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Hey everyone, I'm continuing with the updates today. Looking at some of the reviews you left me, it seems like Bell is bipolar. XD, I just want your opinions to validate if that's what it seems like, at least to try to fix it.
The romance won't start right away, possibly hints of it in 5 chapters or so.
My exams start in 1 week, that doesn't mean I'm going to pause the fanfic, I just want you to know that I'm going to get bad grades and it's because of you xD.
Thanks to Rayx2108 for being the beta reader of this chapter. This bro made this chapter understandable. APPRECIATE IT!
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"What did you say?"
Hestia's whisper wasn't a scream. Not this time. It was a word charged with such intensity that the silence in the old church became almost oppressive. Bell watched her, his shoulders tense, as if every syllable she'd spoken was about to unleash a storm.
Hestia took a step toward him, her eyes wide, not looking away.
"Are you saying that… Syr… that girl who gave you food, the one who made you feel better when you were lost… could be connected to Freya?"
Bell nodded slowly, swallowing.
"I'm not claiming it… but the Blessing of Judgment showed me that she has an ability. A transformation magic. It's called Vana Seith… it allows her to become Freya. And when she does, the two share senses and thoughts."
Silence fell between them again, until Hestia clenched her fists.
"Freya… The goddess Freya… Not only the most powerful in Orario, but also the most dangerous when she becomes infatuated with someone."
Bell looked away, uncomfortable.
"I know…"
Hestia looked at him with a mixture of concern and frustration. "And when did this happen?"
"It was the day after I received my blessings. When I went to thank her for what she did… her relationship number changed. From eighty-five to… minus thirty-seven. She was a different person, but with the same face, the same voice."
Hestia's face paled.
"Bell… that's not just weird, It's terrifying."
Bell lowered his head. "I don't want anything to happen to you… If it's really Freya who's behind this, then I don't know what she wants. But if it's me who wants it… then you could get hurt. That's why I left. I didn't want to stay there a second longer."
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she approached him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to protect me from this by yourself."
Hestia clenched her jaw, struggling with her emotions. Finally, she pulled him towards her and wrapped her arms around him.
"I don't care how great her influence, her power, or her familia is. If she tries to take you away, Bell, she'll have to face me."
Bell closed his eyes. The warmth of her embrace brought him momentary calm, but the weight of what he knew was still there, throbbing in his mind.
"The real Syr… the one who helped me… I don't know if she exists. And that scares me."
Hestia nodded against his shoulder, her voice low.
"We'll find out soon enough."
Night fell upon the ruined church, and though its walls were old and its roof imperfect, at that moment, it was safer than any castle. Because there, at least, Bell knew he wasn't alone.
…
At dawn, a faint light filtered through the broken windows of the church, timidly seeping into the basement as if it didn't want to disturb the stillness.
Bell blinked slowly, waking up on the old couch. The leather creaked under his weight as he sat up, a blanket slipping from his shoulders to the floor. He rubbed his eyes lazily, his thoughts still clouded by images from the previous night Freya, Syr, Hestia's gaze, the confession... the fear.
He looked away at the makeshift bed at the back of the basement.
Hestia was still fast asleep, her breathing calm, one leg dangling off the mattress with her typical nonchalance. The small goddess seemed at peace, oblivious to the turmoil stirring in Bell's mind.
He stood up carefully, trying not to make a sound. He grabbed his jacket, slowly put on his boots, and walked toward the stone stairs without looking back.
But it wasn't just a quiet exit.
It was a retreat.
His steps were cautious, yes, but not out of respect for Hestia's rest. They were the steps of someone fleeing.
Someone who didn't want to be stopped.
The old door closed with a soft click behind him, and the fresh morning air caressed his face as he walked away through the still-sleeping streets of Orario.
His eyes were fixed straight ahead, but his shadow seemed to look back.
Bell walked steadily through the streets, never stopping, never looking at anyone. The morning bustle was beginning to pick up, stalls were opening, adventurers were gathering, voices filled the air... but to him, everything sounded distant. Muffled. As if he were underwater.
His boots stepped on the cobblestones with a strange firmness, the same firmness that those who have made a bad decision and are going to continue doing so.
The great coliseum surrounding the entrance to the Dungeon loomed before him, imposing and familiar. And yet, that familiarity was what made him feel some relief. As if at least here, everything made sense.
"Yes I know."
The idea crossed his mind with all the clarity in the world.
