had been relentless. Until he had finished his slice, he hadn't been allowed to get up from the table.

His aunt had gone with him, carrying a heavy book on her arm. Once they reached Bell's room she had tucked him in as it was their customary ritual before lighting some candles and telling him to take his time reading and not to rush.

He had barely opened the book and read the first few paragraphs before he passed out, and now he was falling. It was a sensation unlike anything he'd experienced before, with the wind biting at his face, and causing him to shut his eyes.

After a few moments he felt the wind slowly die down, making him dare a peek. He was falling through the night sky, passing by the lit stars and gathered clouds. The rays of the moon softly cast their glow upon him.

Then before he could process what was going on, he felt himself land on something soft and warm.

It was sand, shining with a myriad of colors thanks to the moon's rays. A salty breeze tickled his nose, and he could see the black waters of the sea moving forwards and backwards into the shore.

The beach stretched endlessly, reaching far beyond his vision. He was busy being amazed at the beauty of it before he heard something move nearby.

It was footsteps, light and almost imperceptible. Yet in the silent night, where the only sound was the lull of the sea, those footsteps were akin to someone walking on broken glass.

He quickly turned around, feeling his heart leap inside his chest.

But there was nothing behind him. The beach was silent, the footsteps gone.

His breath picked up, coming out in uneven gasps, hands twitching in nervousness.

Footsteps again, much closer this time.

He spun around again. And yet, once more, there was nothing. Only drifting grains of sand, floating momentarily in the air before falling, as if someone had disturbed them by moving very fast.

Was he being toyed with? Something stirred in the back of his neck, hairs standing up, but he vowed to stay still as a statue. Blindly moving would do him no good.

And then, before he could react, something cold tickled his throat, making his breath hitch.

It was a blade, pure white and translucent, shimmering like the moonlight itself, close enough to his neck that a single movement could slash it open. Slowly, his eyes traveled up the length of the blade, until they landed on the figure before him.

It was a tall warrior, draped in bone-white cloak with a hood pulled low over their face. The only thing visible were their eyes, glowing with an emerald light eerily similar to Bell's own. Hints of black layered leather armor peeked beneath the cloak, with leather trousers and knee boots completing the whole ensemble.

A strange sense of familiarity dwelled inside him, even though he was certain he had never met this person before. The warrior's presence was like the weight of a mountain bearing down on him.

"Why are you here?" The voice was distorted, as if two people were attempting to speak at the same time.

He swallowed, his throat incredibly dry in the face of danger, but the blade did not press deeper, nor did it waver. The warrior patiently waited for a reply.

"I… I don't know." He admitted, before correcting himself. "I think... I was attempting to learn a magic spell."

A long silence stretched between them before the warrior let out a disappointed sigh. "Why would you make things harder for yourself?"

The words threw him for a loop.

"Abandon this path." The warrior continued, as if explaining something to a five-year old. "You're not fit for it. Live a quiet and peaceful life, and one day, die quietly as well. Seeking pointless conflict is a doomed endeavour, the world is too harsh for someone as naïve as you."

Bell for the first time in his life felt his blood boil, alongside white-hot anger and frustration. A bitter mix of emotions he couldn't quite name. His hands clenched painfully, nails digging into his palms until they started trickling blood.

"I'm sick of being treated like I'll break at any moment." He snapped, glaring at the figure before him. "I don't want to just exist. I want to live a meaningful life! To explore, to meet new people! This world is too big for me to stay on this small village!"

The warrior tilted their head slightly. "Isn't that just your selfishness talking? What about the people who love you? They would be sad if you died a pointless death."

Bell in his anger, pushed the blade away from his neck with the back of his hand and settled on a fighting stance. "Maybe I am selfish! But didn't ask to be born. I didn't ask for my mother to die so I could live! But since I have this life, I want give it some meaning!" He yelled out at the warrior.

For a moment, there was nothing but the rhythmic sound of the waves. Then, the warrior moved.

In a flash of movement the blade once again was in front of the silver-haired boy's face. Hilt first.

Bell recoiled at the suddenness of it, warily looking at the warrior, who was still waiting.

"Then, grab this blade and show me your resolve." He settled on a stance of his own. "I will not hit back, so do your best to land a hit on me."

He fumbled, barely catching the weapon in both hands. It was a challenge. An unspoken message, do it, or die trying. His grip tightened, taking a deep breath and recalling Zald's lessons.

His opponent was fast, but he had declared that he would only defend. So he had to take advantage of his own mobility. With that thought, he shot forward.

His feet were gliding across the sand as he attempted to move in an unpredictable pattern, first he tried with a basic probing slash. But the warrior simply stepped back out of range with a smooth movement. Then a quick stab. Then a diagonal cut. He kept moving after every attack, trying to find an unexpected angle.

He tried a few more attacks, even flinging sand to his opponent's eyes in an attempt to blind him, making the warrior block for the first time in the whole fight. But his own current skills were too basic, he had to find another way to win.

"Is that it? You won't beat me like this." The warrior clucked his tongue in disappointment, making Bell snarl in anger.

Frustration began to creep in. The warrior hadn't even properly countered with force, only light pushes to disrupt his balance and his rhythm, to remind him how utterly outclassed he was. He was toying with him.

But he would not give up.

Another attack, this time a piercing stab. The warrior didn't move, just crossed his arms again and blocked the attack with his vambraces, making Bell bounce back and realize something.

He had been an idiot, his body had more than just arms, and he hadn't even attempted a single kick yet. He then kept attacking from different angles and upping his speed after each attack. Waiting for the perfect moment to throw his opponent off-balance.

A dash into a sweeping slash. The warrior sidestepped it.

Then a sweeping kick, and as he had expected, his opponent jumped to avoid it. The silver-haired boy took advantage of his own spin, shifting his body center instantly and planting his hand on the sand, using his momentum for a reverse kick with his opposite leg.

The unexpected maneuver forced his opponent to twirl mid-air, surprised, but still avoiding the attack without much fuss.

He laughed. "Not bad for a kid." the warrior admitted. "That woke me up, and I'm tired of just defending, so let's decide this with one final exchange."

The warrior lunged at him with one palm open, aiming to strike.

Bell didn't hesitate, he dashed forward with a plan quickly taking shape in his mind.

When his opponent was about to crash into him, he crouched and leaped up at the last moment, using the outstretched arm of his opponent as a perch for his own arm to launch himself higher. Twisting in midair, he delivered a spinning kick.

The warrior attempted to block it with their free arm, obscuring their sight once again.

This time Bell took advantage of it, quickly reversing his grip on the sword and twisting his body into a spinning slash.

The warrior's arm lowered too late, eyes widening slightly as Bell's blade came dangerously close.

A snap kick of their own sent the silver-haired boy flying backward, rolling three times and eating sand before he came to a stop.

The warrior lowered his leg and slowly stalked towards him. "It was a good attempt, but you still lost." The warrior said, making Bell look at him and laugh.

"Your trousers... say otherwise." He replied between breaths, trying to get some air back into his lungs.

The warrior stopped walking, glancing down and seeing a small cut on the leather.

Silence.

Then, laughter. A deep and genuine sound. "Good instincts kid. You cut me at the last second when my kick hit you."

Bell exhaled, slowly standing up and stretching. The sword of light forgotten in the sand.

"You proved me wrong, you might just have what it takes." The warrior admitted, walking towards the silver-haired boy and picking up the sword. "The sword is yours now. I call it Ensis Exsequens." Then he planted the sword in the sand, tip first. "Good luck, me."

The warrior dissolved into motes of light and the world began to rapidly spin and blur, making Bell dizzy.

Someone was calling his name.

He woke up with a gasp, drenched in sweat. The morning light filtered through his window, and his aunt stood near the door, with her arms crossed in annoyance and foot tapping impatiently.

"About time you woke up." She said. "Go tell the old hag to update your status and find out your new spell."

Before the last words left her mouth, the boy had rushed past her, almost knocking her over, and began jumping down the stairs two steps at time.

Alfia exhaled, a vein throbbing on her temple at her nephew's stupidity. "This brat..."

