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¡Hey! Here with a new chapter. I don't know if you know, but I made a new fic, it's posted on all my profiles in case you're interested. The name is: Is it wrong to be a Rogue, Astrea-sama?
LimX23 — I'd love for you to join the team. You can contact me via Discord using the following link: https://discord.gg/mkQgu52pjd
If for some reason the link does not appear here is the final part of the link: mkQgu52pjd
There I can put you in the Beta Readers channel.
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The hallway of the Takemikazuchi familia headquarters was silent, barely illuminated by the dim light filtering through the large windows. The atmosphere carried a strange weight, a mixture of solemnity and farewell. The soft sound of the wooden door sliding open interrupted that calm.
Mikoto emerged first, her face slightly sweaty, not from physical exertion, but from the tension of the moment. Behind her appeared Hestia and Takemikazuchi. The god of war adjusted his robes and let out a deep sigh, as if he had just given away a part of himself.
Bell was right outside, waiting for them. His posture was rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. Watching them leave, he looked up and his eyes met Mikoto's.
The boy couldn't help but show a complicated expression. On one hand, he was grateful, deeply moved by Mikoto's gesture. He knew what it meant for an adventurer to separate themselves from their familia, from the home and ties that had accompanied them until now. It wasn't a light decision. And yet, she had done it without hesitation, just to fight by his side.
But on the other hand, Bell felt a weight on his chest. He didn't want her to sacrifice so much for him. To cut herself off from her friends, from the people she'd shared laughter, training, and tears with, just because he was caught in this conflict with Apollo. A part of him screamed that he didn't deserve it, that he shouldn't drag others into that storm.
Mikoto felt Bell's gaze on her. She didn't need words to understand what he was thinking. So when their eyes met, she simply smiled back. A soft smile, but one filled with determination. She didn't say anything, because she didn't need to. With that smile, she conveyed: "Don't worry, I made my choice, and I'd make it again."
Bell felt a warmth in his throat, a mixture of relief and discomfort. He wanted to reply, but before he could, Takemikazuchi took a step forward. The god placed a hand on Bell's shoulder, looking at him with his characteristic seriousness.
"Please take care of Mikoto," he said firmly. It wasn't an order, but a plea disguised as responsibility. In those few words lay the weight of a god who had given his daughter to another home, even if only temporarily.
Bell pressed his lips together, feeling that burden. He nodded vigorously, bowing his head.
"I promise. I'll protect Mikoto with everything I have."
Takemikazuchi looked at him for a few more seconds, assessing whether those words represented simple courtesy or a true oath. Seeing the boy's determination, he finally nodded silently and withdrew his hand.
Off to the side, Hestia crossed her arms and sighed. Her blue eyes narrowed with a mixture of pride and concern.
"Okay, now that that's settled, we need to get organized. The war game starts in three hours. We don't have much time, but with what we've accomplished so far, we have a chance."
Mikoto and Bell nodded almost in unison, as if Hestia's simple reminder had brought them back to reality.
"I'm going to the guild," Hestia announced as she turned toward the hallway exit.
"To the guild?" Bell repeated, surprised.
The goddess put her hands on her waist and looked at him as if she were scolding him.
"Yes, to the guild. I need to announce your new level. You reached level 3 a while ago, but we had to postpone it due to… well, you know, the craziness of these days. But I can't let it go any longer. If we're going to have a war game, it's best that the guild and everyone else know that the Hestia familia adventurer is no longer level 2."
Bell froze. The comment was so casual it was hard to process. Mikoto, on the other hand, opened her eyes wide and took a step toward him.
"Level 3?" she asked in a whisper.
Bell tensed. He hadn't meant to show off or draw attention to himself. It had never been his style. He looked down, nervously scratching his cheek.
"Yes…for a while."
Mikoto watched him silently for a few seconds, until a soft smile spread across her face. It wasn't a mocking or disbelieving smile, but one of recognition.
"I suspected it… I suspected it ever since Rivira. When I saw your strength in that situation, when you saved us… I wondered how a mere Level 2 could go so far. It all makes sense now."
