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Hi :D. I really have no excuse, other than the fact that I'm two weeks away from finishing the semester at university and it was a bad idea to enroll in 5 courses with a project, so I'm juggling those 5 projects and the exams. Moral of the story, people, don't study XD
Thanks to Rayx2108 for being the beta reader and quality supervisor of this chapter
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Bell didn't know where to look.
The weight of the gazes upon him was as thick as the air before a storm. Around him, barely concealed murmurs spread like a wave, heavy with confusion, curiosity, and… envy?
Freya stood before him, as serene and dazzling as ever, as if she didn't notice—or simply didn't care—that she had halted the natural flow of the banquet by simply showing up. The smile on her lips was calm, almost content. As if all of this was exactly what she had hoped for.
Bell, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, breaking out in a cold sweat.
"This… is drawing a little bit of attention…" he murmured, barely audible.
"A little?" Hestia replied, not bothering to lower her voice, eyes narrowed.
Freya gently tilted her head, still looking at him.
"Does it bother you if I say hello, Bell?" he asked with feigned innocence.
Bell opened his mouth to reply, but just then a soft but mocking voice crept in from behind.
"Well, well… it seems I arrived late to the scene."
Hermes appeared at Hestia's side, sporting his signature lopsided smile and clasping his hands behind his head. He was wearing his usual elegant suit, though looser than most gods', as if he refused to take things seriously even at a formal event.
"Hello, Hestia. Good evening," he said with a slight bow. Then his eyes shifted to Bell, Freya… and the charged atmosphere between them. "And look… I didn't know your star child was so popular with the ladies."
Hestia didn't even look at him. She just raised a finger.
"Be quiet."
Hermes blinked.
"…Roger that." He lowered his voice with a chuckle, though his eyes continued to watch the spectacle with amused interest.
In the distance, some adventurers were murmuring amongst themselves, unable to hide their shock: "Freya approached Hestia's boy?"
"It just can't be…"
Hestia, a second away from exploding, muttered under her breath.
"Five more seconds and then I'll strike"
Hermes raised an eyebrow.
" Bell or Freya?"
"You're going to fly too if you don't shut up!"
Hermes raised his hands as if in surrender, but the smile on his face kept growing.
Meanwhile, Ottar—as immovable as a statue behind Freya—said and did nothing. But his eyes, though serene, were clearly watching everything closely. Especially Bell.
And Bell… Bell wished that he was invisible.
Freya tilted her head slightly at Bell, her expression still soft, but with that playful sparkle shining in her eyes.
"I didn't mean to inconvenience you, Bell," she said in an almost melancholic, though clearly measured, tone. "I didn't intend my presence to be a nuisance."
Bell sighed in resignation, his shoulders slumping slightly. He'd already caught the attention of the entire room, Freya had approached him, and Hestia was about to electrocute Hermes with her gaze. What's done is done.
"Don't worry..." he murmured, struggling to keep his voice calm. "What's done is done."
Freya smiled, and that smile had a mischievous glint that Bell didn't know how to interpret.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said with a hint of satisfaction. Then, with disconcerting ease, she added, "So, how about you join me tonight… as my partner?"
Bell blinked. It took him a couple of seconds to process what he had just heard.
"Pa-partner?! A-at the party?" he asked, craned his neck toward Hestia as if seeking moral support. "But… I came with my goddess…"
"Exactly!" Hestia replied, taking a step forward as if pricked by a needle. "He's MY guest!"
Freya, on the other hand, didn't seem at all affected by Hestia's defensive tone. She simply looked back at her with a charming—too charming—smile and said calmly:
"Oh, but don't worry, Hestia. You can stay with Ottar."
Ottar barely nodded, as if he'd been asked to save a chair. And for a moment, in the silence that followed, it was possible to hear the exact sound of Hestia's patience shattering into a thousand pieces. "No, absolutely not!" Hestia exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks.
Bell took a step back, a drop of sweat trickling down his forehead. Slowly, he looked back at Hermes.
"Can you believe this…?"
Hermes smiled as he drank from a cup that no one remembered seeing in his hands before.
"Bell-kun… my golden advice: when two goddesses are fighting over you, don't try to win. Just survive so you can have the 'prize' in your hands, if you know what I mean."
Hestia snorted, her cheeks red with anger, and Freya just looked at Bell with that calm persistence of hers.
