CHAPTER 3
THE FIELD OF BATTLE
The sun is up.
A dark blue still clings to the edges of the cloudless morning sky, but the rain has passed and the weather is clear.
My heart is still shrouded in clouds, though, with no hope of clearing up in sight.
“Bell! Quit dawdling and get your ass over here!”
“…Yes…”
At the half-prum’s shout, I stop peering up from atop the hill and follow him.
This is Freya Familia’s home, Folkvangr.
We’re in the courtyard of the largest home of any familia in Orario. The sea of green surrounding the manor that stands on the hill rising at the center has every right to be called a field. The grass is wet with morning dew that glistens breathtakingly in the sunrise.
The walls and gate surrounding it are too sturdy to be called a simple fence, and they hide the outside world from view. It’s still hard to believe that this is in the middle of the city.
And starting now, I’m going to be fighting here.
“I’m not going to treat you any different, even if your memories are messed up or whatever! I’ll give you a proper baptism out here in the yard, just like before!”
The half-prum charged with watching me shouts gruffly at me with his back turned.
Last night, Lady Freya informed the whole familia that I’ve been acting odd because of a curse…or so I hear. Because of that, a fellow Level 4, Van, is supposed to look after me as I go through my daily activities. He barged into my room this morning and smacked me awake, brought me to the dining hall to make me stuff down a quick snack in place of a full breakfast, and then we immediately filed out to the yard with the rest of the familia.
I wish yesterday had only been a dream, but I haven’t been allowed time to bury my head in thoughts of hope or unease.
With everyone gathered like this and armed to the teeth, it looks like the host of a great army.
“Before you lost your memories, you were a garbage rookie who managed to catch Lady Freya’s interest despite your inexperience! I didn’t like that, and I hated you! And everyone else was the same, so don’t expect anyone to hold back on your account!…Hey, what’s with those lifeless eyes?!”
I’ve been absentmindedly staring at the half-prum, who is even shorter than me, which is probably why he’s angry at me.
“S-sorry…”
I hastily try to apologize when he stomps off, his face red as can be. I still haven’t really come to terms with my situation yet.
…It’s not as if I don’t remember Van…
I’m pretty sure he was one of the people who tracked me on my date with Syr during the Goddess Festival, and I remember there being a half-prum among the members of Freya Familia who chased us all the way onto the boat.
Not that I have a way of confirming any of that now.
“I’ll explain it once for you, but the followers of glorious Lady Freya engage in mortal combat here in this yard! From dawn until dusk, every day! Those going to the Dungeon are not restricted to this, but not fighting here is rarely an option! Because this is Folkvangr!”
Van gestures to the wide field around us as he speaks.
Apparently, every member of Freya Familia, from Level 1 to Level 4—excluding the healers and noncombatants—heads out to the field here every morning and takes part in real combat.
It’s a famous story around Orario, and I even got to see it for myself just yesterday. So it’s not like I was jolted in shock or anything, but…
“…What’s the signal to begin fighting?”
I got dragged outside early in the morning, told to bring my weapons and gear, and now I’m supposed to get ready for a fight.
I don’t know what I’m even doing, though.
There is a compulsive feeling thundering in the back of my head that there’s something else I should be doing, something else I should be thinking about. I wish someone would tell me what it could be.
The pain of being rejected by so many people still aches.
Just remembering the words and gazes of all the deities I encountered leaves me on the verge of foundering.
Should I search for whatever changed the world? Or should I quietly accept that I’ve changed? Everything seems to be urging me to do the latter, whispering in my ear and telling me to just give up already and admit the truth. Blocking out those whispers takes everything I have.
My dark, heavy mood—
“There isn’t one.”
—is instantly blown away by the warriors around me. For better or for worse.
Van spins in my direction, his twin blades hurtling toward my chest.
“?!”
My instincts howl, and I reflexively parry with my knife. The heavy blow numbs my hand down to the marrow in my bone. That thrust would’ve gone straight through my heart if I didn’t block it.
He’s serious.
Van is trying to kill me!
“The moment you set foot on this field, the fighting begins!”
Other familia members around us let loose with their own weapons like they want to drive Van’s point home. A thunderous roar rings out, marking the beginning of the battle.
The sounds of furious slashes and heavy, thudding blows fill my ears, and my body shivers as the battle cries wash over me. There’s no time to be amazed by how quickly the field has transformed into a feverish melting pot of struggle.
The half-prum in front of me slashes with all his strength.
“I told you that I’d give you a proper baptism!”
“Ghh…?!”
“This is a battlefield! This is where the brave warriors the goddess desires are born!”
Our blades meet in a spray of sparks as Van roars at me. His weapons twist without leaving any obvious opening, and I parry his attacks with my knife as a flurry of blows envelop me.
Acting on reflex alone, I draw the baselard at my hip and intercept his blades. I move in a mixture of defense and evasion with my life on the line.
I can’t let my mind dwell on the troubles that have been eating at me even if I wanted to as my inner adventurer is dragged to the surface.
“Uooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!”
As the battle cries make the very air tremble, I’m forced to join the other warriors and become one of them.
A thrusting sword point, a spinning kick that almost touches the ground, an unmistakable murderous glint in his eyes—this is anything but training or practice. Van’s momentum is overwhelming. Meanwhile, I’m just barely managing to stay alive.
The unease I felt when I discovered how perfectly these unfamiliar weapons fit in my hands…that’s all gone now. I swing again and again, digging in with my feet as I fight desperately. Van isn’t someone I can hold back against. A moment of indecision is unthinkable.
If I don’t fight back with everything I have, I’ll be killed!
“Ya!”
“Haaaaaaaaah!”
It’s the same for everyone around me.
I notice two humans, a man and woman, crossing blades next to me. A dwarf behind me sends an elf flying with a heavy hammer blow, while a beast person and an Amazon are locking blades at close range. If there were a bird flying above the field, it would see a scene of chaotic battle. There are even magic and curses flying through the air as people who should have been comrades in the same familia do their best to kill each other.
Blood splatters the ground.
Some collapse.
Weapons fall from slack hands.
But then someone picks up a dropped spear or pulls out a bloody sword, stands back up, and returns to the fight.
The cacophony of sound makes me go pale.
This is—
I underestimated this.
I had no idea.
I thought they meant it metaphorically when they said they fought to the death.
But there’s nothing figurative about this vicious combat!
This is—Folkvangr!
It’s the stage of a fierce, intrafamilia battle that has undoubtedly caused some real deaths. The most important thing here is the strength never to falter and the will to keep fighting.
Those who survive, those who continue to win—only they earn the right to be called einherjar!
Swallowed up in the fever pitch of battle, I feel sweat begin to flow from every pore. That’s when I see something rustling in the corner of my eye.
The little rings of flowers blooming proudly no matter how much they are stepped on, no matter how much they are torn apart, no matter how much they are stained red with blood.
Only now do I realize the resilience of this field that has drunk the blood of so many warriors.
“Don’t get distracted!”
“Ghhhh?!”
Van’s furious shout pounds my head, calling me back from my idle thoughts.
My battle clothes are torn to ribbons by his unending slashes, and when I try frantically to put some distance between us, he follows up with a thrust that threatens to run me through.
I have no choice.
My left hand shoots forward.
“Firebolt!”
“Guh?!”
Fire and lightning erupt from my hand, slamming into Van. I used my magic. No, I was forced to use it!
It’s one thing to aim that spell at a monster, but to use it against another adventurer, not as a threat but fully intending to hurt them…that never happened even in all my training with Aiz!
Van’s stomach and chest are scorched and smoking as he staggers. But his eyes just bulge as he glares at me before resuming his assault.
What unbelievable durability. And the level of technique and skill are plain to see. These fighters are far stronger compared to adventurers of the same level in other familias.
I can’t believe that the people here aren’t even considered the core members of Freya Familia!
“Guaaaaaaaaaaaa?!”