His words weren't a reproach, but rather a confirmation of what her intuition had already told her long ago. But even so, it still impressed her. The speed of his growth, the intensity of his strength... it wasn't normal. And instead of feeling intimidated, Mikoto found it inspiring.
Although Bell was in fact still level 2 when the Rivira event occurred, he decided not to correct her.
Bell felt a blush rise in his cheeks, uncomfortable with the attention, but also touched.
"I'm not that amazing… I just got lucky. And it helps. I couldn't have done it without all of you."
Hestia rolled her eyes, albeit with a smile.
"Always so humble, Bell. You go overboard with that sometimes."
Hestia headed towards the hallway door.
"Okay, I'll hurry over to the guild. You two get ready. Check your weapons, supplies, everything you might need. When I get back, we'll head to the rendezvous point for the war game."
Bell and Mikoto nodded silently. They watched Hestia walk away, her small but determined footsteps echoing against the wood. When the goddess finally disappeared from their sight, a brief silence remained between the two adventurers and the god Takemikazuchi.
The god looked at them one last time, like a father watching his children leave on a dangerous journey.
"Mikoto, I trust you'll stick to your decision. Bell, I've already said this, but I'll say it again: take care of her. You both will have to trust each other more than you think."
With those words, he retreated to another room in the headquarters, leaving them alone in the hallway.
Bell stood still for a few seconds, his heart pounding. He didn't know if it was because of the proximity of the war or the intensity of the moment.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and when he opened them he smiled back.
Mikoto nodded, satisfied.
Time was running out.
Mikoto had taken a few steps forward, ready to prepare her equipment and mentally review what she needed to do for the impending war game. Hestia had already left for the guild, and Takemikazuchi had returned to his headquarters with the others, so for the first time in a while, Bell was left alone in the hallway.
The boy stood still, as if the silence weighed a little more than usual. He took a deep breath and looked at his hands, still marked by his training with the Takemikazuchi familia. He knew that in a few hours he would have to give everything he had and a little more, because otherwise, everything would end in the worst possible way.
After a moment of hesitation, Bell raised his right hand. The gesture was simple, natural, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"It's time…" he murmured, barely audible.
The familiar warm sensation ran down his arm. It wasn't magic, exactly, but one of his divine blessings, because it was time to see Artemis again. And, responding to that call, a faint glow ignited in his palm.
Far away, in the ruins of what had been the Hestia familia church, a group of adventurers were finishing their search for what remained of the rubble. It wasn't unusual for them to wander around the area, some looking for valuables and others simply curious. Among them, four men and a woman had been lucky enough—or so they thought—to find something unexpected: a shining spear, with a sharp edge that made it clear at first glance that it wasn't just any weapon.
"Ha! I can't believe it, this fell from the sky," said one, holding the spear in both hands as if afraid it would suddenly disappear.
"That thing is worth more than everything we've earned this month combined," the woman added, her eyes shining.
"Month… you mean this whole year?" another laughed enthusiastically. "This is top-notch quality. We'd get rich with something like this."
The group was more than happy. Some were already discussing how they would sell it, whether on the black market or directly to a noble who could recognize a quality weapon. What no one mentioned out loud was that none of them were planning to voluntarily give up the spear, and there were already awkward glances between them. But just as the atmosphere was beginning to tense, the unexpected happened.
The spear vibrated.
It wasn't a big movement, just a slight tremor, but enough to make everyone fall silent. The man holding her frowned and gripped her tighter.
"Did you feel that?" one of the others muttered.
"It must have been your imagination," the carrier replied, though his voice didn't sound very convinced.
But it wasn't imagination. A moment later, the spear shook more vigorously, as if something inside it was awakening. The glow on the blade intensified, and before the group could react, the weapon rose on its own, wrenching itself from the surprised adventurer's hands.
"Hey, hey, wait!" he shouted, trying to grab her, but it was no use. The spear shot skyward like a missile, leaving a silver trail that contrasted with the blue of the day.
The adventurers stood frozen, mouths agape, until finally one broke the silence with a cry of frustration.
"What the hell was that?!"
"It was our chance, damn it!"