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Bell practically tumbled down the stairs, his bare feet skidding slightly against the wooden floor as he barely caught himself at the last moment. His breath came out in excited gasps, and his mind was still full of adrenaline from the battle on his dreamscape.

His grandmother almost jumped from the chair she had previously sitting on at the noise, turning her head to see him coming to a stop before her. "What in the world is this racket, Bell?" Her purple eyes looked at him with scrutiny, an eyebrow arched as if daring him to give her a stupid answer.

The silver-haired boy hesitated, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. He realized just now that he didn't know how to go about asking his grandmother about it.

Hera tilted her head, her serious façade now gone, amusement clear in her expression. "Come now, dear. What is it?"

His face burned in embarrassment. "I, uh… I wanted to uh..." He hesitated before mumbling. "Status… update... for my magic spell."

His grandmother's laughter rang through the room, light and teasing, making him pout slightly.

"Ahhh my grandson is truly adorable." Her comment made him color even more, by now he resembled a tomato.

"Stop torturing the boy, Hera." Zeus chortled from his place at the table with a crooked smirk. "All of our children were always like this with their first status updates."

Hera had finally gotten her fill of teasing him and gestured for him to turn around, and he quickly complied, pulling his shirt over his head so she could access the Falna etched into his back.

She pricked her finger, and Bell shivered as the drop of ichor fell onto his back, revealing the divine script hidden within, glowing gold as his status was revealed.

Hera hummed as she slowly distributed his gained Excelia.

Status:

Name: Bell Cranel

Familia: Hera

Strenght: I-0 > I-33 (-11)

Endurance: I-0 > I-18

Dexterity: I-0 > I-29

Agility: I-0 > I-48

Magic: I-0 > I-0 (+11)

Zeus was absentmindedly looking at the Falna as well. "So that's how [Fleeting Vessel] works, literally steals points from his Strength stat and gets re-distributed to his Magic stat."

Zald nodded in agreement. "Like I said before, those demerits are worthless, with his lean build he might even be better off this way."

The goddess clucked her tongue and rounded at them for the interruption as a warning to keep quiet before continuing to read his status.

Skills: [Reincarnation of Talent], [Fleeting Vessel]

Magic: Ensis Exsequens (super short chant, light-element armament)

She then made a surprised noise at the magic spell. "Light armament?" Muttered the goddess. "I have not seen this one before."

The old god stroked his chin in thought. "Hmm, shouldn't it be enchantment instead of armament?"

The silver-haired boy fidgeted in place before blurting out. "Umm, I think I already used it."

The living room fell silent.

Alfia, who had been silent thus far looked at him, her mismatched eyes meeting his emerald gaze. "Explain."

Bell hesitated for a moment, before going into what had happened on his dream, how he had met a mysterious warrior and fought against him. How real it had felt, and how he had barely scraped a win. He told them of the magic white sword of light, and about the parting words of the warrior.

His aunt sighed. "It's not unheard of to have those sort of dreams when one attempts to learn a magic spell."

"So you really want to be a magic swordsman eh kid? It's as if the stars aligned to give you the perfect way to accomplish it."

Bell nodded shyly, making his uncle laugh and mess up his already messy bed-hair.

"Then let's go test it, no time like the present."

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The training grounds were cold in the morning, bathed in the early sunlight with the cool air carrying the faint scent of damp earth and grass.

Bell's heart pounded in anticipation as he took his position in the clearing, in front of his uncle, who was standing with his arms loose at his sides and with a new wooden longsword in one of his hands.

Zald then pointed up the wooden sword at him. "Go on, activate your spell."

The silver-haired boy took a deep breath and focused, now more familiarised with the sensation of magic running through his body. He opened his right hand. "Ensis Exsequens."

A brilliant light flared to life from his hand, solidifying into a translucent white sword. It was longer than the xiphos he had trained with. Bell did a couple of test swings, trying to get a feel for it in the real world.

"It feels much lighter than the xiphos."

His uncle nodded in aproval. "It should be, it's made out of magic energy, apparently."

The silver-haired boy moved through the basic stances and footwork he had been taught. It felt as if he had been lugging around a tree trunk before, but now with the light sword it was as if he was much more precise. Barely any wasted movement.

He then tried more advanced maneuvers, such as swiftly changing from a regular grip to a reverse grip, like he had done in the dream and feints.

"Don't forget your footwork, always keep moving, don't be afraid to use hit-and-run tactics, they will be your bread and butter."

Bell nodded at the advice. "Yes uncle, I'll keep that in mind." He had already done so in the dreamscape after all, but now in reality his body moved much quicker, being able to string together kicks, spins and jumps.

Zald hummed in thought. "Kid, try wielding the sword on your opposite hand."

"Huh?" Bell froze mid-slash.

"Yep, you heard me, try doing your usual drills, but with your left hand."

The silver haired boy sighed before doing as told. "It feels strange, like my body is moving the wrong way."

His uncle shook his head. "Don't listen to your body, listen to your instincts. Keep moving."

Bell was hesitant but continued anyway. Slash, thrust, sweep, jump, dodge. He kept doing them, but something was happening. "Uncle... Are you seeing this?" He was now all of a sudden, being able to pull off those moves.

As if a switch had been flipped, the awkwardness and hesitance of his movements had all but disappeared.

Zald smirked in response. "Looks like I was right, you are ambidextrous. Either naturally, or thanks to your increased battle instincts from [Reincarnation of Talent]."

The silver-haired boy hummed in amazement. "So does that mean I can properly fight with both hands?"

"Not only your hands, but your entire body as well. For example, you may be able to kick with both legs with the same amount of force, when usually a person has a dominant hand and leg."

Bell smiled, feeling very giddy. "That's so cool, I can't wait to show auntie."

Zald had told the others to stay inside and wait, because he knew they would mess with his training if they were present. Zeus specially would find a way to goof around and distract Bell.

He clapped twice, trying to get the silver-haired boy's attention. "You can go tell them to come out now, the main event is about to start."

"Auntie, grandma, grandpa! You can come out now!"

They all came, sitting down in the chairs on the porch, getting a perfect view of the yard they were using to train.

"So that's how it looks." Alfia mused in thought. "I never thought I would ever see something like this."

The old god laughed boisterously. "You can say that again, hehe." He then cupped his hands in front of his mouth before yelling. "You look like a little hero from a storybook, Bell!"

His grandson shrunk into himself in embarrassment.

Hera slapped him over the head and hissed at him. "Shut up, you idiot, you're ruining it!"

Zald just sighed. "I knew it would be like this." He turned towards Bell. "Forget about them for now. We're going to test how strong your sword is."

The silver-haired boy raised his sword in response, positioning sideways in a fencer dueling stance.

His uncle rushed at him, heavy footfalls thudding into the ground before he reached Bell, swinging his sword in an overhead arc.

Bell narrowed his eyes at his uncle, trying to gauge how much strength he was putting on the swing, before his eyes widened.

It was not just strength, it was speed too. As if his uncle noticed him trying to gauge for an appropiate counter and suddenly sped up, throwing him off.

He grit his teeth, throwing caution to the wind and wildly slashing up, trying to parry.

Swish.

That was the sound Bell's blade made when it sliced through his uncle's wooden sword in a swift motion, almost cutting him too, if he had not suddenly jumped backwards to dodge the sword of light.

Drip, drip, drip.

But it had not been enough. A small cut on his forearm had opened, and it was slowly bleeding, much to the amazement of everyone present.

"Hooooh?" Zald said, amazed. "A Level 1 injuring a Level 7... Now that is something." As he spoke, the cut started to clot and slowly stopped bleeding by itself. But even then, he had been still cut.

Bell was open-mouthed, he had not expected such cutting power. It was very dangerous. "Wha..."

Zeus had a demented grin on his face. "This magic spell changes things. If he keeps up with his training and manages [Rank Ups]... He might be the promised hero after all. Gyahahaha! That's my boy!"

He was so wrapped up in his rant that he didn't notice his wife glaring at him bloody murder for going back to that cursed topic. Once every few years he would start talking about it, they would have a huge fight about it, and then it would be forgotten for a few years again.

Alfia smiled sardonically. Her nephew sure loved blowing her expectations out of the water. "Magic Swordsman indeed..."