Screams clearly mark the moment another person gets knocked out of the fight. The adventurers who lost their original opponents immediately leap to their next fight.
Tens, hundreds, thousands of blades cross on all sides, the sounds melting into the background in the blink of an eye.
Time feels compressed here. Blood pulses through my body, driven by a desperation to stay alive as I exert every part of my body. This battle royal is nothing like the consecutive battles I’ve experienced in the Dungeon. With no other choice, I throw myself into the fray.
I fight hard.
Questions like whether anyone remembers me or what I should do…
The sadness and idle thoughts…
I cast it all aside.
The fighting is too fierce for there to be room for anything else in my mind. It’s all I can do not to die.
I just keep fighting.
The day grows older, and the sun is hanging high overhead.
I’m the one still standing on the field of warriors.
“Ghhhhh….D-damn it…!”
Van and the others kneeling on the ground are glaring at me, their eyes filled with anger and regret.
It’s not that I’m stronger than them, especially compared to Van and the other Level 4s.
The reason I won out in the end is simply because I had Firebolt.
If I had fought a series of one-on-ones, with only half a year of experience, I would’ve easily lost against their greater experience and breadth of techniques. But this was a battle royal. In an endless battle where you have to face another opponent the moment you beat your first, there’s no such thing as friend or foe. Surviving means dealing with attacks that come from every angle and anticipating all sorts of surprise attacks. And in that wild scramble, I had a bigger advantage than anyone with my instantaneous combat power.
I could countersnipe anyone attacking me from a distance.
I could drive back a swarm of people crowding around me.
If one shot wasn’t enough, I could cast it again right away.
A spell that required no chant at all was faster than even a magic swordsman’s fastest magic. I was reminded again just how much value Firebolt had in a free-for-all.
And more than anything…having survived four days and four nights lost in the bowels of the deep levels, I’m just as tough in any test of endurance.
And I desperately crush the doubt sprouting in my heart about whether that had really happened.
“Hah…hah…hah…haaaaaaaah…?!”
Still, though, the amount of magical energy burned by repeated uses of Firebolt isn’t something I can just laugh off. Just breathing has become a challenge. It takes everything I have to squint and look at Van and the others, checking if there’s anyone else still left standing.
—I can’t fight any more than this.
That’s the only thought in my mind as my whole body heaves with each breath.
““““Not bad.””””
Suddenly, four voices ring out.
“ ”
Time stops when I hear them behind me.
“You pass the bare minimum level to be useful as an adventurer.”
“I wasn’t sure what to think when I heard your memories were messed up, but…”
“We can work with this.”
“We can fight with this.”
When did they enter the field?
The four prums are holding their own individual weapons and wearing their sand-colored armor, ready to fight.
“Our strength exists for the sake of the goddess, and so we seek ever greater strength to better serve her.”
Paying no heed to me and my silent shock, a single dark elf draws a black sword from its sheath.
“Time is limited. We will kill the current you so that you may be reborn.”
And finally, Master appears before me, stepping onto the field as well.
“The true baptism begins now.”
I, Bell Cranell, have been surrounded by the city’s strongest first-tier adventurers.
My adventurer instincts that have been struggling so hard keep me alive finally fall silent, as if all hope is lost.
Evening.
Though I can hardly see anything anymore, I can still make out the red glow that marks the end.
I can faintly sense the murmur of the breeze.
Flowers are rustling near my ear.
Apparently, I slumped facedown on the field.
I can’t remember when I fell.
I was carved.
I was smashed.
I was charred.
I was shredded by every kind of skill, annihilated by tactics I could not begin to match, and broken by magic I had no hope of countering.
The dark elf’s swordplay cut off all routes of escape, and when I attempted to defend myself, his blade cut through me and my gear. I’m honestly still not sure how my arms and legs are still attached to my body.
In a dance of offense and defense against the prum brothers’ infinite combinations, they were simply guiding my every move, and the moment I revealed an opening, the spear, hammer, ax, and sword came at me from every direction.
The white elf’s lightning strike enveloped my counterattack, and me along with it, turning my clothes to dirty rags. The unwavering, unceasing storm of lightning stamped out not just my body, but also my mind, and even my will.
None of my efforts at resistance worked. The opposition was too overpowering.
I finally understand what it means to be surrounded by first-tier adventurers. The experience was cruel and insane.
“……………..Ahh.”
A pathetic, broken sound that can’t even be called a groan crosses my lips.
My bones are broken. Every patch of skin has been cut. There isn’t a single spot where my battle clothes aren’t stained red.
I can’t so much as breathe or cough up blood properly. At first, whenever I took a hit, it had been so hot, so painful that I was on the verge of tears, but now I don’t feel anything. It’s almost cool, cold, even. Is it winter now?
My heartbeat is growing fainter. My life is ending.
Death is close.
I know it. I know this feeling.
During that struggle in the deep levels, I tasted the darkness.
This time there is no one to hold me. My life flashes before my eyes, but it’s pointless. I don’t even have the strength left to recognize what is happening.
Even the cold begins to fade, and though my eyes are still open, my lungs begins to fail.
“Zeo Gullveig.”
A healing light envelops my body, and I’m forcibly pulled away from the brink of death.
“ Gaaaaah?!”
My pulse races, and air fills my lungs again. Life courses through my broken body and shakes me to my soul. My half-shut eyelids wrench open, and my body jolts as if I’ve been electrified. I quiver like a fish tossed onto dry land.
“Haaa, haaaaah….?! Ghah, goho…gahah…?!”
“That was a bit close. You were actually about to die there.”
I hear an easygoing voice as my entire body shudders to a rhythmic beat, as if the entire thing had transformed into a heart pumping life through me. My arms and legs spasm as my fingers dig into the ground.
The world around me is still flickering as I look up to see the healer who revived me—Heith—standing there with a long staff in hand.
“All of you first-tier boys, that’s it for today. I can heal wounds, but he doesn’t have enough blood. He can’t move anymore.”
“Pathetic.”
“That’s all he can do, huh?”
“How do you plan to show your face to Lady Freya?”
“—But it’s sunset.”
The four prums lower their weapons as instructed.
The sun is just starting to disappear below the horizon in the west. Around me, the rest of the fighters are beginning to withdraw, and the sounds of weapons clashing have died down. The battle is over.
I made it to the end alive. But I’m dumbfounded, and unable to even appreciate that small solace.
How many times over did I die…?
I had more than a few near-death experiences.
The moment my heart stopped or my breathing ceased, I was pulled back to the world of the living. Sometimes it was elixirs, and other times it was the healers’ magic. Once it was even a lightning blade. Regardless of the method, the innumerable wounds, shredded limbs, and shattered bones were restored in an instant.
Looking around, I see other people who collapsed being bathed in a healing light or receiving the attentions of herbalists.
Putting my trembling hands to the ground, I push myself up as I finally realize it.
Freya Familia doesn’t just boast adventurers. They also have an abundance of healers, said to be far rarer to find than regular mages.
Is that the secret to their death matches? Their rigorous internal competition is made possible by skilled healers.
“We’re quite capable, so we can heal just about anything up to three steps from death’s door.” I can’t tell if Heith is joking or serious as I sit up on the ground, still not ready to stand. “Incidentally, if you want to come back from the literal brink of death, then Dea Saint’s the only one who can help you.”
I look in terror at her face half-hidden in the shadow cast by the setting sun.
Perhaps misunderstanding, Heith smiles indifferently.
“Don’t worry. You’re the first one I’ve seen them go after that hard in a show of force. You’re special.”
I blanch at that explanation, which fails to make me feel any better.
Dying and being revived…
This…This is what it meants to be einherjar. The indomitable followers of the goddess born and forged in Folkvangr.
“The fate of one bereft of memory, a rebirth…For your first day, you endured well.”
The two elves who already overcame the baptism out on the field and reached the first tier pass beside me.
Hegni shares a few kind words as he sheathes his pitch-black sword while Master gives me an unsympathetic glance.
