The stench of monster blood and damp earth clung to Bell Cranel like a shroud, each breath a ragged gasp that burned his lungs. His small, worn dagger, a gift from his goddess, felt impossibly heavy in his trembling hand. Around him, the familiar, oppressive silence of the Dungeon’s upper floors was shattered only by the guttural snorts and heavy, rhythmic thuds of his pursuer. A Minotaur. A beast of the middle floors, a nightmare that had somehow found its way to the relatively safe confines of the first level.

Bell, a mere fourteen-year-old, was utterly outmatched. His white hair, usually a beacon of youthful innocence, was matted with sweat and grime, his crimson eyes wide with a terror that clawed at his throat. He stumbled, his legs screaming in protest, a fresh gash on his arm weeping crimson onto his tattered adventurer’s tunic. This is it, he thought, a cold dread seeping into his bones. Grandpa… I’m sorry. I won’t become a hero after all. The heroic tales his grandfather, Zeus, had spun for him since childhood—tales of valor, of impossible odds overcome, of heroes who stood tall against the darkness—flashed through his mind, mocking his current, pathetic state. He was no hero. He was just a scared boy, about to die in a labyrinth of stone and monsters.  

The Minotaur, a hulking mass of muscle and rage, its bovine head adorned with wickedly sharp horns, burst through a narrow passage. Its eyes, glowing with malevolent intent, locked onto Bell. A roar, thick with bloodlust, ripped through the air, vibrating through Bell’s very bones. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable, the image of his goddess, Hestia, a fleeting comfort in his final moments.

Then, a sudden, blinding flash of emerald light erupted from behind the Minotaur. It wasn't the familiar, searing heat of a fire spell, nor the biting chill of ice. This was something else entirely—a cascade of pure, unadulterated arcane energy, shimmering with an ethereal glow. The air crackled, not with the raw force of an explosion, but with the precise, controlled power of a master.

A voice, calm and resonant, yet imbued with an undeniable authority, cut through the Minotaur’s dying bellow. "—Elven Requiem."

Bell’s eyes snapped open. The Minotaur, moments ago a terrifying harbinger of death, was now a crumbling statue of obsidian, its form rapidly disintegrating into dust. Standing over its dissolving remains, bathed in the fading emerald light, was a figure of breathtaking elegance.

She was tall, impossibly graceful, with long, jade-colored hair tied in a flowing ponytail that reached her waist. Her eyes, the same striking jade as her hair, held an ancient wisdom, a serene composure that seemed utterly out of place in the chaotic depths of the Dungeon. She wore a green outfit adorned with yellow borders, a white cloak draped over her shoulders, and in her hand, a silvery-white staff, Magna Alfs, glowed faintly. This was Riveria Ljos Alf, the "Nine Hells," the Master Mage and Vice-Captain of the Loki Familia. A living legend.  

Bell, still sprawled on the grimy floor, could only stare. He had never seen such power, such grace. This was a mage, a sorceress of unimaginable power, who had dispatched a monster that had brought him to his knees with a single, elegant incantation. Her movements were fluid, her expression unmarred by exertion, a stark contrast to his own desperate flailing. It was a display of absolute control, of knowledge so profound it bordered on the divine.

Riveria’s gaze, cool and assessing, swept over him. There was no pity, no judgment, only a detached, professional evaluation. "You are injured," she stated, her voice smooth as polished stone. "Can you move?"

Bell scrambled to sit up, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his arm. "Y-yes! I think so!" he stammered, his voice hoarse with awe. He felt a blush creep up his neck, not from embarrassment, but from the sheer, overwhelming inadequacy he felt in her presence. He was a fledgling adventurer, barely a week into his career, and she was a Level 6 executive, a master of her craft.  

Riveria nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than strictly necessary. "You were reckless," she admonished, her tone firm but not unkind. "A Minotaur on the first floor is an anomaly. You should have retreated immediately." Her eyes, however, held a flicker of something akin to curiosity, a subtle recognition of the raw, untamed potential she sensed within him. She had seen countless adventurers, but something about this boy, this white-haired rabbit, was different.

