The new day dawned with the golden glow of the sun filtering through the buildings of Orario. Bell and Hestia stood in front of what had once been their abandoned church, silently watching the transformation.
No trace of the rubble, the rotten planks, or the time-worn stone remained. Now, the structure stood firm and solid, with restored walls, a new roof, clean and reinforced windows, and a well-crafted wooden door with a simple but elegant inscription: Hestia Famila.
Bell blinked a few times, as if he still couldn't believe what was in front of him. "It's... incredible. Did you really finish all this in a single day?"
Hestia, grinning from ear to ear, raised both arms proudly. "I told you! The men of the
Goibniu family are the best when it comes to construction! They did it all in record time!"
Bell took a few steps closer, touching the new wood of the door. It was smooth, splinter-free, and smelled new. He could even see some discreet metal reinforcements embedded in the hinges.
"I thought this would take weeks…"
"Not when you have a builder god on your side and millions of valis to spend!" Hestia looked at him with a mischievous expression. "Well… five million after that unfair fine, but still."
Bell let out a soft laugh, though he still looked awed. "This… feels like home. Finally."
Hestia looked at him for a moment, her smile dipping slightly to a warmer, softer one. "It is."
The facade gleamed in the sunlight, and for the first time, the Hestia Familia seemed to have a place worthy of the name. A new chapter, literally built on the ruins of the previous one.
Bell reached for the brand-new door of his renovated home, still amazed at what had once been a ruined church. But just before he touched the handle, the ground trembled slightly… as if something enormous were walking behind them.
They both turned around.
A towering figure strode forward from the main street. Towering, muscular like a living wall, the man didn't say a word. He just walked toward them, imposing, silent... intimidating.
Bell took a step back without realizing it, and Hestia frowned with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
"Who…?" she murmured.
At that instant, the divine blessing of Bell's context was activated. The inner voice resonated clearly in his mind:
[Ottar, captain of the Freya family.]
Bell's heart leaped. He'd read about the captain, heard about him, but he'd never imagined seeing the person so close.
"Goddess…" he whispered, his voice suddenly dry. "It's Ottar. The captain of the Freya famila." Hestia paled slightly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.
Ottar, for his part, stopped a few steps away from them. He slowly crossed his arms and, without emotion in his voice, spoke with a gravity that seemed to shake the air:
"My goddess wants to see you."
Bell felt a pull in his stomach, while Hestia stepped forward, indignant.
"Freya? Why the hell would she want to see Bell? And who do you think you are, coming to demand that at our door?"
Ottar didn't blink, didn't react. He simply repeated in an even firmer voice:
"He will see the goddess Freya… whether he wants to or not."
The threat wasn't in his tone, but in the simple certainty of his words. As if the outcome were already decided. As if resistance were futile.
Hestia clenched her fists, her voice vibrating with suppressed anger. Bell swallowed.
The air became heavy.
Bell looked at Ottar. Then at Hestia. Then back at the giant. The tension was so thick it felt like the air could be cut with a dagger.
"No way, Bell. You're not going with him. That woman won't lay a hand on you." Hestia spoke resolutely, placing herself directly between her child and Ottar. Despite the height difference, she faced him with her head held high and her arms outstretched like a shield.
Bell wanted to tell her yes, she was right, that he didn't have to obey... but Ottar's presence alone crushed him like a mountain. And even more so, the mental image of Hestia facing him instead. — of her being hurt because of him — turned his stomach.
"I don't want to go," he finally muttered, gritting his teeth. "But if I say no, you'd get caught up in it. And I'm not going to let that happen."
"Bell!"
Bell gave him a smile that wasn't really a smile, but more of a way to hide how tense he was. "I'll be fine. It's just a chat, right?" He wasn't at all sure about that, but he'd already made his decision.
Ottar didn't make any gesture, but it was clear he was waiting. There was no possibility of refusal for him.
Hestia looked at him, her eyes wet with frustration, struggling between the desire to stop him and the knowledge that doing so could make things worse.
"Don't be long…" she said in a low voice, her fists clenched.
Bell nodded seriously, and without looking back, took the first step towards Ottar.
