The sanity-draining wait finally came to an end a few days later.
The old church's wooden door creaked open slowly. A fresh breeze of freedom swept in, brushing the dust off the stone floor and carrying the scent of green apples—a fragrance all too familiar to its inhabitants.
Alfia, standing by the church entrance, had firmly made up her mind to smack the drunkard god on the head as a welcome greeting for running off to court death without a word.
But just as she was about to strike, her eyes caught sight of a figure trailing closely behind him.
"Whoa, hold your anger, Alfia! That glare of yours could kill a Level 5 monster, you know. Look, I brought a souvenir! Meet our new friend. Her name is Sylphie!"
Hiding behind the petite god was a slender woman with pale green hair and a pair of gentle brown eyes.
Though the woman's true power had been suppressed to resemble a fragile human, Alfia's heterochromatic eyes could not be deceived. As the strongest mage of her generation, blessed with magical instincts that defied common sense, she could see the pure mana enveloping the woman—the essence of a boundless storm, pulsing in perfect harmony with nature itself.
That was no human. It was the disguise of the Great Spirit of Wind, lost for a millennium—Aria.
Later that night, after Meteria had fallen fast asleep and the woman named Sylphie had been settled into a separate room with a glass of warm milk, the atmosphere at the wooden table turned dead serious. Venti, his face stripped of all its usual humor and whimsy, recounted the horrifying truth of what he had discovered in the depths of the Dragon Valley.
"The One-Eyed Black Dragon defies reason, and not just because it's a monster of the apocalypse. That beast... it used the Great Spirit Aria as its reactor core," Venti explained.
"The monster imprisoned Aria within its chest," Venti continued, staring into his cooling teacup. "It possessed limitless energy and absolute regeneration because it continuously siphoned the life and magical power of the Great Spirit. As long as Aria was trapped there, the dragon would never run out of breath."
"So..." Alfia leaned forward, her voice sharp and urgent. "Just how strong is that Calamity now, after you ripped out its limitless power source?"
Venti raised his head, gazing out the window at the starry night sky. "It is still utterly terrifying. But there is one absolute difference that changes everything, Alfia."
The God of Wind looked her dead in the eye. "Now, the dragon can bleed. It can grow tired. It no longer has an infinite supply of energy. The World Calamity... can finally be killed."
That statement rang like the bell of revolution in Alfia's ears. The words can be killed reignited the fire of ambition within her soul.
Ever since the night of Venti's return, history seemed to rewrite itself. The wheels of fate began to spin like a raging typhoon.
Alfia witnessed firsthand how the Barbatos Familia evolved with silent grandeur. Aria now lived among them under the name Sylphie, while little Ais—whom they had rescued from the eternal ice of the 60th Floor—could finally grow up safely beneath the warm roof of their new home.
Armed with information from the Great Spirit, Alfia and Aria had led a secret expedition. The two women quietly tore through dozens of floors, plummeting into the Glacier region of the 60th Floor. There, amidst the eternal ice, they found the Spirit Princess, Ais, who had survived by being sealed within the Frozen Garden of the High Elf mage, Celdia.
During the rescue, they clashed with a massive Corrupted Spirit that controlled the floor. The Dungeon, furious that its prized monster was slain, birthed a deadly anomaly and summoned its ultimate system-destroying executioner: the Juggernaut.
On that floor blanketed in ice and blood, Alfia fought like the very manifestation of calamity. In her dance of death against the Juggernaut, she pushed her mortal vessel past its breaking point, tearing through the limits of human logic. Accompanied by the resonance of Satanas Verion—a spell so devastating its sound shattered the entire structure of the 60th Floor—Alfia completely obliterated the threat.
In the aftermath of that battle, her status evolved. Alfia officially ascended to Level 8.
Yet, the surprises from her god did not end there. Alfia vividly remembered the day their church received four guests from the Far East: Hedin Selland, Hogni Ragnar, alongside Dina and Vena. They declared their allegiance and joined the Barbatos Familia.
And ultimately, the ranks of their Familia were perfected by a highly talented girl. From an expedition to the coastal cities of Melen and Dizara—a Guild mission Alfia had flatly rejected to stay home and care for Meteria—Venti brought back a young girl named Asfi.
