"While this setup offers strong control over the target, due to the partial freezing of space and time within the designated area, it's impossible to inflict any lasting physical damage."
This was absolute control. The spatial freeze didn't just restrict the enemy—it also limited the user's own actions.
But Bell had already accounted for that when preparing the trap. He'd thought carefully about how to incapacitate someone in this state. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small vial filled with a dark purple-black liquid.
Hydra's poison—infamous for being so deadly that even gods could be brought to their knees by it.
He'd tested it previously on a Minotaur. It had taken a full ninety seconds for the poison to kill the beast. Honestly, Bell felt that was a bit too long. Other poisons didn't take nearly as much time.
But once he learned just how terrifying this poison truly was, Bell no longer saw it as something so simple.
He uncorked the vial and poured its contents directly onto the woman's body.
The toxin, now exposed to the air, began seeping slowly into her flesh.
"!?"
Freya, able to perceive the color of souls, immediately noticed it—the woman's soul, deep within, had started turning a dark, toxic purple-black. That color was steadily spreading across the rest of her soul.
'This is... poison?'
Freya had never seen such an absurd toxin—one that could even affect the soul. She could clearly see it burrowing in, slow but relentless.
Bell, naturally, was observing his first confirmed subject with great interest.
Snap!
With a snap of his fingers, the frozen space dissolved instantly. The woman, still stuck mid-motion, came crashing down to the floor.
The elven waitress quickly pulled Syr behind her, placing herself between them in case the assassin tried to attack again.
...
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
But her caution was met only by the woman's pained, pitiful screams.
She rolled on the ground in agony, writhing like someone who had never known the endurance of an adventurer—completely helpless, like an ordinary civilian.
Bell, unbothered, calmly noted her condition.
[Poisoned for 10 seconds. Pain intensifying. A Level 5 adventurer cannot endure.]
Judging by how fast the Minotaur had died, it seemed the Hydra poison hadn't even had time to take full effect before it killed the beast.
In hindsight, Bell wondered if a diluted version of the toxin might have better demonstrated its full effects.
With that in mind, he crouched down, peeled back part of the woman's clothing over the poisoned area, and checked her skin.
No visible discoloration. No signs of purple.
Bell recorded it anyway.
[After poisoning: no visible symptoms on the skin.]
He grabbed the woman's limp hand—the one that had failed to keep hold of her sword. Bell could feel the muscle beneath twitching erratically. She was trying to muster strength, but the pain overwhelmed her ability to respond.
[Poisoned for 20 seconds. Resistance failing. Muscular response collapsing.]
[Poisoned for 30 seconds. Physical symptoms mild. Toxic response strong. Soul poisoning confirmed.]
After a brief physical check, Bell noted that the toxin wasn't spreading quickly through her body. The symptoms were not severe—but like a festering infection clinging to bone, it was near impossible to remove.
[Poisoned for 40 seconds. Physical effects spreading—not fatal, but pain sensitivity increasing. Soul poisoning evident. Confirmed: incurable.]
With the data recorded to this point, Bell decided that was enough.
He erected a soundproof barrier around the woman and stood up, turning his gaze to Freya.
"Freya-sama, the assassin's been completely incapacitated. If we hadn't neutralized her like this, we might've been able to get some intel from her. But at this point, that's probably off the table."
Bell hadn't said it outright, but Freya could tell from the woman's condition—no matter how strong she might be, as long as the soul-level poisoning remained, she'd be nothing more than a cripple for the rest of her life.
"It's impressive that you managed to find such an unusual and potent poison."
Poisons that could affect the soul were exceedingly rare. As far as Freya knew, the only one that did was the so-called Poison of Desire. Something like this—this kind of reaction—she had never once encountered in all her years as a god.
"I came across it while training in the Dungeon a few days ago. It was a blade I found—the poison was just part of the weapon."
"The Dungeon creates things like that?"
This was Freya's first time hearing of such a thing. Bell didn't argue. He simply reached into his dimensional storage and pulled out the short blade.
"This is the weapon. A product of the Dungeon. I got it by chance, but aside from being decently sharp, what really stands out is the poison it carries—it's unbelievably potent."
Freya leaned in for a closer look. Her divine eyes caught a glimpse of the poison's "concept"—just a sliver, but it was enough to give her insight. Even the faintest trace of that concept was something that could be considered a piece of the world's fundamental rules.
Her gaze toward Bell shifted—like she was staring at a rare, exotic creature.
'To think this child managed to unearth something like this from the Dungeon... this has to be fate.'
Conceptual artifacts—products of rule—were essentially manifestations of world laws themselves.
And to this day, such conceptual items were practically unheard of. At least on the surface, there had never been a single recorded case of anyone obtaining one, regardless of whether they even recognized it. That was exactly why Freya had no doubts that Bell had pulled this from the Dungeon.
Because only the Dungeon could produce something so bizarre.
Now that it was known the Three Great Quests were trials issued by the world to all living beings—including gods—how could the Dungeon not be included?
Clearly, the Dungeon was connected to the world on a fundamental level.
And that connection meant the Dungeon would, from time to time, produce things that even gods couldn't comprehend.
Especially when the one who found it... was Bell, the very person designated by the world as the fulcrum of fate.
To Freya, the result felt inevitable.
...
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