The world's strongest adventurer turned around without a word and started walking. Bell followed, feeling like every step he took was taking him further away from something other than his home.
As he walked silently behind Ottar's towering figure, Bell could barely contain the pressure in his chest. Each step sounded heavier than the last, and the air seemed to have grown colder.
It was then that, without warning, a soft, familiar voice echoed in his mind.
"You are not alone, Orion."
Bell blinked, almost stumbling, but quickly recovered. Artemis.
"If anything goes wrong… if that goddess tries anything… I'll be with you. I'll do whatever I must to help you."
The voice was firm, determined. Not a comforting whisper, but a promise. Bell pressed his lips together, lowering his gaze slightly so Ottar wouldn't notice the sudden expression on his face. He couldn't answer out loud, but in his heart he was grateful for that presence. That promise.
Because even if he walked toward an unknown peak, at least he didn't do it alone.
The walk with Ottar was tense and silent. Bell followed close behind, crossing the threshold of the Tower of Babel, with Hestia remaining behind, visibly worried. The interior of the tower was as crowded as ever, but the imposing Boaz led the way without needing to speak. The crowd moved aside as soon as they saw him coming, as if his mere presence was enough to silence any murmurs.
Bell gulped, following behind him amid the muffled murmur. He couldn't stop thinking about Artemis's words, echoing in his mind moments before. "I'll help you if necessary." He didn't know if that gave him any comfort... or more reason to worry.
Finally, Ottar stopped in front of one of the tower's most guarded elevators. Two guards recognized him instantly and made way for him without a word. Ottar simply walked in, and Bell followed.
The elevator began to ascend. The silence was almost palpable, interrupted only by the soft hum of the lifting mechanism. Bell avoided looking directly at the Boaz, who seemed completely impassive. When it finally stopped, the doors opened with a soft click, revealing a wide, luxurious, and quiet corridor.
They advanced in silence until they reached a pair of enormous ebony double doors, guarded by a heavy atmosphere that seemed to crush Bell's breath. Ottar stopped in front of them and, without even turning around, spoke in a firm voice:
"My goddess is waiting for you."
Bell stood still for a second and with a shaky breath, he stepped forward and pushed open the doors.
Just before Bell set foot inside the suite, a new voice echoed in his mind, with that same serene clarity that only his blessings could have:
[Divine Blessing of Purity]: Makes you immune to charms.
Bell stopped, blinking. For a moment, he thought he'd heard wrong... but no. That sentence had been clear.
And then, instead of fear or anxiety, he felt a wave of relief flow through his chest. A sigh escaped hi lips.
The "charm" of a goddess of beauty wasn't simply physical attractiveness or a flirtatious glance. It was something much deeper, a kind of magical ability, even though the gods couldn't use magic in the traditional sense. It was the closest thing to divine sorcery: a presence that could subdue emotions, influence decisions, awaken desire, loyalty, obsession... And Freya, the goddess of beauty, was its ultimate exponent.
But now… not in him.
Bell clenched his fists slightly, calmer. It was as if the world — or whatever placed those blessings on his shoulders — had told him, "You're going to be okay." And he believed it.
He took a deep breath, calmer. His heart was still pounding, but the anxiety had dissipated, replaced by a quiet firmness.
Bell gave one last glance to Ottar, who was waiting silently by the door, and then pushed open the doors of the suite. He entered.
Everything was carefully arranged, every piece of furniture and decoration in its place, but without being unnecessarily ostentatious. It was a warm… and dangerous space.
Freya sat gracefully on a low couch, her legs crossed casually, as if she'd been waiting for him all afternoon. Her long silver hair fell like silk over her shoulders, and her dark dress contrasted with the paleness of her skin. Her eyes, those eyes so many said could devour you, stared directly into Bell's.
She smiled. Not a predatory smile, as he expected, but a soft, almost melancholic one.
"Thank you for coming," she said in a calm voice. Then she extended a hand with a slow gesture toward the small table in front of her, where glasses of what appeared to be wine were already filled. "Please sit with me."
