The atmosphere at the wide oak table deep inside the Hostess of Fertility resembled a bowstring pulled ringing taut. The thick air of the tavern, soaked in the aromas of roasted meat and hops, seemed to freeze specifically in their square, contrasting sharply with the booming, relaxed merriment of the rest of the hall.
Rain sat on the hard bench, calmly crossing his arms over his chest. Opposite him, on the other side of the table, sat the vanguard of the Loki Familia. The seating arrangement turned out to be quite peculiar. Bell sat squeezed right in the middle. To his left sat Aiz Wallenstein, straight-backed and impassive, and to his right—Bete Loga. The werewolf had demonstratively turned his entire body away, propping his cheek on his fist and drilling a furious, unblinking glare into the wall. Sharing space with the white-haired rookie, whom Aiz had seated here, was clearly beneath his dignity.
Hestia, sitting next to Rain, fidgeted in her seat every now and then. The day, which had begun with exhausting training at Takemikazuchi's, had smoothly flowed into this strange, spontaneous dinner, and the goddess frankly felt out of her element.
"Uhm..." Hestia was the first to break the oppressive silence. She tried to fake a welcoming smile, though it came out frankly strained. "You know, conversations don't usually flow well on an empty stomach. Maybe we should order something first?"
She looked hopefully at her captain.
"A reasonable suggestion, Goddess," Rain confirmed evenly, uncrossing his arms.
He raised a palm, signaling a passing waitress. The elf Ryu approached almost instantly, moving with her inherent noiseless grace. Having taken the order, consisting of drinks and a few hot dishes, she dissolved into the crowd just as swiftly, without uttering a single unnecessary word.
There was no point in stalling any longer. Rain shifted his gaze to the golden-haired swordswoman.
"So," his tone became businesslike, cutting through the awkwardness. "What exactly did you want to discuss, Lady Aiz? You waited for us at the gate for several hours. The reason must be compelling."
This direct question made Bete twitch a wolf ear. The werewolf didn't turn his head, but his back tensed. He pricked up his attention.
Aiz slowly lowered her hands to her lap. Her golden eyes focused on Rain's face. There was no usual, doll-like emptiness in them—they displayed the steadfast, almost desperate resolve of someone ready to push through anything for the sake of their goal.
"For quite some time now, I've hit a wall," she began quietly but absolutely clearly, not hiding the truth. "The growth of my stats has slowed down. But... when I saw your magic during the festival, I realized it was a way out. I see it as an opportunity to become stronger."
She leaned forward slightly.
"I am asking you to help me train my magic."
"What?!" Bete spun around sharply, nearly knocking Bell over with his elbow. His eyes narrowed, and his fangs were bared in a bewildered snarl. "Are you crazy, Aiz? What can this brat teach you?"
Aiz didn't even blink. She completely ignored the werewolf's outburst, continuing to stare fixedly at Rain and waiting for his answer.
Rain, maintaining an impenetrable expression, mentally returned to the events on the roof.
"On this matter, I suppose I share your comrade's bewilderment," the youth said calmly, withstanding the werewolf's prickly glare. "Most likely, there's been a misunderstanding. Based on what I saw with my own eyes, your magic is an order of magnitude more powerful and destructive than mine. I simply have nothing to teach you."
Aiz hesitated slightly. Her social skills, as Rain had already managed to notice, lagged far behind her combat ones. She furrowed her delicate brows, trying to find the right words to explain the specifics of her request.
Bete, observing her hesitation, shifted his heavy gaze to the opposite side of the table. He rested his chin on his palm, once again baring his sharp fangs in a crooked, predatory smirk.
"Hey, brat!" Bete suddenly leaned his fists on the tabletop, leaning forward and looming over the guy. "Cut the crap. What the hell is going on here? What damn magic?"
"Just a usual misunderstanding, I'm afraid," Rain replied shortly, with a light, disarming half-smile, not changing his posture.
The werewolf narrowed his eyes. Little bastard, flashed through Bete's mind. The guy was smiling, but at the same time he was absolutely closed off, collected, and in control of his every movement.