"I know I'm using the Dungeon to escape. I know this isn't going to fix anything. I know fighting until you drop isn't exactly what anyone would call a healthy way of dealing with their emotions."
Bell gritted his teeth, knuckles white as he held his knife.
"But... I don't care."
Because thinking about Syr... or Freya... or the possibility that there was no difference between them at all... was driving him crazy. The fear of what might happen to Hestia felt like a knot in his chest that wouldn't go away even when he breathed.
So yes.
Getting lost in the dark corridors. Fighting until you can't go on. Letting the roar of the monsters and the sharp edge of his weapon push him beyond pain and thought.
It was a bad idea.
It was stupid.
It was exactly what he needed.
And with that Bell entered the Dungeon like a whirlwind.
Not like the shy boy who felt his way through the first floors weeks ago. Not like the rookie who hesitated before brandishing his weapon. Today there was no hesitation. Today there was no pause.
Today there was only fury, confusion and the desperate need to not think.
A goblin shrieked from a dimly lit corner. Bell impaled it head-on with a single thrust, the tip of his spear exiting the creature's back before it could finish its scream. Another kobold lunged at it, Bell spun around and brought it down with a low sweep, finishing it immediately with a clean blow to the chest. Blood splattered the stones before fading, but Bell was already moving forward.
A group of war shadows emerged from the walls. Silent. Dangerous.
Bell greeted them head on, his expression unchanged.
His spear danced with elegant brutality. Every thrust was precise, every sweep opened space, every step charged with suppressed rage. Magic burned in his veins, but he didn't use it. Not today. Today, he only wanted combat. The sound of metal, the crunching of bones, the muffled shrieks. Every death robbed him of a bit of the weight he carried.
At least for a few seconds.
Punch. Thrust. Sidestep. Spin. Another punch.
The rhythm was addictive. Like a dance all on his own. A dance of oblivion.
And in the back of his mind, between the sweat and the panting…
"More…"
Bell did not stop.
The floors changed, the air became denser, the monsters more dangerous, but his rhythm did not.
Upon reaching the 10th floor, he was greeted by the roars of orcs and the high-pitched screeches of bad bats. And Bell didn't retreat a single step.
An orc charged straight at him, wielding a massive stone mace. Bell dodged it by inches, then spun around, plunging his spear into the back of the orc's head, burying it deep. The monster fell heavily to the ground, making the stones shake.
A swarm of bad bats descended from the ceiling, black wings flapping violently. Bell just looked up, sweat sticking to his forehead and his eyes blazing.
"Explosion!"
The song was brief, dry.
A wave of heat erupted from his body, as if the air itself were ignited. A brutal explosion erupted in all directions, engulfing him in flames and pushing everything nearby with devastating force. The creatures were thrown into the air, crushed against walls, burned beyond recognition.
Bell, at the center of the explosion, was breathing heavily. The fire licked at his body, harming him. His [Divine Blessing of the Pyromaniac] protected him more than that, it healed him. His minor injuries disappeared. His body, exhausted from the battle, slowly revived with every spark still floating in the air.
The silence that remained after the explosion was almost sacred. Only the distant echo of his breathing. Only the crackling of the embers.
Bell lowered his spear with a tired movement, but his eyes kept moving forward. It still wasn't enough.
"More..."
"I want more…"
The echo of the explosion was still in the air when Bell felt that faint buzzing in his chest. A spark, a vibration, like the pulse of something new within his soul.
A wordless voice echoed in his mind:
[Divine Blessing of Battle Continuation]: Increases strength and endurance the longer the battle lasts.
But Bell barely reacted.
His body burned with adrenaline, covered in dust, blood, and sweat. His breathing was uneven, not from exhaustion, but from the raw, almost sickening emotion building inside him. A part of him small, buried beneath layers of fear and frustration knew this wasn't healthy. That pointless fighting wouldn't get him away from his problems.
But the rest of him just wanted to keep going.
"More…"
He ran back into the halls, not even looking at the notification still flashing in his mind.
His spear whirled through the shadows, tearing through armored kobolds, slicing through an orc's thick hide like paper.
His body moved faster. His punches were heavier. The [Divine Blessing of Battle Continuation] was already taking effect. But Bell didn't recognize it. Or didn't want to.
I just knew I didn't want to think.
Not in Syr.
Not in Freya.
Not in what all this meant.
I just needed more enemies.
More bodies.