"So what do you say?" she asked, as if completely unaware of the chaos unfolding around her.
Bell, caught between his goddess's wounded pride and Freya's calm pressure, wished more than ever that Artemis could speak from the spear right then and there.
But of course. I had to leave her at home.
Bell swallowed as a drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. His eyes darted from side to side, as if trying to find a secret exit in the middle of Apollo's banquet.
On one side, in front of him, stood Freya. The most beautiful goddess in Orario, looking at him with a gentle, patient, charming smile… but with that firmness behind her eyes that told him she was quite willing to persist.
If he rejected her, anything could happen. Hurt her feelings? Possible. Earn the passive aggressive hatred of the most influential goddess in the city? More than likely.
But if I accepted…
Everyone would see him. Everyone. Several gods were already staring at him intently, whispering over glasses of wine. If he took one step closer to Freya, it was like shouting "Yes, I'm her favorite!" in the middle of a plaza full of suitors with egos the size of the 50th floor of the Dungeon.
Plus, there was Hestia. By his side. Her fists clenched. Her cheeks puffed out. Her eyes like burning coals. If he did it… well, he wouldn't have to worry about what Freya would do because Hestia would kill him first.
Bell looked down at the ground for a second. What kind of hero had to choose between disappointing his goddess or angering another goddess who can destroy half the city if she has a bad day?
Yharon wasn't there. Artemis wasn't there either. Welf was probably drinking in a corner somewhere. There was no saving grace.
I'm screwed.
"Bell-kun?" Freya's sweet voice sounded again, musical, kind, patient… and dangerously firm.
Bell looked up, his smile nervous, his soul hanging by a thread.
"Eh… heh… heh…"
And in his head, his divine blessing of the context let out a sarcastic whisper, like a mockery of his fate:
[Any choice entails a loss.]
Bell sweated even more.
Definitely screwed.
Just as Bell was about to open his mouth—perhaps to agree or to implode with anxiety—a powerful, melodramatic voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a sword slicing through a tightrope.
"Dear guests, thank you for honoring my humble abode with your presence tonight!"
The voice echoed from the top of the hall's main stairs. All murmurs instantly fell silent, turning toward the large, carved door that was opening with unnecessary theatricality.
Bell, inwardly, felt as if heaven itself had sent him a lifeline.
Thank you. Thank you. Finally.
Apollo appeared at the top of the stairs as if he were entering a play where, he was the star of the show. He wore a white and gold suit that sparkled with every step, his red (or orange, for some) hair was perfectly combed, and he wore a dazzling smile that looked like he'd rehearsed it in front of a mirror for hours.
"What a joy to have so many distinguished gods and their promising adventurers among us!" he continued, spreading his arms with a dramatic flourish that nearly made half the room roll their eyes. "I have prepared this evening with great care to celebrate the growth of our beloved community… and especially those young people who are marking a new era of heroes." Bell blinked. Was that a hint?
Hestia snorted beside him, crossing her arms and muttering under her breath:
"Always so delighted to hear himself…"
Freya gave an elegant little laugh, as if unfazed by the interruption, and simply turned slightly toward the stairs, watching Apollo with her usual smile. Ottar, behind her, didn't even flinch.
Loki raised a half-empty cup and muttered:
"There he goes, the god of unnecessary flair."
Meanwhile, Bell… just sighed in relief. For a moment, no one was looking at him anymore. All eyes were on Apollo, the focal point of the stage. The "respite" was brief, yes, but in its own way, heavenly.
Thanks, Apollo… for being such a narcissist.
Apollo slowly walked down a couple of steps, as if each step was choreographed to keep attention fixed on him.
"I must apologize for not introducing myself earlier on this glorious evening," he said, placing a hand over his chest with rehearsed dramatics. "I was forced to attend to a… painful matter. One that involves none other than my beloved adventurers."
There was a murmur among those present. Some gods bowed toward their companions, others simply raised their eyebrows or clicked their tongues in mock surprise. It was difficult to tell how many were reacting seriously and how many were simply following the exaggerated tone Apollo set with each word.
"An incident occurred last night at a well-known tavern," he continued in a deep voice, as if narrating an epic tragedy. "A group of my adventurers were beaten… brutally… while sharing drinks and merriment with their companions."
Bell, who had already broken out in a cold sweat, felt as if the ground was beginning to give way beneath his feet.
No… It can't be…
And then he saw it.