Bete was arrogant, but not stupid. Running that incident over and over in his head, the werewolf unwillingly caught himself on one chilling thought: had he been in this guy's place, as an ordinary mortal without a blessing, he wouldn't have survived. The monstrous gap in strength would have killed him instantly.
Their silent duel was interrupted by Ryu's return. The elf quickly set plates of steaming meat on the table along with three heavy wooden mugs, filled to the brim with frothy, strong ale. One in front of Bell, the second in front of Rain, and the third—right under the nose of a taken-aback Bete.
The wolf frowned, looking at the drink.
"I didn't order this."
Rain grasped the massive handle of his mug. He shifted his gaze to Bell, who was looking at the alcohol with mild panic, then looked back at Bete and pushed the vessel slightly forward.
"To our acquaintance," Rain said. The smile on his lips grew a bit wider, throwing down a direct, masculine challenge.
It was a simple, clear gesture. A rough courtesy that could not be refused without losing face in front of others. Bete ground his teeth.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue in annoyance, but grabbed the mug and clinked it against Rain's shortly and forcefully, nearly spilling the foam. Bell, swallowing nervously, hurriedly joined the toast.
Hestia, watching this grim male truce, giggled quietly. Aiz, sitting opposite her, tilted her head to the side in confusion, making her golden hair slide down her shoulder. The goddess merely winked cheerfully at the swordswoman, genuinely enjoying the moment.
***
About twenty minutes passed. The hot food did its job—the atmosphere at the table became much more pleasant. But the strong ale had one predictable side effect.
Bell Cranel, completely unaccustomed to alcohol, got drunk with catastrophic speed. His cheeks were burning brightly, and his ruby gaze completely lost focus. The youth suddenly collapsed heavily with his chest on the tabletop and let out a long, drawn-out groan.
"Rai-i-in..." he howled pitifully, rubbing his cheek against the polished wood. "Why... why didn't you tell me you learned how to cast magic?"
Rain was just taking another sip and nearly choked. Thumping his mug on the table, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, hiding a smirk.
"That's exactly why I didn't say anything," he replied, looking at his drunk friend. "You've been dreaming about spells and heroes for so many years that it was simply awkward for me to show you these parlor tricks. My magic isn't as spectacular as the ones they write about in fairy tales."
Bell mumbled something unintelligible in response and, a couple of seconds later, began to snuffle quietly and evenly, having passed out right on the table.
Having emptied his third mug already, the werewolf cast a disgusted sidelong glance at his sleeping neighbor.
"Pathetic sight," Bete threw out arrogantly, though without his former animalistic malice, leaning back in his chair. "How is it even possible to look so pathetic?"
"I think it's cute," Hestia suddenly declared, propping her cheeks on her palms.
Bete snorted loudly.
"Hah!"
Rain shifted a warm, respectful gaze to his goddess. Hestia, paying absolutely no attention to the werewolf's mockery, smoothly continued:
"This boy descends into the darkness every day. He risks his life, gets wounded, fights his fears. And the fact that right now, after all of that, he can allow himself to relax and look so peaceful... that's worth a lot."
Aiz, who had been silently listening to their bickering until now, shifted her gaze to Bell's sleeping face. A spark of understanding flashed in her golden eyes, and her chiseled facial features softened imperceptibly.
Tearing herself away from contemplating the youth, the Sword Princess looked back at Rain. This time, her voice sounded quieter, but with such desperate, piercing sincerity that it was impossible to ignore her.
"I truly am asking you to help me, Rain," she slightly lowered her head. For an adventurer of her rank, this was an expression of extreme need. "I cannot release that much magic at once on my own. And I... I want to feel it again."
She clenched her fingers into fists resting on her lap until her knuckles turned white.
Rain looked at her tense figure. He saw a sincerity bordering on the desperation of a fighter who had hit an invisible barrier of their own limits. The youth exhaled tiredly, rubbing his neck.
"Lady Wallenstein, I'm not sure this can even be taught," he replied directly. "It's not a matter of technique or knowledge. My method is... specific."