Now, Alfia often found herself standing on the balcony of the newly renovated church, gazing warmly at her gathered family. Meteria smiling brightly; little Ais practicing with her wooden sword; Asfi busily tinkering with her latest inventions; and Sylphie watching over them all with a gentle, maternal gaze.
The Barbatos Familia had transformed into a legendary anomaly hidden in the shadows—a formidable power capable of shaking the very foundation of Orario whenever they so desired.
Including this recent journey to the Kaios Desert, where Venti had yet again recruited a new member.
Meanwhile, far from the comforting walls of Orario, the twilight sun beat down mercilessly.
A sturdy, wood-paneled horse carriage rolled steadily along the overland route. It traveled from the west, leaving the Kaios Desert behind, heading east toward the center of the world: Orario.
Sitting on the driver's bench was a giant of a man clad in pitch-black armor, looking as imposing as a walking fortress. It was Zald, the Gluttony, his gray eyes staring straight ahead.
Zald held the reins with one hand while his sharp gaze swept across the dusty horizon. From within the curtained carriage, he could hear the soft snores of his god, who was currently sleeping off a heavy buzz from Shalzard's finest wine. Venti clearly couldn't care less about the bumpy road.
"What a strange god," Zald muttered softly, a rare, faint smile gracing his hardened features. "But I suppose this world needs a little strangeness to survive."
Zald refocused his gaze on the road ahead. This trade route was usually deserted as evening approached. Yet, in the distance, piercing through the heat mirages shimmering off the ground, Zald caught sight of a silhouette.
Someone was traveling on foot.
The figure was moving from the north toward the south. They were bound to cross paths at the upcoming main intersection.
At first, Zald paid it no mind. Wanderers or lost merchants were a common sight outside Orario. But as the distance between them narrowed to a few hundred meters, Zald's veteran combat instincts began screaming. The hairs on his arms stood on end. The veins in his neck tensed involuntarily.
Zald pulled back hard on the reins, instinctively slowing the carriage's pace. His eyes narrowed sharply.
What kind of aura is this? Zald thought to himself, his heart beating faster than usual.
As a former executive of the Zeus Familia who had literally devoured a monster king, Zald's sensitivity to a person's strength existed on an entirely different dimension. An ordinary person would only see a lone wanderer, but Zald's eyes perceived a condensed, blindingly bright white light—a pure magical pressure, as sharp as a lightning bolt and an invisible fire, contained within a human vessel.
The aura radiating from the walking figure was incredibly dense, pure, and razor-sharp. It wasn't the aura of a Level 4 or Level 5 adventurer. This was the pressure of a Level 6 adventurer at the absolute peak of their power; the aura even faintly brushed against the realm of a Level 7.
Zald mentally combed through the names of all the monsters from his generation and the current one. Ottar of the Freya Familia; Gareth, Finn, and Riveria of the Loki Familia. Then there were Venti's four Elven subordinates: Hedin, Hogni, Dina, and Vena. Aside from them and Alfia, who else in this entire world possessed such an absurd level of power?
When the distance between them closed to a mere ten meters, Zald pulled back hard on the reins, giving the absolute command for his horses to halt. Dust plumed softly around the wooden wheels as the carriage finally came to a complete stop.
The traveling figure stopped as well. He wore a dull brown travel cloak, covered in dust and frayed at the hem—a clear sign of a very long and arduous journey. The hood obscured most of his face, but a few strands of hair peeked out from beneath the fabric.
Hair as white as pure snow.
Beneath that grime-covered cloak, his posture was upright, though his build wasn't particularly large; he looked more like a youth just on the cusp of adulthood. However, the aura he emitted... it radiated a glow of purest white, carrying the heavy weight of an unshakeable resolve.
Zald stared down at the youth from his driver's seat. There was something incredibly familiar about his posture and the color of his hair that made Zald's chest ache with a strange pang of recognition.
"Hey there, kid," Zald called out, his deep, booming voice breaking the silence. "This road gets dangerous once night falls. The monsters around these parts show no mercy. Where are you heading, walking all alone out here?"
The hooded youth tilted his head up slightly. Zald still couldn't see his entire face, but he caught a glimpse of a strong, determined jawline.