Zald clapped his hands again to get things back on track. "Kid, let's try with a real sword this time." He then picked up a regular steel longsword from a barrel in their yard that held all sorts of different weapons.

Bell did not wait this time, he rushed at his uncle instead, swinging his sword in a diagonal slash when he got within range.

Screech.

The steel sword cried out when a chunk of its tip was sheared away after blocking the slash of the light sword.

Zald then retaliated with a downward slash of his own, trying to use his superior strenght to force Bell back.

But it was fruitless. Bell twirled to the side, slashing upwards as he finished his spin. Another chunk of the steel sword was cut away, making Zald dodge sideways instead.

He looked at his ruined steel sword and briefly frowned. "This is getting annoying, that sword is too overpowered..."

Bell laughed sheepishly at that.

His uncle sighed. "Right, not much sense in continuing with this." He then tossed the remains of the steel sword into the ground. "We'll try with something sturdier." In a quick move, he jumped up into one of the opened windows of the second floor.

Hera hissed in displeasure. "If that brute has trod mud into the house, I'll make him clean it with his tongue."

After a few seconds Zald jumped back out, landing with a thud in the yard. Holding his adamantite-grade bastard sword in his hand.

The silver-haired boy looked with stars in his eyes at the enormous sword, it was very rare that his uncle took it out of his room.

He walked towards Bell, before stabbing at the ground with the sword, making it stand in place with a third of it's blade buried underground, like a training dummy.

"Now." He motioned towards the bastard sword. "Give it your meanest swing. Full power."

Bell didn't think twice, rushing forwards, and once he got within range, jumping into a slashing spin.

Clang.

He bounced backwards from the impact, rolling a couple of times in the ground before coming to a stop.

Zald sighed. "That wasn't your full power, Kid."

Bell shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his brain, only managing a small mutter. "Huh?" The light sword had dispersed into motes of magic from his loss of concentration.

"As I expected. If you lose your concentration it disappears." His uncle said, humming thoughtfully. "Now, call it again, and give your all. Hold nothing back."

The silver-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows at that. "How am I supposed to do it?"

"Try channeling even more magic power into your sword after you have called it out."

Bell exhaled. "I can do that?"

Zald smirked. "Pretty sure you can, just give it a try."

He exhaled again and focused. "Ensis Exsequens." The sword came to life in his hand, and then he called out for more magic from his reserves, channeling it into the sword.

Bzzzz.

The sword started to spark and crackle, letting out excess energy every few seconds in small bursts. Bell looked at it in amazement. "Woah..."

"That's it. Now, let's see if you can cut adamantite."

Bell nodded and rushed forwards again, planting his feet firmly in the ground once he reached the bastard sword, and swung with all his might.

Bzzzt. Fwoosh.

The light sword discharged energy at the moment of impact, causing a small explosion.

Zald waved his hand to get rid of the smoke and see the results for himself. He sighed quietly in relief.

Only a very small nick had been made onto the adamantite sword, but it made the light sword no less dangerous, since it was more of a matter of the adamantite being second only to durandal, and the blacksmiths who had made his sword being at the pinaccle of their craft.

So he would have been fairly annoyed at his own idiocy if his nephew had managed cut his sword in half.

The silver haired boy let the light sword disperse, falling to the ground in a heap, breathing hard and absolutely tired beyond belief.

"Hmm, looks like you're due for a Mind Down." He crouched down and carefully picked Bell up. "You did great, Kid. Have a good rest now." Bell only mumbled something against his uncle's arm, falling asleep in the time it took to reach the house.

The others were lost in their own thoughts, Zeus specially. Zald could see the quickly mounting tension between husband and wife, but said nothing.

Alfia got up from her seat and took Bell from his arms. "I will get him to bed, you can deal with the hag and the fossil." She then walked inside, carefully walking upstairs to avoid waking him up.

The tall ex-adventurer chuckled. No way he was going to do that, he was in a too good of a mood for it. He would let the gods sort their issues out. Besides, he was dying for some food. Literally.

Chapter Text

Time passed.

It was an unstoppable force of the universe, and it bothered Bell immensely.

Nothing could be done to stop its march.

The march of time brought change upon those that were alive.

He was almost 14 years old now, and even though he was still naïve, he was not a clueless little boy anymore, as far as he knew.

He had started to notice an odd mood hovering over his family.

His grandfather and grandmother were rarely seen together except at meal times, and even then, his grandfather sometimes just ate a sandwich or some other finger food when he took a break from working the fields outside. They didn't eat together as much as they used to.

And if they were together, there was constant tension. Not the kind of tension caused by the antics of his grandfather making his grandmother mad. It was as if the veil of a happy, little family was slowly being removed from his eyes.

His grandfather had a sort of fake cheerfulness going about him, as if he were just going through motions, instead of his usual banter and jokes.

Bell had spent many evenings after dinner at his grandfather's knee, reading together books that had been written by him, mostly heroic tales and stories. Some of them even had pictures depicting climactic scenes, such as Argonaut's final battle with Minos, the Great Minotaur. Or even Princess Ariadne rewarding Argonaut with a kiss after the battle.

But now, something was off, as if his grandfather was slowly growing disillusioned. As if Bell hadn't risen to meet some kind of unspoken expectations that his grandfather had for him.

What else did he want? Bell thought bitterly.

He was already giving his all. Every. Single. Day.

He had transformed his sickly and weak body into something resembling a warrior.

Not a very resilient warrior, but a warrior nonetheless. He could run, jump, fight, and probably give a nasty surprise to anyone who thought him a weakling because of his lean build.

He hadn't shied away from physical effort, trying to claw his way out of the deficiency caused by [Fleeting Vessel, oftentimes passing out due to the painstakingly slow growth of his Endurance Stat.

He constantly trained with 'Ensis Exsequens', which made his Magic stat grow, and he had managed to get his Magic stat to B rank. He was incredibly proud of it.

But it seemed that his grandfather had been expecting something else. What Bell had done thus far, apparently, wasn't enough.

Was he expecting some kind of crazy growth? His aunt had refused him the grimoire that she was almost done writing, telling him that he would get it when he reached Level 2. So there was nothing that could be done on that front. If she said 'no' then there was that.

Lord Zeus, the ruthless god who had been the deity of the once-strongest Familia in Orario, had been rising more and more to the surface, swallowing the man who once had been Bell's grandfather.

Bell was slowly but surely understanding that deities truly lived in the Lower World for the entertainment, for the thrill. They all had their wishes and motives. They were purely selfish.

And they slowly lost interest if things didn't go their way.

He understood it, his grandfather had said as much in his own words. He had made many mistakes over the course of his long stay in the Lower World, made the wrong kind of enemies and humiliated them.

And deities most of all, were very petty. They would never forgive a slight.

They had been salivating at a chance for revenge, to pay back the mighty Zeus for his transgressions. And the utter destruction that the One-Eyed Black Dragon had rained upon their Familias had been the straw that broke the camel's back.

The perfect chance for some good old revenge and humiliation.

Exile was the cherry on top.

Their names of the top two strongest Familias dragged through the mud, being cursed and spat on. Their achievements forgotten, and only remembered in infamy.

But it seemed that his grandfather had barely been affected by the whole debacle and their downfall. He had suffered and grieved for his own dead children, sure, even for Bell's mother and father, and Hera's other children, but for the most part it seemed as if the whole thing had washed off him like water washed off a duck's back.

He had truly immersed himself into the role of a playful, boisterous and kindly grandfather who loved reading and having fun with his grandson. A perfectly crafted mask to carefully guide Bell towards his own ends.

He clearly had some sort of interest on Bell becoming a hero.

Looking back, he should have seen it. When his grandfather made a disappointed face when he had frequently asked him questions like "Bell, don't you want to be the coolest and greatest hero like Argonaut?!"

But Bell had his own wishes, his own selfish motives. And thus he had taken too long to answer, with his grandfather concluding in disappointment that he still had time to decide. But Bell had forgotten about it and not given a single more second of thought, and then-

"Stop daydreaming!"

The world came to a standstill, and the only thing within his vision was the gleam of an adamantite bastard sword bearing down on him.

The world came to life again.