“We shall be your opponents starting tomorrow. Prepare yourself.”
I lose any small scrap of hope I was holding on to. This is going to continue…?
There’s no time to shrink in terror at being alone in the world. I’m going to have to struggle against a different despair…No matter how scared I might be, though, I know there is no escape.
“Let’s go, Bell. You can’t stand, right?”
Heith reaches out her hand, helping me up in my stupor.
My body is so unsteady from blood loss, I can’t help collapsing into her arms.
The Gullivers, Van, and the other adventurers are all headed in the same direction.
The unconscious are grabbed by the arms or legs and dragged there, too.
Other than the first-tier adventurers, everyone is battered and wounded as they return to the manor.
Fading red light casts countless long shadows across the field. The twilight scene resembles soldiers marching off to the final battle, and I can’t help feeling a sense of pathos, and a cold chill.
The flowers on the field are still swaying in the wind.
Folkvangr was shrouded in pale moonlight.
The fields fell silent with nightfall while the palatial mansion atop the hill was filled with light and noise.
The origin of it was Sessrúmnir on the first floor.
In a complete about-face from the extreme stakes of the battle on the field, a hearty feast was being held.
“Meat!”
“Gimme booze!”
“I need more blood! How am I gonna fight tomorrow like this?”
The long tables were lined up in ten rows, and dozens upon dozens of adventurers were sitting at them, reaching out to the various dishes before them, tearing away at the meat and draining mugs. It was a battle of food.
A member of Freya Familia’s day began with battle at dawn and ended with an enormous dinner.
It was familia custom for those who had participated in the fighting out on the fields to restore their bodies by eating in Sessrúmnir. More practically, if they did not restore themselves at the massive feast, they would have little hope of maintaining their strength and will for the inevitable fight tomorrow. No matter how much magical healing they might receive, at a fundamental level, food was crucial in order to fully heal a wounded and exhausted body. Because of that, many a warrior turned their undivided attention to transforming their food into flesh and washing it all down with copious amounts with ale.
“Haaah. You’re all hungry today. Just like always…Argh, someone switch with me.”
Meanwhile, Heith and the other healers and herbalists were busily preparing food in the kitchen.
Their job included not just near-resurrections, but also the aftercare involved once the baptism was complete. Herbalists prepared spices and brews to increase stamina and endurance, turned honey and goat’s milk into mead, and in the giant pot affectionately called the witch’s cauldron, they stewed boar meat (not as a spiteful jab at the familia’s leader, who never lifted a hand to help or anything, of course).
They were often called Andhrímnir, the sooted servers.
It was whispered that the name came about because they were valkyries who satisfied the brave warriors’ appetites but also because they were worked so hard that, from behind, it often looked like they were covered in soot. Heith was the young representative of the Andhrímnir, famous for her deep faith in Freya and always looking dead on the inside. There was even a rumor that at a certain tavern, when some gods were laughing among themselves about whether she or Perseus looked more worn down, she silently bashed them in the back of the head with her staff.
At the moment, she was haphazardly sprinkling salt and spices on all the food, as if daring the adventurers to eat it.
Heith’s common refrain was “I wish that legendary dwarf who used to manage this kitchen all by herself would come back.”
The familia’s custom of fighting from the morning until evening and holding a feast at night was not something Freya had established. The previous generation of familia members, those who had followed Freya before Ottar had become leader of the band, had come up with it themselves, and it continued to be passed on to the later generations.
In any case, the noncombat members of the familia—including even the elegant maids constantly ferrying dishes from the kitchen—were constantly busy, day in and day out.
“All right, we’re short on people, so I brought some out myself…Wait, what are you doing sulking here, Van?”
Reaching him after winding her way through the long tables, Heith cocked her head. Van furrowed his brow as she placed more boar meat and mead in front of him.
“…We’re sucking it up and treating that whelp like a comrade for now. He ticks me off, but he’s strong. We lost out on the field today. I admit he has the strength to be called an einherjar at least. Still…” Van glared straight at the seat in front of him. The others joined him as they directed their annoyance at the same chair.
It was empty.
That was where the boy had sat before he finished eating and was called away to the goddess.
“…Why does he have such a monopoly on the love of the goddess that we always wanted…?!”
He spoke for all of them in their envy and resentment.
Heith shrugged, a detached expression on her face.
“That’s simple. Because he is special to her.”
“Lady Freya.”
Hearing her name, she raised her eyes from the book she was reading.
She was in her room on the top floor of the home. She was wearing a delicate black negligee as she sat on the couch when her eyes went to the door.
“Bell has come.”
“Send him in.”
She almost burst into laughter hearing the unrefined Ottar refer to him as Bell. Stifling her smile, she closed the book and hid it under the cushion of the couch.
After subconsciously running her fingers through her long, silver hair a couple times.
No matter how much she might deny that she had been waiting impatiently for this moment, Ottar and anyone else who could see her would all respond with a knowing smile.
“Welcome, Bell. Thank you for coming.”
“Welcome, Bell. Thank you for coming.”
I’ve been taken from the enormous hall and brought to the goddess’s chamber, where Lady Freya greets me. I’m startled to see the goddess of beauty herself meet me at the door and take me by the hand.
Her skin is smooth as silk, and my heart races at the soft warmth it gives off as she leads me to the center of the room.
She sits on her couch while I sit on the armchair next to the round table.
“You look pale. Did you have a particularly harsh baptism?”
“…Yes. On the field, Master…Hedin and the others…put me through my paces…”
“Ahh. I’m sorry for calling for you when you must be so tired.”
We’re alone in her room again tonight. The goddess’s chamber is lit in a fantastical light by the moon shining in through the wall-sized window.
Even now, I still can’t really believe that the famed goddess of beauty herself is here before my eyes.
It’s just too unreal. Feeling an exhaustion that can’t be ignored and fully understanding how improper it is…I probe her with questions once again, still unable to accept that my memories are false.
“It’s hard to believe I went through such a fearsome battle every day…Today was scary and exhausting.”
“Ha-ha, that’s fair. I suppose the baptism might be a bit unpleasant if you’ve lost your memories.”
“………”
She easily evades the question.
My mouth twists slightly into an awkward expression, and I quickly give up. I’m far too badly outclassed to be trying to probe a goddess for inconsistencies.
Lady Freya giggles slightly as she looks at me like she finds something funny.
“So then, will you tell me your story, like we promised?”
“…Did you really mean that?”
“Of course. Why else would I have called you like this?”
The goddess sits on the couch, not crossing her legs as she looks right at me.
After hesitating terribly, with a sense of resignation, I begin to speak.
“I came to Orario by myself. It was my first time coming to a big city, so at first, I was excited by everything, but…there were no familias that would accept me…I ran out of money fast and was lost in the city…and that’s when Lady Hestia found me.”
I never really talk about myself like this, and I’m not sure how to go about it. I pause at several points, trying to choose my words as I awkwardly tell the story. And there is a searing pain in my chest when I say, Lady Hestia.
“Oh…so after quite the struggle, you finally managed to join a familia. Then what happened?”
Lady Freya is listening to my story, looking deeply interested.
She does not reject it as nonsense or sneer that it’s just a dream. If anything, to my surprise she asks questions, urging me to continue. Her soothing, pleasant soprano gradually draws more and more stories out of me, to the point that I begin to feel flustered.
Is it just her charisma? Or the allure of a goddess of beauty?
Something makes me want to talk with her forever. She has this irresistible magic that makes me feel that way.
“…Lady Freya…where did we meet?”
Trying to not get carried away, I clear my head and try asking about Freya Familia’s Bell Cranell.
“At the Adventurers Graveyard. I had come to leave flowers for my children when you were visiting the memorial. I was taken with you at first sight.”
“A-at first sight…?!”
That phrase makes me blush, completely taking me by surprise.
“When I asked if you would become one of my followers, you got flustered and almost fell over backward. You asked, ‘Is someone like me really acceptable?’”
“…!”