"I still want to try," Aiz countered instantly, not backing down a single millimeter.
"Listen," Bete slammed his empty mug onto the table, roughly interfering in the dialogue. "I don't get all this magic crap, but why are you playing hard to get? She's asking—help her. What's your problem?"
Rain shifted a heavy gaze onto him.
"The problem is the difference in strength," he clipped harshly. "Even just interfering with Lady Aiz's magic consumes a colossal amount of energy. And the feeling of Mind Zero is extremely shitty. I have no burning desire to vomit blood and lose consciousness again for someone else's whims, no offense."
Hearing this, Aiz faltered. The swordswoman's shoulders slumped.
She looked so depressed and shattered, as if her only hope had just been trampled right before her eyes. Rain physically felt the atmosphere at the table change. Bete drilled him with an openly condemning glare, and from behind, from Hestia, emanated such powerful waves of reproach that they seemed to burn a hole between his shoulder blades.
The bad guy, Rain mentally cemented his new status.
Yielding under the crossfire of their disapproval, he gave in.
"Fine. I'll try to help. We'll see what comes of it."
Aiz's eyes instantly flared like molten gold.
"But," he immediately raised an index finger, cooling her enthusiasm. "Any work comes with a price. I'll have a request in return."
Aiz nodded hurriedly, grasping at the provided opportunity, but then her face was overshadowed by a light, almost comical anxiety.
"Of course. I agree. It's just..." she looked away, and noticeable despondency sounded in her voice. "I hope it won't be too expensive. I recently upgraded my equipment and... I have almost no savings left. I can pay in installments if necessary!"
Rain chuckled quietly, sincerely.
"It is bitter to realize that financial problems haunt adventurers even at such a high level."
Bete, seeing the perfect chance to show off in front of the girl, scoffed loudly, pulling his mug toward himself.
"If you need it, I can lend you the money, Aiz," he threw out casually, diligently pretending that he didn't care about this situation at all.
"I'm not that mercantile. But thanks for the offer," Rain cut off his impulse, looking at Aiz absolutely seriously again. "I don't need money. I want you to show me the deeper floors of the Dungeon. Let's call it an escort and safety net. I want to study the levels I haven't yet reached on my own, without the risk of instant death."
Aiz, expecting exorbitant bills or complex contracts, blinked in surprise.
"Is that all? Just descend into the Dungeon?"
"Exactly. And also," Rain looked at the peacefully snoring Bell. "It would be wonderful if Bell came with us as well. Though that's more of a personal whim of mine, and it remains at the discretion of your Familia."
The Sword Princess's face regained its confidence. She gave a short, military nod.
"We have a deal."
***
A cool night wind roamed the empty streets of Orario, chasing away the stuffiness of the past day.
If any ordinary adventurer were to look out their window right now, they wouldn't believe their eyes.
Walking ahead with an absolutely unperturbed look and perfect posture was the Sword Princess. On her fragile, girlish back, his nose buried in her golden hair and sniffling quietly, slept Bell Cranel peacefully.
But an even more surreal picture unfolded slightly behind them.
Bete Loga—one of the fastest and fiercest fighters of the Loki Familia—was walking along, stepping heavily on the cobblestones and twitching his ears in annoyance. And on his back, hanging limply with his long legs and arms dangling, was Rain.
The old master, whose mind was usually characterized by cold, ironclad calculation, had made a fatal tactical error this evening. Unwilling to yield to the arrogant werewolf in their unspoken drinking duel, he decided to accept the challenge. However, Rain failed to account for one critically important factor: metabolism. The difference in Falna Levels was colossal. The body of a high-level beastman burned through alcohol faster than a red-hot furnace burned dry wood. And even considering that Bete had started drinking long before they arrived, the outcome was predetermined. Rain suffered a crushing, unconditional defeat.
The alcohol had removed all his mental blocks, and now, instead of a cold-blooded veteran, a surprisingly talkative and good-natured guy was riding on the werewolf's back.