From a side door of the hall, escorted by a pair of serious-looking adventurers, a pallum appeared… wrapped in bandages. Like a walking mummy. He had a black eye, his arm in a sling, and even a crutch that he dragged theatrically. His face was a mixture of indignation and mock victimhood, as if he'd been asked to exaggerate everything for show.
Bell recognized him instantly. The same pallum who had insulted him. The one who had approached his table at the Hostess of Fertility with provocative words. The one who had enraged Hestia. The one who… took his punch straight to the face.
Bell swallowed.
"There he is!" Hestia murmured, her voice filled with suppressed fury, noticing the pallum as well.
Bell, paralyzed, thought only one thing.
…I'm screwed.
Apollo gestured broadly toward the battered adventurer.
"My dear Luan was attacked for no reason. Humiliated. Even his pride was hurt, and that doesn't heal with bandages!" His voice cracked just at the end, as if he truly grieved for his subordinate. "And the worst part is… the person responsible isn't a stranger."
The spotlight fell like a sentence. Bell froze, as if the light had chained him to the ground.
Now all eyes were on Bell again.
From the top of the stairs, Apollo raised both arms, his voice echoing theatrically in the vast hall decorated with marble and gilded luxuries.
"Bell Cranel, would you mind explaining yourself?"
Everyone in the room turned to him, and Bell felt as if an invisible hand had pushed him into the center of an arena. He cleared his throat, trying to take a step forward, cold sweat beginning to trickle down his neck.
"I… didn't mean—"
"I don't want your excuses!" Apollo interrupted with an exaggeratedly friendly smile. "Oh no, no… I just want to know how you plan to compensate for the harm caused to my dear and brave adventurers, who are now suffering injuries… emotionally and physically."
"What a scandal!"
"This is pure gold!"
The whispers mingled like a sea of voices, but some figures in the audience did not seem so easily convinced.
Hestia was rigid. Her fist was clenched, her brow furrowed, and her eyes fixed on Apollo. Hermes, beside her, took a sip of wine without saying anything, but his gaze bore no trace of his usual smile: he was observing. Calculating. Takemikazuchi, who had just arrived, stood with his arms crossed, his brow slightly furrowed.
"How convenient, just when the kid is becoming famous," the god of the Far East muttered. "Apollo doesn't waste his time."
But meanwhile, Loki was laughing out loud, not bothering to hide it.
"Ahh, the bunny's in trouble again! Now that's entertainment! And front row seats!"
Her laughter sounded like a mocking flute, but at some point he looked down at the next table, hoping to share the fun with his eternal rival.
"And you, Freya… aren't you going to say anything? What do you think of the performance?"
Silence was his response.
Freya wasn't smiling.
Seated elegantly, her glass untouched and her gaze fixed on the scene, her expression was as serene as a statue… but Loki knew her. That lack of expression, that stillness, wasn't indifference. It was contained tension.
It was the kind of discomfort that preceded a storm. And that made Loki's smile fade like fog.
"…Wow," she muttered, letting out a breath through her nose. "I certainly didn't expect that."
Back at the center, Bell tried to respond, but his mouth felt dry. The spotlight was still on him, the pressure building in his shoulders, and the words wouldn't come out.
Apollo looked down on him, like an emperor judging a wounded gladiator.
"So, to cleanse the honor of my Family, I officially declare a War Game against the Hestia Familia!"
The hall erupted. The murmurs turned into exclamations, laughter, cheers, and eager glances among the gods.
"War Game!"
"Now it got interesting!"
"Will that boy fight for his goddess? How romantic..."
But amid the din, Bell felt the air leave his lungs. His gaze went straight to Hestia, who gritted her teeth and took a step forward.
"I reject that statement!" he shouted. "I will not accept any war games with you, Apollo! I will not fall for your stupid provocations!"
Silence fell for a moment, the tension cutting.
Hermes, who had been moving discreetly beside her, leaned his face toward her ear. His tone was more serious than usual, barely above a whisper.
"Are you sure about that, Hestia-chan? Just because you refuse doesn't mean he'll stop."
Hestia didn't even look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on Apollo with pure fire.
"No means no!"
Apollo gave a soft, almost sympathetic laugh, slowly lowering his hand as he shook his head.
"Oh, dear Hestia…" he said, his voice as sweet as it was poisonous. "I knew you'd say that. I expected nothing less. But I'm sorry… I'm not giving up that easily."