“Afterward, when I brought you back home, you turned terribly pale when you saw Ottar.”
The story that Lady Freya tells is perfect.
If there were another me in a different universe, that definitely sounds like it could’ve happened. Even I think it sounds exactly like something that I might have done.
No matter how I look at it, I can’t find any holes. I can’t find a reason to doubt it.
“And then you started exploring the Dungeon. You wanted to go to the Dungeon so badly, even before undergoing the baptism, so I had Hedin accompany you, but…you came rushing right back to me after defeating a single goblin.”
“Ghhh?!”
“I had a good laugh at that. You were so cute, getting so excited over it.”
She smiles at the memory, seemingly thinking back to the moment. All I feel is a terrible shock.
That was a real event from my memories, an embarrassing scene I shared with Lady Hestia. No matter how well someone might know me, they would never be able to make up a story so absurd as me returning triumphantly from the Dungeon after defeating a single goblin!
The only possibility that makes sense is that Lady Freya had actually seen it…!
I never told anyone about that since it was so embarrassing! The only ones who would know are Lady Hestia and Miss Eina…!
It’s only natural, though, since I learned about it from that very same Eina.
She could easily see that Bell was growing confused.
Freya smiled to herself as she placed her elbow on the cushion at her side.
Or rather, I learned it from her journal.
The book she had been reading until Bell came in, the one currently resting hidden beneath the cushion, was the journal she had taken from Eina the day before. And written in it was Bell Cranell’s Dungeon debut, the absurd and delightful battle report that Eina had written that day. Freya had read through all of Bell’s records as an adventurer and could frame them as if she had seen or heard about them herself.
It was not just Eina’s journal, either.
She also used the knowledge of the now dead neighborhood girl within her to re-create plausible stories, too.
That girl had interacted with Bell at the tavern and heard all sorts of stories. Stories of his adventures, naturally, but also more personal things, like the sorts of food and drinks he liked or did not like, his tastes, his hobbies. Outside of Hestia and the rest of his familia, there was no one who knew Bell better than that girl. And Freya could use that knowledge to flesh out the plot she had designed, to breathe life into it, and make it feel all the more real.
Both the innocent boy Bell and the adventurer Bell.
With knowledge of both of those Bells, Freya could easily write a history for another Bell.
She could do that. She who had interacted with him more than anyone else at the bar, who had watched over him from Babel more than anyone else.
“Wh-what about when I reached Level Two?!”
“You fought a minotaur on the fifth floor. You slew a monster that had escaped Loki’s children while they were returning from an expedition. I imagine the Guild still has the records on that, though.”
“Ghh…?! What about Level Three?!”
“That’s when you defeated Phoebus Apollo. One of Apollo’s children.”
“…I-in a war game?”
“A war game? We haven’t done any war games. We just crushed Ishtar and Apollo when they tried to steal you away.”
And above all, Bell wouldn’t suspect a thing because she was a deity. A supernatural being such as Freya would remember all the events that she experienced in exacting detail.
In this situation—
If it were this person—
When that irregularity occurred—
By analyzing all those variables, she could reach the likeliest action that Bell Cranell would have taken in a given circumstance—
By analyzing and taking into consideration all the incidents, accidents, and uproars that had actually occurred and then projecting them onto her story, she could easily create a What-If story of Bell Cranell.
It was a story that hewed so close to reality that even Bell was forced to believe that it might have really happened. And if he ran off looking for evidence of it later, all of the records at Guild Headquarters and elsewhere had already been altered to fit.
Every gesture Freya made while speaking, the easy pace and tone of her voice, the way her gaze moved—all of it lent credence to what she was saying.
The child standing all alone in the middle of the sandbox would not ever be able to see through it.
“Bell? Can you tell me some of your stories, too? I don’t want to just force the version of you I know.”
“Oh…r-right…”
Her kind words that were as beautiful as snowflakes slowly wore down the boy and seeped into him, like a witch’s poison.
Right then and there, Freya and Bell were playing a game of chess.
Bell was desperately moving pieces on a board he was not only unfamiliar with, but on which he barely even knew up from down, trying with all his might to find a way out, to find something that would confirm the world he knew.
The goddess’s eyes narrowed. He was both precious and pitiful as he struggled so, and she kindly, gently guided him while teaching him how to play.
“You can’t move it like that.”
“You shouldn’t move there.”
“Right, that is the best move.”
And in doing so, she was leading him every step of the way, luring him to move in a certain way.
Robbing him of the space to think, eliminating all the points of discomfort he was feeling, and surrounding him in her embrace. Making him hers in a way that made it impossible for him to even notice the checkmate coming.
That was the kindest way to lay the boy low.
This was the perfect way to obtain Bell Cranell in soul, body, and mind.
Because of that, Freya did not hesitate to use methods that went beyond the board. That was why she used her followers and why she used her charm, breaking the taboo.
That was why she had made the sandbox.
“………gh?!”
But it was time to stop for the night.
Bell’s expression was changing at a dizzying pace. It was sloppy to push him too far too quickly. The goal was not to torture him by small degrees, but to shape his will and draw him to her.
Observing his face, Freya judged she had done enough for one night.
“…? What is it?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Bell looked up, and Freya, who had been observing his condition, smiled as if there were nothing special on her mind.
—I forgot he is so sensitive to the eyes of others.
Suppressing her smile and wanting to draw away from her expression, she pointed to her skin, which was slightly flushed.
“It’s just a little bit hotter than usual tonight.”
Freya brushed aside her hair that had settled on her breasts, every bit the image of a self-possessed and imperturbable empress.
All of a sudden Bell’s face turned crimson.
“?”
Freya cocked her head slightly at his reaction, and then it dawned on her.
The delicate gown she was wearing opened quite boldly at her chest. By brushing aside the veil of hair, her deep cleavage was now clearly visible, and with just a single misstep, her ample breasts might break free from their minimal restraints.
Bell was petrified and averted his eyes with all his strength.
Right, he’s that sort of child.
She found his innocent reaction charming as she stood up.
“Someone bring a change of clothes.”
She called out to the attendants waiting outside the room. They would provide something for her.
Then, Freya was struck with a mischievous impulse.
“I’m going to change, Bell.”
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“Help me.”
“Heaaah?!”
The boy’s voice rose into an almost hysteric shout.
Freya gathered her hair with one hand, revealing the buttons running down her back.
“I can’t take this dress off by myself. How would I reach the back?”
“Eh, but, ugh?!”
“Can you undo them? I can take care of the rest myself.”
“M-m-may I excuse myself?!”
“I don’t mind, but Ottar’s outside and he might be rather upset if you do. Tomorrow might become that much harder?”
Bell’s calm was long gone, and extreme panic had set in. He turned deathly pale, as if remembering the trial he had experienced earlier that day. And through unending anguish, he reached his trembling hands out to the goddess’s back.
Freya struggled not to laugh.
“I suppose this outfit was a bit too provocative for you.”
“Uh, ummm…!”
“Or do you think it doesn’t suit me?”
His fingers gingerly undid one button after another.
She smiled, closing her eyes as she questioned him. The boy struggled to contain his embarrassment as he responded.
“….Not at all…It looks…lovely on you…”
It was a simple answer.
Freya was no inexperienced maiden, but there was a sweet yet sharp pain in her breast.
“Mm.”
Perhaps because of that, when the boy’s trembling hand missed slightly, and his finger brushed against her back, she let out a carnal moan.
Freya’s shoulders twitched, but Bell’s whole body spasmed.
The poor boy, aware he had carelessly touched the goddess’s soft skin, grew bright red—and unable to endure it anymore, he fled.
“I-I’m sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”
He departed at a full sprint. His apology resounded in her chamber as he flew out the door.
Freya was surprised and betrayed a truly flabbergasted expression unlike any she had ever shown before, and then…
“Ha…ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
She laughed like a child.
Running in tears from her chamber!
There hadn’t been anyone, god or child, who had ever done that before!