"Y'know..." Rain mumbled with a slurring tongue right into the werewolf's ear, sluggishly patting him on the shoulder. "You're such a... good guy. Yeah. Loud, prickly... Just like a... good, loyal..."
The grinding of Bete's teeth was so loud it seemed capable of striking sparks.
"I swear to the gods," the werewolf growled, his amber eyes flashing furiously in the gloom, "if you don't shut up right now, I'll dump you in the nearest gutter. And I don't care what Aiz says."
Hestia, walking beside them and observing this scene, merely smiled guiltily and incredibly awkwardly.
"I am truly, truly sorry, Bete-kun," the goddess apologized for the umpteenth time, pressing her palms together in prayer at her chest. "Thank you so much for helping carry him."
The werewolf merely snorted in annoyance, not gracing her with a verbal response, but he didn't slow his pace or drop his burden.
Hestia herself, scurrying alongside, plunged into a whirlpool of her own rather paranoid thoughts. She looked at the sleeping Rain, and unease stirred in her chest.
For a child his age, he leans on hard alcohol far too often and far too easily, she reasoned anxiously to herself, adjusting the blue ribbon on her chest. Could it be because of stress? Or does the burden of responsibility for me and Lili weigh on him that heavily?
Her delirious, spiraling fantasies were interrupted only when the procession stopped at the familiar lopsided gate of the abandoned church.
Bete stepped toward the goddess with obvious, undisguised relief. He stood on no ceremony: leaning forward slightly, the werewolf simply unloaded Rain's limp body straight onto Hestia's fragile shoulders. The girl gasped under the youth's weight, but quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, confidently keeping him on his feet.
"There," Bete cut off roughly, rolling his stiff shoulders.
Hestia, draping her captain's arm over her neck, smiled warmly and sincerely.
"Thank you."
The Sword Princess, still holding the sleeping Bell on her back, gave a short, respectful nod.
"Good night, Hestia-sama."
Leaving the goddess to drag her captain into the basement of the church, the elites of the Loki Familia turned around and headed toward the Twilight Manor.
They walked in absolute, comfortable silence. Aiz moved in front, her steps light and soundless. Bete trudged behind, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, glaring out from under his brow at the empty streets. The intoxication had completely faded from his head, leaving only a light, tart fatigue.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a quiet, sleepy whisper.
"Mom..." Bell mumbled unintelligibly with a pitiful childlike tenderness, pressing his cheek tighter against Aiz's shoulder and burying his nose in her hair.
The swordswoman's step faltered for a fraction of a second. She turned her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the peacefully sleeping white-haired boy out of the corner of her eye.
The icy mask she had worn without removing for many long years formed a tiny crack. Aiz's face softened imperceptibly. A warm, almost sisterly tenderness flashed in her golden eyes, and a timid, yet strikingly bright, genuine smile bloomed on her lips.
Bete, walking just a couple of steps behind, happened to look up and froze.
His heart skipped a traitorous beat. He had known Aiz for many years. He had seen her cold, detached, frightening, and single-minded in battle. But he had practically never seen her smile like that—softly, openly, genuinely.
And this smile was meant for some little, weak brat.
A deep blush instantly flooded the werewolf's cheeks, showing even through the war paint on his face. Trying to hide his sudden embarrassment behind his usual rudeness, Bete frowned and snapped:
"What are you grinning at?!"
Aiz slowly shifted her gaze forward, to the moonlit road. Her smile didn't disappear, it only became a bit more restrained.
"Thank you, Bete," she said into the night's silence, quietly but absolutely seriously.
The werewolf tripped over flat ground.
He stopped, staring at the back of the girl walking ahead of him in surprise and incomprehension. Aiz was thanking him. For not starting a fight in the tavern. For agreeing to help drag that unbearable Rain. For simply being there and supporting her initiative, even if he didn't like it.
Bete stood like that for a few seconds, digesting what he had heard. Then he ruffled his ash-grey hair in annoyance with redoubled force, trying to shake off the illusion, and, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, quickened his pace to catch up with her.
They continued their journey home, and the night over Orario closed behind their backs, keeping the secrets of this strange but important evening.