Bell swallowed and took a step forward. He knew the charm wouldn't work on him, he knew it, but there was still something about her presence that made his heart not entirely calm. Perhaps it was simply the nature of standing face to face with the most mysterious — and feared — goddess in all of Orario.
Without saying a word, he approached, sat across from her, and, reflexively, kept his back straight and his senses alert. Silence fell between them for a brief moment, thick with anticipation.
Freya watched him with a hard-to-read expression. And Bell braced himself for whatever came next.
Bell took a deep breath, staying firmly in her seat. Even though she was in the presence of a goddess, she wasn't going to let the air of mystery surround her without getting answers.
"Why did you want to see me?" he asked in a direct, straightforward tone.
Freya tilted her head slightly, her smile returning with a more playful, though still calm, tinge.
"Do I have to have a reason to see someone I'm interested in?" she replied gently, as if the question were a compliment.
Bell frowned, his gaze hardening slightly.
"So why did you try to kill me?"
The atmosphere immediately tensed. Freya blinked, and for a moment, her face lost all its calculated serenity. A genuine expression — rare for her — appeared for a moment: surprise.
"Kill you?" she repeated, in a lower voice, as if she really didn't understand.
Bell didn't hesitate. "At the Monster Feria... the Silverback. The monster that escaped and attacked me. I knew it was sent by someone. Then I realized it came from you."
The surprise in Freya's eyes didn't disappear as quickly as he thought. In fact, she seemed to be analyzing his words seriously, as if she were really trying to decipher something… or she was being very, very clever.
Freya looked away for a moment, letting out a soft laugh, almost as if the accusation was a naive joke.
"Bell, darling… do you really think I'd do something so terrible? A monster loose in the middle of the city, putting everyone at risk…" Her tone was sweet, laced with feigned concern. "What kind of goddess do you think I am?"
But as she spoke, the divine Blessing of discernment of truth triggered a faint buzz in Bell's mind. He needed no more: she was lying.
Outwardly, Bell showed no reaction. He just watched her silently… and then raised his gaze slightly.
Above Freya's head, a clear number floated: 85.
And with that, all doubts were dispelled. That familiar way of speaking. That inexplicable affection from day one. The gaze that followed him even when it shouldn't have. That voice.
Syr… Freya… were the same person.
I had already assumed it was almost a fact, but now I knew it for sure.
Bell closed his eyes for a moment, holding back the trembling in his fingers. He said nothing. He didn't react. He just looked down and nodded slightly.
Freya watched him closely, searching for any sign on his face, but he simply smiled faintly, hiding everything under a well-rehearsed calm.
"I see," was all he said. Keeping it all to himself. For now.
Silence fell for a few more seconds.
Bell kept his gaze lowered, but not out of submission or respect. It was concentration. Control.
Then he spoke, in a much firmer tone than before, without raising his voice, but each word carried weight.
"You're not being honest… You never were."
Freya's smile froze briefly. Her eyebrow rose in surprise. "How can you say that, Bell? This is the first time you and I have actually met..."
But Bell slowly raised his head, looking directly into her eyes. Something in his gaze had changed: he was no longer the naive, impressionable boy Freya had once known. Now there was conviction.
"Vana Seith."
The words were like thunder in the midst of the calm.
The name of her magic.
Freya stood still. For a second, she said nothing. She didn't try to lie. She didn't try to disguise her reaction. She just… looked at him. And in her eyes, for the first time in the conversation, there was something that looked very much like the truth: surprise… and acceptance.
Bell already knew it.
She elegantly crossed her legs, resting one elbow on the arm of the chair, and her smile transformed. It was no longer the sweet, innocent smile. It was more real. More her. "So you knew…"
He didn't deny it.
Bell didn't respond. He didn't need to. The truth was already in the air.
Bell lowered his gaze for a moment, as if the words weighed more than they should. Then he looked up again, and there was no anger on his face… only a thick sadness, as if a part of him was breaking as he asked the question.
"So… tell me." His voice was soft, but direct. "Were those moments… real? When Syr came to see me. When she comforted me… when I was at my lowest… was that also just another way of manipulating me?"
Freya did not respond immediately.
Silence settled between the two, heavy as a thick fog.