More noise…
Bell moved through the shadows of the 11th floor like a burning specter, the spear spinning in his hands with precision, when the air changed.
It wasn't a roar that alerted him.
It was silence.
A sudden emptiness, as if the Dungeon were holding its breath.
Bell stopped. His body, covered in cuts and ash, tensed. Then he saw it.
Emerging through the sulfuric mist from a crack in the wall, a black-scaled creature dragged its reptilian body toward him. It was an infant dragon, yes but something was off.
This one was bigger. Denser.
His paws left deep marks on the stone.
His eyes were bright red, filled with suppressed fury.
And most alarmingly, its body was covered with long, jagged, bony spines protruding from its back, its neck, even its jaw.
Bell took a half step back.
"A Irregular?" he muttered, gripping the spear tightly.
Irregulars were mutated, more powerful, and more aggressive versions of normal monsters. Their mere appearance was a bad sign. But this one…
This one radiated danger.
The dragon raised its head and roared.
Bell swallowed.
"Well…" he whispered, adjusting his stance. His spear glowed with traces of still-active magical energy. "If I want a distraction, this will do."
And then, he lunged at the dragon
Bell lunged forward, his spear aiming straight for the variant infant dragon's neck.
CLANG!
The blow bounced back.
Not a drop of blood. Only the metallic echo of steel scraping against the spines that protruded like hellish armor. Bell gritted his teeth, stepping back just in time to avoid the jaws that closed where he'd been a moment before.
"Really?" he muttered, staring at the spear. Not a crack on the weapon, but not a mark on the dragon either. "What kind of monster are you?"
The dragon roared in response, its mouth glowing. Bell recognized it instantly.
"Fire"
WHOOSH!
A wave of flames was thrown straight towards him, like a scorching tide that consumed everything in its path.
And then…
Nothing.
Fire engulfed Bell, but his expression didn't change. Not a burn. Not a scratch. Just warmth, like a warm breeze that caressed him instead of destroying him.
His [Divine Blessing of the Pyromaniac] protected him completely. The flames were no more dangerous than a campfire on a cold night.
Bell walked out of the fire, his eyes fixed on the dragon. His spear glowed faintly.
"So that's your style?" he muttered, lowering his center of gravity. "You have defense and fire."
The dragon snapped its jaws and roared again.
Bell smiled.
"Perfect."
And he launched himself into the attack again, determined to find a way through those damned thorns.
The infant dragon growled in frustration as its flames were having no effect. The creature's red eyes blazed with even more intense fury, and with a guttural roar, it lunged forward, the flames still sparking in its maw, but not using them. It now understood that there was no point.
Now the dragon used his body.
One of its claws descended like a guillotine on Bell, and he barely managed to dodge with a twist. The claw hit the ground and shredded it like wet paper, sending rocks and dust flying in a violent shower.
Bell didn't stop. He used the momentum of the spin to launch himself to the side of the dragon, aiming his spear at one of the junctions between the spines, just below the monster's armpit. WHAM! The spear connected… but only tore a layer of skin, eliciting a roar of anger, not pain.
The dragon twisted like a snake. Bell barely managed to leap back as one of the lateral spines passed inches from his side. It wasn't just its back or spine, the dragon's entire body was covered in those damned bone blades. And now it was using them.
He launched himself again, lunging with his entire body as if he were a live porcupine. Bell barely managed to get into a defensive position, using the spear as a walking stick to propel himself through the air. But even so, he felt a thorn graze his leg.
"Tsk!"
It didn't cut him, but it knocked him off balance. Bell landed awkwardly, rolling on the ground, and getting up just in time to dodge another claw.
This wasn't just any infant dragon. It was a variant entirely focused on physical combat, a monster built to annihilate unsuspecting adventurers.
Bell took a deep breath, sweat running down his neck.
"If I can't pierce it…" he muttered under his breath, twisting the spear, "then I'll have to hit it until it stops moving."
The dragon roared.
Bell, feeling the infant dragon pushing him with its weight and brute strength, decided it was time to change tactics. His body was at its limit, but the thrill of battle kept him going. He knew he had to be quick, take more risks, if he wanted to finish this monstrosity.
"Explosion!"
In an instant, a massive explosion erupted around him, but this time it wasn't just a burst of damage; it was a strategy. The dragon was hit by the blast, briefly recoiling, but Bell also felt a surge of healing, his injured leg scarring slightly from the effects of his own magic.
