Bloom Moon 13
The afternoon sun filtered through the thin clouds, painting long shadows across the training yard. Grass flattened underfoot, blades dulled from repetition, and sweat soaked through every layer of cloth—again.
Narissa stumbled, caught herself, then darted forward with a grit that hadn't been there a week ago. Bell mirrored her, darting in with a faint that made Felis sidestep—only for Narissa to pivot sharply, dragging the edge of her blade just along the hem of his tunic.
A whisper of contact.
Felis' golden eyes blinked once. Then narrowed faintly in approval.
"Not bad," he muttered, spinning away to reset.
Bell dropped to one knee, gasping for breath. "Please tell me that counted."
"It grazed," Felis said coolly, tail giving a slow flick. "And more importantly—you didn't fall for my counter. That's new."
Narissa collapsed backward into the grass with a groan. "I feel like a sponge someone wrung out…"
"Congratulations," Felis said, stepping in to rest the blunt edge of his blade across both their shoulders. "You've survived your final beating of the week."
Bell blinked. "Wait—final?"
Felis sheathed his sword with a practiced motion. "Tomorrow, you two get a break."
Narissa squinted up at him. "What's the catch?"
"No catch," he said lightly. "You've earned it—barely. You both lasted longer and fought smarter." A faint smirk pulled at his lips. "More than I can say for my old training partners."
Bell let out a disbelieving laugh, falling back beside Narissa. "A day off sounds like heaven."
"Oh, and," Felis added, brushing sweat from his brow, "I'll be picking up my armor from Hephaestus tomorrow. So don't bother waking me up at dawn."
"Wait, you're going to see Hephaestus?" Hestia's voice piped in from the edge of the courtyard—she'd been leaning against the wall for who-knows-how-long, arms loosely crossed and expression far too amused.
Felis glanced her way. "That's the plan."
"Then I'm coming too," she declared, pushing off the wall with a bright smile. "I haven't seen Hephaestus in a while. And I know she'll want to get a look at how her work fits you."
Felis raised a brow. "You just want to gossip."
"That too," Hestia grinned shamelessly. "And someone has to make sure you don't barter yourself into debt over accessories."
Bell and Narissa both chuckled faintly from the ground.
Felis gave a resigned sigh—but a soft smile tugged at his lips. "Fine. But only if you don't try to talk her into throwing in a flame-patterned cloak that you wanted."
"No promises."
---
Bloom Moon 14
The bustling heart of Orario pulsed beneath the towering spire of Babel, but within its higher floors, where the air grew quieter and the halls more refined, stood the grand storefront of the Hephaestus Familia.
Elegance met craftsmanship here—gleaming weapons on display, shimmering with divine precision. Customers with heavy coin purses and heavier reputations loitered near the display cases, yet when Felis and Hestia stepped inside, a hush seemed to fall upon the room.
The shopkeeper, a sharply-dressed elf with hair tied back in a sleek bun, looked up from her post behind the counter. Her eyes immediately found the goddess in blue and white and the golden-eyed adventurer beside her.
"Lady Hestia, Captain Felis—Lady Hephaestus is expecting you. Please proceed to the forge."
The woman's voice was polished and polite, but there was a respectful warmth in it too. She gestured to a door behind the display wall, runes glowing faintly around its frame.
Hestia nodded graciously and took Felis' hand, leading him forward. "Come on. She'll probably grumble, but I know she's proud of this one."
They passed through the discreet entrance and down a short corridor that hummed faintly with the presence of enchantments. The temperature changed subtly—cooler, but edged with the heat of smoldering forges deeper in.
Inside the private forge, Hephaestus stood with her back turned, red hair cascading down, hammer stilling in her hand as she heard the door open.
"I told you not to bring offerings," she said dryly before turning—her single crimson eye softening at the sight of Hestia. "But... I guess I'll allow one today."
Hestia grinned and bounced slightly in her step. "You're lucky I didn't bring wine again."
The two goddesses shared a brief, familiar smile—years of companionship pressed into a glance—before Hephaestus shifted her gaze to Felis.
"So. You're here for your armor."
Felis nodded, feline ears twitching faintly as he stepped forward. "And I'm grateful, Lady Hephaestus."
She motioned to the mannequin behind her, now unveiled with a flick of her wrist.
The armor's base is matte-black, with an understated yet elegant sheen. Threaded through the joints and lining are deep violet seams—subtle nods to the magical nature of the materials used. Gold accents trace the edges of the chest, gauntlets, and greaves in precise motifs reminiscent of divine craftsmanship—neither ostentatious nor plain, but a quiet statement of strength.
