Is It Wrong To Level Up In A Dungeon?

Chapter 35. The Silver Goddess

From the highest spire of her ivory tower, Freya watched it all unfold—her kingdom of dreams, her stage of mortals. Yet her gaze, sharper than any blade, was fixed upon one light in particular.

Bell Cranel.

Freya's lips curved faintly, her reflection shimmering in the crystal glass she held. "Such brilliance..." she whispered, her voice laced with a hunger that trembled between reverence and obsession. "Each time I look at you, my desire grows stronger, Little Rabbit."

Behind her, Ottar stood as silent as stone. The great Boaz warrior had learned long ago not to interrupt when that tone entered his goddess's voice—a melody of longing that often preceded divine calamity.

Below, the ruins of the Pleasure Quarters still smoked. The perfume of luxury now mingled with the scent of charred silk and crushed marble. What once sang with laughter and sin now lay quiet, bathed in the aftermath of divine pride brought low.

Bell stood amidst the wreckage, chest rising and falling with exhaustion. His silver hair glistened faintly in the firelight, his expression unreadable as the last of Trigon's shadow faded behind him. Around him lay the remnants of Ishtar Familia—defeated, terrified, broken.

Across the hall, Ishtar herself knelt amid the ruins of her throne, her hands trembling as she clutched her face. Her once immaculate hair was tangled, her golden eyes dim with disbelief. "A mortal..." she breathed, her voice cracking. "A mortal has brought ruin to me?"

Bell's eyes softened, though his tone carried the weight of his resolve. "It was never about who was stronger," he said. "It was about who was right."

He turned away, his gaze finding Haruhime. The renard girl stood frozen, her fox ears drooping, tears streaking her cheeks. For so long, fear had chained her soul; now she stood before her liberator, trembling.

Bell approached gently and offered his hand. "It's over," he said softly. "You're free now, Haruhime. Let's go home."

Before they could leave, a familiar figure stepped into the fading glow. Aisha Keil—the Amazon warrior, once a blade under Ishtar's cruel hand—stood with her weapon sheathed. The firelight caught her crimson eyes as she looked at Bell, expression unreadable.

"Take care of her," she murmured. Her voice lacked its usual teasing sharpness, replaced instead by something raw—something human. "She deserves peace. More than anyone."

Bell nodded. "I promise," he said, voice steady as stone.

Aisha hesitated, then smiled—a small, knowing smile that carried both pride and sorrow. "Yeah," she whispered. "You're the type who keeps his promises."

As Bell led Haruhime from the shattered halls, Aisha stood among the ruins, her eyes glimmering in the dying embers. "Just who are you, kid...?" she murmured. "You're changing everything."

The silence that followed was heavy. Dust drifted like slow snowfall through the moonlight that spilled through the broken ceiling. Ishtar remained slumped against her ruined throne, the weight of divine failure pressing upon her like a curse. For the first time, she knew what it felt like to be powerless.

Then—the air changed.

It began as a whisper. A divine pressure crept through the room, elegant yet suffocating, wrapping around her lungs like silk made of steel. The sound of heels clicking against marble echoed through the smoke.

Ishtar froze. Her body knew before her mind caught up.

"No..." she whispered, eyes widening. "It can't be..."

From the archway, framed in moonlight, emerged Freya. Her silver hair shimmered like starlight; her gown rippled like liquid dusk. The scent of divinity followed her—a fragrance both intoxicating and terrifying.

"My, my," Freya purred, her tone sweet as venom. "How quickly the mighty fall."

Ishtar stumbled to her feet, backing toward the staircase. "Freya—this isn't what it looks like! I was only—"

Freya's smile deepened. "You coveted what was mine," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of absolute truth. "And now, you've paid the price."

"I didn't mean—"

The slap rang out like thunder in the quiet hall. Ishtar's head snapped to the side, golden hair whipping through the air. The world tilted. Her heel caught the cracked marble, and in one graceless moment, the goddess of love fell.

A burst of divine light erupted as her body dissolved into motes of gold, streaking upward through the ceiling like a comet fleeing the earth. Her final cry echoed into silence.

Freya lowered her hand, eyes glinting coldly. "You should've known better, dear sister."

As Ishtar's divinity vanished, a warm glow enveloped Haruhime's neck miles away. The cursed collar that had bound her for years shimmered, cracked, and crumbled into dust. The golden fragments floated into the wind like a thousand freed butterflies.

Haruhime blinked, her trembling hand rising to touch the bare skin at her throat. "It's... gone," she whispered, disbelief coloring her voice. "I'm free... truly free..."

Bell smiled softly. "You've always deserved to be."

When they finally returned to the Hestia Familia estate, dawn was just beginning to paint the horizon. The warm glow of sunrise bathed the courtyard.

Inside, the air smelled of tea and toast. Lili yawned from the kitchen doorway while Mikoto hovered anxiously by the window. When Bell entered with Haruhime at his side, both women froze.

"Haruhime!" Mikoto cried, rushing forward. Tears welled in her eyes as she embraced her friend. "Thank you, Bell! Thank you so much! You saved her—truly saved her!"

Bell rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. "I just... did what anyone would've done."

Lili folded her arms, though even she smiled faintly. "No," she said. "Not everyone would've done what you did."

From behind them, Hestia leaned quietly against the doorway, her sapphire eyes softening. Watching her child—no, her champion—stand tall among his friends, she felt a surge of pride and something deeper. Bell Cranel had grown.

Under the gentle rays of morning, laughter began to fill the room once more. Haruhime's timid smile bloomed into something radiant as she joined the others, tears still glimmering on her cheeks.

Yet even as peace settled upon the estate, Bell's eyes drifted toward the sky. Somewhere in the distance, he could feel it—that unseen gaze, that faint hum of divinity that never left him alone.

Freya.

He didn't know why, but her presence always lingered when he least expected it—watching, waiting.

High above Orario, the goddess of beauty stood once more at her balcony, silver eyes gleaming. The city stretched beneath her like light and shadow, and in its center burned the flame she desired most.

"You've grown, Little Rabbit," she murmured, voice like a sigh against the night. "But you still belong to me."

Ottar stood beside her, his expression unreadable. "Do you wish for me to act, Goddess?" he asked quietly.

Freya smiled, her gaze still fixed on the distant glow of Hestia's home. "Not yet," she replied. "For now, let him bask in his victory. The more he shines... the more irresistible he becomes."

The wind picked up, carrying her laughter across the rooftops—soft, melodic, and chilling.

The moon began to fade, giving way to dawn, but the shadow of Freya's obsession only grew deeper.

Bell Cranel's legend was only just beginning—
and the goddess who desired him would stop at nothing to make him hers.