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Hello! Here's a new chapter.
Note: Since many people didn't like the name of Bell's new Spell, it was decided to change it to [Incarnatio Caelestis]. I'll probably change the name in the previous chapters if I remember to.
Thanks to LimX23 for being the beta reader and quality supervisor of this chapter.
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The battlefield had become a hive of activity. Every meter within the walls of Apollo Familia's castle vibrated with the clash of steel against steel, magical explosions, and cries of battle. Bell moved through it all like a white flash, his body responding faster than his mind could reason. The [Divine Blessing of Combat Mastery] took care of the rest: every enemy movement, every sword trajectory, every Spell charged in the air… it was as if his body detected it and responded on its own.
He dodged arrows that grazed his hair, deflected spear thrusts with the flat of his blade, and in the same motion counterattacked with precision. The gleam of his sword mingled with the flashes of fire, ice, and lightning that the mages launched from the rear. But no matter how many times he cut down enemies in front of him, Bell understood one basic thing: as long as those mages kept firing, he would end up surrounded with no way out.
The plan was simple, in theory: break the rear line, disable the mages, and thereby create a gap in Apollo Familia's offensive. Without bombers, the castle would lose much of its advantage. So, without pausing to think, Bell leaped back, dodging an ice blast, and with a nimble turn, used the rebound of a nearby wall to propel himself toward the spellcasters' area.
The landing was a thunderous one. His boot hit the cobblestones, kicking up dust and stone fragments. The Apollo Familia's mages barely had time to scream before Bell's white figure burst into their formation.
Voices echoed, but were drowned out by the clashes. Bell was moving too fast. One tried to cast a Spell, and Bell had already driven his sword through his staff, knocking it out of the way. Another tried to summon fire, and though it hit part of his body, it did nothing. Every action was pure instinct, as if his body was fighting on its own.
The problem was that this state came at a cost. Bell barely thought. He barely recognized faces, voices, or anything other than enemy movements. To him, everything was a threat that had to be neutralized before it reached him.
That's why he didn't notice it.
In the midst of the confusion, as he moved like lightning between incomplete Spells and panicked screams, he felt movement behind him. He didn't hesitate. He spun with lightning speed, his free hand shooting back, and his fingers closed tightly around an enemy's throat.
The small, fragile body collided with him, and Bell spun with the inertia, squeezing.
The eyes staring back at him weren't just any enemy's. They were large and seemed to shine with tears. Her face was as white as chalk, and her mouth was open, gasping for air. Cassandra Ilion.
"Ah…!"
The muffled sound that came from her was enough to pierce Bell's trance like a spear.
At that moment, everything stopped.
Bell froze, his arm still clutching Cassandra's neck. He stared at her, uncomprehending. The fear in the girl's eyes wasn't the normal fear of an opponent facing a strong rival. It was absolute terror, as if she was facing a Monster: Bell himself.
It took a second for his mind to register the reality of it. She wasn't attacking. She hadn't casted a Spell, or brandished a weapon. Cassandra was just standing there, and he was mindlessly suffocating her.
Bell's heart raced differently, not from the fight, but from the guilt that suddenly gripped him. The image paralyzed him.
And on a battlefield, a second of hesitation was enough to seal a fate.
"Get away from her!"
A female voice cut through the air, followed by a brutal impact. Daphne, Cassandra's inseparable companion, had seen the scene and didn't hesitate. Wielding her weapon, she charged with all the force of her level. Her blow connected directly with Bell's side, launching him like a projectile.
The air was ripped from his lungs. The force of the impact sent him flying several meters, crashing through a line of stacked crates before slamming into a half-collapsed wall. The sound of cracking stone mingled with Bell's muffled grunt as he felt every muscle burn from the impact.
He lay there for a moment, his ears ringing, dust obscuring his vision. He tried to move, but the pain in his ribs made him bite his tongue. He coughed, and a metallic taste filled his mouth.
Meanwhile, Cassandra gasped, kneeling on the ground, both hands clasping her reddened neck. Her eyes remained open, still frightened, trembling at the memory of Bell's gaze inches away from her. Daphne immediately stepped in front of her friend, placing herself in front of her like a protective wall, pointing in the direction the enemy had fled.