Tears of laughter welled in her eyes as she held her mouth and stomach, spinning in a dance of sorts.
And paying no heed to the thought of how improper it might be, she collapsed into bed.
“…Lady Freya?”
Finally, Hörn gingerly peeked her head into the chamber.
No doubt, she had already confirmed Bell was gone. There was a change of clothes in her arms.
Behind her stood Ottar, who for once seemed unsure how he should act.
“I prepared a change of clothes…”
“Forget it.”
“Eh?”
“He complimented me in this, so I’ll wear it to bed tonight.”
She kicked her legs a couple of times and then rolled over onto her back.
Her chest swelled as she inhaled and then exhaled. Her right arm covered her forehead as her reached out toward the ceiling with her other hand, her expression breaking into a girlish smile.
“………”
Ottar watched in silence as his mistress was filled with joy.
And Hörn continued watching as well, clutching her hand to her chest.
The moon was pretty.
Sadly, there was no one beside her who could share in that thought.
Beneath the clear night sky that was the opposite of her clouded heart, Hestia was walking along the backstreets of Orario.
She was all alone after having forcibly persuaded Lilly and the others who had tried to stop her.
…I’m being watched…
She did not have the knowledge and experience of an adventurer like Bell, but Hestia still knew that she was being watched by Freya Familia. Or more exactly, the watcher was making their presence known as a warning to her.
As expected, they fully intended to keep her under watch around the clock.
Should I try some other time…? No, it was always going to be a given that they know my every move. I have to act and just accept that they will find out! The worst thing I could do is turtle up and become afraid to do anything!
She shook her head and clenched her fists.
She had gone out on her own at night for several nights in a row, searching for any gap in Freya’s charm.
Bell was still exposed and isolated. She could not allow herself to just do as Freya wanted while knowing that. Even if that meant acting like she did not know Bell to his face.
Steeling her resolve again, she took the main route, not the back door that the fool had passed.
She did not care if it was reported to Freya and dared them to stop her if they could, even though she knew it would take them less than three seconds to do so.
Visiting so late at night, she spoke with a visibly annoyed Guild member before finally getting them to pass a message for her and being allowed through.
Her destination was beneath Guild Headquarters—the Chamber of Prayers.
“Hestia. So you resisted Freya’s charm.”
“…! You too, Ouranos…?!”
Hestia leaned in excitedly when she heard him refer to the charm from his seat at the altar.
She had clung to the thread of hope that if it was him, if it was the great god who was Orario’s creator, but her eyes were on the verge of tears from the emotion of having her hopes confirmed.
She was a little bit suspicious seeing that the old god made no effort to open his eyes, but she still began to discuss the next moves.
“Ouranos, I have a letter from Hermes. About how to deal with Freya—”
“You mustn’t.”
However, he quickly stopped her, his tone grave.
“Huh…?”
“Fels is here right now. Whether conscious of it or not, under the influence of her charm, all may as well be spies. If you share any plan to destroy the sandbox, it will immediately be carried to Freya.”
“Wha…?!”
Hestia swiveled her head in surprise, looking all around.
There was nothing but impenetrable darkness around the altar. She could not see Ouranos’s right hand, the fool. But on closer examination, she thought she could see a black robe quiver in the depths, in obedience to Freya’s rules.
The four torches lit her face as Hestia’s throat quivered.
“There is no place in Orario devoid of eyes and ears.”
“That’s…”
She had been too naive.
Hestia had thought prying eyes would be unable to enter the room of prayer, that she would be able to share a plan with Ouranos. But Freya had already seen through that possibility.
She was forced to recognize that quite literally every being in Orario was her enemy.
After being at a loss for words for a moment, she voiced her thoughts, struggling in vain.
“Ouranos…even if it’s only Orario, this is an incursion against the mortal realm by a deity. Isn’t that a violation of our—”
“We cannot send Freya back to the heavens by our own discretion. She has not used arcanum.”
She sought the opinion of one of the first gods who descended to the mortal realm, but Ouranos’s response was merciless.
“Deities are allowed to utilize their various authorities in managing their familias and drawing closer to the mortal realm. Whether it be Hephaistos’s forging or Soma’s wine…Freya’s beauty falls within the same bounds.”
The charm of the goddess of beauty that could even entrance deities.
That was not the same as arcanum.
Hephaistos, who could forge the ultimate weapons and armor despite having the same slender arms of a human.
Soma, who could brew the wine of the gods.
Freya’s beauty was the same sort of thing.
It was hard to accept, but it was not some special divine ability but simply a feature of Freya’s countenance, a part of her personality.
Described most bluntly, Freya had a massive effect on her surroundings merely by standing there.
It was true that she had even been troubled by that fact before and had been forced to limit her actions at times. But this time, she had deliberately used her power.
“So what?! That’s…! Isn’t that practically cheating…?!”
Hestia would have liked to scream her frustrations at Freya personally.
But at the same time, she also understood that as a deity she needed to take a wider perspective.
The majority of deities’ actions in the mortal realm were for amusement or pleasure, and there was nothing wrong with that.
But their original stance, their true goal—at least for all but the evil gods who sought destruction and demise—was the birth of a chosen one.
A hero.
The authorities of various deities could at times be an aid to their children or else a trial for them to overcome. And those various authorities intermixed and gave birth to chaos, creating the sort of unknown that even deities could not predict.
They had collectively hoped that the ones who overcame that unknown would become a hero who achieved the machia that the world so desired.
But to treat this as a trial…! Are you trying to force Bell to overcome adversity again now like with the Xenos before…?!
But even so, logic and emotion were different things. All the more so when it was her child who was forced to go through it.
Hestia glared at the old god, whose eyes remained closed even as she harbored suspicions about his motives.
“—Hestia, do not misunderstand. The thing you should fear is not the power of her charm nor how the city has been altered.”
“Eh…?”
“It’s the fact that Freya twisted the entire world for the sake of a single being, and the obsession that led her to do it.”
“!”
Hestia’s eyes widened when she heard Ouranos say something similar to what Hermes had said before his memories had been altered.
“Until now, Freya had respected the skein of the mortal realm. She hated becoming an empress more than anyone, but no matter how bored she became, she kept to her oath and maintained her pride.”
Until her assault that twisted the mortal realm.
Ouranos was right. That should have been taboo to Freya.
Or perhaps it would be more correct to call it a sense of etiquette for how the game was played.
When Hestia actually thought about it, that made sense. What would happen to the enjoyment of a game with situational changes, tactics, and elements of luck, if Freya could just win forever without any effort at all?
That answer was simple. It would become boring. Terribly, horrifically boring.
And on top of that, it was winning by using her wiles to entrance other deities, too. It could not even be called a game. If Freya was trying to enjoy the game, then winning like that would be the hollowest sort of victory. Just a pathetic farce.
That was why Freya had never resorted to breaking that taboo and always observed a bare minimum of game manners.
Obviously, she was perfectly capable of resorting to the power of her charm for the sake of her own curiosity, or perhaps breaking it out when someone or something had trampled on the dignity of her children, but she would never have disgraced all the people, the deities, and the world by resorting to her charm.
“For the first time, she has broken that oath and thrown away her pride.”
All for the sake of a single child—for Bell.
Hestia shuddered. Hermes had been right. They had misjudged Freya. Even Loki, who knew Freya best, might have misjudged her. None of them had realized the intensity of the passion that currently held Freya. Her obsession, the breaking of her taboo, her abandonment of all other manners had put Hestia and Ouranos on the verge of checkmate. And for the vast majority of deities, it already was checkmate.
So long as her obsession did not fade, the situation would not be resolved.
Character…the sine qua non that defines Freya. She even abandoned that in order to get Bell…
Hestia, the vestal goddess, had never got along well with Freya and her stable of lovers. Because of that, they had not had many interactions, but she heard that in the heavens, Freya had been treated with the utmost courtesy and care by the gods who fell for her, living a life as if within a gilded cage.