Some even jumped, trying to follow the glowing trail, but it was ridiculous. In a matter of seconds, the spear was too far away. Only a murmur of complaints and curses remained, accompanied by faces flushed with rage and helplessness.
Meanwhile, the spear continued on its course, flying with an uncanny precision, as if it knew exactly where to go.
Inside, Artemis was awakening. It wasn't a literal awakening, as she had never truly been asleep, but after so much time in that ruined place, she finally felt someone calling her again.
"Bell…" he thought, letting out a small sigh.
She couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. She'd waited there for too long, forgotten among stones and dust, while anyone could have done anything to her. While she knew Bell hadn't done it on purpose, it was still awkward.
[N/A: Even I forgot about her XD]
"Even so… thank you," she murmured to herself, with a warmth that softened any anger.
The wind whipped around her as the spear surged forward. The farther she traveled, the more it reminded her that she was finally returning to him. And though she tried to maintain a dignified, serene expression, she couldn't keep the anticipation from growing inside her
A few seconds later, a whistling sound cut violently through the air. He looked up just in time to see the spear hurtling down, straight toward him. The speed was so brutal that it seemed impossible for it not to crash into the ground. But at the last instant, it stopped dead in its tracks—just as it reached his hand. Bell closed his fingers around the shaft, and the familiar weight brought an immediate sense of relief.
"Welcome back," he said softly, smiling.
The blade flashed, and Artemis's voice echoed in his mind—firm, but tinged with reproach.
"You took too long."
Bell scratched his cheek in discomfort. "Sorry… it's been a bit chaotic."
Artemis was silent for a moment. She couldn't deny the truth in his words: the destroyed church, Apollo's persecution—everything had happened so quickly, they'd barely had a moment to breathe. But still…
"You left me waiting in the middle of the ruins," she replied, with a slight tone of annoyance.
Bell smiled nervously. "Yeah… you're right."
The spear vibrated gently, as if Artemis were letting out a resigned sigh. "Well. At least I'm here now."
Bell held her firmly, and that warm feeling of having her by his side returned in an instant, bringing immediate relief. He wasn't alone. He hadn't been before, but now he could feel it more clearly than ever.
"We're going to win, Artemis," he said with conviction.
"You better be," she replied—though behind her words, there was a softness she couldn't hide.
Bell chuckled softly and began walking toward the courtyard, where Mikoto was waiting to finish preparing. With the spear in hand, everything felt more real. This wasn't just a war game against Apollo—it was a trial he had to overcome. And now, he had the strength and support of everyone who believed in him.
As he advanced, Artemis watched him silently from her place within the spear. She could feel the determination burning in him—the same spark that had always set him apart. And although a hint of resentment lingered from the long wait, she couldn't deny that being by his side again filled her with peace.
"This time," she thought, "I won't leave him—not even for a second."
…
Ottar waited in silence, like a steel statue, while his goddess gazed out the window at the distant horizon. The room was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, and each ray seemed to frame Freya's silver hair, cascading over her shoulders with an almost ethereal glow. She didn't move, but her violet eyes—deep as an endless ocean—shone with a mixture of longing and resignation.
"Freya-sama," Ottar spoke with his characteristic gravity, breaking the heavy silence. "The assault on the Ishtar Familia is prepared. We'll give the order the moment you command it."
Freya didn't answer immediately. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if tasting the weight of her own decision, then opened them again with a flicker of melancholy.
"Just today…" she murmured, her smile more sorrowful than seductive. "Bell-kun will be fighting his first great war, and I… I'll be forced to look the other way."
Ottar, though expressionless, understood. He didn't need to be a seer; the name she'd just spoken summed up all her hesitation and unrest.
"My lady, this timing is unfortunate. If you wish, I can delay the assault for a few hours. Even—"
"No." Freya interrupted with a gentle but resolute wave of her hand. She turned slowly toward him, letting the last light of day ignite the fire in her gaze.
For the first time, Ottar barely raised his eyebrows—not out of doubt, but because he understood what her resolve truly meant.