"Don't you dare touch her again!" she screamed furiously. Her voice didn't tremble. She could be tough, but when it came to Cassandra, that facade turned into a blazing flame.
From his position, Bell heard the echoes of footsteps and the murmurs of his enemies. But what tormented him most was the image that remained etched in his mind: Cassandra's terrified eyes, pleading wordlessly as he held her by the neck.
He brought a trembling hand to his forehead. "What… am I doing…?" he murmured, barely audible.
It wasn't the first time his instincts had gotten the better of him. In the dungeon, when his life was at stake, he'd felt that same disconnection, that state where his hands moved on their own and his mind faded away. But never before had he been certain he could hurt someone "innocent," someone who didn't raise a weapon against him.
That thought shook him harder than Daphne's blow.
He shook his head vigorously. He couldn't afford to falter now.
He leaned forward and looked around. On the ground were several of Apollo Familia's Adventurers he had disabled during his earlier onslaught. Some were unconscious, others writhing in pain. Serious injuries: broken bones, deep cuts, burns. Bell paused for a moment, fearing the worst, but soon noticed they were all breathing.
He sighed with relief. "They're alive…" he murmured. Part of him felt relieved, because it meant he could still look his comrades in the eye without carrying the deaths on his conscience.
But immediately, a contrary idea arose.
"That doesn't change anything. I can't afford to have mercy."
He thought it through clearly. Those Adventurers, even if they weren't dead, had been the ones who had aligned themselves against him, who had aimed weapons and Magic at Hestia, at all of her people. If he held back too much, if he let his mercy weaken him, he would put everyone he wanted to protect at risk. The safety of his Goddess was at stake.
"I'll stop them, no matter how hard I have to hit."
Not killing them didn't mean holding back. Not killing them didn't mean surrendering. It just meant calculating precisely. Hitting hard enough to neutralize, without crossing the line. That was his way.
The murmur of enemies broke his thoughts.
"He's getting up again!"
"Don't let him recover!"
"Quick, into formation!"
Apollo's Adventurers were beginning to regroup, moving with discipline despite the fear Bell had instilled in them. Several spears were aligned, and the remaining mages were retrieving their staffs, preparing new Spells. Bell adjusted his stance, drawing his sword, ready to launch another attack.
But at that moment, a different sound pierced the din of combat.
It wasn't a scream, nor a metallic clash. It was a song.
The voice was firm, resonant, full of solemnity. It rang clear despite the chaos, as if the words themselves forced the world to silence in order to hear them.
"It arrives now by my order…"
The Apollo Familia paused for a moment, bewildered. Some looked to the flanks, others to the sky. Bell, on the other hand, felt the air vibrate around him. He recognized that voice.
"Mikoto…" he whispered, with relief mixed with surprise.
"Descend from Heaven, rule the Earth…"
The pressure began to build. The ground trembled beneath their feet, as if gravity had suddenly increased. The Apollo Familia's Adventurers who were about to charge staggered, some falling to their knees, unable to support their own weight. The mages clutched their staffs, their hands trembling, losing focus.
The air itself seemed to crush everyone present.
"Shinbu Tousei!"
The last verse exploded like a thunderclap. The magic materialized in an instant: a wave of gravity descended upon the square, enveloping dozens of Apollo Familia's Adventurers in a crushing blanket. Their bodies slammed into the ground, as if the entire world had decided to drag them down with a force impossible to resist.
The cobblestones creaked and cracked under the pressure. Dust rose in columns, and the screams of the enemies echoed, drowned out by the force that imprisoned them. Swords, spears, and staves fell from their hands, unable to hold them.
Bell covered his face with an arm, barely resisting the shockwave. Through the cloud of dust, a figure advanced. Yamato Mikoto, her dark hair tied back, her eyes glowing with the force of her newly released Spell, broke through the collapsed line, approaching Bell.
"Bell-dono." Her voice was firm, though laced with concern.