"I used the materials you delivered," she began, walking over. "Umbral Goliath hide as the base—tough as hell and magic-reactive. Then I layered in Shadow-striped Dreadfang for flexibility, and Ironhide Stag to absorb heavier impacts."
She rapped her knuckles gently against the chestplate. "Ghost Hare fur lines the inside. Keeps your core temperature stable and mana steady even after a long fight. And I did some precision infusion—crystals from each beast, blended into the weave. The result's something that'll hold up without slowing you down."
She stepped back and crossed her arms.
"No helmet, I know"
Felis offered a soft smile. "I'd rather keep my ears free."
"Hmph. Typical cat."
Hestia giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "And you're giving it for free, right? You promised."
Hephaestus sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. "I did. Gods help me."
Her eye softened again, though—her gaze resting on Hestia. "You were worried when he went into the dungeon, weren't you?"
"…Yeah," Hestia murmured, the spark in her voice dimming for a heartbeat. "And I knew… no one else could give him what he needed better than you."
"I can't give him luck," Hephaestus muttered. "But I can give him a damn good second skin."
Felis stepped forward slowly, his fingers brushing the surface of the chestguard. The material felt alive—firm, but responsive to his touch.
But it wasn't just the strength he felt. Not just magic, hide, or forgefire.
It was worry pressed into leather. Trust sewn into every seam. A bond between goddesses—one who feared losing him, and one who answered that fear with craft.
This wasn't just armor.
It was love made tangible.
"I'll wear it well," he said softly.
Hephaestus gave him a firm nod. "You'd better."
A faint ember of pride flickered in her eye before she turned away—already reaching for her hammer again.
The forge had more stories to tell.
But for now, this one was ready.
And maybe… that's what it meant to be protected. Not by a wall, but by those who refused to let you fall.
Not alone. Never again
---
The rhythmic sound of hammering faded behind them as Felis and Hestia were left alone in the preparation room. The armor still sat on the mannequin, gleaming softly under the forge lights—quiet, waiting.
Felis stepped forward again, expression unreadable. His hand hovered just above the chestplate, fingers brushing the surface with quiet reverence. The leather was supple beneath his touch, but firm—responsive, almost as if it recognized him.
"This isn't just equipment," he murmured. "It's... different."
Hestia stepped up beside him, gaze lifting to the armor, then to him. "It should be. You've grown. And you didn't get here with hand-me-downs or luck."
He looked at her, one brow raised in mild amusement. "Are you saying Welf's gear was a hand-me-down?"
She smirked. "Welf's work is great—but this? This is Hephaestus putting her pride into every stitch."
Felis chuckled softly. He began removing his outer tunic, folding it with clean precision before setting it aside. He was fresh from a bath—clean, composed, and relaxed after finally taking a day to rest. His movements were smooth, practiced, almost elegant as he began to equip the new armor piece by piece.
Each part slid into place with fluid ease. Gauntlets that felt molded to his grip. Chain-layered sleeves that didn't chafe at all. The chestplate hugged him firmly without restricting breath or range.
The mana-reactive leather shimmered faintly as it settled against his form, as if aligning with him.
Hestia's eyes followed every step. Not with hunger—but with that familiar, quiet intensity she only showed when something truly mattered to her. Like watching the final stroke complete a masterpiece.
"You move like it already knows you," she said.
"It fits better than anything I've ever worn," he admitted. "Even Welf's set took a few runs to feel natural."
"That's Hephaestus for you," Hestia said softly. "She always sees the person before she crafts for them."
He turned slightly, testing his balance, rolling his shoulders. Light. Solid. Flexible. Everything he'd hoped for.
He glanced at her. "Do I pass inspection?"
Her smile tugged gently at her lips. "You always do."
There was a pause—comfortable, but charged. Her fingers brushed against the edge of his sleeve, barely a touch. Warm. Grounding.
"I'll wear it well," he said at last, voice low.
"And come home," she replied, just as quiet. "No matter how deep the floor. That's the only part I care about."
---
The sun hung low, spilling golden light across the stone streets of Orario as Felis and Hestia stepped out from the Hephaestus Familia's towering halls. The heat of the forge still lingered faintly on Felis' skin, but outside, the spring breeze curled soft fingers through his hair and tugged gently at his sleeves.
He looked toward the crowded streets ahead—but Hestia tugged his sleeve before he could take a step.
"Don't." Her voice was quiet, but firm.
Felis glanced down, feline ears flicking once. "Hm?"
"Don't start walking toward whatever's next." She looked up at him, a hint of pout forming in her cheeks. "No errands. No training plans. No errands disguised as walks."
