"They themselves clearly embody corruption and filth—that much I'm certain of. But I truly never intended to create them, nor do I know how they appeared here."
In short: 'It has nothing to do with me!'
The four goddesses understood what Bell meant. They already suspected that, most likely, those things weren't connected to Bell at all.
Not based on common reasoning, but purely from evaluating strength and… aesthetics.
Each of those pitch-black creatures possessed god-level might, stronger even than the goddesses present. How could beings of that scale possibly have been created by Bell?
Following the principle that the creator must be at least as strong as the creation, even if Bell was exceptionally talented, he would still need god-tier power to create beings of that level.
So those black things had almost nothing to do with Bell.
"Then… could those pitch-black things be something the 'World' arranged around you?"
Hestia offered another possibility.
"Mm… most likely not."
Bell rejected the idea immediately.
"Cross-world operations rarely succeed. The world barrier is still firmly in place. So chances are, those things were created in this world."
Laḫmu created in the Danmachi world?
Given what they knew, that was the most solid explanation.
Whether this world had Tiamat or not was unknown, and whether Tiamat here would possess the Sea of Chaos was also unknown. But darkness and Corruption were essential components of those beings, so even without Tiamat, it wasn't impossible for Laḫmu to appear.
And from what Hestia and the others described, those Laḫmu surrounded Bell the moment he fell asleep. That alone made it obvious that those beings had some undeniable link to him.
Even Bell felt certain of this.
But he didn't remember doing anything.
And right now, he didn't have the strength to accomplish something of that scale.
Power was the key to solving this mystery—and ironically, it was the lack of that same power that left Bell unable to understand his connection to the Laḫmu.
Bell's expression turned strange as he continued analyzing.
"Honestly, in every sense, it feels like they should've been created by me. But I simply don't have that kind of power right now..."
Yes—that was the key point.
And that was exactly why the four goddesses believed Bell hadn't secretly created them.
As for why those things existed at all, that was something they likely couldn't figure out for now.
In the goddesses' view, even if Bell hadn't created those pitch-black beings, they were absolutely connected to him. Otherwise, how could they have appeared to protect him when he was trapped within his soul?
Hestia shook her head, choosing not to dwell on things that couldn't yet be unraveled. Instead, she shifted to another important question.
"If the black mist represents darkness, Corruption, and despair, then the white mist should represent a positive force, right?"
"Yes. Darkness corresponds to despair; white corresponds to hope."
Bell explained.
The answer wasn't surprising—but did something like "hope" truly exist?
Anticipating Hestia's doubt, he continued.
"I also want to know where my 'hope' comes from. But the person inside my soul told me it was probably just a coincidence.
"And maybe because of this 'hope,' my mother made so many preparations for me."
"He also told me that lots of people search for 'hope,' but no one ever manages to find it. I think this 'hope' must be really good at running away—otherwise, how could so many people fail to find it?"
Suddenly, a realization flashed through Bell's mind.
'Wait… could my instinct to hide the moment danger appears be something influenced by Hope?'
'Or maybe my initial Development Ability—Stealth—was also influenced by Hope?'
Bell had never paid much attention to his own Development Ability back then. Rather than consider it strange, he felt "Concealment" fit him perfectly.
He naturally hid among crowds, naturally avoided letting his name appear in public.
Bell never considered himself someone with great ability.
Just like he never believed in the phrase "with great power comes great responsibility"—that kind of nonsense. 'With great power comes great privilege'—that was the truth.
The stronger someone was, the more they wanted once they stepped under the spotlight.
Which was why Bell felt he wasn't someone meant to stand there.
Compared to standing in the spotlight, he preferred the quiet.
The four goddesses didn't interrupt Bell's pause—they, too, were thinking about everything he had just said.
"Hephaestus, do you think it might be that?"
Freya suddenly spoke, seemingly out of nowhere.
"You mean…"
Hephaestus immediately picked up on Freya's implication. Understanding dawned, and thoughts raced through her mind.
"It's certainly possible. 'Hope' is just a broad term. Switching it to another word would still make sense.
Just like how despair has other names."
Freya nodded. That was exactly her thought—and she had additional reasoning to support it.
"If our guess is right, then it makes perfect sense for Bell to possess that skill when 'hope' is involved."
"Luck."
The word struck Hephaestus like a bolt of lightning.
"Right!"
Her eyes lit up instantly. If this were true, then many things about Bell suddenly had clear explanations.
But as she thought further, her expression only grew more complicated.
"So Hestia really did just get insanely lucky!"
"....."
Freya agreed deeply. And at the same time, she felt a twinge of sorrow.
Why didn't she get that kind of luck?