She looked down just a bit, and for a second, Bell could almost swear she looked human… not like some distant, unattainable goddess, but like someone who was weighing her own words with fear.
Finally, Freya whispered, without embellishment or games:
"Yes. Those moments… were real. They weren't meant to manipulate you."
And as soon as those words came out, Bell's blessing activated without him even asking for it. He felt certainty cross his mind like a serene lightning bolt.
TRUE.
She was telling the truth.
And that was what disarmed him the most. Because if that was true… then the next question hurt even more.
"Then why?" Bell said, his voice trembling slightly. "Why did you send that monster? Why something that could have… that almost killed me?"
This time, Freya did look away. For the first time since Bell had entered, she seemed to hesitate. As if her immortal confidence had cracked, just a little.
Freya was silent for a moment longer, as if trying to find a better answer, a more convincing excuse. But she didn't find one. Not this time.
Finally, he looked up at Bell, his voice soft, almost resigned.
"I wanted to see if you were worthy."
The silence that followed was even heavier than before.
Bell simply stared at her, his expression fluctuating between disbelief and disappointment. That response, so empty, so absurd, felt like a slap in the face.
"Worthy…?" he repeated, in a low voice. "Of what? Of you? Of your attention? Of living?"
There was no mockery in his tone, only bitter disbelief.
Freya looked away. Even she, now that she said it out loud, seemed to hear how ridiculous it sounded. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of the chair, squeezing with a tension she didn't show on her face.
"At that moment… it seemed like the right thing to do. I needed… to taste you."
Bell didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Because his expression — that mixture of pain and disappointment — spoke for him.
And the blessing was activated again. True. That, however absurd, was the real reason.
Freya looked down, her voice this time tinged with a strange mix of sadness and melancholy.
"So… that's why you didn't return to the Host of Fertility."
Bell didn't answer. He didn't deny it.
Freya slowly raised her eyes, looking at him with an expression she rarely saw. Vulnerability. "You were avoiding me."
It was a statement, not a question. And yet, it hurt. It hurt more than she'd expected.
The goddess of beauty, the one who was always adored, desired, revered... now felt the emptiness of rejection from a single person. From him. Bell hadn't faced her with anger or hatred. He'd avoided her.
And that, in a way, was what hurt her the most.
"Wouldn't you avoid someone who lied to your face?" Bell continued, his tone a little sharper. "You thought they were someone you could trust, only for that person to try to kill you?"
Freya blinked, surprised by Bell's words, though they weren't entirely foreign to her. He hadn't said them in anger, but the ironic tone he'd used struck a chord. Bell was being more direct than she expected, more firm in his words. Despite the situation, she couldn't blame him.
"I… can't blame you," Freya murmured, her gaze lowering for a moment. "If I were in your position, I would do it too."
Bell watched her silently. That response, though unexpected, wasn't what surprised him most. He knew she had the capacity for honesty, even if she rarely showed it.
"I can promise you I have no intention of hurting you," Freya continued, looking up at him again. "What I did… I did it for my own reasons, even if I didn't do it in the best way."
Bell stared at her. There was nothing he could do to change what had happened. But at least, for once, Freya had shown a crack in her facade.
Freya stared at him, unblinking, with an intensity that seemed to pierce the soul. And then, with an almost disturbing calm, she said:
"I love you."
Bell was silent. For a moment, he didn't know how to react. Not because he doubted her words... in fact, he didn't need to consult his Blessing of Discernment of Truth. Just looking at the number hovering above his head was enough: it didn't move, it didn't waver... 85. Steady. Steady.
She wasn't lying.
But that didn't make it any easier to process.
Bell looked down briefly, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Then he looked up and replied, with a hint of weariness, but not harshly:
"You have a very strange way of showing affection."
Freya didn't respond immediately. Her expression changed slightly, as if those words had touched a part of her that was rarely exposed. It wasn't an explicit rejection. But it wasn't an acceptance either. It was something more complicated. More human.
"I know," she finally whispered. Her tone felt… vulnerable.