The silver-haired boy sidestepped easily, rather than attempting to parry, which would be folly against the monstrous strength of his opponent.

A white blade of light flashed out two times in succession, attempting to stab the arm that held the enormous adamantite blade.

The swords sang when they clashed after Zald parried both hits with the flat of his blade. Then the wind whooshed from Zald's horizontal-follow-up slash, prying space open between both combatants.

He raised his sword and pointed it towards his nephew. "Losing focus for even a second in battle can be fatal. You should know better than that by now, Kid."

Bell bit his lip in an annoyed frown, because his uncle was right. He nodded and took up his stance once again. A sideways position to minimize his profile and his blade raised.

With a wordless yell he attacked.

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Hera sighed quietly as she opened the door to the bedroom. The scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the ever-present mustiness of old books. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with tomes and loose scrolls, while the desk near the window held an opened grimoire with a quill next to it.

And sitting up against pillows on a bed, with a thick book in hand, was Alfia, reading somewhat absentminded.

"Look at this mess." The goddess muttered, brushing off a thin layer of dust from the nearest shelf and coughing. "How can you even breathe in here!?"

Without looking up, the bedridden woman sniffed. "You're free to clean it up if it bothers you that much."

A mocking laugh was the answer. "Not in a thousand years. I did not clean up after you when you were a brat, and I am not about to start doing so now." The idea was ludicrous.

The silver-haired woman closed her book with a soft thud and glanced at the goddess, her mismatched eyes tinged with an exhaustion that she refused to acknowledge. "Then do not complain. I hate useless noise."

Clicking her tongue in mild irritation, Hera set down the tray she had been carrying on the small bedside table. It was a simple meal, a bowl of vegetable soup and some fruit, which was about as much as Alfia could stomach currently.

"Eat."

The bedridden woman sighed, but reached for the bowl, carefully dipping a finger in the broth, furrowing her eyebrows. "It's tepid."

The goddess' purple eyes rolled in exasperation. "Boiling hot soup will not do you any good." She then walked towards the window and opened it a couple of inches to let some fresh air in, a vain attempt to get rid of the musty smell of the room, before sitting down on a nearby chair. "And if you have any complaints about being served on hand and foot, I could tell you about all of mine."

Alfia looked at the goddess and sneered. "What could those complaints even be? Oh-so-great Lady Hera?"

Hera sniffed in displeasure. "All I wanted to do during this... forced retirement, was to dote on my cute grandson and spoil him to my heart's content." She lamented, resting her hands on her lap. "And yet, here I am, stuck taking care of your sorry self."

The silver-haired woman smirked, setting her spoon down after swallowing some soup. "I would not wish upon my worst enemies to be under your tender mercies, Lady Mother." She replied mockingly.

The goddess arched a silvery-blond eyebrow. "I would not think that being under my care is that awful."

Alfia smiled a tiny smile at the goddess.

There was a comfortable silence between them. It wasn't often that they weren't trading barbs at each other, though they restrained themselves when in Bell's presence as to not upset him.

But it was soon broken by the sounds of clashing swords, thuds and grunts from the nearby yard.

Alfia's eyebrow twitched. "Those two idiots are at it, then?"

Hera sighed. "They are always at it."

The silver-haired woman furrowed her lips in displeasure. "Bell should not use that dumb brute as a role model."

The goddess watched as the younger woman ranted and ate some apple slices, her movements sluggish and dull compared to what they once were. She hated seeing her like this, all the strength she once had was being eaten away by her illness.

She never blamed Alfia for being strong, unlike Alfia, who blamed herself for being stronger than Meteria, some nonsense about stealing all of her sister's talent in the womb. Utter idiocy.

For all her intelligence, she could be at times, really stupid.

"Get better soon... You need to spend some time with my grandson, otherwise he will just grow up to be another foolish adventurer." She said at last, her voice softer than usual. "And I will not forgive you if you go off and die. It would make Bell very sad."

Alfia paused her chewing, then quietly laughed after a moment. "I am not planning on it, not any time soon."

Satisfied, the goddess turned on her heel and made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click, leaving the silver-haired woman to her books and thoughts, hoping selfishly that she truly wouldn't break her promise.

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The Pantheon was completely different to anything Mikoto had ever seen before, and she couldn't keep her eyes from wandering everywhere.

It was a two-floor building, with multiple windows that let natural light in, and many counters with employees standing behind them. There was an exchange area where she could see adventurers exchanging their magic stones and drops for Valis.

She could spy an upset advisor leading a dwarf to a small meeting room where he was likely off to be scolded for something or other. Advisors were merciless.

"Absolutely not."

The deadpan refusal made her blink and glance towards the voice.

"Please! They need help!"

She sighed.

It was fairly embarrassing to see a deity do a perfect ninety degree bow.

The guild employee flatly refusing Takemikazuchi-sama was a red-haired werewolf beastkin, and her yellow eyes were rolling in exasperation. She had never seen a werewolf before, since her only experience with beastkin folk was her childhood friend, who belonged to the incredibly rare Renard species.

But they did not look too different from what she was currently seeing. The werewolf also had pointed, furry beastkin ears on the top of her head. And likely a tail she couldn't see from her seat.

The God of War raised his head in defiance from the bow. "I understand your reluctance, Fannet-dono. But my children are not rookie adventurers, they are fighters who have slain monsters on the surface."

The werewolf pursed her lips. "Lord Takemikazuchi, surely you understand that weak monsters living on the surface are nothing like monsters spawned by the Dungeon, right?"

He took a step back at the rebuttal. "Kuh!" But even so, he looked at the guild employee with all the seriousness and dignity he could muster, which wasn't much, to be fair.

The god, like his children, wore ragged and dirty clothes that spoke of many months on the road, doing odd jobs at various different towns and villages in exchange for provisions and transport to Orario.

The Far East was far away, after all.

"E-Even so! They are diligent, and they will study hard to learn about the Dungeon! So... Please! Just give them a chance!" The god walked two steps back before unleashing one of his most powerful weapons.

The perfect dogeza.

The god kneeled and slammed his forehead on the ground. "Please! Teach my children about the Dungeon!" Was repeated over and over.

Mikoto looked over at her two companions, and they all sighed at once.

People all over the guild were staring at the scene, with a pink-haired guild employee snickering behind her hand two counters away from Rose.

The werewolf's expression pinched in annoyance. "Please raise your head, Lord Takemikazuchi." She waited until the god did so, revealing a bruised forehead and a bloody nose. "I will advise the Captain of your Familia, and in turn, your other children will be taught by them. If your other children desire a personal advisor they are free to look for one, I am not so free with my time that I can afford to teach three adventurers from the same Familia."

The god nodded furiously, before turning to them and calling the Captain of the Familia over. "Ouka! Come here!"

The burly, black-haired adventurer rose from his seat next to her, leaving his great axe leaning against the chair.

She looked towards her other friend, who was fidgeting with the string of her bow in nervousness.

"Looks like we made it, Chigusa."

The girl turned to peek at her from beneath her bangs, giggling softly. "Eheh, Takemikazuchi-sama made a strong argument."

Mikoto rubbed her forehead in annoyance at the peculiarities of her deity.

The object of their discussion was walking back towards them, his geta sandals clacking on the marble floor of the Pantheon.

They both rose from their seats and bowed, saying in unison. "Thanks for your hard work, Takemikazuchi-sama!"

The god rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and chuckled. "It was fine work, if I do say so myself." Causing them to chuckle as well. "But for now we must leave Ouka to his studies with the advisor, so let us go back to the inn to prepare a celebratory feast."

A celebratory feast with their current finances likely meant hot soup and dipping noodles, with some side-dishes. But the celebratory part was what mattered. They had arrived to the city that was considered the center of the world.

Chigusa timidly tugged the sleeve of her purple yukata to grab her attention. "Let's do our best, Mikoto-chan!"

She nodded furiously with a smile, it was time to give their all. They would need to gather more finances to secure passage for their Familia members still waiting back in the Far East.

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Bell exhaled slowly and called forth his magic. "Ensis Exsequens." He muttered.

The light sword made of magic energy shimmered to life in his hand, its faint glow contrasting against the brown and green colors of the yard.

