by Fujino Omori
There is no “Monster Rex” on these floors, so it’s safe to say that infant dragons are the bosses of the upper levels.
“—!!”
The dragon springs into action the instant the man screams, as though the cry is an opening bell. Flinging its long tail around like a whip, it hits an elf who happened to be close by and sends him flying. He slams into a wall in a heartbeat, eyes wide. He falls to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut, head limp. A chorus of new screams erupts throughout the room a second later.
It may not be as strong as that Minotaur, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this beast is also categorized as Level 2. Now is the time to ignore the adventurers’ unwritten law, and everyone else realizes it. All battle parties act as one. Numerous spell incantations start as Amazons and dwarves charge forward with swords and axes drawn.
“Li’l E! GET OUT OF THERE!!”
Mr. Welf’s scream cuts through the chaos.
Even in my state of stunned silence, I can see everything unfold in front of me.
The dragon is charging toward Lilly, who is still in the corner of the room collecting magic stones.
I see her stand and turn to face the monster. Suddenly, my body starts moving on its own.
My still-sparkling right arm thrusts forward as the muscles in my throat tighten to yell:
“FIREBOLT!!”
Half a moment later.
Everything goes silent.
“—”
A beam of pure white light.
The entire room is bathed in a flash as a sound rivaling the dragon’s roar rings in my ears.
Flaming bolts of lightning explode from within the white light surrounding my right arm. Firebolt.
But it’s completely different. The usual scarlet bolts of my Magic are surrounded by white shards of light and are so thick that they could swallow a person whole. The flames are headed toward the infant dragon.
Engulfing the beast in plasma, the Firebolt continues past the dragon and smashes into the wall beyond.
A massive explosion.
“…GAH, ahh…”
Those amber scales that looked so sturdy a moment ago flake off like ash in the wind.
The infant dragon leaves behind a soft moan of pain before collapsing to the ground, a victim of the electric inferno. I’ve heard that dragons have a natural resistance to flame, but its exposed skin is burning away amid the smoldering remains of everything around it.
All that’s left in the corner of the room now is the burned remains of the dragon dissolving into the air. The wall that took the blast is heavily damaged. Covered in cracks, more and more pieces fall to the ground every moment.
CRICK CRASH! A large segment collapses to the floor like an afterthought.
“…”
An uneasy stillness descends on the room.
All of the other adventurers have stopped moving and are looking at me. Lilly and Mr. Welf, too.
Shock, shudders, and…hostility. I don’t react to any of the emotions being slung at me. Coming back to myself, I pull my right arm down and toward my chest. The glimmering specks of light are gone, and my arm looks like nothing ever happened.
“……oww.”
I push my head through the opening in my shirt. Every part of my body aches, and every movement is painful.
Now fully dressed, I open the door and leave the shower room.
The goddess, already changed, is sitting on the purple sofa.
“Bell, if you’re tired, go ahead and get some rest. I can make dinner on my own.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll help!”
“Heh-heh, is that so? All right, we’ll make it together.”
It’s been a long day at work and a very long day of dungeon crawling. Both of us were late getting home that night, so I don’t want her to do everything by herself. It’s already late evening.
We do most things around our home together as much as possible; I know that’s what the goddess wants. I shouldn’t let her do so much, but every time I try to do something on my own, she always says something like, “Aren’t we in this together, Bell?”
But in the end, it really does feel strange…
“…Um, Bell? Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
I’ve just started washing vegetables in our small excuse for a kitchen when the goddess, who was cutting meat, suddenly asks me a question.
I turn to face her, our eyes level because she’s standing on a small stool.
“Have you ever met Freya…Ah, a silver-haired goddess?”
“A goddess with silver hair? No, I don’t think I have…”
I think hard as I answer.
I can count the number of times I’ve seen goddesses other than Lady Hestia since I came to Orario on one hand. I should be able to remember if any of them had silver hair.
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that’s right…”
The goddess mumbles as she looks toward the ceiling. Did something happen?
I feel like the goddess has had her head on a swivel ever since the Denatus ended. I’ve asked her about it a few times, but all she does is shake her head and say, “Nope, it’s nothing at all.”
I’m a little worried about it, but I’ve got food to make. In what feels like no time at all, everything is ready and I’m sitting at the table with the goddess.
“Ohh? So then, that smith is a good one?”
“Yes. He’s very open about what he’s thinking and I feel like I can depend on him. I’m a little bit concerned about him and Lilly, though. I don’t think they like each other too much…”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
I laugh with the goddess in the late evening hours while we eat dinner.
Recently, our dinners have gotten a lot fancier. There’s a lot less of the most basic food, anyway.
It’s normal for us to each have a slice of bread, and typical to have pieces of meat mixed in with our salad, and it’s become our tradition to have a small mountain of crispy potato puffs in the evening.
It didn’t take much time to get to this point, but it feels like it did. Dirt-poor, that’s what we were a little more than a month ago. I’m pretty sure we’ve escaped that label by now.
