Bell Cranel always dreamed of becoming a hero, but reality proved far crueler than his fantasies. Left humiliated and on the brink of death after a fateful encounter with a Minotaur and the adventurer Ais, something deep within him awakens-a power u...
"So, your new Shadow Soldiers," Mikoto mused, swirling her drink. "I have to admit, it's still eerie seeing them in action."
Lili, leaning back in her chair, nodded. "I agree. But it's also ridiculously effective. With them, we don't have to worry about being outnumbered."
Bell chuckled, taking a sip of ale. "Yeah, it's definitely been a game-changer."
Just as the atmosphere settled into a comfortable rhythm, a sneering voice cut through the noise.
"Look at this," a Pallum from the Apollo Familia sneered, sauntering up to their table with a few of his lackeys in tow. "A little rabbit playing warlord. Surrounding yourself with monsters now, Cranel? What, too scared to fight your own battles?"
Bell's fingers tightened around his mug. He set it down slowly, locking eyes with the Pallum, but before he could stand, Lili crossed her arms, glaring. "Why don't you mind your own business?"
The Pallum smirked, ignoring her. "I'm just saying, no amount of tricks will make you anything more than a weakling pretending to be strong."
A dull thud echoed through the pub as Bell's mug struck the Pallum's head, knocking him out cold. The room fell silent for a moment before erupting into laughter from nearby patrons.
"Ah, damn," Bell muttered, shaking his head. "Didn't mean to waste good lemonade."
The Apollo Familia members scrambled back, eyes wide, but one remained standing—Hyakinthos Clio. Unlike the others, his expression held neither fear nor amusement. It was pure, seething anger. Bell could feel the bloodlust radiating from him, sharp and suffocating.
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Bell met his gaze, unfazed, and activated Bloodlust.
Clio's breath hitched. His body tensed, heat rising beneath his skin. Beads of sweat formed at his temple as an invisible pressure crushed down on him. His hand twitched at his side, hesitating.
"I suggest you leave," Bell said coolly.
Across the room, Bete watched with mild interest, a smirk tugging at his lips. Tch. The kid's come a long way.
The tension in the pub thickened as Clio's face twisted in rage. His fingers twitched over the hilt of his dagger, his pride burning hotter than the alcohol in his system. The laughter and chatter around them dulled, replaced by the subtle scrape of chairs as patrons subtly edged away, sensing the fight about to unfold.
With a sharp intake of breath, Clio lunged. His dagger flashed under the dim candlelight, aiming straight for Bell's side.
But Bell was already moving.
He sidestepped with ease, the blade slicing through empty air. Clio snarled and slashed again, but Bell tilted his head back just enough for it to miss. Another thrust—another dodge. Again and again, Bell weaved through Clio's furious attacks with the effortless grace of someone humoring a child's tantrum.