"Ishtar is cunning, vile, dangerous. We can't let her continue. But Bell…" Freya exhaled, her voice tender. "My Odr is different. If he weren't occupied with the War Game, I know he'd try to stop me. He couldn't bear the thought of me destroying another familia—even one as twisted as Ishtar's. He'd oppose me. He'd risk everything to save someone else. I can't let that happen."
She placed a hand on her chest, as if to calm the storm within. "He'll always try to protect me—even from myself. And if he did… if he confronted me, even with just words… how could I bear it?"
Ottar's gaze remained steady. For him, the logic was simple: the destruction of the Ishtar Familia was necessary, inevitable. But Freya's voice carried something deeper than strategy—something far more personal.
"That's why I chose this day. The lesser of two evils. My Odr will be on the battlefield, his fate entangled with an entire familia… too occupied to notice me. So he won't intervene. So I won't have to watch him question what I've done. He'll be free to shine in his war… while I erase Ishtar's rot from the shadows."
She turned back to the window, watching the sun descend and cast a crimson glow over Orario's rooftops. In that moment, she seemed almost unreal—like a living painting.
"But don't think this decision is easy for me, Ottar. It hurts… it hurts not to be there to see it. To watch him struggle. To watch him rise. To witness the moment he shocks the world. Today, he'll face something greater than ever… and I'll miss it."
Her voice cracked, just for a moment, before returning to its usual calm.
"But I've made my choice. I chose to protect him—even from myself. I'll see him later, when this is all over. When I seek him out again… and he welcomes me, like he always does."
Ottar bowed his head, accepting every word with the solemnity of an oath. "He won't know. For him, it will only be a war. And you, Freya-sama, will still be the one who looks at him with the brightest eyes of all."
The goddess smiled—this time, sweetly.
"Yes… and when I see him again, I'll welcome him with all my affection. That will be my reward. My consolation for having missed the moment he shone the brightest... even if just for a while."
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The hesitation vanished, replaced by the implacable presence of the goddess of beauty—one who tolerated neither resistance nor doubt when her mind was made up.
"Let's go, Ottar. It's time to put an end to this farce called the Ishtar Familia."
The towering warrior nodded without hesitation. And as Freya walked calmly toward the exit, the air inside the headquarters grew heavier—thick with the promise of destruction.
In one part of the city, a white-haired boy was preparing for a war that would shape his destiny.
In another, a goddess was preparing to erase her enemy from the world.
Two different battles, yet both inevitable.
And in Freya's heart, the quiet certainty that she had sacrificed the sight of a miracle… just to glimpse the soul of the one she loved most.
…
Inside the castle that served as the Apollo Familia's base for the War Game, the atmosphere was far from as festive as Hyakinthos had planned. Hyakinthos himself, dressed in a black uniform and cloak, sat on a makeshift throne, smugly observing the preparations.
For him, everything was practically decided. They had the numerical advantage, the fortified terrain, and the blessing of a god who had moved heaven and earth to ensure the conditions of the Game were as favorable as possible. In his mind, Bell Cranel and that tiny Hestia Familia were nothing more than an insect soon to be crushed beneath his boot.
But there was a catch.
A problem with a name and a surname.
Cassandra Ilion.
The young woman with dark blue hair, a soft gaze, and trembling hands was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her eyes—normally gentle and calm, almost shy—were wide with a terror none of her companions could understand. She had planted herself in the middle of the room, directly in front of the improvised throne.
"Please, let's not fight! If we go through with this, something terrible will happen!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking—almost pleading.
Murmurs spread among the familia members. Some soldiers chuckled, others looked away uncomfortably, while a few whispered about how used they were to "those strange visions of hers."
Hyakinthos frowned, drumming his gloved fingers on the armrest of his seat. He was irritated—not because he feared Cassandra's words, but because, in the middle of what should have been a guaranteed victory, someone dared to sow doubt.
"Cassandra…" he said, his voice heavy with disdain. "This is no time for your delusions. This is a War Game, and it's already won before it's even begun. How dare you come here with such nonsense when we should be celebrating?"
"It's not nonsense!" she insisted, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. "I saw it! I felt it! A calamity is coming, Hyakinthos—one that will crush our hopes. If we fight them, we'll lose! We'll die or… or something worse will happen!"