He blinked. "What if I was just walking you home?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Were you?"
"…No."
A beat of silence. Then she sighed through her nose and took his hand—not with her usual bounce or teasing flair, but with something slower. Softer. Almost shy.
"You've been busy," she murmured, voice brushing the edge of her breath. "Training Bell, pushing Narissa, running deeper into the dungeon. Always thinking ahead, always chasing something."
Felis let out a slow exhale. "It's my job, Hestia. You know that."
"I do." She looked at their joined hands. "And I'm proud of you. I really am. But…"
She paused. He waited.
"…I miss you."
The words weren't dramatic. Not loud, not laced with guilt. Just honest. Bare.
Felis' tail gave the faintest twitch behind him.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he gently turned her hand in his, thumb brushing across her knuckles. "I didn't mean to drift."
"I know," she said, smiling faintly. "That's why I'm stealing you for the rest of the day."
His golden eyes lifted to meet hers—surprised, amused. "Is that an order from my goddess?"
"It's a declaration," she said proudly. "Today, you're mine. No training, no dungeon, no monsters. Just you and me, and maybe something sweet from that bakery you always pretend not to like."
Felis huffed a quiet laugh, shoulders relaxing. "You mean the one where the owner always tries to sell me cat paw cookies?"
"That's the one." She leaned in slightly, bumping his arm. "You like them."
"…Maybe."
The tension faded as they turned, hands still intertwined, leaving the forge behind. There would be more battles ahead, more weight to carry—but for now, it was spring in Orario. The breeze was warm, the sky streaked in soft hues, and Felis wasn't walking toward anything else.
He was walking with her.
And for today, that was enough.
---
Bloom Moon 15 — Morning
Outside the western gates of Orario
The sky was a gentle canvas of blue and gold, and for once, Felis Veltheris wasn't dressed for the dungeon. No sword at his hip, no armor weighing on his shoulders—just a light tunic, loose trousers, and a relaxed gait that didn't quite match the alertness in his golden eyes.
"Are you really going to look that serious the whole way there?" Hestia huffed beside him, nudging his arm with her shoulder.
Felis blinked, as if catching himself. "Sorry… just thinking."
"You're always thinking. About Bell. Or Narissa. Or the dungeon. But today—" she grabbed his arm and pressed it against her side with a triumphant grin, "—you're mine."
A smile crept onto his face despite himself. "You make it sound like I've been kidnapped."
"I have kidnapped you. The world can wait one day."
She was radiant. Not just because of the soft white-and-blue dress she wore, or the little fire-shaped pins flickering in her hair. No—Hestia was glowing with something deeper: a rare, unguarded joy.
And Felis… let himself enjoy it.
They didn't say exactly where they were going. A passing wagon took them partway down the western road, where flower fields were said to bloom in wild colors this time of year. There might be a hot spring inn nearby, or just a quiet hilltop to lie beneath the sky.
But whatever the destination, the journey—hand in hand, for once without eyes watching them—was already enough.
---
Same Morning – Dungeon, 5th Floor
The low growl of a Dungeon Lizard echoed faintly ahead, mingling with the skitter of Fanged Rats somewhere deeper in the corridor. Narissa moved with quiet precision, dagger in hand, staff strapped to her back.
This was Bell's first dive without Felis—and it showed.
He trailed her steps carefully, eyes darting around, feet a little too loud. But she didn't chide him. Not yet.
"Don't look at the walls," she murmured. "Look at the floor. Always check for blood trails or claw marks. Especially with rats."
Bell blinked. "Oh—got it."
His grip on the dagger was too tight. His knuckles were white. But at least he didn't complain. That counted for something.
They edged into the next chamber—a shallow dip in the stone floor where Dungeon Lizards liked to loiter in groups. Narissa held out a hand.
Three lizards. One Needle Rabbit.
She exhaled quietly. "I'll take the rabbit. Focus on the lizards. Don't overextend. Pull back if you need to."
Bell nodded, swallowing.
The Needle Rabbit noticed them first—then darted forward in a blur.
Narissa exploded into motion, a streak of silver catching the rabbit's charge just before it reached Bell. She twisted, dug her heel in, and slammed it against the wall with a clean arc of her blade.
He didn't freeze. That was good.
Bell moved in, striking clumsily but with intent. His blade bit into the lizard's side, though he nearly stumbled when it recoiled. Narissa circled to intercept the second, dancing around it with sharp, practiced steps.
By the time the last monster fell, Narissa was already checking the shadows.