He took his preferred stance, with his sword pointing at an imaginary enemy.

He exhaled again before shooting forwards, and after a couple of steps, slashed diagonally, the blade whoosing with a faint displacement of air. Instantly, he pivoted on his heel to the side, using the spin to mask the fact that he had switched the sword from one hand to the other into a reverse grip.

The phantom enemy attempted to sidestep and struck back with an horizontal slash to take Bell's head off.

Bell crouched into a sweeping kick to dodge and to disturb his opponent's footing. And then, with his enemy off-balance, he rose into a reverse spinning slash.

He exhaled. "Not bad."

That would surely pry open an enemy's defense, as long as said enemy wasn't his uncle.

Needless to say, his efforts to tackle the wall that was the ex-adventurer once known as 'Gluttony' were going poorly.

He had to rely on his C ranked Dexterity and Agility stats and misdirection. In his current state, it was impossible to beat his uncle using brute force.

But that was fine, it was something that he had been told multiple times. Not all adventurers are born equal.

He just had to play to his strengths and improve upon his weaknesses.

His Endurance stat was still nothing to write home about, stuck at a measly G rank, and that had been due to just purely getting hit by his uncle with a wooden sword, which ended up with him bruised and swollen. And then he had to wait until he naturally healed to try again.

It was not a very effective way to train the Endurance stat, maybe if he ever dived into the Dungeon he could slowly raise it against weaker monsters who wouldn't leave him limping for a couple of days.

His Strength stat was sitting at E rank, which wasn't amazing, but wasn't bad either. He couldn't complain about getting a third of his Strength stat points siphoned into his Magic stat.

It basically guaranteed that he would be able to reach S rank in Magic at some point.

The thought made him giddy, since the higher his magic stat, the stronger 'Ensis Exsequens' would get. And that would put him one step closer into being able to learn Afterglow someday.

The how's and why's of his magic spell were still a bit of a mystery, he knew that calling it forth would drain from his mind reserve, then keeping it active would do a constant, but slight drain. Then if he wanted to overcharge it for much more cutting power he had to channel a much bigger amount of his reserves, often leaving him drained after some minutes of usage.

The overall efficiency was pretty bad, so he needed to [Rank Up] to make better use of it.

Bell exhaled before shifting into another drill.

A feint and a backstep to draw his enemy in, then a thrust to his enemy's arm to make them drop their weapon.

If the enemy was foolish enough to lunge at him empty handed they would quickly lose, if the steel sword he had ruined the day he acquired the spell was anything to go by, they would be cut as easily as carving a cake.

Obviously he had not attempted to cut living beings, but he had scratched Zald when he had caught him by surprise that same day. He wasn't wearing any armor though, so he could assume that First or Second-class gear could withstand 'Ensis Exsequens' like his uncle's adamantite-grade bastard sword had done.

But enemies that didn't wear any sort of armor were likely to have a bad time against him.

It sort of felt like cheating, this wasn't what he had in mind when he had wanted to be a magic swordsman, but he would have to make do. He just prayed fervently that his second spell would give him something else to work with.

Maybe he should learn some other weapons so his fights didn't end too quickly against not armored or poorly armored foes. He did want to have fun when in a proper fight, not just to slice someone to pieces and call it a day.

He had been trained in hand-to-hand combat by Zald to a very effective degree, but currently, his low Endurance stat made it too much of a gamble, even if his Strength stat was decent.

"Ugh, I really want to go hunt some goblins."

But he knew his grandmother would not allow it, since they'd had that conversation before. He could sneak out and try to go find a goblin's nest, but then both his grandmother and his aunt would be upset at him for running off without any supervision.

Even if his uncle had successfully argued in his favor to be allowed to physically train, then to be allowed to get a Falna, the next organic step would be to be allowed to fight monsters. But his grandmother was still holding some faint hope that all of this was just to be able to defend himself, trying to lie to herself and everyone else about what would happen at some point.

Bell would leave. He wanted to go to far-off lands, to meet new people and see the wonders the world had to offer.

A sound pricked his ears, making him turn towards the dirt road next to their home.

He spotted an approaching wooden wagon, with a lone merchant riding on it, clothes dusty from travel, and a hat protecting his face from the morning sun.

A grey, dappled horse pulled the rickety cart to a stop in front of his house, eyeing the two-story structure before looking at the silver-haired boy.

Bell lowered his sword slightly but remained wary. He had never seen a merchant directly stop to deliver anything, they usually went to the village market. He approached the merchant and called out politely. "Can I help you, sir?"

The merchant dusted off his tunic, his movements sluggish with fatigue. "I hafta deliver a crate to someone named Jove. Y'seen 'im?"

The silver-haired boy frowned. "Jove?" He shook his head. "There's no one here by that name, you might have the wrong house."

The merchant sighed, reaching inside his cloak for a small parchment. "Shoulda be a tall, strong old man, white spiky hair an' beard, and blue eyes. Lives n' a two-story house on the south-west side of the village." He continued, looking at the only two-story house on the south-west side.

Their house.

Bell stiffened, his grip on his sword tightening instinctively. "That does sound like my grandfather." He admitted, still somewhat suspicious. "Who is it from?"

"Don't know lad. I jus' got paid to haul it here, all t' way from Orario. An' lemme tell ya, it was a bloody annoying trip." The merchant replied, clearly growing impatient. "Look, I've gotta places to be. Do whaddaya want wif' it."

With that, he maneuvered the cart's rear panel open and hefted a wooden crate down with a grunt. It hit the dirt with a thud, dust rising around it. The merchant wasted no time climbing back onto his seat, flicking the reins to spur his horse forward, and within moments, the cart disappeared down the road.

The silver-haired boy pursed his lips and after a moment dismissed his magic sword into particles of light and approached the crate. He crouched, gripping its edges and lifting it. It was heavier than he expected, but with some effort, he dragged it onto the porch, sweat trickling down his face as he finally set it down on the porch's table.

Once it was down, he inspected it. It had no markings, no indications of whomever could have sent it. The lid was just secured with rope around it tied into knots.

He went to the weapons barrel and pulled a serrated knife out. "This'll do." He murmured. Within moments the rope was cut and with a bit of force, he pried the knife inside the lid and opened it.

Inside, nestled in a bed of soft cloth, lay a single, small branch. It was pristine white, with smooth bark. Faint magic particles drifted from it, catching the morning light like tiny stars.

Bell stared at it, amazed "A branch?" Then he hovered his fingers over it, feeling his own magic sing in tune alongside it. A warmth unlike any other filled up his body, it was soothing, feeling the aches from his training slowly disappear.

"Wow..."

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Since it was clear he wasn't going to get any clues on his own, he'd decided to drag the crate inside the house, hoping that someone else had answers.

His grandmother sat near the fire, purple eyes focused, deftly working knitting needles, looping soft, light grey yarn into what looked like a scarf. She glanced up at the noise he made when entering.

He walked towards her. "Grandma." He said, catching his breath. "You need to look at this."

"What is it?" She asked, setting her knitting aside and pushing herself up from the chair.

Bell flipped the lid open, revealing the clearly magical branch nestled inside.

Hera's gaze narrowed in recognition, and she approached the crate, reaching down and lifting the branch with both hands. Her fingers ran over the smooth, pale bark, tracing the natural patterns of the wood.

"Where did this come from?" She asked, looking at him with puzzlement.

The silver-haired boy hesitated for a moment. "A merchant brought it all the way here from Orario. He was looking for someone named Jove, but I told him that I didn't recognize the name. Then he perfectly described grandpa... It was really weird..." He trailed off.

Hera muttered something under her breath, too low for Bell to catch. Her grip tightening on the branch.

"Grandma, what is it?"

She sighed, then turned to face him fully. "This is a branch from a holy elven tree. It has very strong medicinal properties."

Bell's eyes widened. "Medicine!?" His heartbeat quickened. "Is this for auntie?"

"It would seem so." She finally acquiesced.

The silver-haired boy looked at her timidly for a moment, before asking. "Um, would you show me how to make use of it, grandma?"