Daphne, her friend and inseparable companion, couldn't take it anymore. The dark-haired girl, with a practical gaze and stern expression, quickly moved forward, grabbed Cassandra's arm, and pulled her back.
"Enough," she hissed through clenched teeth, trying to keep her voice low. "This isn't the time or the place! Do you want everyone to think we're a couple of lunatics?"
"But, Daphne—!"
"No! We've talked about this already." She squeezed her arm tighter, trying to pull her away. "If you keep this up, all you'll do is make Hyakinthos angrier. Don't you see? You're provoking him!"
Cassandra looked at her with tearful eyes, but didn't give in. Her body trembled, even as her voice grew more desperate.
"Daphne… please, believe me. This isn't like the other times. This vision is stronger—clearer. I feel it in my chest… in every part of me! If we go any further, something terrible will happen, I swear…"
Daphne pressed her lips together, casting a sideways glance at Hyakinthos, who had already risen from his throne. His tall, proud figure stood silhouetted by the torchlight, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Enough!" he thundered, slamming the tip of his sword into the floor. The echo reverberated through the room, and the murmurs stopped at once. "Cassandra, your cowardice is a disgrace to the Apollo Familia. You speak of calamities and doom, but all I see is fear. Fear of a village boy and a petty goddess! Is that what we are now? Cowards who run at the sight of a little girl's tears?"
Some adventurers nodded in agreement. Others laughed. The mood was turning quickly against Cassandra, veering toward public humiliation.
The girl took a step back, but didn't stop. Her lips trembled, and her voice was a whisper filled with anguish.
"It's not fear… it's the truth… I can't ignore it… please, just listen to me this once…"
"Enough!"
Hyakinthos leapt down from the dais and stood before her, raising his hand as if to strike. Cassandra flinched, but Daphne immediately stepped in, throwing her arms wide to shield her.
"Stop! Don't you dare!"
Hyakinthos's eyes flashed with suppressed anger, but he lowered his hand slowly. Not because he regretted it, but because he knew that raising it against them in public could damage his standing with his own troops. He turned sharply and walked back up the steps to his seat.
"If you're so afraid, Cassandra, then stay hidden in a corner. But don't you dare bring your pessimism back here again. We will win this game, and we will do so gloriously. Apollo demands our victory, and I will deliver it to him."
Silence reigned for a few seconds. Daphne, her heart pounding, hugged Cassandra and dragged her to a corner of the room, away from the accusing glances.
The young seer could barely contain her tears. Her visions, though often ignored, never ceased to torment her. And this time, the intensity was so great that she felt as if her body might shatter into a thousand pieces.
Daphne sighed, stroking her hair awkwardly. "Relax, Cass… we'll figure this out. Like always, okay? If anything happens… I'll be with you. I won't leave you alone."
Cassandra nodded weakly, sinking into her friend's embrace as the murmurs of the soldiers filled the room once more. But her heart kept screaming. She knew it—something terrible was coming.
And the worst part was that no one would listen until it was too late.
The air on the hill was cool, thick with the tension that precedes a storm. From there, the Apollo Familia's castle stood clearly in view, its tall, proud walls bathed in the light of dawn. Bell stood silently, watching. His gaze remained steady, though deep down he knew the calm was nothing but a facade. The War Game was about to begin—and with it, the fate of his entire familia.
Beside him, Mikoto adjusted the sword at her hip, letting the wind ruffle her dark hair. She broke the silence in a calm, yet purposeful voice:
"Bell-dono… are you really sure about this plan?"
Bell turned to her, his red eyes reflecting unwavering determination. He didn't need long to answer; he had gone over it in his mind countless times over the past few hours.
"Yes. It's the best way we have to deal with them. No matter how many they are, or how confident… if we follow this plan, we'll win."
His words carried no arrogance, no naïveté—only that strange mix of faith and resolve Mikoto had come to recognize in him. It was the same expression she had seen in Rivira, when Bell had vowed to protect everyone, even when the odds were against him.
Mikoto held his gaze for a moment, then smiled slowly. A small, quiet smile—but full of conviction.
"Then there's nothing more to say."
