In the room at the inn, Bell sat quietly, resting his mind while waiting for someone to knock.
Suddenly, his eyes opened. The faint whisper of the wind had already told him someone was approaching.
"Come in. The door's not locked."
The person outside paused for a moment, then pushed the door open and stepped in.
It was Finn, who looked slightly surprised as he glanced at Bell sitting inside.
"You didn't even wait for me to knock this time, Bell-kun. How did you know I was here?"
"The wind told me."
Bell didn't say anything complicated—just gave a simple, honest answer.
"As I've grown more attuned to my use of runes, not only have my senses sharpened, but I've also started to instinctively pick up on the messages carried by the wind."
"Even though you deliberately relaxed your body to reduce noise and controlled your breathing to the point where I couldn't catch even a heartbeat or breath... you still couldn't avoid being detected by the wind."
"I see. So it's your magic."
Finn nodded in understanding.
He was well aware that Bell possessed a unique magic. Loki also knew quite a bit about it. In fact, Finn even suspected that Loki had grasped the essence of Bell's magic—which was probably why she kept saying things like, "If you run into trouble, just go find that brat."
"I've finished the lifesaving tool. It can indeed save someone in a critical moment—but it's not perfect."
Bell felt it was important to be upfront about this. He didn't want any misunderstandings or to be blamed if something went wrong because of its limitations.
"For example?"
Finn already understood that no life-saving tool could be truly perfect. To be honest, there was no such thing in all of Orario.
"The item I created can only block one fatal blow. It's based on some unique principles that allow it to redirect damage from a lethal attack, giving the holder a chance to survive."
"But that's where the problem lies. While the item can indeed save a life, it only works against a single, instantaneous fatal hit. If it's sustained, continuous fatal damage... the tool won't help."
Finn was momentarily stunned by the explanation, then his face twitched slightly.
This is what you call 'not perfect'?
He really wanted to toss those words right back at Bell and ask what kind of standards he had for perfection.
An item that could deflect a single fatal blow—that alone was incredible. Even if it only worked once, it was nothing short of a miracle in life-or-death situations.
In the Dungeon, adventurers feared nothing more than losing their lives. A chance to survive a fatal blow was the same as being handed a second life.
That's why Finn felt the need to give Bell a reminder.
"Bell-kun, even just this much makes it an incredible tool."
"When adventurers run into danger in the Dungeon, it's extremely hard to save themselves. Even the best healers can't make up for a raw power gap. But if there's a tool that can save someone at a critical moment, then an adventurer might just have that one chance to risk everything."
To Finn, the stronger the adventurer, the more valuable such a lifesaving item became. When two sides are evenly matched, a single decisive gamble often determines the outcome. A tool that can deflect fatal damage is that one chance to tip the scales—literally a trump card in a life-or-death struggle.
So aside from saving lives, it's also a tool for survival gambits—a near-foolproof card to play when it counts most.
Honestly, Bell might just be underestimating what he created.
To him, the flaws were obvious, but for most adventurers, those flaws were probably negligible. In fact, some might consider it no different from a divine artifact.
"If Captain Finn doesn't see it as a flaw, then that's fine."
"But I still recommend exercising caution when using it. Personally, I think there are quite a few issues with this item."
As he spoke, Bell casually snapped his fingers. Ten straw doppelgangers floated into the air.
The materials weren't anything special. The key was forging a unique causal link between the straw figure and the real person. That link would allow fatal causality to be transferred to the straw doll in a critical moment.
Because the function was so direct, its effect was just as simple—no additional abilities, no extra perks. Just one purpose.
"The method to use them is easy too. Drip your blood onto the straw doll. Once it absorbs enough, it transforms into a miniature version of the user. As long as it's kept nearby—or even in a spatial pouch—it can act as a death substitute when needed."
Absurd!
Once again, Finn mentally reaffirmed how outrageous this thing was. Just feed it enough blood, and it could take a fatal blow in your place? That's no ordinary tool—it's a literal lifesaving artifact.
Wait.
"Bell-kun, did you say 'enough blood'? How much are we talking here? Not too much, I hope?"
"Ah? No, no—it's not just a drop or two, but it's not like it'll suck you dry. As long as there's someone nearby to heal you, the most it'll cause is a bit of anemia. That's one of its downsides."
With less than three days to prepare, Bell had only been able to craft something with some flaws. Given more time, he could've made a better version.
But for something needed urgently for survival, the straw doppelgangers met the client's needs. Even with limitations, as long as the user could tolerate them, the tool would do its job.
Sure, it had issues—but considering what it could do, Finn wasn't concerned.
As long as they didn't start bleeding all over the battlefield, the blood cost was manageable. With the short prep time they had, drawing a bit of blood was hardly a problem.
"I understand."
As long as he kept it in mind, he could have Riveria and Cassandra monitor things during use.
Finn gathered up the straw doppelgangers and stored them in his spatial pouch.
"...Ah, right. These straw figures aren't exactly cheap."
Bell made sure to point that out.
"I figured. There's no way a tool like this would come cheap."
Finn had already anticipated that.
"But let's settle the bill after the expedition. We should be able to bring back a good haul this time—enough to cover the remaining costs."
He was confident in that.
During previous expeditions, they'd had to prioritize food and essentials, which made it hard to carry back monster drops and materials. That had cut into their earnings.
But the materials dropped by monsters in the deep levels of the Dungeon were worth a fortune. Many of them were rare resources unavailable even in Orario. If they could haul back enough, they'd be in for a sizable profit.