“Well, if he’s that kind of person, I don’t see a problem. I’m all for it and I’ll raise a glass to him. You better not let him get away, Bell.”
“I think so, too. Mr. Welf is a smith and with him around, we can make a three-man cell. I’ve heard it’s much safer to crawl the Dungeon with three! I’d like him to stick around for a long time, but…”
“You should make sure he stays. It’s much too dangerous for you and the supporter to be alone in the Dungeon. Much, much too dangerous.”
A refreshing smile grows on the goddess’s lips when I eagerly nod in agreement.
Even the goddess’s twin black ponytails look like they’re in a good mood, swinging back and forth like that. She must’ve been really worried about us.
It’s also become a routine by this point, but I’ve been telling the goddess about everything that happened that day.
First, I told her about Mr. Welf. I told her about the direct contract and all that yesterday, so today I tell her about my impressions of him as a party member.
“I still can’t believe that you would form a battle party with one of Hephaistos’s group members…hee-hee, maybe it was fate, since you entered my Familia.”
The goddess grins from ear to ear.
Lady Hestia and Lady Hephaistos have spent a lot of time together, dating back to their days in Tenkai, so it makes sense that they would be friends down here on Earth. However, I’ve heard that a lot happened in the time between coming to Orario and before the goddess started this Familia. Now it’s difficult for them to casually meet up anymore.
The goddess seems to find this unbreakable bond rather amusing. She’s giggling hard enough to make her shoulders shake.
“…Um, Goddess? Mr. Welf’s last name is Crozzo. Have yo
u heard anything about them?”
Seeing an opening, I decide to ask her what has been on my mind since earlier today.
Lilly’s story about the Crozzo family and magic swords.
I feel a little bad about looking into his family history behind his back, but I’m unable to control my curiosity.
“Crozzo’s Magic Swords, right…? I’ve heard a little about them, too, but…I don’t think I know any more about them than you do, Bell.”
“I see…”
I’ve heard that the goddess hasn’t been on Earth very long. It can’t be helped that she knows about as much as I do concerning what happened on Gekai—Earth—long ago.
Looks like Mr. Welf is going to remain a mystery for a while……
“…While I don’t know much about the Crozzo family, I might have heard a few things about the smith, Welf Crozzo.”
“Huh?”
“Hee-hee-hee. Bell, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where I work?”
OH! So that’s what she’s talking about.
The goddess works for a shop owned by Hephaistos Familia, the same Familia that Mr. Welf belongs to. I’m sure just by working there, she’s heard a few things about him.
“So how about it, Bell!” she says, puffing out her generous chest a little too much. I respond with a quick “Please” as my face turns red. It takes everything I have to force a smile so that the goddess will start talking.
Apparently, when she heard Mr. Welf’s name yesterday, she started collecting information on her own.
“He’s actually a pretty good smith. The boy’s still got a lot of growing to do, but Hephaistos talks about him all the time. I’m sure of that.”
“L-Lady Hephaistos talks about Mr. Welf?”
“Yep. I heard this when she was drunk, but that boy has a lot of hidden talent, and he could be so much more.”
To think that in a Familia known for highly skilled smiths, Lady Hephaistos would take note of Mr. Welf. Is he some kind of prodigy within the Familia?
“Oh, Hephaistos has an eye on him, all right. She’s given him a once-over and found that he has a special glow about him…But, she did say that he’s quite a disappointment, in terms of sensibility.”
“…”
“Pyonkichi,” the name of my armor, quickly comes to mind.
By the way, my current armor was given the same name as its predecessor. The current model is the MK-III.
“And now the juicy part. Hephaistos is extremely harsh on him inside the Familia, completely the opposite of how she talked about him when drunk.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
That was completely out of the blue. I ask her for more information and she nods with a soft “Sure.
“To get straight to the point, he can already make magic swords.”
“…!”
“Not some cheap imitation, but the real thing. He can produce magic swords that are strong enough to outdo the work of the High Smiths inside Hephaistos Familia. Magic swords worthy of the name Crozzo.”
—Magic swordsmiths.
I’ve heard those words before. I take a moment to chew things over in my head.
“But, wait a minute…That can’t be right. Smiths can’t make magic swords without the Advanced Ability Forge…right?”
That’s it. Eina told me as much on the day that we first visited that Hephaistos Familia shop in Babel Tower. I’m sure of it.
Only high-level smiths who have mastered the Forge ability to a certain degree can make them.
“Even I don’t know the reason why, but he can. Hephaistos herself confirmed it.”
“That means…”
“Yeah, the Crozzo family is the real deal. And he has their blood running through his veins.”
I feel like my brain just hit a wall.
Mr. Welf really is a member of a noble family of smiths that fell into ruin.
And he really can make magic swords without the ability Forge.
…A Skill?