Without waiting for permission or explanation, Mikoto stepped forward and took his arm firmly.
The sun had barely risen above the castle walls when the guards on the towers began shifting restlessly, yawning and muttering to one another. The morning air was crisp, but not enough to lift the spirits of the Apollo Familia's sentries. They were sure nothing would happen today—or tomorrow. After all, Bell Cranel and his tiny familia had been given two full days before their official defeat. In their eyes, the war was already won.
Some leaned lazily against the battlements. Others sat playing with makeshift dice in a corner. A few kept their eyes on the treeline, though without much interest. The castle was completely secure—gates closed, walls reinforced. No one in their right mind would even try to breach those defenses, especially not a small, disorganized group like the Hestia Familia.
"This is pointless… why'd they even put us on watch?" one of the adventurers muttered, stretching with a bored groan.
His companion shrugged. "Captain's orders. But yeah, it's a waste of time. That white rabbit's probably crying in a corner, realizing his luck finally ran out."
They laughed, sneering. To them, it was all over.
That was when one of the lookouts, bored from scanning the horizon, spotted a white dot in the sky. At first, he ignored it—probably just a bird. Maybe a falcon flying high. But the dot grew.
He frowned. "Hey… you see that?"
"What?"
"Up there. In the sky. Something's coming."
The others looked up. Indeed, a tiny speck stood out against the blue sky. It seemed to be moving quickly, passing through the clouds—but it was still too small to make out.
One of the soldiers snorted. "It's just a bird. So what if it flies fast? You're so bored you're seeing things."
The lookout didn't respond. He kept his gaze fixed.
That dot was growing—far too fast.
It no longer looked like a bird, or anything he recognized.
Another soldier frowned. "Wait… don't you think it's… falling?"
The air began to whistle. A strange sound—distant but rising—merged with the wind. A roar was building, like something tearing through the heavens.
The lookout swallowed. "That's not a bird…"
The others leaned forward, peering out. And for the first time, nervousness replaced apathy.
The object was no longer a speck—it was a figure, plummeting toward them at terrifying speed, the air around it burning from the descent.
"What the hell is that?!"
No one had time to answer.
With a deafening roar, the figure tore through the sky—and just as it struck within the castle walls, a voice echoed in all directions, loud and commanding:
"EXPLOSION!"
The ground convulsed. A shockwave surged through the walls, tearing bricks loose, shattering windows, and flinging several guards from the towers.
A column of smoke and fire erupted from the castle's central courtyard, swallowing everything in a blinding light.
The adventurers on the walls froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
The silence that followed the blast was broken only by the groan of warped metal, the creak of fractured stone… and the screams of those caught in the explosion.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" one shouted, clutching his ears, still reeling from the roar.
"We've been attacked! The enemy's inside!"
Panic spread like wildfire.
This made no sense. No one could breach the castle walls. No one could penetrate their defenses so easily.
But the reality was right there—undeniable.
The enemy was in.
Inside the castle's main hall, Hyakinthos shot upright from his makeshift throne, eyes wide. The explosion had shaken the entire building, knocking torches from their mounts and raining dust from the ceiling.
"Impossible!" he shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "There were still too many time! This can't be happening so soon!"
The other members of the Apollo Familia scrambled—some grabbing weapons, others frozen in confusion. The room that had been full of mockery and smug confidence only moments ago now dissolved into chaos.
Cassandra Ilion, who had been tearfully pleading for them not to start this war, collapsed to her knees the moment the blast hit. Her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling. And yet, her lips moved, whispering like fate itself had answered her cries:
"I told you… I told you something terrible was going to happen… a calamity…"
Daphne rushed to her, grabbing her shoulders. "Cassandra, now's not the time!"
But Cassandra barely heard her.
Her entire body shook with visceral terror.
She had felt the catastrophe coming—and now, it had arrived.
Hyakinthos clenched his fists, his jaw tight with fury.
The plan had been perfect. They had the advantage, the numbers, the time.
And yet, the enemy was already inside—like a bolt of lightning crashing through the sky.
"Find the intruder and destroy him immediately!" he barked, his voice straining beneath rage and fear.
"Don't let him take a single step further!"