As she turned to rejoin her party, who were now approaching, Bell felt a profound shift within him. This was deeper, more fundamental than any fleeting infatuation. It was an overwhelming, almost spiritual aspiration. He didn't want to catch up to her in a race of strength; he wanted to understand her. He wanted to possess her wisdom, her composure, her mastery of the arcane. He wanted to be worthy of standing in her presence, not as a romantic partner, but as an intellectual and magical equal.

"Riveria-sama!" a voice called out, a young elf girl with green hair, Lefiya Viridis, rushing towards the High Elf, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you alright? We heard the roar!"  

Riveria turned, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips as she addressed her Familia member. "I am quite well, Lefiya. Just a stray Minotaur. It has been dealt with." Her gaze flickered back to Bell, a brief, almost imperceptible moment of contemplation before she dismissed him. "You should return to the surface. Report your injuries to the Guild."

Bell nodded, still reeling from the encounter. He watched as Riveria and her formidable companions, including the towering dwarf Gareth Landrock and the sharp-eyed Finn Deimne, continued their patrol, their presence a stark reminder of the chasm between his nascent abilities and their seasoned power.  

He turned and began the long, arduous climb back to the surface, his body aching, but his spirit alight with a newfound purpose. The fear was still there, a lingering shadow, but it was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of awe and a burning desire to bridge the gap between himself and the magnificent High Elf.

The dilapidated church that served as the Hestia Familia home was, as usual, a picture of humble chaos. Empty valis pouches lay scattered on the small, rickety table, a testament to Bell’s meager earnings and Hestia’s even more meager budget. The goddess herself, a petite figure with twin-tail pigtails and a perpetually worried expression, was pacing frantically by the door.

"Bell-kun! You're late! I was so worried!" Hestia cried, rushing forward the moment he pushed open the creaking door. Her blue eyes, usually sparkling with mischievous affection, were wide with genuine fear. She immediately began fussing over him, her small hands fluttering over his cuts and bruises. "Oh, Bell-kun, what happened? Did you push yourself too hard again?"  

Bell, despite his exhaustion, managed a weak smile. "Goddess, I'm fine. Just… a bit of an unexpected encounter." He tried to downplay it, but the memory of the Minotaur, and more importantly, of Riveria, was too vivid.

"Unexpected? What could be so unexpected on the first floor?" Hestia demanded, her hands on her hips, her concern quickly morphing into her usual, adorable indignation. "Did you get into trouble with some rowdy adventurers? Or worse, did you try to pick up girls again?!"

Bell shook his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "No, Goddess, nothing like that. It was… a Minotaur."

Hestia froze, her eyes widening further. "A Minotaur?! On the first floor?! Bell-kun, are you serious?!" Her voice rose in alarm. "That's a monster from the middle floors! How did it get up there? And how did you escape?"

Bell took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush, fueled by the lingering awe. "I didn't escape, Goddess. I… I was saved. By Riveria Ljos Alf."

The name hung in the air, a sudden, heavy silence descending upon the small room. Hestia’s jaw dropped. Her eyes, which had been filled with worry, now narrowed, a dangerous glint appearing in their depths. "Riveria… Ljos Alf?" she repeated slowly, the name tasting like ash on her tongue. "The 'Nine Hells' of the Loki Familia? The High Elf?"  

Bell nodded, oblivious to the storm brewing in his goddess's expression. "Yes! She was incredible, Goddess! She just… appeared. And with one spell, a single incantation, she turned the Minotaur into dust! It was like something out of Grandpa's stories, but even more magnificent! Her magic was so precise, so powerful, so… wise." He gestured wildly, trying to convey the sheer majesty of the moment. "She was so calm, so collected, even in the face of such a monster. I've never seen anything like it! I want to be like her, Goddess! I want to learn to control magic like that, to be as wise and composed as she is!"