Bell dropped to a knee, panting. His tunic was scratched, a line of red trailing down one forearm.
"You're bleeding," she said, not unkindly.
Bell looked down. "Ah… I didn't even notice."
She didn't offer to heal him. Minor wounds were part of learning.
They rested near a half-sunken alcove, the stone cool against their backs.
"Hey, Narissa?" Bell's voice was quieter now. "Can I ask something?"
She didn't look at him. "If it's not about my old Familia, ask."
He hesitated. "I just wondered… do you ever get scared? You always seem so calm."
Narissa stared ahead, eyes fixed on a crack in the wall.
"…I'm scared right now."
His head tilted. "Really?"
She finally looked at him. Her voice was even.
"Because if I make a mistake, you die. And I've already seen too many graves."
Bell went quiet. This time, he didn't smile or laugh or fill the silence with nervous words.
He just nodded.
When they finished clearing the floor, they returned to the surface slowly. Bell had fresh scratches and sore legs, but no complaints.
Narissa didn't say anything, but her eyes lingered on him longer than before.
Not trust. Not warmth. But maybe… the start of understanding why Felis chose him.
---
Late Afternoon — Outskirts of the Flower Field
The sky stretched wide, clouds drifting lazily above the golden hills. Hestia had her sandals off, feet dipped into the cool trickle of a shallow stream. Felis lounged beside her on the grassy bank, arms folded behind his head, golden eyes watching the sky through half-lidded ease.
"You're relaxing," she whispered with a knowing smirk. "I win."
"…You win," he murmured without resistance.
The breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. The world felt distant. Quiet. Safe.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
"I know you're still thinking about them," Hestia said at last, her voice softer than the wind.
"…Narissa doesn't trust easily. Not even herself, sometimes," Felis replied, ears twitching faintly.
"And Bell's still learning," she said, nudging his side with her elbow. "But he's your student now. He'll get there."
Felis exhaled. "I keep thinking… if I'm not there when something goes wrong—"
"You'll be there," Hestia said, cutting him off gently. "One way or another. You always are."
She didn't let him retreat into silence this time. Instead, she reached up, brushing back a stray lock of his hair—fingers lingering just a moment too long before sliding away.
Felis blinked.
"…What was that for?"
"Mm. Just fixing your bangs."
"Hmph."
But he didn't pull away. And she didn't move, either. She simply leaned closer, resting her head lightly on his shoulder, gazing out toward the horizon.
"You don't always have to carry it alone," she murmured.
He didn't answer.
But his tail flicked once, slow and deliberate, curling lazily in the grass.
For the first time in weeks… he looked peaceful. And for once, Hestia didn't need him to say anything at all.
---
Same Time — Evening, Near the City Gates
Bell and Narissa walked in steady silence beneath the fading light. The stars had just begun to peek through the sky above Orario's outer wall, cool and distant.
Their dive hadn't been flashy, but it had been solid. No close calls. No wasted movements. Just clean progress.
Bell's tunic was torn at the sleeve, a faint line of red marking his forearm.
"Stop," Narissa said simply.
She didn't wait for a reply—held out her hand, and whispered the words more from habit than ceremony. A faint glow shimmered over her palm.
"Lux Aeternum."
The light pulsed once—warm and brief. Bell's wound vanished beneath its touch, and he exhaled, blinking.
"Thanks," he murmured.
Narissa let the glow fade and resumed walking. "It was small. Don't expect that for broken ribs."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You didn't freeze today," she said after a beat. "And you stopped swinging like a scared recruit. Improvement."
"I still tripped once," Bell admitted.
"You recovered."
He smiled, a little embarrassed. "Still a long way to go."
"We all do."
They passed beneath the outer lanterns as the city gates came into view. The path quieted, only the sound of boots on stone and the occasional cicada in the grass nearby.
"You drop your left guard when you're tired," she added. "Fix it. Next time, I won't catch it for you."
Bell nodded. "Got it."
No praise. No warmth. Just facts between two people who shared a floor and a fight—and learned to walk side by side without falling.
And for now, that was enough.
---
Bloom Moon 16 — Morning
Western Hillside Inn, far from Orario
The scent of lavender soap and warm linen lingered in the small wooden room, stirred faintly by the morning breeze slipping through the cracked window. Birds chirped lazily outside, their song the only thing daring to disturb the quiet.
Felis stirred.
The futon was soft, far too soft. But it wasn't the bedding that held him still—it was the warmth curled against his side. Slender fingers rested over his chest. Her breathing, steady and slow, tickled his collarbone.
Hestia.
