He was drunk.
Cyd lowered his gaze, hiding his expression behind half-closed eyelids.
At a nearby table, a young werewolf had kicked his boots up onto the wood, his voice loud and slurred for everyone to hear as he bragged about the "adventure" he had today.
Dinner chatter was nothing new around here. It was normal, expected even. But the way this guy laughed—mocking someone else's failure—made Cyd's stomach turn. It wasn't even their screw-up he was joking about; it was someone else's, someone who had almost died because of them.
And that someone…
Cyd's eyes shifted to Bell, sitting there with his head bowed so low it was like he was trying to vanish into the floor. His hands were clenched tight in his lap.
BAM—!
Bell stood up so fast his chair nearly flipped over. He didn't say a word. He just bolted out of The Hostess of Fertility, disappearing into the crowded, laughing mess of adventurers who barely even noticed him leave—like he was just a gust of wind passing through.
Cyd quietly finished the drink the owner had pressed into his hand.
Bell wanted to be a hero.
That was the message Hera had passed down to him.
But why?
Was it because of the stories Zeus fed him?
Tales of heroes who were always admired, who could pull off miracles just by being themselves. Heroes who got to have those heart-stopping fateful encounters. Fairy tales.
Bell longed for that kind of heroism.
But that wasn't how the world worked.
Maybe that's what Zeus thought a hero was.
But it wasn't reality.
Bell didn't understand it yet.
A hero isn't someone who stands on a stage basking in admiration. A hero is someone who drags their broken body forward, carrying the weight no one else can bear.
If all Bell wanted was a romantic fantasy… he'd spend his whole life standing in the crowd, staring up at real heroes he could never reach.
"You're Bell's friend, right?"
Syr slid into the seat beside Cyd, her brows knit with confusion. "Why didn't you help him?"
"Dreams are beautiful," Cyd said, setting down his now-empty glass with a soft clink. "But if you wanna make a dream come true, first… you have to open your eyes and face how ugly the real world is."
"But Bell looked… so sad," Syr whispered, turning her head away.
"Yeah," Cyd said, rising to his feet, his eyes calm. "He looked ready to cry. And that's exactly why…"
He began walking toward the table where the werewolf and his crew were still laughing.
"That's exactly why he can move forward."
Syr tilted her head. "Wait… what are you gonna do?"
Cyd flashed her a lazy wave. "Eh, blame it on the alcohol."
The tavern owner just sighed like she could already see where this was going. "Fine. But if you break anything, you're paying for it. And next time you come in, settle your damn tab."
"Heh, that little brat even ran off with my money," Cyd chuckled under his breath as he strolled up behind the werewolf.
He clapped a hand onto the guy's shoulder with a friendly pat-pat.
"Yo~"
The werewolf scowled up at him, breath reeking of ale. "Huh?"
"You got one thing right tonight," Cyd said, lips curling into a smirk. "Bell is different from you. Sure, he's naïve. But you guys?"
Cyd leaned down a little closer.
"You'll max out as just adventurers. But him? He's aiming for something bigger. He's chasing something you can't even see."
"You little—!"
The werewolf lunged, grabbing Cyd's shirt collar.
"Wait, Bete!" a short, stocky boy at the table called out, half-standing in panic—
BAM—!
The tavern shook.
Everyone froze.
Bete, the cocky, snarling werewolf, was face-down in the floorboards.
"Don't forget to pay for the damages," the owner mumbled, fingers in her ears.
"Ahh… got carried away," Cyd scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Alcohol's the real enemy, huh?"
He shrugged and turned toward the door. Time to go check on the little white rabbit.
But just as he reached the threshold—
"Wait," a voice called.
Cyd paused.
A thin-eyed man stood up, hands loose at his sides, but his smile sharp enough to cut glass. Around him, weapons slid free from scabbards. The tension thickened.
"You realize picking a fight like that's no different from challenging Loki Familia itself, right? Especially…"
The man's eyes glinted.
"…when you do it right in front of Loki herself."
The goddess in question didn't seem particularly bothered. She just raised an eyebrow, looking more amused than angry.
Still, some of her children were already moving, prepared to make this a problem—until a fair-haired elf stomped on Bete's back for good measure, keeping him down.
Cyd just sighed.
"You know, you could've helped," he muttered.
"Instead, you crushed a kid's dream in the cruelest way possible. You could've made him open his eyes… without shattering his heart."
As he spoke, black scales crawled across his right arm, glittering ominously under the light.
"I was just waking him up," Cyd said. He tilted his head, half-smiling. "Unless, of course… you wanna be the ones waking up instead?"
There was no bloodlust. No murderous aura.
And that made it worse.
All that radiated from Cyd was pure, crushing pressure.
Even drunk, Bete was one of Orario's top adventurers—
But Cyd had floored him like he was a drunk tourist.
"…Fine!"
Loki suddenly threw herself onto Ais's chest, wailing dramatically. "Ais-tan, save me~! That scary man looked at me funny~!"
SLAP!
Ais silently smacked Loki across the face without even looking at her.
The tension broke.
The Hostess of Fertility erupted back into laughter and noise like nothing had happened.
As Cyd stepped out into the night, he caught one last glimpse of Loki peeking between her fingers, eyes sharp.
That guy…
He wasn't just carrying one god's power.
He was carrying several.
"Trouble's brewing," Loki muttered
Meanwhile—
CLANG!
Bell let out a hoarse cry, swinging his sword wildly and slicing into another monster.
"WHY?!" he screamed, chest heaving. "Why didn't they defend me?!"
He wore no armor. Just a torn shirt and pants barely holding together under monster claws and fangs.
"WHY?!"
His dream world—the one filled with heroes and wonder—was crumbling around him.
Reality was cruel.
So, so cruel.
He was weak.
Pathetic.
What a joke.
How could someone like him dream of a fateful encounter, a miracle, when he couldn't even protect his own pride?
"I should just disappear!"
CRACK!
The monster's claw shattered his cheap sword in two.
But Bell didn't stop.
With a roar, he rammed the broken blade into the monster's open maw.
BOOM—!
The creature disintegrated into dust and magic stones, clattering across the ground.
Bell dropped to his knees, trembling.
Breathing hard.
Broken.
"Finally awake?"
A small rock bounced off Bell's head.
He looked up through bleary eyes to see Cyd standing over him, arms crossed.
"C-Cyd… sir…"
"You awake now?"
Cyd knelt down, meeting Bell's bloodshot eyes.
"That beautiful little dream," he said softly. "It popped, didn't it?"
Bell bit his lip until it bled. "Y-Yeah…"
"Good," Cyd said, brushing away the tears trailing down Bell's cheeks. "Then it's time to start for real."
Bell blinked at him, dazed.
"You wanna be a hero, don't you?" Cyd said, grabbing Bell's nose and giving it a little squeeze.
"If you're done chasing bubbles…
It's time to chase something real."
"But… I'm too weak," Bell mumbled, face burning in shame.
"Then get strong," Cyd said simply, standing up.
"No one's born a hero, kid.
But if you're willing to fight for it…
I'll teach you.
I'll make sure you become someone amazing.