Hera studied him for a moment, before exhaling. "Fine, but you better pay close attention. This is a very rare ingredient, you may never see another like this for as long as you live." She continued, making him nod furiously.

Then she guided him into the kitchen, clearing the wooden counter of its usual kitchen tools. She retrieved a small serrated knife from the cupboard, before handing it to her grandson.

"The best way to make use of it is to shave the bark off, and then the wood itself into tiny chips."

Bell carefully did as he was told, before looking at his grandmother for further instructions.

She nodded in approval, before handing him a mortar and pestle. "Then you need to get both the wood and the bark wet, and slowly grind it down into a pulp."

He did so, pressing the pestle firmly, working the fibrous wood into a wet paste. It took longer than he expected, the fibers resisting at first, but as he poured all his focus into it, they slowly broke down.

His grandmother gathered a few dried herbs and some other medicinal plants from their cupboard and tossed them into the mortar.

"Now, grind it again, these herbs will balance the effects of the paste, since Alfia's body can't process magical healing like most other people, these will help. To put it simply, a potion is a more advanced version of this."

Bell mentally reviewed all the instructions in case he needed to do it again in the future, while slowly grinding the herbs into the paste.

"And then once you are done, cook it in a pot with some water, with the desired result being something similar to a porridge or a thick broth. Alfia will need to drink as much of it over the next three to four days as she can, otherwise it will not be of much help."

When the mixture was ready, Hera set a pot of water over the magic stone stove, instructing him to slowly add the paste while constantly stirring.

The water darkened, taking on a thicker consistency, like a sauce, with Bell anxiously looking over it.

"Be patient, it will take some time before it's ready." She chided him softly.

The silver-haired boy sighed. "Yes grandma, sorry."

The goddess shook her head, slowly caressing his hair, before noticing something. "Your hair is getting longer, do you want me to cut it, dear?

Bell chuckled and shook his head. "Um, I sort of like it like this, eheh."

Hera smiled fondly at her grandson. "It suits you, I think." She then sighed and looked at him sadly. "You remind me of Meteria more and more every day. She was kind beyond measure, like you."

The silver-haired boy's eyes shined, and something stuck in his throat. "I..." But before he could continue he was seized into a hug. It was the warmth of a home, of a family.

"It's fine, dear. I understand." The goddess exhaled a trembling breath.

Bell nodded shakily against her shoulder, before slowly letting go and looking at his grandmother in determination. "I will make her proud, so, so much that she will brag to everyone else in Tenkai."

A lone tear dripped from the corner of Hera's eye. "You already have, all of us are proud of you."

After a while of being embarrassed by his emotional moment, Bell opted to check on the bubbly mixture, which smelled a bit strange, making his eyes water and his nose want to sneeze, while the goddess sat at the table and drank some tea to compose herself.

When it was finally ready, Hera filled a bowl and handed it to Bell. "Take it to her, remember, she needs to drink it slowly. And if she dares to complain, I will force-fed it to her."

The silver-haired boy gulped at the threat, knowing his grandmother would do good on it and nodded, carefully putting the bowl on a tray and walking upstairs to his aunt's room.

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He slowly pushed the door open with his foot, stepping inside. The room was dim, with the curtains drawn, letting in only a sliver of light. Alfia lay in the bed, her silver hair spilling over the pillow, strands clinging to her damp forehead.

Her breathing was even but shallow, her body clearly weakened. She stirred at the sound, her mismatched eyes fluttering open. "Bell...? What... are you doing?"

He approached the bed and set the tray on the bedside table. "I brought you some medicine, auntie."

Alfia squinted her eyes blearily and coughed. "Me...dicine?"

"I didn't understand the whole thing, but apparently someone sent a branch from a holy elven tree, from Orario." Replied the silver-haired boy, scratching his head.

His aunt's eyes opened in surprise, a rare show of emotion from her. "Someone?" She scoffed. "This is not something someone just gets to 'send'. It's an extremely important ingredient used in sacred elven rituals."

"Grandma said it's a very strong medicine. It must have been difficult to obtain, right?" Bell said in amazement.

Alfia shook her head. "It goes beyond 'difficult', it's sacrilege to cut a branch from a holy elven tree, unless done by a priestess during the winter solstice." She looked at the mixture warily. "I do not know who sent it or why, though I have my suspicions, but it must have not come by cheap."

The silver-haired boy sweated slightly. "How expensive...?" He trailed off the question.

She pursed her lips in thought. "It's worth a king's ransom." Alfia hesitated for a moment, before carefully lifting the bowl to her lips and sipping the mixture. The moment the warm liquid touched her tongue, her entire body tensed. The taste was extremely bitter.

Bell noticed her expression and smiled sheepishly. "Uh... is it good? I made it following grandma's instructions."

The silver-haired woman smiled mysteriously, lowering the bowl to the tray. "It's... not terrible."

"Grandma said that you need to drink as much as possible, over the course of the next few days." He continued, making Alfia freeze in realization.

She could not escape drinking the foul sludge, and she would not throw away all the effort her beloved nephew had put into making it.

She sighed at Bell's eager expression. "I will drink it, but only because you made it."

"Eheh, I just want you to get better."

Alfia reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over his hand. "I promise I will."

Outside the room, Hera stood silently in the hallway listening and wringing her hands. They had used this kind of remedy before, Alfia had needed it after killing the Leviathan. She knew the effects would only last for a short while.

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The afternoon sun hung high, casting shadows across their garden. Zeus looked up, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He had been tending to their vegetable orchard, letting his thoughts wander into the not-so-distant future.

A cough stopped his musings. It was his wife, having snuck upon him.

Bad luck then.

"Did you ask Hermes for that tree branch?" She asked, voice laced with suspicion. "I know you have exchanged letters with him for all these years, but this goes far beyond that."

Zeus didn't look up immediately. He reached for a spade, scooping a small heap of soil before patting it into place around the sprouting greens. "Why does it matter? We've been dealing with him for as long as we've been in the Lower World."

Hera scoffed. "A branch from a holy elven tree is an awful lot of generosity for a man who only cares about his own schemes." She pursed her lips in a frown. "I can only fear what you have agreed to give him in exchange."

The old god sighed, setting the spade down. He knew this conversation would come, his wife was too perceptive. "You're not wrong, he never does anything for free."

"Then why? What are you two plotting?"

Zeus chuckled ruefully. "Plotting? Nothing like that, my dear wife."

She grabbed him by the collar of his tunic and tugged, hissing on his face. "You never have been too fussed about Alfia being sick, and now, out of nowhere you pull this stunt." Tears were gathering on the corner of her eyes. "So why now? Why give my grandson false hope?"

The god's expression darkened, the mirth leaving his face. "Because she's running on sheer willpower. She's only alive because she's too stubborn to die and leave Bell behind."

Hera exhaled through her nose, her lips pressing into a tight line. "You are a fool, and she is too. The cure is temporary at best."

Zeus huffed a laugh, though there was little humor in it. "Sure, but maybe I just don't want Bell to have to say goodbye to his aunt just yet."

The goddess flicked her gaze towards a window on the second floor, where she knew the silver-haired woman was resting. "You distanced yourself from Bell for the past few months, do not think he has not noticed. If this is some sort of scheme to get back in his good graces, then it's a very distasteful one."

The old god deflated at the barb. "He is more perceptive than I gave him credit for, but he hasn't grown enough to notice such things yet."

Hera laughed mockingly. "You are disappointed that he has not rushed to become the little hero you wish so much for." She clicked her tongue, realizing something. "Both you and Hermes."

Zeus raised his arms in defeat. "Guilty as charged."

Silvery-blond tresses bounced when the goddess shook her head in disappointment. "It will not work, for all your meddling and all those annoying hero tales. It has had the opposite effect, he is too much of a free spirit to go along your whims."

"The world calls for a hero, because the promised day will come. The seal trapping the One-Eyed Black Dragon will fail, and then the world will be bathed in flames once more."

Hera trembled at the reminder of her daughters dying one after the other in the battle against the flying calamity. She then looked at the god in disgust. "So you want our grandson to be the one to slay that beast, and Hermes is going along with it. It's much worse than I thought, you're both delusional."