Hestia’s face, usually so expressive, contorted through a rapid succession of emotions: shock, disbelief, then a familiar, fiery jealousy that threatened to consume her. Her "head-over-heels" love for Bell was absolute, and her "jealousy to a fault" was legendary. This wasn't just a crush; this was an inspiration that threatened to pull Bell into an entirely different orbit. Riveria was a sage, a master, an executive of the most powerful Familia in Orario.  

"W-wise? Composed? Bell-kun, are you feeling alright?" Hestia stammered, her voice strained. "You're not making any sense! What about me? Am I not wise? Am I not composed? I'm your goddess!" She puffed out her cheeks, trying to assert her authority, but her voice cracked with indignation.

Bell blinked, confused by her outburst. "But Goddess, Riveria-sama… she's on a whole different level! It's not just about strength, it's about knowledge, about understanding the world and magic. I want to be able to protect you, and everyone, with that kind of wisdom and power!" He clenched his fists, a fierce resolve hardening in his crimson eyes. "I want to become worthy of her! I want to learn everything I can!"

Hestia stared at him, a mix of exasperation and fierce protectiveness warring within her. Damn it! Hestia screamed internally. Of all the people to inspire him, it had to be the High Elf! The one who's practically a mother figure to her entire Familia! The one who's probably older than most of the gods in Orario! The thought of Bell, her precious Bell-kun, looking up to Riveria with such intense admiration, sent a fresh wave of jealousy through her. It was one thing to compete with a "pretty girl," but a "Master Mage" who embodied wisdom and grace? That felt like an entirely different league.

"Bell-kun," Hestia said, her voice a forced calm, though her eye twitched slightly. "You're exhausted. Let's get you cleaned up and then we can talk about… wisdom and mastery." She tried to sound supportive, but the name "Riveria" echoed in her mind like a curse.

Bell, however, was already lost in thought, his crimson eyes gleaming with a new resolve. "Yes, Goddess! I need to get stronger, smarter. I need to find out where the Loki Familia trains. I need to learn from Riveria-sama!" His work ethic, already prodigious, was now supercharged by this new, powerful aspiration. He would rise before dawn, as always, but his training would now have a different focus. He wouldn't just swing his dagger; he would seek out books, study magic, and try to understand the intricate workings of the Dungeon with a depth he hadn't considered before.  

The next morning, Bell returned from the Dungeon, battered but invigorated. He had pushed himself harder than ever before, driven by the image of Riveria's effortless power. As he slept, Hestia, with a sigh, performed the ritual to update his status. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, as she saw it. A new skill, etched onto his back, glowing faintly. Liaris Freese. "Rapid Growth. Continued Desire results in Continued Growth. Stronger Desire results in Stronger Growth."  

Hestia's breath hitched. She knew this skill. She had given it to him, etched it into his very soul, and she knew its stability depended on the purity of his feelings. And Bell’s feelings, though redirected from a romantic crush, were undeniably pure. They were a profound, almost scholarly hunger for mastery, for wisdom, for the very essence of what Riveria represented. This was it. This was the catalyst. And it was all because of her.  

A fresh wave of jealousy, mixed with an overwhelming sense of pride and a touch of fear, washed over Hestia. This skill was an anomaly, a "bug" in the system. Its existence, and its incredible power, had to be kept secret. Especially from Bell himself, for now. She would watch over him, guide him, and ensure his growth, even if it meant enduring the constant presence of her new, formidable rival in his heart.  

Hestia watched him, a mix of exasperation and fierce protectiveness warring within her. Her Familia was small, barely known in Orario. Bell was her only child, her pride and joy. And now, he was fixated on an executive of the strongest Familia in Orario, a woman who could effortlessly crush any monster, and probably any god, who stood in her way. This was going to be… complicated. But one thing was clear: Bell Cranel, the aspiring hero, had found a new, formidable north star, and his journey was about to take a path far more intricate and magically inclined than anyone, especially his goddess, could have ever anticipated. The rabbit had found his sage, and Orario would soon feel the ripples of this unexpected connection.