Bell looked at her with a mixture of relief and amazement. "Mikoto… you arrived just in time."
She nodded slightly, her expression grave. "Forgive me for the delay. But now that I'm here, I won't allow these enemies to advance one step further."
The Adventurers of Apollo Familia who were still able to move tried to crawl away, but the Spell still weighed heavily on them. Mikoto's Magic was devastating in such engagements: not only did it neutralize entire formations, but it also destroyed the enemy's morale by leaving them defenseless.
Bell observed the aftermath. Dozens of adventurers were immobilized, groaning under the invisible pressure. And while many remained alive, it was clear they couldn't get up right away.
But then a large, dazzling fireball streaked across the battlefield like a comet. Bell barely saw it before it slammed into him.
The blast lit up the entire room. A wave of heat rippled through the room, forcing several adventurers to cover their faces. Mikoto, who was standing a little behind, froze.
"Bell!" he shouted, his heart in his throat.
The fire rose in a furious column, consuming everything inside. The sight of the young adventurer disappearing into the flames made Mikoto's stomach clench. For a moment, she feared the worst. The thought of Bell falling in a single attack took her breath away.
And then, his figure emerged.
From the fire, Bell strode forward. His silver eyes burned with determination, his white hair billowing in the heat. Not a single burn stained his skin, nor were his clothes singed. The smoke twisted around him, but it didn't touch him.
Mikoto opened her eyes in disbelief, gasping.
"Impossible…" he muttered.
Bell calmly lowered his sword, as if nothing had happened. He knew exactly what he had done. He had felt that attack, understood its trajectory and force, and had decided not to dodge. There was no reason to do so. After all, thanks to the [Divine Blessing of the Pyromaniac], no fire, no matter how devastating, could ever harm him.
The man responsible for the attack revealed himself a few paces away. Hyakinthos Clio emerged from among his men, his white cloak spreading like wings behind him. His attire was impeccable, every fold neat, every buckle gleaming. At his waist, the hilts of his swords protruded: one long and one short, both ready for the deadly dance that was about to begin.
Hyakinthos's face twisted in frustration. His lips twisted into a grimace as his pride was wounded at seeing Bell escape unharmed.
"Do you think you can humiliate me by ignoring my attacks?" he snarled, drawing his short sword in a swift motion.
Bell didn't reply. There was nothing to say.
The Apollo Familia Captain charged toward him with a roar. Swords unsheathed in a flash of silver, slicing through the air with lethal precision. Hyakinthos attacked with refined fury, each blow charged with the discipline of a veteran duelist.
But Bell was already moving. His body, strengthened by multiple blessings, moved with the fluidity of a flooded river. Each thrust from Hyakinthos met emptiness. Each slash was met by air, while Bell dodged with short steps, minimal leans, and barely a flick of the wrist to divert the trajectory.
The young Adventurer seemed to dance around his enemy, his eyes always fixed on the steel, his breathing calm.
"Stop playing with me!" Hyakinthos roared, his irritation growing by the second.
Bell watched him silently. His attacks were fierce, but predictable. The Captain's irritation seeped into his style, opening gaps in what was otherwise a polished technique.
Hyakinthos stepped back for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead, and then his gaze shifted. Not toward Bell, but to the side.
Mikoto.
She, still recovering from the shock of the fire, moved forward cautiously, ready to support her companion. Hyakinthos smiled crookedly at the sight.
"I see," he said in a mocking tone. "If I can't touch you, maybe I should have some fun with your friend."
In an instant, he changed direction. Like a snake, he launched himself at Mikoto, longsword raised.
"No!" Bell shouted, lunging after him.
But Hyakinthos was fast. His move wasn't a sudden burst, but a tactical decision. He knew Bell could easily dodge his blows, so forcing him to protect someone else was the right course of action.
Mikoto raised her katana, instinctively blocking the first attack. The impact resounded loudly, nearly wrenching the weapon from her hands. She took two steps back, her feet slipping on the cracked ground.
"What's wrong? Aren't you as strong as your partner?" Hyakinthos mocked, chaining together another slash, then another.