"Hera..." Zeus tried to plead. "You have to understand-"

But the goddess shook her head and stepped back. "I will not hear it. Never again will I hear a word of this topic. Or I will take Bell with me, and you will never see him again."

She turned around and walked away, leaving with the last word.

The old god sighed, but his course was set, his wife had the rest of eternity to be upset with him. He wouldn't stop his plans.

"It's not like she can do much about it either way..." He murmured.

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The sound of an axe splitting a log kept echoing in the yard.

The muscular, brown-haired man adjusted his grip on the axe, careful not to damage the already worn wooden handle, and braced another log beneath his boot.

Thwack.

Another log split cleanly down the middle.

Zald laughed at that. If the original owner of the axe knew that his precious First-class weapon was going to end up as a measly wood cutter, he would have had a stroke.

It was a mechanical motion at this point, having split hundreds of logs over the years, specialy when building their two-story wooden house.

But it was relaxing, and it required zero thinking. Which was good, because his thoughts were elsewhere, running away from him.

Specifically, they were on the young boy across from him on the other side of the yard, practicing his drills.

It was clear that the boy's mind was also somewhere else.

Silver hair caught in the sunlight when the boy pivoted on the heel of his foot, throwing out a spinning kick at a phantom enemy. Feint a slash and switch the sword hand at the last moment towards their unprotected side.

The move was good, perfected over many training sessions.

But he could do better.

Zald had seen him do better.

Slide and dash around the enemy, then stab at the unprotected armpit.

Dodge the counter attack with a twirl to get behind them, and into a vertical slash to their back, if the enemy manages to turn back and parry then feint backwards into a flip kick.

Another thwack, another split log.

Bell's feint didn't work against his phantom enemy, he could see him grimacing at the failure.

This had been going over the past few days and he knew why, it was fairly obvious.

Bell's mind was busy with the thought of his sick aunt.

The woman was as stubborn as a bull, but knowing his own issues with the Behemoth poison slowly breaking his body down, he could guess that Alfia's body was starting to give up as well.

Sheer willpower and 'mommy power', as Zeus crudely had put it, had given her more time to live, it had also helped that she hadn't used any magic spell in over a decade.

Taking care of her nephew had been her sole obsession and driving force.

She had been sick many times before, and had almost died after obliterating the Leviathan. They had been long and painful recoveries, spending weeks and months bedridden coughing up blood. But she had pushed through.

This time, she had randomly fallen ill one day, starting with a cold that left her unable to step out of the house, then it had worsened, leaving her bedridden, having to drink tree soup sludge so her symptoms didn't get any worse.

Yuck.

Elven trees tasted awful. He had to go through a similar recovery a couple of times as well. But he had eaten the raw wood instead.

Thwack.

His nephew had always worn his heart on his sleeve, caring to a fault, and always putting his nose where it didn't belong. It was a strength, but also a weakness.

The boy could ill-afford those nowadays.

Bell needed to focus, he had been coasting off his training, slowly developing his own fighting style. That was fine, but he wasn't feeling any rush, content with spending less time training and more time tending to his sick aunt.

He needed to learn to set his emotions aside for the sake of his goal. At least temporarily.

The alternative was worse, because if he let worry and doubts creep into his mind and into his blade, then one mistake was all that an enemy needed.

Thwack. A more forceful movement that left the edge of the axe buried in the grassy yard.

"Tsk."

Zald rubbed his forehead in annoyance.

Bell had amazing talent for learning and stealing moves from enemies for his own use. He himself had been victim of this.

Thankfully since he and Bell used quite distinct fighting styles, he couldn't be really beaten by his own moves, but he had been surprised by a new or different twist on them a couple of times. The true danger that his nephew posed was that he could predict his enemies very accurately, only their enormous difference in stats had held Bell back from snatching true wins from him.

So he really needed him to get his head on the game. The hunger for knowledge that had possessed him after getting his Falna had been slowly evaporating.

It wasn't something that could be fixed here.

Zald set the axe down for a moment, rolling his shoulders. He exhaled.

He would have to take Bell away. Maybe a month, away from distractions and worries.

Wilderness training would do. They had gone hunting for game many times, but they never had been away for such a long time, they always came back after hunting. So now he would teach him things that would help him survive on a hostile environment.

He placed another log under his boot.

Thwack.

His nephew would need to learn to endure, to fend for himself without being coddled by his family.

The world was merciless, and it was best he learned it now, rather than later, when something that couldn't be fixed had already happened.

The axe came down again with finality, splitting another log into perfect halves.

He knew Hera would be reluctant when he told her, and Alfia would be annoyed when she realized that they were gone. But he would bear the brunt of it when they came back.

She would understand that Bell needed this.

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The scent of burning wood filled the house, a calming scene in contrast to the turbulent thoughts of the tall ex-adventurer.

Zald sat at the dining table, sipping some ale and munching on cheese.

Across from him, the purple-eyed goddess watched wearily, sipping from a cup of tea, swirling the liquid in her mouth before swallowing. "Could you repeat that, Zald?"

He exhaled, setting down his mug. "I want to take the kid on a trip."

Hera arched a brow. "Oh? And where is it, exactly, that you are taking my cute grandson?"

He ignored the barb, since he didn't have enough wits to banter with Hera when she got like this. "He's too distracted here. I don't know when it was the last time you updated his Falna, but I bet that you don't remember either."

The goddess was about to reply, before sighing in defeat. "It was two weeks ago, and it was only due to Zeus' insistence. Bell hasn't been asking, at all."

"If you understand that much, then you should know why I'm asking for this."

Hera understood, indeed.

Alfia being bedridden was weighing Bell down. It was insensitive to put it that way, but it was the truth.

"His sharpness has dulled. He doesn't want to face reality, he's just running away from it."

The goddess rubbed her forehead, letting out a long sigh. "What do you propose, then?"

Zald scratched his beard thoughtfully. "A trip into the wilderness, I'll teach him to survive off the land."

"Would that even get his mind off what is plaguing him?"

He snorted. "I won't give him the time to think about his troubles, since he will be very, very busy."

Hera chose to ignore the ominous declaration, which basically meant that her grandson would be beaten black and blue by Zald daily, and then tossed into the wilderness to survive at night. "It's not the worst idea..."

Zald sighed. "I don't care about any of the nonsense the old man is trying to plant into his head. But I care about him, he has been coddled all his life, and now he needs to stand on his own two feet."

Silence stretched between them. The fire crackled in the hearth, the only sound filling the room.

The goddess looked down into her cup, as if weighing her words. "You don't expect Alfia will get better, then." The fact that she didn't expect it either went unsaid.

"This last decade, after everything that has happened, has been like a long dream. We've lived happily here, but no matter how much we wish for it, we can't live forever. Even the blessing of a deity can only do so much." He replied, looking at the wooden table and tapping his fingers on it.

Hera took his hand between hers, making him look up. "I am not so cruel as to make you say it openly, dear. I know Alfia is not the only one suffering."

Zald chuckled at that, his grey eyes shining with mirth. "Don't be so quick to get rid of me, you still need me to counterbalance the idiocy of that perverted god."

This caused her to laugh as well. "That I do, my useless husband is too much."

The tall ex-adventurer looked at her with a serious expression. "Do I have your permission then?"

The goddess nodded, sighing in defeat. "Go and come back safely, you will have to tangle with Alfia afterwards when you return."

Zald grimaced at the reminder. "She's even moodier when she's sick, so be sure to pray for me."

"I will prepare some food for the trip, then." The goddess said, before standing from her seat and walking towards the kitchen.

"Don't go overboard, the kid will have to hunt and forage for his own meals, so just make something light."

Hera just waved her hand over her shoulder.

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Zald worked in silence, moving with practiced efficiency as he packed the last of the supplies into the two large backpacks. The leather straps groaned under the weight of dried meats, bread, and preserved fruits, all prepared by the worrywart goddess before she retreated to her room, unwilling to watch them leave.

His hands hovered over the gear laid out on the table. Fire starters, bow and arrows, knives, small coils of rope, and a handful of First-class weapons. He nodded and wrapped them on a cloth tarp. He was planning on drilling Bell on several weapons during the training trip.