However, though she was late to realize it, she understood now that Freya had not been surrounded by them—she had been restrained by them.
If she had been serious about it, she could have dominated even the heavens, just like she was controlling all of Orario now.
“What do I do…? This is…”
Hestia despaired again at the situation she found herself in after Ouranos’s statement.
She could not think of any way she could break out of the current situation under her own power besides a suicidal use of arcanum in the hopes of taking Freya out with her, sending both of them back to the heavens.
But she was sure that even if she committed to that plan, it would be prevented by the other deities who had fallen under Freya’s charm.
“………”
She looked down at her hands.
The fragment of paper Hermes had given her was there. She had never let it leave her sight.
When the times comes…When is that time, Hermes…?
Hermes had said to give it to him when the time came. But she did not know when that time would be. And it was starting to feel like Freya’s obsession, the sandbox she had created, would never allow that moment to come.
She felt like she might succumb to a crawling, dark despair.
Hestia clenched the note Hermes had left her.
“…Is that all, Hestia? If so, then leave. There is nothing you can do now.”
“Gh! Ouranos, wait, please!”
It was not clear whether Ouranos could sense that weakness in her heart or not. His eyes remained shut as he spoke.
Hestia suddenly looked up at him, but the old god’s divine will was unmoved.
“Even in a situation like this, I’m charged with protecting the city. I do not have the time to spend quibbling with you.”
“Ouranos…!”
“Winter is coming to Orario…the chill will be worse this year than usual. We must prepare the firewood.”
“…!”
Hestia gasped at Ouranos’s curt refusal to respond to her.
“Fels, task Hermes’s children with the distribution of firewood for the year.”
The darkness at the side of the altar shimmered, and the black-robed Fels appeared.
“I don’t mind, but…Hermes Familia? Isn’t that usually Ganesha Familia’s job?”
“They cannot act right now. They are serving Freya. You know that, too, right?”
“…Ohh, right.”
Perhaps butting up against a rule set out by Freya’s control, Fels did not recognize the oddity for what it was and accepted the fact at face value.
Stunned by that scene, Hestia was at a loss for words.
“Just go, Hestia.”
Ouranos’s eyes remained closed as Hestia fell silent and turned around.
She could feel Fels watching her, but she could do nothing but close her mouth and leave the chamber.
The darkness began to fade, and the sun rose again.
The morning sun hit his eyes from the eastern sky.
The battle had already begun out on the field, and a new boy’s shouts joined the chorus ringing out in Folkvangr.
Bell was unable to shake the shock from his expression. Hedin had been peering down at him, but he quickly returned his gaze to what was in front of him.
“Sorry for calling you up here. Can you wait just a little bit?”
The location was the audience room next to the goddess’s chamber.
Aside from certain exceptions, all of the familia’s first-tier adventurers had been called before Freya. Even Ottar, who had yielded the mission of observing Hestia Familia to other members of the familia.
The goddess was sitting on an extravagant seat worthy of a throne.
Her slender legs were crossed, and she had a single book open on her lap.
“It would have been better to have this meeting yesterday, but there was something I needed to finish reading.”
With that, the goddess closed the book she had just finished—Eina’s journal—and passed it off to Hörn, who stood at her side.
In order to perfectly answer the boy’s questions, she had prioritized reading through all the records of Bell Cranell that the methodical half-elf had created—a thick journal spanning dozens of volumes. Seeing their patron goddess yawn slightly, as if she had been reading deep into the night, the four brothers and Hegni clutched their chests and shuddered. In their hearts they were thinking, Lady Freya is so cute…!
Ottar, who had developed a resistance to it as her attendant, was unaffected while Hedin glared at them as if looking at sewage, cursing them mentally for their immeasurable impropriety.
Being able to see the goddess without her defenses was the special prerogative of only the familia’s core members and the maids who waited on her hand and foot.
“All right, shall we begin the conference? I imagine you are already all acting even without my request.”
The meeting to discuss the current state of the sandbox trapping in Bell as well as the intent and settings to be maintained going forward.
Alfrik and his brothers nodded with an ““““Aye!”””” at her trusting smile.
“In line with the information you have set out, Milady, Bell Cranell’s position within the faction has been firmly established.”
“We will continue to watch him going forward and work to remove any potential risks that are identified.”
“Goddess Hestia as well naturally, but also the monsters that Lady Freya’s charm cannot reach.”
“That cat who is not in attendance will be watching The Benevolent Mistress from today onward.”
The four identical prums took a single step forward, providing a smooth and succinct report in one flowing voice.
The next to step forward was the dark elf Hegni. “A-after this, we shall also enter the field, and w-wo-work to train up Bell Cranell, just like yesterdie! Ugh…?! Uhh…” He struggled terribly with shyness, stumbling over his words and biting his tongue. Freya smiled kindly at the dark elf, who slumped over in despair and shame.
“It’s okay, Hegni. Just take your time and speak in your own words.”
“L-Lady Freya…! Th-thank you very much…!”
Hegni was overwhelmed by emotion while, beside him, the four brothers gritted their teeth in annoyance. It was a very precise level of noise so as not to be so loud it offended Freya’s ears while still being audible.
Even though they were all first-tier adventurers within the same familia, Freya Familia’s members by and large got along terribly.
“B-Bell Cranell can be used. He can see our attacks and keep up with them. His techniques seem to be the most basic of basics, but…the instant his life is in danger, his responses expand in unexpected ways, like a rabbit frantically rushing about. He is strong in a pinch. And fun to beat up. I-I held back throughout it all, of course!”
“Ha-ha. And then?”
“R-right…Given that, what he is missing is experience with the unreasonable and an absurd number of experiences. However, if he continues to fight in Folkvangr, he will be able to gain both.”
“I see. Then I was correct to leave training that child to all of you.”
Seeing through Hegni’s excitement that drove his gradually accelerating speech, Freya nodded pleasantly as she glanced out the window to where battle cries could be heard.
The only thing forbidden out on the field was combat between fellow first-tier adventurers.
It was partly to avoid losing the foremost among the einherjar, of course, but the main reason was to prevent showing weakness in the event one of the core members of the familia were to fall or otherwise suffer a serious injury.
Because of that, it was almost unheard of for the first-tier adventurers to gather on the field.
And the reason for the current exception was Bell Cranell.
There was no other example of a first-tier adventurer deciding to train someone. It was a situation that went beyond being an honor and into the realm of nightmares. Bell was fated to collapse under the grueling training inflicted by Hegni and the others many, many more times going forward.
On that one point alone, the rest of the familia members could feel some tiny trace of sympathy for Bell.
“As long as his growth rate is uncertain due to the effects of his skill, I will leave training him to all of you. In addition to drowning him in training until he has no energy left to think, it’s also true that we will have to advance the progress of exploring the Dungeon.”
“We are to bring him on an expedition in the future, too?”
“Yes, that child is already a potential hero.”
Freya, who had seen Bell’s status and understood the true nature of his skill, firmly ordered it, betraying no difference in her tone of voice.
“So he must not be killed. Nor may he be allowed to die.”
That was the order.
Ottar, who stood beside the goddess, did not change his expression or raise a brow at all.
He was the model attendant, not remarking upon the change in his mistress’s mental state from half a year ago, when she had said that she would follow after him even up to the heavens if he died.
“Also, Bell is to be allowed some degree of freedom. He is bound to grow suspicious if he is locked away inside the home.”
““““Aye.””””
“However, he is always to be under observation and under guard. Those with deeper relations with Bell are especially prone to irregularities. If it grows too extreme, I will reapply the charm, but…overexposure might break certain children. Avoid contact where possible.”
As the rest of them responded affirmatively, Freya smiled.
“I will be staying here at the home instead of Babel for a time.”
Hearing that, a joyous mood filled the air.
Or more precisely, it emanated from the maids lining the walls.
The women who managed the goddess’s chambers were normally unable to accompany her to the top floor of Babel so they were on the verge of bursting with joy. Meanwhile, those who had been attending her in Babel were surely despairing. That was simply how deeply they loved Freya.
