Five minutes.
Bell had never realized time could crawl so painfully slow.
The monsters' roars were deafening.
At first, the goblins had targeted Airmid, who was working deeper inside the room. They charged forward in endless waves, one after another. Bell, relying on his sharp instincts, parried their attacks with his dagger and even turned their crude weapons against them.
Perhaps realizing the terrain worked against them, the monsters shifted their focus to the youth.
They rushed in a frenzy, crashing into the walls and each other, attacking recklessly without concern for friend or foe. The chaos lasted barely a minute before the goblins regrouped, their furious roars signaling the start of a coordinated assault by three at once.
Bell understood—it wasn't that the goblins were evolving. Someone, or something, was directing them.
A mutated species, perhaps... or the Dungeon itself.
A chill ran down his spine. Even knowing this, the boy had no means to change his situation.
The battle was deteriorating fast.
Though he avoided fatal blows, in such a narrow corridor it was impossible to evade every strike. His wounds accumulated. His body grew heavier, as though weighed down by lead. Every swing of his blade, every sidestep, became slower.
Sparks from clashing steel burned in his eyes. Claws tore at his flesh.
In contrast to the bloodied youth, the goblins' frenzy only intensified. Their wounds seemed to awaken a savage bloodlust. Even mindless monsters could sense it—the boy was nearing his limit.
One more step back, and they would break through, rushing inside to finish off that detestable healer.
Behind the endless sea of monsters, a pitch-black Goblin perched on the head of a massive one.
Even from a distance, it seemed to understand the flow of battle, its lips curling into a wicked grin.
"Gah?"
A shriek from the front made the grin vanish.
"..."
The boy did not run.
Even drenched in blood, even as claws slashed toward his eyes, he did not retreat. His crimson gaze blazed with fire, and his sky-blue dagger drove straight for the Magic Stone.
Compared to the goblins, it was Bell who looked more like the monster.
The front-line goblins instinctively felt fear—an emotion such creatures shouldn't even possess—spreading like wildfire amidst his desperate struggle.
"Gah!!"
The black goblin's roar echoed down the corridor.
The boy's resistance was meaningless. Against such overwhelming numbers, his defiance could only hasten his death.
The wave of monsters surged forward once more, their roars filling the tunnel.
At this pace, they wouldn't even need the giant goblins to finish him.
The black goblin toyed with its longbow, a cruel smile twisting its face.
The ground trembled beneath heavy footsteps.
In that corridor filled with fear and despair...
A song began to rise.
"—The melody of the healer's almanac saves all things."
The sacred chant froze time itself, halting the monsters' advance.
"Come, destruction of evil. The burial of wounds, interment of disease. Curses be gone in the light of vitality.."
Even without seeing the healer, that song alone painted a vision of pure, radiant light.
"Curses be gone in the light of vitality. In the name of all that is holy - I heal you—Dia Fratel!"
The human girl's resolve surged through her song, wrapping the boy in dazzling light.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Cranel-san."
Airmid ignored the tear streaks on her face. She spread her arms wide as her silver-white hair swayed in the flow of magic.
A diamond-shaped magic circle, symbolizing [Mystery], unfolded beneath her feet. The sight resembled a sacred ritual.
"I will heal everything for you. Fight without hesitation."
Airmid knew that leaving the boy to face the monsters alone was a selfish act. But under the current circumstances, it was the only option.
Even if misunderstood, even if hated for it, the Saint could only choose this sorrowful way of fighting.
The boy swung his dagger and smiled.
"Isn't there something better you could say?"
Airmid realized once again that her worries were unnecessary. This boy not only grasped the flow of battle but also understood her heart.
For a youth who longed for smiles and heroes, how he should respond to her feelings was clear.
Her magic grew brighter. Suppressing the tremor in her chest, Airmid cried out:
"Bell Cranel, please become my hero!"
With that wish, radiant light erupted around her.
The girl hailed as the Saint of the Battlefield, one of the greatest healers in the city—her magic, at this very moment, shone in full glory.
Empowered by the Magic Potion, her healing light would never fade.
The sacred circle transformed into a radiant barrier, sustaining an endless healing effect.
A wound opened on the boy's hand, only to vanish within a second.
Some once joked that Airmid must be a goddess reborn. Most had laughed it off, but when they heard this divine Dia Fratel, they could no longer deny it.
The light swept away all malice, and the once-terrifying sea of monsters lost its menace.
Airmid poured her song into the boy's heart.
Drive back the darkness.
You must live.
Take me away from here.
When sunlight returns, I will surely...
The healing song sank deep into the boy's heart.
Bell remembered something his grandfather once told him.
"An adventurer's journey isn't just about training and fighting monsters. Weapons and potions are equally vital. Forging and alchemy may seem ordinary, but they're indispensable to every adventure."
To broaden your view—every profession in the City of Heroes holds its own meaning.
"Without passion, one cannot craft weapons or heal others."
Bell understood. Surrounded by the roars of monsters, in this desperate battlefield, crafting a powerful potion would have been nearly impossible.
But Airmid had done it.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his mind.
"If one day you meet a girl who brews medicine for you, who heals your wounds—protect her, hero."
I know that already, even without you saying it.
Bell tightened his grip on his dagger. Cloaked in pure white light, he charged forward.
Throats slashed. Hearts pierced.
When weapons ran short, he seized blades from goblin hands.
When dodging was impossible, he blocked with his arms.
By the time his flesh regenerated, his foes were already dead.
Regeneration. Slaughter.
One, two—no matter how many goblins came, the result was the same.
The boy seemed like a messenger blessed by the gods, cutting through the endless horde.
A single figure alone stood firm, halting the monster tide like an unyielding wall.
"GAAH!!"
The black goblin roared in fury.
At its command, the giant mutants quickened their pace, trampling over their kin, green blood splattering beneath their feet.
Black mist billowed upward. The ground shook. The air trembled.
And amid the thunderous roar, Bell Cranel stood alone—holding the line.