The house was quiet, he knew Alfia would be sleeping, and he didn't care about what Zeus was up to currently.

With a grunt, he hoisted both bags over his shoulders and stepped outside. His nephew was still training. Even from a distance, Zald could see the sluggishness in his movements.

Good. He was already tired.

He approached him and called out. "Oi, Kid." Tossing one of the bags to the ground beside him.

Bell turned, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Grab the bag, we're off." He said simply. "Now."

Bell blinked at him, then at the bag. "Leaving? What? Where?"

"We're going on a training trip." He then smiled sadistically. "You get to enjoy the pleasure of my company for an entire month in the wilderness."

The boy froze, feeling dread crawl up his spine. "A m-month?"

Zald adjusted his own backpack over his shoulder with a grunt. "That's what I said."

Bell hesitated, glancing toward the house, toward the window where Alfia's room was. "Wait, uncle. I haven't said goodbye-"

"It'll be fine, Hera allowed it." His uncle interrupted, already turning away. "Keep up."

Bell shifted on his feet, uncertain, but when Zald started walking, he had no choice but to follow, grabbing his own backpack from the ground. His legs protested with every step, but he knew his uncle wouldn't slow down for him.

They had been walking through the countryside for a couple of hours, and while he had been to the forest and river near the village to hunt and fish, it was the first time that he had been so far away from home.

"This is it." Bell murmured, stopping before a corn field, next to a scarecrow.

It was the border of what was considered the lands of their little nameless village.

In front of him lay a much more rocky terrain, with dirt and pebbles mixed into something that resembled a road. And in the distance he could see dust that surely was from merchant wagons coming and going.

He turned on his heel, the sound of gravel scraping against his boots making his uncle stop and look at him.

"What's wrong, Kid?"

The silver-haired boy sighed, looking over the lands where he had spent almost 14 years of his life.

"It's just, once I go past this border, it'll be the furthest I've ever been from home."

Zald walked back until he was next to him and ruffled his hair with a laugh. "It's daunting, I get it. But it'll be good for you, trust me."

Bell sniffed in discontent. "That's not what your face was saying before. In fact, it gave me a feeling of dread."

The tall ex-adventurer laughed boisterously before clapping him on the back to move him forward, past the border. "Besides, aren't you always saying that you want to see the world? You should be thanking your poor uncle for this adventure."

The silver-haired boy laughed in response. "You're right uncle. So thank you." He then darted forward, kicking up dust and leaving Zald coughing.

He won't be laughing later, the man thought with a smirk.

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After some miles they turned away from the main road and towards a forest, an expanse of dense trees, with the sunlight dancing between the folliage, leaving gold patches in the ground. Birds could be heard from their hidden perches, mixing with the rustle the wind and other animals going through their routines.

Zald led the way with Bell a step behind, keeping pace with mild reluctance. He was excited about the trip, but the feeling of dread on the back of his neck told him that it wasn't going to be pleasant for him at all.

"Always keep food in your mind, it isn't just what you bring with you, but what you can find." His uncle lectured, munching on some of their rations. "Learn how to live off the land, anywhere you go. Foraging is extremely important."

He stopped by a tree, whose roots were covered in moss and knelt, pushing aside damp leaves to reveal a couple of mushrooms. He plucked them, examining their shapes and colors before handing them to Bell. "These are safe to eat, but they will make you a little sick."

The silver-haired boy eyed the mushrooms warily. "Why would I eat them then? It's annoying to have to deal with my stomach, no way I'm eating these."

Zald looked at him, with his hand still extended, daring the boy to refuse again.

He hesitated but obeyed in the end. They were somewhat tolerable, with a rubbery texture, but soon his stomach churned and roiled. He groaned, clutching his abdomen. "Ugh... this is nasty."

"You'll have to eat more if you want to develop the 'Abnormal Resistance' Development Skill."

Bell grumbled under his breath, but the pain was slowly subsiding. He was annoyed at the roundabout way of getting tricked because he indeed wanted 'Abnormal Resistance'.

They walked some more along the forest, until his uncle stopped and knelt, this time pointing at faint tracks in the soft earth. "Animal tracks."

He crouched beside him, examining them. "What could it be?"

"Could be a deer, or even a boar." Zald commented, slinging an unstrung bow off his back, and handing it to Bell, who started to brace and put the string on it. "We haven't hunted in a while. Go find our dinner."

The silver-haired boy sighed, but took a quiver of arrows alongside the bow.

After a while, the tracks led him deeper into the forest, where the sunlight struggled to make a dent in the dense canopy of leaves, which also littered the ground and would betray you and crunch at the slightest misstep, alerting any nearby prey, so he had to stay unseen and unheard, with light steps, and hiding behind trees.

Then, he spotted it. A wild boar, snorting as it munched on flowers on a clearing. It was pretty big, and the tusks looked sharp enough to gore a person.

Bell stopped dead on his tracks. He exhaled, trying to calm his breathing and trying to find a good shooting position without being spotted, to hopefully be able to kill the boar using only one arrow, otherwise the animal would just run off.

He nocked an arrow and silently drew the bowstring, aiming carefully, then held his breath.

Twang.

The arrow flew off with a hiss.

The shaft flew true, piercing the boar's eye. It squealed, frantically moving for a couple of seconds before running off and then collapsing on the ground after a few paces.

He hurried over, morbidly inspecting his kill and seeing one of the boar's hind legs twitch. He grimaced and drew a small dagger from his back, quickly stabbing the animal in the throat, putting it out of its misery.

Bell sighed, before removing some rope from his backpack and tying the boar's legs together before starting to drag it off to their campsite.

His uncle was tending to the fire when he came within sight, and with a nod he called out "Good catch, Kid."

He hadn't realized that the arrow was still stuck inside the eye socket of the boar. He took it out with a grunt, and put it back on the quiver.

Zald wasted no time in grabbing the boar from him, and with a carving knife, he taught Bell how to skin and remove organs and meat. He then added some wild herbs and spices that he had found nearby and set a couple of cuts of meat on top of a flat stone that was boiling hot over the fire.

He was clearly a seasoned hunter, and more than that, he was an expert chef. Being able to turn any sort of food into an incredible meal.

The meat sizzled, filling the air with a rich aroma, and Bell inhaled, enjoying it before realizing something. "Ugh... I probably won't be able to eat this meat after those stupid mushrooms earlier."

Zald scratched his beard in thought. "Right, I had forgotten about that issue." He then dug out through his own backpack, getting some of the thinly-sliced, dried cuts of meat and tossing them inside a boiling pot that was merrily bubbling over the fire.

The silver-haired boy glanced at what his uncle had withdrawn from the pack. "Is that all the food that grandma packed?"

"No, but it's what's left."

Bell's eyebrow twitched. "So you ate most of it while I was hunting?"

The man nodded unashamedly. "Yes, this is not a picnic, but your grandma is a worrywart and wouldn't have let us leave without bringing food. So I ate it, and now you have no choice but to hunt, and live off the land."

Bell said nothing, huffing and looking away in annoyance.

Meanwhile Zald had tossed some more herbs and fat from the boar into the pot, making a pseudo stew. The smell made the silver-haired boy look back towards the fire and inhale.

It was mouth-watering.

"Stupid, good-for-nothing chef..." He mumbled.

The tall ex-adventurer laughed, stuffing his mouth with the meat cuts from the boar and stirring the stew at the same time. It was done in no time, and he handed Bell the pot. "It's hot, so eat slowly."

He hummed back, dipping a spoon on the broth and taking a sip.

It was soooo gooood.

"I hate you, uncle."

"Gyahahaha, don't be so mad, I'll teach you how to properly cook as well."

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Name: Bell Cranel

Familia: Hera

Strength: E - 426

Endurance: G - 261

Dexterity: C - 668

Agility: C - 650

Magic: B - 773

Skills:

[Reincarnation of Talent]: User learns battle-related abilities at an accelerated rate. Increased battle sense. Magic or Skills cannot be replicated.

[Fleeting Vessel]: User earns less Excelia for the Endurance stat. Lowers the Strength stat, Increases the Magic stat. Increases the effect of the user's magic.

Magic:

[Ensis Exsequens]: Super-short chant. Light-element armament.