The conference proceeded apace without any disruptions. Freya listened to her followers’ reports and gave her instructions.
The sandbox the goddess had wished to construct was being strengthened and maintained without any issues.
“—Finally, I have a report as well.”
And as the discussion reached its climax, the silent white elf spoke.
“What is it, Hedin?”
“The night before last, Bell Cranell made an inquiry regarding Lady Syr.”
All of a sudden, a nervous tension swept the room, the first-tier adventurers included. It was an incredibly delicate subject, as everyone present was inherently aware. The goddess’s smile disappeared.
“And?”
“I immediately responded that there was no such girl here.”
“That’s right. So then why did you feel the need to report that here and now?”
“A desire to ask how information regarding the girl should be handled. There is no longer a Syr Flover in this city.”
Freya immediately responded when Hedin touched upon a fundamental bedrock of the sandbox she had constructed.
“She never existed. That is what shall be said.”
“Yes, Milady.”
Hedin bent courteously at the waist. After watching him for a moment, Freya curled her lips like a fickle witch instead of a magnanimous goddess.
“That reminds me, Hedin. You seem to have been acting of your own accord quite a bit beginning with the lead-up to the Goddess Festival…What were your intentions in all of this?”
Her tone made it quite clear that it was a question that could lead to more dangerous charges with a single wrong move.
Hörn also turned a resentful gaze on Hedin.
“My humblest apologies for my impertinent actions. I was unable to accept that he would be acting as escort without first confirming his abilities with my own eyes. And having judged his abilities too shameful, I felt I had to break him in,” Hedin responded without a trace of guilt.
“Out of your love for me?”
“Out of my allegiance to you, Milady.”
He did not avert his eyes for even a moment; there was no trace of any other thought in the elf’s gaze…Seeing that, Freya released the questioning tone as if her interest had faded.
Slowly, the mood in the room eased.
“In the end, my training was insufficient, and the foolish rabbit caused Milady displeasure and sadness, so I shall atone with my body—”
“It didn’t bother me.”
“………”
“It didn’t bother me.”
Freya quickly interrupted Hedin.
Everyone in the room was united in the belief that screamed in the back of their heads ““““““That means it totally bothered her,”””””” but no one allowed that thought to cross their lips.
Left speechless for a moment by her response, Hedin adjusted his glasses with his finger in order to collect himself before speaking again.
“Lady Freya, please leave that fool’s training to me.”
And again the mood in the chamber tensed like a cord drawn taut.
This time, Freya’s eyes narrowed, as if seeing into the elf’s heart.
“Your reason?”
“I believe I’m the one most able to draw out its gleam.”
“Your goal?”
“All for thee.”
Hedin’s eyes and voice were clear and unshaded as he declared without hesitation.
“I offer my devotion to thee.”
A silence filled the room. The only noise was the muffled sound of battle from outside the walls.
Freya studied Hedin carefully for a moment before finally responding.
“…Very well. You do not appear to be lying. I will leave it to you, Hedin.”
Children could not lie before deities. Acknowledging Hedin’s devotion, Freya gave her permission for his request.
Paying no heed to the eyes of the boaz, who was looking at him, nor returning the gaze of the shocked dark elf beside him and beautifully ignoring the audible scoffs of the prums, Hedin bowed.
And then turning his back, he left the room before anyone else.
The rhomphaia that would easily send my head rolling is swung without any mercy at all.
“Too slow!”
“Gahhh?!”
The longer weapon that also serves as a staff slams into my face heavily, sending me into an unsightly roll. My trembling hands hit the ground, and I’m on all fours as I cough up blood from my torn-up mouth.
“Why are you sleeping? Stand! Or do you wish to be beheaded?!”
Master’s shouts land heavily on the back of my head. Responding to the open hostility that accompanies those cries, I stagger to my feet.
And so my odd days continue.
Fighting on the field from sunrise until sunset and then talking with Lady Freya at night.
I have no ability to say no to anything, given the limits on my movement. And given that I’m being thrown into battle from the wee hours of the morning, I do not have any strength left for anything else anyway.
“Your back is not your only blind spot.”
“Focus your attention in all directions.”
“Erase every possible vulnerability.”
“You have to be able to attack, defend, and evade at all times.”
“Th-that’s impossible…!”
“If you decide it’s impossible, then you might as well put your own neck on the chopping block. The only question is whether the blade of the guillotine ends up being a monster’s claws or another person’s weapon.”
“Giii?!”
I am turned into a pulpy mess by the Gullivers’ combinations and then crushed into the ground by Hegni’s deadly slash. No matter how much I collapse, my wounds heal and my stamina recovers, and I am forced to keep fighting like a warrior who isn’t allowed to die.
“…Bell. You have a habit of letting your right arm drift upward, don’t you?”
“Eh…? Ah, yes. Apparently, I have a tendency to do it when I get flustered…I-it’s still there, I guess?”
“The opposite. You focus too much on fixing it, so when you attack, your right arm’s windup is a lot easier to read. It’s not a problem if you’re just after a monster’s magic stone, but against a first-tier adventurer, it’s a fatal weakness.”
A surprising change occurs.
Van starts to give me advice during the dinner where almost all the familia members gather to eat.
“Just leave it be. You can mix it into your attack and defense patterns as a feint. It’s useful as a tactic for fighting against other people. You can’t use it too many times, but it’s impossible to win against a first-tier adventurer without using every last tool at your disposal.”
“V-Van…why?”
“…I know just how scary Hegni and the rest of them are. If nothing else, I can at least respect a warrior who experiences that fear and pain and still continues to fight…It doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you, though!”
“Setting aside Van’s troubling confessions of love.”
“The truth is we think you are really something, you know?…I’ve known it for a long time, though.”
At some point, Van, who has viewed me as an enemy, and many of the other members of the familia begin to acknowledge me.
Even though I still don’t really know these people who are supposedly my familia…it’s still a mysterious feeling.
“You would like to go out?”
“Y-yes…or is that not okay, Heith…?”
“Hmm, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. I’ll let Lady Freya and them know.”
“R-really?”
“Sure. Everyone else goes out if they have something to take care of, too, after all. However, make sure you go with someone, okay? Especially if you are going to the Dungeon. There was the whole thing with you getting cursed without anyone realizing it, and we can’t have anything bad happening again. It will just make everyone think I’m a useless, hack healer! So promise me you won’t go making more work for me!”
“U-understood…”
I even receive permission to leave the home without any hassle, albeit with certain stipulations.
Generally speaking, the baptism on the familia’s field is considered the priority. I use my limited time to run around the city—and I despair countless times.
There’s no one who remembers the me who was part of Hestia Familia. I try to figure out a way to make contact with Lord Hermes or Fels, who might be able to find a way out for me, but no luck. When I find someone and bring up a story that only they and I would know, like me peeking on the eighteenth floor or other things like that, their faces start looking suspicious partway through…No, it’s almost like they’re indifferent. As if they’re under a spell forcing them not to acknowledge what I’m saying.
I also search desperately for Syr, who has gone missing, but there’s no progress there, either.
I head to the Dungeon, too, but no luck there, either. I hope that maybe I might meet Winne or any of the other Xenos, but no armed monsters or talking monsters appear, perhaps because they’re scared to approach when I’m part of a party with members of Freya Familia. Or maybe they’re just a dream that I created in my head.
Van and the others who come with me are not particularly watching me. They just let me do whatever until I’m satisfied. Or perhaps they pity me in some small way.
My spirit feels like it might break. Maybe it has broken already.
I am battered and worn from the constant baptism on the field, and the fact that no one knows me fills me with an overwhelming pain and anguish.
I can’t do anything besides stare out at Hearthstone Manor when the city grows dark, watching the warm light leaking from its windows.
It’s like I’m meeting the gaze of someone standing in the window and looking out from there, but even that’s probably just my imagination.