"I intend to go to Orario," the youth replied. His voice was calm and polite, yet it radiated an unwavering resolve.
Zald studied the young man intently. His instincts told him that this powerful fighter harbored no malicious intent; he was simply a wanderer driven by absolute determination.
"Orario is still quite a ways from here. You'll run out of steam before dawn if you keep walking," Zald said, gesturing toward the back of the carriage. "Hop in. I'll give you a ride. We're heading that way ourselves."
The youth paused for a moment. He seemed cautious, sizing up the armored giant before him. However, exhaustion ultimately seemed to win over his wariness. Or perhaps, his instincts told him that this towering man meant no harm.
"Thank you," the youth replied politely. He walked up to the carriage, climbed onto the wooden step at the back, and took a seat in the rather spacious exterior luggage area.
Zald gave a slow nod, spurring the horses back into a moderate trot. He deliberately left the curtain dividing the driver's seat from the back slightly ajar, leaving a small gap so they could converse.
"In this day and age, it's rare to see a kid traveling alone with an aura as dense as yours," Zald probed, glancing through a small side mirror. "That strength of yours... you don't get that just by killing a few goblins. Where do you hail from? And what's your name, kid?"
In the back, the youth leaned against the carriage wall. Finding a brief respite from the lingering heat of the sun, he finally reached up and pulled back his hood.
The twilight breeze immediately caught his snow-white hair, making it flutter gently. As he looked forward, his large, round eyes were fully revealed. His irises were a vibrant, crystal-clear crimson, glowing like rubies catching the light of the setting sun.
"I..." the youth began, his voice ringing out much clearer now. "My name is Bell Cranel," he said softly.
Inside the plush, enclosed passenger cabin, Venti was lying on his side across the velvet-cushioned seats. Empty wine bottles clinked and rolled across the floorboards every time the carriage hit a bump. The god was snoring softly, dead drunk and lost in pleasant dreams of sweet apples and old ballads.
However, the moment that name was spoken—even though it was muffled by the clatter of the wheels and the howling wind—it pierced the god's ears like a thunderbolt striking right beside him.
SWISH! Venti jerked awake.
His eyes shot wide open, emitting a teal glow that instantly lit up the dim interior of the cabin. The intoxication that had completely overtaken his body vanished without a trace in a matter of seconds. His consciousness as a reincarnator from Earth, coupled with his absolute knowledge regarding the future of this world, exploded within his mind.
Bell Cranel?! Venti's mind screamed, his breath catching in his throat.
His heart hammered wildly against his ribs. He knew exactly what year it was. He knew exactly who was currently pregnant with a baby named Bell back in that old church in Orario. In this timeline, Bell Cranel hadn't even been born yet! He was still a fetus inside Meteria's womb!
Then... who in the world had just spoken that name outside?!
With a movement far too fast for the naked eye to track, Venti lunged forward, tore back the partition curtain, and vaulted out into the luggage area where the young man was seated.
Zald was startled to see his god suddenly burst out of the cabin, wearing the palest, most dead-serious expression he had ever witnessed. "Venti? What's wrong?"
Venti completely ignored Zald's question. The God of Wind landed squarely in front of the white-haired youth. And then, Venti froze. The world around him seemed to grind to a halt, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
The youth flinched slightly, startled to see someone suddenly leap out from inside the cabin.
Venti stared at the youth up close. The chaotic, spiky, snow-white hair with bangs falling over his forehead, and those brilliant ruby-red eyes radiating an undeniably pure glow. There was no mistaking it.
It was really him. The main protagonist. The son of Meteria. The final hero of Orario.
Venti observed the young man intently—a teenager who looked no older than fourteen. His crimson eyes radiated absolute innocence, seamlessly blended with the brilliant, unyielding resolve of a hero in the midst of his growth.
This was not the unborn fetus still gestating back in Orario. This was a Bell Cranel who had somehow shattered the boundaries of time, brought here through some inexplicable miracle or magical anomaly.
Venti stared at the boy before him as thousands of questions began to violently swirl through his mind. In an era where Meteria was still carrying him in her womb back in Orario, how was it remotely possible for a fourteen-year-old Bell Cranel to suddenly manifest and find himself stranded in this timeline?
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