Mikoto gritted her teeth. The weight of each blow was brutal. She could barely block them, and when she did, the shock traveled up her arms like lightning.
Bell tried to intervene, slashing out blows that forced Hyakinthos to turn and pay attention. His sword searched for openings in the Apollo Famila Captain's guard, but he stubbornly ignored him, deflecting his attacks with a single sweep of his short sword while maintaining his offensive against Mikoto.
"Fight me!" Bell bellowed, his fury suppressed.
But the Captain wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on Mikoto, licking his lips at her apparent control.
The samurai panted, sweat running down her face. She could barely keep her guard up. The slashes drove her further and further back, the muscles in her arms trembling with the effort.
Bell understood immediately: Hyakinthos didn't just want to defeat Mikoto. He wanted to break her spirit in front of him. He wanted to show her that she was incapable of protecting even a comrade.
That silent mockery lit a different fire in his chest.
Artemis, from the spear on her back, spoke urgently.
"Don't let him touch her, Bell! His goal is to humiliate you, not defeat you!"
Bell clenched his jaw. He couldn't just dodge and push. Not against someone who was willing to divert his attention to the weaker ones.
He shot forward, his reflexes honed to the limit. Every muscle in his body screamed for speed, every fiber focused on a single goal: getting between Hyakinthos and Mikoto.
The battle turned into a whirlwind. Hyakinthos alternated violent slashes at Mikoto with quick feints at Bell, testing both of their patience. Bell dodged each blow aimed at him, but frustration grew. Mikoto, at his side, resisted as best she could, blocking with an increasingly fragile defense.
Every time Bell seemed to force Hyakinthos's attention onto himself, the Captain would change angle and unleash another series of attacks on Mikoto. She gasped, each impact drawing a stifled moan from her.
But Hyakinthos, with his crooked smile and white cloak billowing behind him, seemed to enjoy every second.
And Bell knew that at any moment, the tiniest opening would be enough to send Mikoto tumbling. And then, as if the world itself were responding to his most desperate need, something stirred in his chest.
A warm current coursed through his veins, as it had when he had first discovered other blessings in the midst of battle. This time, the silent voice of the world whispered a new power to him:
[Divine Blessing of Substitution]: Allows you to swap places with someone of the same build as you.
Bell didn't hesitate for a second. He barely understood it when he was already using it.
The world spun around. A flash of light passed through it, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer standing in front of Hyakinthos. A confused Mikoto found herself suddenly pushed back from the line of attack, while Bell took up her exact spot, as if they had switched bodies in a split second.
Hyakinthos's eyes widened. The shock left him off guard. Bell, without respite, unleashed a barrage of attacks with a force that befitted a Level 3 Adventurer, or even a Level 4. Each blow forced him to retreat, raising his swords in defense without the ability to counterattack.
It was as if Bell's fury and will had taken physical form. His body moved with the grace of someone who had fought hundreds of times for his life, and his gaze was fixed on his enemy with unwavering determination. Hyakinthos was cornered, and he knew it.
Mikoto, standing to the side, watched with a knot in her chest. She understood what had happened: Bell had protected her, replacing her in the place of danger. And while she felt grateful, she also felt the weight of being left behind, of not being able to match that pace. She couldn't come between the two; she would be nothing more than an obstacle.
It was then that a new group of adventurers burst onto the scene.
"Captain!" a high-pitched voice shouted.
It was Luan, a Pallum of the Apollo Familia, leading a group of adventurers who had managed to rejoin the group after the initial attacks. Their faces showed determination, but also desperation: they knew Bell was a real threat, too dangerous to be left to act freely.
Mikoto clenched her fists. She couldn't help Bell's duel with Hyakinthos, but she could stop that group of reinforcements.
"Then this will be my fight," she muttered, raising her sword.
With a firm stride, Mikoto launched herself at them, unleashing a slash that forced the enemies to scatter. Her breathing was ragged, but her eyes shone with conviction. While she couldn't compare to the strength Bell was currently demonstrating, she could hold off several opponents and prevent them from interrupting him.