The dragon, though stunned, didn't budge. It spun toward Bell, the spines on its body flashing like blades ready to slice through anything that came too close. Bell, however, didn't back down, but instead lunged again, spear in hand. This time, instead of a direct blow, he slid his spear along the dragon's spines, searching for an opening, any kind of weakness in the monster's impenetrable defenses.
"Take this explosion!" Bell shouted, as he activated his explosion spell once more, this time moving towards the most vulnerable area he had noticed on the dragon's neck.
The explosion was much larger this time, and the dragon let out a deafening roar. The shockwave momentarily separated them, and Bell felt the sharp impact on his chest, but at the same time, the blast seemed to carry some of the damage he'd sustained with it, restoring some of his energy.
The dragon, stunned and staggering, took a couple of steps back, but instantly turned on him, its eyes blazing with fury.
"Don't fall!" Bell grunted, struggling to his feet. His body was starting to feel heavy, but the adrenaline kept him going.
The battle continued, but now Bell could see that the creature was beginning to falter, its movements more clumsy and its spines less dangerous. The [Explosion] spell had given him the advantage he needed, and the recovery of its body was beginning to make a difference.
"Almost… there!" Bell gasped, gritting his teeth.
Bell screamed at the top of his lungs as he launched himself skyward in a powerful leap, gripping his spear in both hands. Adrenaline fueled him, his heart pounded like a war drum, and his entire body burned with the energy of battle.
"NOW!" he roared, aiming straight for the dragon's neck.
But the infant dragon wasn't stupid. At the last second, it twisted its thorn-covered body and raised its torso slightly, as if it had anticipated the attack.
Bell noticed, but it was too late.
CRACK
One of the curved, steel-hard thorns pierced his side, with brutal violence. His spear flew from his hands as his body hovered for a moment in the air, impaled.
A stifled scream escaped his throat. His breath caught in her throat. The pain was so acute that for a second the world seemed to freeze. The warmth of the blood trickling down his side contrasted with the cold of the thorn embedded deep in his abdomen.
Bell couldn't move. The pain, the shock, the weight of the dragon upon him... it was as if the world had been reduced to that cruel thorn piercing his flesh.
But if he couldn't move... then he would make everything else move.
"...Explo...sion…" he whispered in a whisper, his palm trembling against the dragon's body.
BOOM!
A wave of fire erupted from his body, kicking up stones, dust, and dragon parts. The dragon roared furiously, but didn't back away. The thorn was still inside. Bell coughed blood. The air burned. And yet...
"Explosion!"
BOOM!
Another explosion. This time, one of the nearby spines splintered. The dragon shrieked and thrashed, but Bell clung to what little consciousness he had left. His vision was tinged with red. His body screamed to stop.
But his soul said: continue.
"Explosion!"
BOOM!
One more. Then another. And another. The rock on the 11th floor began to shake. Nearby monsters fled, confused by the succession of explosions. The dragon's body already showed burn marks, areas split from the inside. But more than that… Bell was destroying himself.
And yet…
"EXPLO…SION!"
BOOM!
The thorn finally gave way. His body, covered in blood, fell to the ground like a rag doll. He couldn't feel his legs. He could barely see. But he was still awake.
"Just one more…"he thought with his lips split, crawling as best he could.
He raised his face to the dragon, who was also reeling, smoking, roaring with rage.
Bell smiled, a painful, determined grin, as if he were already mad.
"Explosion."
BOOOOOOM!
And the infant dragon, the variant, finally fell.
The dragon's final roar died away in a dry rumble, followed by a deep crunch. The beast's legs gave way. Its spiny body, blackened by the explosions, collapsed against the stone floor. For a moment, all was silent.
Bell barely managed to move his head before collapsing. His body ended up there, sprawled on the wet stone, blood beneath him and open wounds breathing with each faint beat of his heart. The explosions had sealed part of his wounds… but it wasn't healing magic. It was more of a temporary illusion than real relief.
His fingers trembled. His eyes wanted to close. The ringing in his ears made everything feel distant.
"I… did it…"
That's what he thought. But it didn't sound like victory. It sounded like surrender.
The heat of combat was fading, replaced by the stinging chill of blood loss. His spear was a few feet away, charred but whole. Bell wasn't. Bell was broken.
The infant dragon no longer existed.
But he does.
And that, at that moment, hurt him more than any thorn.
[N/A: If you're wondering why he didn't heal when he was impaled... you can't close a wound with something sticking through you xD]