His golden eyes opened halfway. She'd sprawled across him sometime in the night, one leg draped over his hips, black-blue hair a mess against his shoulder. Her divine scent—hints of ash and garden bloom—wrapped around him like a second blanket.
He didn't move.
He should have. The position was compromising, to say the least. But… he didn't. Just let his hand rest lightly against her bare back, thumb brushing slow, idle circles beneath the hem of her nightshirt.
She murmured something incoherent and nuzzled closer.
'You're not helping, goddess.'
He swallowed the smirk threatening to rise, tail flicking once beneath the covers. Of all the ways to wake up, this was dangerous. And yet… oddly peaceful.
She trusted him this much. Slept like this beside him every night without fear or pretense. No masks. No games.
Just them.
"Felis…" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"Hm?"
"Breakfast."
He blinked. "You're dreaming about food again, aren't you."
"Mhm… pancakes…"
He exhaled a chuckle, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. "Goddess, you're hopeless."
—
Late Morning – Hillside Trail
The innkeeper had given them a simple meal: eggs, rice, pickled vegetables, and fresh fruit. Now they walked barefoot along a narrow dirt path winding between flowered hills, Felis carrying both their sandals and the light travel pack over one shoulder.
Hestia, as always, had claimed his other arm.
"I saw a signboard near the crossroads," she said, squinting at the sunlit sky. "There's a shrine up ahead. Want to go see?"
Felis glanced at her sideways. "Didn't take you for the pious type."
"I'm not," she grinned. "But I heard they have an offering box. Might get a few extra Valis if I pretend to be one of the locals."
He rolled his eyes. "You're awful."
"You like that about me."
He didn't deny it.
—
Babel Tower – Morning Crowd
The morning crowd outside Babel Tower was a shifting sea of armor and voices, adventurers gathering in loose clusters. Bell adjusted his belt pouch, checked his dagger, then glanced up—just in time to catch movement from the corner of his eye.
A group passed through the crowd—not loud or demanding attention, but people moved for them all the same. There was something in the way they walked: practiced, steady, familiar with danger.
Loki Familia.
Bell didn't know the name. Not really. But his eyes stopped on one figure.
A girl walked quietly among them. Blonde hair, long and loose, swaying behind her with each step. She wasn't doing anything special—just walking, sword at her hip like the others. But something about her held his gaze.
She was… beautiful.
Not the kind that tried to be. Just was. Like the way morning light filtered through a clean window, or how silence sometimes made you feel small in the best way.
Bell stared, just a little too long.
Narissa followed his gaze without turning her head. "That's Ais Wallenstein."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Level 6. Sword Princess. Fastest level-up before Felis overtook her."
"…Oh."
He turned his eyes back toward the Dungeon gate ahead, expression unreadable.
"So she's that far ahead already…"
"Yeah."
He didn't look discouraged. Just thoughtful.
They walked on—no words about closing the gap, no sudden resolve burning in his chest.
Just quiet admiration, and the first echo of a dream beginning to form.
---
Small Forest Clearing, Near the Shrine
They'd stopped near a moss-covered spring. A fox statue guarded the pool, eyes worn smooth by time. Hestia sat on a sun-warmed rock, her feet dipping into the water again, dress hitched just enough to bare her knees.
Felis leaned against a tree, watching her.
She knew he was watching.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, tone teasing. "And don't say 'nothing.' You're terrible at lying."
"…Thinking I could stay out here a little longer," he murmured. "Away from Orario. From the Guild. From monsters."
Her expression softened.
"You know we can," she said quietly. "Stay a little longer."
He nodded. "Just a day. Two at most. Bell and Narissa should be alright."
"And if they're not?"
He smirked faintly. "I left them enough scars to remember my advice."
She laughed, warm and unrestrained, water splashing around her feet.
Then she looked at him—not playfully, but truly—and tilted her head.
"Felis."
He straightened, meeting her eyes.
"Why do you stay? With me, I mean. You could've joined any Familia."
His answer was immediate. "Because you needed me."
Her lips parted slightly.
"…I still do."
"I know."
Silence fell. Not awkward. Just… full.
His ears twitched once. He pushed off the tree, crossed the space between them, and crouched at her feet. Her eyes widened slightly, watching as he dipped his hand into the spring, then reached up—cool fingers brushing her ankle, trailing along the curve of her calf.
She inhaled.
"You had a smudge of dirt," he said mildly.
She stared.
"That was your excuse?"
He didn't answer—just smiled, and kissed the spot instead.
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away.
Neither of them spoke for a long while after that.
The forest was quiet, and the sun was warm, and the world could wait.
---