Bell, meanwhile, redoubled his pressure. Every time his feet hit the ground, Hyakinthos took another step back. His white cloak was already in tatters, and his arms trembled under the strain of repeatedly blocking.
"Damn brat…!" Hyakinthos growled, irritated beyond all composure.
But Bell didn't respond. His silence was more terrifying than any scream. His breathing was steady, his gaze burned like hot steel, and every blow was a declaration: he wasn't going to stop.
Elsewhere, hundreds of meters away, another group watched the scene through a Divine Mirror.
The Adventurers of the Loki Familia, gathered around the Mirror, watched the battle unfold. The surface gleamed, reflecting every movement, every spark, every glint of steel.
Ais held her gaze steady, unblinking. Her lips remained closed, but there was something unusual in her eyes: a gleam of pride. For someone like her, who rarely showed emotion, that spoke volumes.
Tiona, with a mischievous smile and her arms crossed behind her head, couldn't help herself. "That's it, Little Argonaut! Hit him hard!" she exclaimed, cheering as if Bell could hear her through the Mirror.
Tione watched with an arched eyebrow, more critical but still interested. Gareth grunted in approval, while Finn maintained an analytical expression, evaluating every move.
Bete was asleep, bad luck for missing the show
However, it was different with Riveria. Her jaw was tense, her teeth clenched in a mixture of irritation and concern. Her eyes never left Bell's figure, but she didn't look at him with the admiration the others did.
There was something strange about that boy. She'd noticed it before, ever since that episode in Rivira with the Dragon. Now, once again, it was confirmed: no one else seemed to have noticed that Bell had practically "teleported." It wasn't just a quick movement; it was something impossible to explain within the normal parameters of an adventurer.
That detail made her skin crawl. And the more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.
Why was that boy surrounded by so many mysteries? Why did he always seem to possess a hidden power, something no one could foresee?
Riveria closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. She didn't know if it was her natural distrust of the unknown, or if there was something else inside her that made her reject him. But the truth was that the sight of Bell, with his blind determination and impossible secrets, irritated her more than it should.
"That boy…" she murmured, barely audible. "He has too many secrets."
No one responded, too focused on the fight ahead. But Ais, standing beside him, tilted her head slightly. Her gaze remained on Bell, and while she said nothing, what was reflected in her eyes was completely different from Riveria's irritation: it was hope.
On the battlefield, Bell didn't know. He couldn't hear those distant voices or see the eyes watching him from a distance. But at that moment, none of that mattered.
The only thing that filled his world was the figure of Hyakinthos, increasingly cornered, and the burning sensation in his chest: the certainty that, as long as his Goddess was in danger, he could not retreat even a single step back.
The dust of battle still hung in the air, thick with tension and pent-up fury. Bell breathed heavily, feeling sticky sweat running down his forehead and back. His eyes remained fixed on Hyakinthos, who, despite being visibly cornered, maintained the arrogant smile of someone who refused to accept defeat. The Apollo Captain wielded his swords elegantly, searching with every movement for his enemy's weak spot.
Bell, on the other hand, made a different decision.
With a firm movement, he sheathed his sword. Hyakinthos watched him with a mixture of confusion and contempt.
"What are you doing? Have you given up yet?"
Bell didn't respond. His hand slid to his back, and with a quick pull, he unsheathed the spear hanging there: the Spear of Artemis. The weapon glowed with a cold sheen, and the air around it seemed to calm for a moment, before once again stirring with an invisible energy.
Hyakinthos frowned. He didn't recognize that weapon, nor did he fully understand its nature. Still, the confident smile returned to his face. "A different weapon means nothing, brat."
Bell didn't listen. He stood on guard, holding the spear in both hands. And then, he closed his eyes for a second, letting his breathing flow in sync with his heart. The tension of the fight disappeared for an instant; instead, absolute clarity filled his mind. It was time to summon what he had been secretly practicing.
With a clear voice, the song began.
"Hestia-sama…dispel all my doubts."
The words echoed in the air, vibrant, as if they weren't just syllables, but rather chimes that echoed across the battlefield. The adventurers around felt a strange shudder, even though they didn't understand what it was about.