Freya looked at him with renewed intensity, but this time it wasn't the defiant look of a goddess who had everything under control. It was the look of someone who didn't want to lose something... or someone.
"I don't want this to end like this," she said firmly, though her voice held a hint of pleading. "I won't give up."
Bell frowned slightly. He didn't know if that was a promise to try to fix things... or a veiled threat to keep chasing him, to never let him go.
Freya noticed his expression and softened her tone. "I don't want to give you any more reasons to hate me, Bell. I don't want to force you. Not again. I… want to be with you. I want to be your partner."
Bell watched her silently. There was something almost surreal about it all. He was sitting across from the goddess Freya, the most coveted, the most feared… and she was begging him. Him.
Many would kill to be in his place. Many had tried just for a glance from that woman. And yet, Bell felt no pride. No power. Not even a shred of satisfaction.
Just a strange knot in my chest.
He felt bad.
And maybe… a little sad.
After a moment, he spoke.
"I can't guarantee anything," he said honestly. "I can't."
Freya closed her eyes for a moment, as if those words hurt her… but when she opened them, she smiled. A faint, sincere, almost grateful smile.
"That's enough for me."
Freya stood silently. She took a couple of steps toward him, and without another word, hugged him. It was a slow, almost fearful gesture… as if she were afraid he would push her away.
Bell tensed instantly. Everything in his body screamed at him to push her away, that this contact was too personal, too intimate, too dangerous. Not because of what Freya might do to him… but because of what that gesture meant, and how it complicated everything even further.
But he didn't.
Not out of compassion, nor out of affection.
Simply… because he knew that if he pushed her, if he even directly offended her, Ottar was right behind that door. The captain of the Freya famila wasn't someone who took gestures toward his goddess lightly. Even if Freya wasn't upset, Ottar might be. And Bell wasn't so foolhardy as to try his luck against the strongest adventurer in the world.
So he stood still.
He didn't reciprocate the hug, but he didn't reject it either.
Freya rested her cheek on his shoulder, and for a moment, only her calm breathing could be heard. She almost seemed relieved.
Bell closed his eyes for a second.
This was getting out of hand.
Freya finally broke away from the hug, though her hands remained on Bell's shoulders for a moment longer. She looked into his eyes with a gentle intensity, as if still trying to imprint every detail of his expression on her mind.
"If you ever need my help… I'll be there," she said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No matter when, no matter how. I'll give you everything I can, no matter the cost."
Bell remained silent, still feeling uncomfortable, but he didn't deny her words.
From Freya's perspective, that moment had an almost divine clarity. Her gaze didn't just see the young man in front of her… she saw his soul. And it, in that instant, shone with an intensity that
It seemed to cut through the air. It shone with determination, with suppressed rage, with vulnerability, but above all, with something only a handful of beings could understand: an incorruptible purity. Not the naive purity of someone who doesn't know the world, but that of someone who has suffered... and still chooses to move forward.
For her, that made him more than worthy.
Freya slowly dropped her hands to her sides, taking a step back with a faint smile, less laden with desire and more… human.
"You should stop by the Hostess of Fertility sometime," she said gently. "The other girls complained that you didn't help them."
Bell looked down for a moment, scratching the back of his neck with a mixture of embarrassment and tension.
"At that moment… I was scared," he confessed honestly. "Even now… I still am. I didn't know who to trust. Everything feels like a trap."
Freya nodded slowly, as if she understood more than she was willing to admit.
"I'll think about it," Bell finally added. "I'm not promising anything, but… I'll think about it."
That small opening was enough for Freya's smile to soften even further. For now, it was enough.
Bell turned calmly, without looking back, and opened the suite door with a soft creak. Ottar stood there, as imperturbable as a statue, though Bell felt his eyes assessing him with pinpoint precision as he left.
The young man gave a brief nod to the enormous warrior, who responded with an equally brief one. There were no words necessary between them, only a silent understanding.
Bell walked toward the elevator, and only when the doors closed did he feel the tension in his chest slowly dissipate. He took a deep breath, as if he could leave the heavy atmosphere of the suite behind him.
There were a lot of things on his mind, a lot of unsorted emotions. But at least for now… he was out.