That’s the only thing that comes to mind. Maybe he has some special Skill that allows him to make that kind of weapon without Forge.
Then again, Lilly said that the Crozzo family could all make magic swords…Did they all have the same Skill?
Hmmm, that seems a bit…I rub the sides of my head.
It’s no use. Random guesses aren’t going to solve anything.
Doing my best to cool off the burning questions within me, I focus on the goddess’s story.
“However, he doesn’t make them.”
“…eh?”
“For some reason, he doesn’t even try. If he did, his name would be famous and clients would be knocking at his door, but he doesn’t. He’s so stubborn that he’s turned down a chair at the High Smiths’ table.”
He can make magic swords, but he refuses?
A blade with the ability to unleash magic—or something very similar—with just one swing is extremely strong. While they do have a limit, magic swords make it possible for anyone to wield the blessing of Magic. It’s as easy as swinging your arm.
That kind of weapon can save hundreds of lives.
Not to mention the money he would earn, all the customers he would have, if he would just make them.
Despite all that, Mr. Welf doesn’t want to…?
“He’s referred to as the ‘Rotten Treasure’ at the shop I’m working at. Members of his own Familia call him ‘Crozzo the Defective’ and other kinds of cruel names.”
The goddess goes on to say that no one ever says these things publicly.
…People understand these kinds of things without hearing them directly.
“Rotten Treasure”…A shop would say that, thinking about all the money they could be making. As for the members of his Familia—they’re smiths just like Mr. Welf, and they’re very jealous.
He has the potential to easily join the High Smiths and make all the money he wants just because he’s a descendant of the Crozzo family.
I can see why he’s always left out of their battle parties.
“He has the ability, but for some reason…That’s the smith you signed a direct contract with, Bell.”
“…”
He has a reason…
It’s probably the reason why Mr. Welf never told me he could make magic swords.
No one tells their secrets to a person they just met two days earlier, so I’m sure that Mr. Welf wasn’t trying to hide anything.
Thinking back to how he reacted when Lilly was talking earlier today, it makes a lot more sense now.
“Bell, you have to be able to accept a secret or two with a smile. Even the gods have things they don’t want others to know. Please welcome him with open arms.”
“Goddess…”
She speaks with a very soothing tone in her voice, like she’s watching over me, guiding me.
Both of her elbows are on the table, her head in her hands as her eyes meet mine. My shoulders relax and a smile grows on my face before I know it.
The goddess giggles at my weird expression.
“We’ve been talking quite a while. We should dig in to dinner. Or is there something else you’d like to talk to me about?”
The goddess asks me with her eyes on our already cold dinner. I think about it for a moment, and I decide to ask one last thing.
About that Skill.
“So, you activated it? That Skill of yours.”
“Yes…”
I tell her that it came to life when I thought about the people I admire, heroes.
It starts with tiny specks of white light swirling around a part of my body. Then, incredible power is unleashed from that spot…That’s the effect of Active Action: My strength flies off the charts.
More than likely, it needs to charge before releasing energy.
I tell the goddess everything I can think of about my Skill, based on what happened today.
“…Bell, would you stand up for a moment and show me your Status?”
“Ah, yes, sur
e.”
Her serious gaze catches me off guard.
Plunk. The goddess hops off her chair and walks over to me as I take off my undershirt.
I turn my back to her and feel her eyes skimming the hieroglyphs on my skin.
“…Hmmm.”
Her warm fingertips graze over my back.
Then her fingers come to a sudden stop. The hieroglyphs under her soft hand start to heat up.
I shouldn’t be able to see them, but for some reason it feels like the symbols are written inside my head.
Not just symbols…The story of “Argonaut” written on one massive stone tablet.
“That’s enough.”
I slowly turn around.
The goddess picks up my undershirt that was draped over the chair and hands it to me.
“I’m going to go ahead and give you my personal assessment. That Skill is the power to turn the tables.”
That’s what she tells me.
Her arm is still outstretched, her voice so quiet I have to focus to hear her.
“It gives you the power to defeat enemies stronger than you are…The ability to come back from the most hopeless of situations. At the very least, it gives you the capacity to do so.”
I can see my reflection in the goddess’s large, mystical eyes.
“This Skill is a key that only children obsessed with being a hero can receive—a key that unlocks the hero within you.”
—Argonaut.
A story about a boy who aspired to be a hero.
And the path he took, his head in the clouds.
The path to heroism.
“When you bet everything on one strike, this Skill drastically increases your strength. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, it gives you a chance to punch through and turn the tide.”
Just as heroes have done many times before.
The goddess adds one last thing.
“You’ve acquired a ‘heroic strike.’”
With those words, the entire room falls silent.
It takes me a few moments to realize that our eyes are locked on each other. I only notice that we’re looking deep into each other’s eyes when the goddess hits my shoulder a few times with my shirt.
I grab it and ram my head through, my ears turning bright red. I can still feel her watching me as I wiggle and squirm my way back into my clothes.