"I beseech your help to protect the innocent and repel all evil."
Bell swung his spear in a wide arc, deflecting a swift blow from Hyakinthos who tried to interrupt him. His voice didn't tremble, didn't break: the chant was continuous, firm, unwavering.
"By your grace, offset the scales and bring us victory."
In the distance, Hestia listened. She was surrounded by the Gods who watched the Divine Mirror that broadcasted the War Game, and as soon as the words began to flow, her heart knew. Bell was calling her. It wasn't just a magical chant; it was a heartfelt plea, a bond that extended beyond distance.
Her blue eyes filled with unshed tears and her smile blossomed like a living flame.
"For the flame of our friendship burns without end."
Bell dodged another attack, this time a double slash from Hyakinthos's swords. He rolled to the side, planted one foot firmly on the ground, and continued the chant without missing a beat. The Artemis Spear vibrated in his hands, as if responding to his every word.
"Grant me a boon weaved from our bonds."
Hyakinthos, growing increasingly irritated, let out a roar of frustration. "Shut up, damn it!" He lunged forward with a thrust aimed at Bell's chest, but the young man deflected it with the shaft of his spear, stepping back just enough to buy himself time.
The song was reaching its climax. The last line was brewing in Bell's throat, but before he could utter it, a voice seeped into the depths of his soul.
"Bell-kun…"
Hestia.
His Goddess, his family. She spoke, clearly, strongly, as if she were standing right beside him.
"I give you my Blessing..."
Bell's eyes shot open, and at that instant the song ended.
"Incarnatio Caelestis!"
A burst of energy coursed through the air. From Bell's back, twelve shards of blue fire erupted, like tiny crystalline flames floating in the void. They circled around him in a perfect pattern, orbiting him with impossible harmony, like satellites around a star.
Hyakinthos stepped back, surprised by the spectacle, though his surprise soon turned to mockery. "That's all it is? A fireworks spell? It's not even offensive!"
He threw himself at him, confident that the small spheres were nothing more than useless ornamentation.
Bell waited calmly. He held the Artemis Spear in both hands and extended it forward, like a spear ready to pierce the air.
At that instant, the twelve slivers of blue fire mimicked his movement. They lengthened, stretched, taking the form of smaller, glowing spearheads, extending their invisible edges toward Hyakinthos.
The Apollo Familia Captain barely had time to raise his swords. The first impact forced him back. The second made him stagger. The third tore part of his uniform.
"What the hell is this?!" he roared, trying to maintain his composure.
Bell didn't respond. Every movement he made was instantly echoed by the twelve fireballs. If he spun, they spun. If he struck, they struck.
Hyakinthos, cornered, could no longer advance. Every attack he attempted was deflected, blocked, or outright repelled by that dance of flames. His breathing became frantic, sweat trickled down his forehead, and his hands began to ache under the constant pressure.
Bell, on the other hand, moved serenely. The spear in his hands glowed with each blow, accompanied by a retinue of flames that seemed to sing alongside him.
From a distance, Hestia was still smiling. She saw the whole scene. Every word, every vibration, every piece of her Blessing resonated with Bell and was reflected in his spell. He was her child, but also her Hero. And watching him grow, watching him fight like this, filled her heart with immense pride.
Hyakinthos let out a cry, more of despair than fury, and unleashed a double attack, spinning both swords in a whirlwind. Bell planted his spear in the ground and reached out.
The twelve spears of blue flames responded instantly, forming a defensive circle that repelled the attack like an impenetrable wall. The impact was so great that the ground cracked, but Bell didn't even move from his spot.
Hyakinthos's eyes reflected something he hadn't shown until that moment: fear.
Bell stepped forward, the flames swirling around him, ready to attack in unison. His voice rose once more, not like a chant, but like a clear declaration:
"This isn't just my power. It's proof of my bond with my Goddess. And as long as that bond exists, you can never defeat me."
Hyakinthos trembled.
Bell raised his spear, and with it, the twelve replicas of blue fire did the same, all of them pointing towards their enemy.
The real humiliation was just about to begin.