My body, my mind, and even my soul feel like I’m being driven into a corner.
“Welcome, Bell.”
And amid that all, the chats with Lady Freya in her chamber at night are the only time my heart can be at peace. Because that’s the only time I’m allowed to be myself, the Bell Cranell of Hestia Familia. Because Lady Freya accepts me with kind and gentle eyes.
I only just barely manage to hold on to myself by talking about the Bell Cranell of Hestia Familia that no one remembers. It’s painful, it’s difficult, but I can endure the solitude.
The noble goddess does not laugh at my story. And she does not look at me dubiously.
She responds, lends me an ear, and she’s the only one who understands me.
She’s the only one. She’s—
“Umm, Lady Freya…where should I sit…?”
“Just sit beside me.”
“Ehhh?!”
“Your chair’s already been put away.”
“Th-that’s not fair…”
Lady Freya is often mean like that.
The fact that she’s not just some dignified and aloof goddess is breaking down the walls I threw up around my heart one brick at a time.
She pats the seat next to her on the couch, and unable to go against her, I end up talking to her close enough that, with any mistake, my shoulder might brush against hers.
My tone grows freer with her, and a bond that’s different from just deity and follower or mother and child begins to develop.
And as my sense of distance changes, and as our relationship changes, I suddenly realize.
Being next to Lady Freya…being at her side…feels incredibly comfortable.
“Are you tired, Bell?”
“Huh…?”
I’m talking with Lady Freya in the evening after yet another day.
Having visited her chamber after the battle on the field was over, just like always, I’m caught off guard by her sudden question.
“Your face looks more haggard than usual.”
“H-haggard…”
“When I try to talk to you, you respond with halfhearted answers. Is your exhaustion building up?”
After saying that, she presses her forehead against mine suddenly.
“Wh-?!”
I turn red down to my neck and frantically pull away, feeling awkward as Lady Freya giggles.
It’s true the baptism today was especially painful. Hegni and the Gullivers were mostly the same, but it felt like Master’s attacks have been gradually increasing in intensity. Of course, it’s true that all the exhaustion has just been building up, too, but…
I certainly feel the urge to bemoan my fate, and ask why I have to suffer like this every day.
But I’m also using the battle as a way to avoid facing reality, so I can’t resent Lady Freya for it, either.
A merciless death match at least lets me forget about the hopelessness and isolation that I can’t do anything about.
Suddenly I’m struck by a scary thought, though.
What if I met Aiz like this, and she rejected me…What would happen?
I can see Lady Freya watching me from the corner of my eye. But there is no reaction.
As if the warmth that had continued burning in my back is slowly fading—
“Bell.”
That was the moment when Freya pressed.
Watching his face, confirming the gradual weakening, the pained gasps, the anguished place where he was left standing, she pulled the line that she had set out far in advance.
“Maybe you could try undergoing treatment for the curse?”
He spun toward her suddenly, his red eyes opened wide.
Confirming his inner thoughts from the changes in his expression, Freya spoke in a worried tone.
“I don’t want to deny or reject the you that belongs to Hestia Familia…But right now, you seem to be hurting so terribly. It feels like you want to be freed from your solitude.”
“Ghh…!”
“You could do it just once to see?”
It wavered.
Bell’s expression and his emotions wavered.
He wanted to cling to the saving light that would release him from a prison of solitude.
—Freya was sure of what was needed for her victory.
It was the destruction of Liaris Freese.
Etching a fissure in the deep attachment that could even reject the charm of the goddess of beauty.
His skill is an irregularity of the mortal world. But it’s not perfect. It can be made unstable through shifts in his mentality.
Liaris Freese was not invincible. If anything, it was incredibly fragile.
What made it so solid was the purity of Bell’s soul. If any other person had developed it, it would surely end up becoming a useless waste in short order. It was just that hard for anyone to remain so pure and absolute in their feelings.
So if he began to doubt his feelings, even just a little bit…
If he started to wonder if even the memories of that idol were false…
…a hole would open in his heart.
If I can get him to believe that the path he walks is just the effects of a curse, then I win.
Because of that, she had used Heith to implant the idea of a curse all the way at the start.
Was there any person who would not waver when a means of salvation was dangled before them? At the very least, it was impossible for a mortal. And the seeds of doubt had already started to grow.
The maintenance of the sandbox was all preparation for this. Isolating him through the reactions of those around him, shaving away at his store of endurance through the daily baptism, stealing away all energy and time for thought. And at night, Freya provided a healing salve by being the only person in the world who understood him, guiding him to listen to her and no one else. And then she could lay down the final piece with sweet honeyed words.
If Bell began to believe that his memories, his thoughts, and the one he idolized were a curse, he would crumble, like a sandcastle washed away in the surf.
And once that happened, Bell would have no defense against her charm.
Redirecting the target of his thoughts slightly, ever so slightly, was all that was needed.
She wouldn’t twist him like she had done with everyone else. She would just warp him the tiniest bit.
That would be enough to free Bell from the shackles of his adoration, to free him from that golden curse. And then he would look at only one person.
“I-I…”
Peering into Bell’s troubled eyes, Freya made her calculations.
She asked herself whether she could achieve the result she wished, and her answer was that it was assuredly possible.
She was confident of that possibility with all the omniscience of a deity.
She could gain his translucent soul, without changing him, without clouding its gleam or corrupting it.
The slight shift was nothing more than a rounding error.
She was confident she could pull it off.
And if I do, Bell will accept me.
He will become mine.
He will accept my love and not .
—Really?
There.
It felt like a ripple spreading outward.
“………”
Before she realized it, Freya had put her right hand to her ear.
It felt like something creaked at the bottom of her heart. A pain?
No, it’s my imagination.
After all, I already decided I would take this child.
“I…I’m okay. I…won’t take the healing…”
“…I see. Sorry for saying something unnecessary.”
She smiled as if it were nothing after her focus was derailed so badly.
There was no need to panic. The proof was there in how unsure Bell still was. She could just gradually continue to corner him. She still had plenty of time.
Because of that, Freya ended the night’s chat earlier than usual and had Bell leave.
“………”
Her maids entered the room and finished the preparations for her to sleep.
Freya sat on the couch and looked at the wine she had been provided.
The surface of the liquid inside the glass seemed to be reflecting someone other than herself.
She laughed at the stupidity of it.
She scornfully snickered at the silliness of that stray thought.
She took the drink, which was a bit much for just a nightcap, and downed it in one gulp.
—Freya did not notice that Hörn alone among her maids was watching in stunned amazement.
“Milady.”
“…What is it, Ottar?”
And Ottar, who was allowed to be present as her attendant, spoke.
“A report from Allen, who is watching the tavern. There is no sign of any movement by Mia. However, the elf appears to have truly disappeared.”
Freya glanced at the boaz delivering his entirely businesslike report.
“It appears to be true, then. She fled outside the city walls together with Hermes’s child.”
“It’s my failure. After defeating Bell Cranell and Gale Wind, I left her there, assuming she would fall under Lady Freya’s power…However, Perseus was also there at the time.”
They had discovered that two adventurers had gone missing since the last day of the Goddess Festival.
And they were cautious of the possibility those two might destroy the sandbox.
“No doubt, this is Hermes’s work…He must have realized I would use my charm and probably ordered them to flee the city.”
Ottar apologized again for his failure.
However, Freya did not think to punish him. Thought it was only two of them, and they deserved to be praised for managing to escape the city in such a short amount of time. And if Ottar was at fault, then it was also her own mistake in allowing Hermes the opportunity to struggle in vain.
“Maintain the net. They will return to the city at some point. They may even already be here in hiding somewhere.”
“Yes, Milady.”
She could not allow anyone to get in her way now.
Even if it was the elf and the rest of that girl’s friends.
Her voice was devoid of emotion as she gave her instructions.
“As expected, we can deal with this at the same time as the Ahnya issue. I will be going out.”
She walked to the window and looked up at the pale, frozen moon.
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