He looked back at the audience, extending his arms like a benevolent host.
"I will not rest until I have avenged the suffering of my beloved adventurers. The honor of my family has been tarnished. And isn't it right that I seek justice? Isn't that the true essence of Orario?"
Some of the audience nodded, others simply enjoyed the spectacle. Apollo was an expert at manipulating the stage, at igniting passions. And at the center of that theater… Bell was the target.
Bell clenched his fists.
I knew what that meant. This wasn't going to end with a no. This was just the beginning.
Hestia, frowning in barely contained fury, grabbed Bell's arm more tightly than necessary.
"We're leaving, Bell!" she exclaimed, turning around with a toss of her dress as she dragged the still-stunned boy with her.
"H-huh? Hestia-sama, wait!" Bell managed to say, but it was too late. His goddess was almost stumbling him out of the hall, pushing her way through the gods and adventurers who were parting like the red sea before the miniature divine wrath.
The murmurs continued as they passed, like waves following a stone thrown into the water. Many continued to watch, amused, but others—those who knew Apollo—shared uneasy glances.
Off to the side, near Loki, Freya watched the spectacle coldly. Her usual smile had long since disappeared.
"That's enough for today," she murmured. Then she turned her head slightly toward her escort. "Ottar." The gigantic man only bowed his head in obedience.
"We're leaving."
Loki, who had been enjoying the chaos with a mocking smile until then, narrowed her eyes at Freya's sudden decision.
"What's that? not having fun with the show anymore?"
Freya didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on Bell's back, on the way Hestia was dragging him out of the mansion. Her pupils softened slightly, but her expression remained serious, distant… almost protective.
"There are limits to cheap theater," she said simply. "And that god… has already crossed them."
And without another word, she turned elegantly on her heels, Ottar following her like a faithful shadow. The crowd parted to let her pass, equally impressed and confused by her abrupt departure.
The room remained silent for a few seconds, as if everyone knew something had just changed.
Outside, the night breeze blew gently, but it wasn't enough to ease the heat burning in Hestia's chest.
"That bastard! That ridiculous fool Apollo with his princely poses and his cheap-show smile!" Hestia snorted as she walked briskly down the mansion steps. Her dress billowed behind her, and her frown showed no signs of easing.
Bell followed her silently, a few steps behind, his gaze fixed on the cobblestone ground. Each step he took was heavier than the last.
Nothing… absolutely nothing had turned out as he imagined.
It was supposed to be a banquet. A formal event, perhaps somewhat awkward, but civilized. Not a public attack. Not a spotlight shining on him in front of everyone. Not an all-out war.
His stomach had been in knots from the moment Apollo had said his name aloud. And now, as night slowly enveloped the city, Bell felt the weight of the looks, the words, the decisions he hadn't had the chance to make.
Hestia continued to speak through gritted teeth, waving her hands in frustration:
"And on top of that cheap act! As if he were the victim! His adventurers started the insults, for heaven's sake!"
Bell didn't respond. Not because he didn't want to... but because he couldn't. He was too exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. His mind relived the moment over and over: the spotlight, the whispers, Apollo's face... his own reflection trapped between expectations and manipulation.
Finally, Hestia noticed the silence.
He stopped, barely turning his face.
Bell stood there, still, his shoulders slightly slumped, his face somber in the moonlight.
"…Bell." Her tone changed, softer. "Are you okay?"
He took a second to respond. Then he nodded slightly, without looking up.
"Just… I'm tired."
Hestia looked at him silently, a mixture of sadness and concern. Her heart sank at that expression. Not from pain, not from fear… but from silent disappointment. As if the entire night had been a weight she'd carried without complaint.
She walked towards him and gently took his hand.
"We're not going to let that idiot corner us, okay? Let's figure out what to do... together."
Bell looked up. And seeing his goddess's determined smile—even though her fingers were shaking with rage—something inside him relaxed. Not much. But enough.
"…Yes." he murmured, more to convince himself than her. "Together."
The night wore on, and although the banquet continued inside Apollo's mansion, all that remained for them was the silence of the streets of Orario. A silence that, for the first time that night, didn't feel so oppressive.
[ I originally had a dance scene between Freya and Bell planned, but since I'm so tired I just decided to cut it. I already have the next chapter planned.]
[I wanted to ask, has my writing gotten worse? Because I feel like it has. I don't know, it's weird.]