The song and the monster's mocking laughter echoed in his ears.
For a moment, Bell forgot what he was doing. Before him appeared a wooden hut, the familiar forest scenery, and the back of his grandfather.
Bell remembered—he was home. How could he have forgotten his training?
He drew his dagger and walked toward the tattered scarecrow.
"Bell," his grandfather called.
"Grand... Grandpa, I wasn't trying to slack off," Bell replied, his tone still childish.
"No training today," his grandfather said with a gentle smile.
"Why? Didn't you say we should persevere?" Bell asked, puzzled.
"Did I ever say that?" Grandfather's tone was as teasing as ever.
He patted Bell's head and said, "You want to be a hero, right?"
"Yes!"
Bell, enchanted by the stories of adventure his grandfather had told him, answered without hesitation.
"Then more than training, what you should remember is the world before your eyes," his grandfather said solemnly.
"The world now? Flowers, grass, mountains, the woods, our cottage, and you, Grandpa—what's so special about that?" Bell looked around, confused.
"This is where you live now. One day, you'll return here."
His grandfather's words were mysterious, difficult to understand.
"Of course I'll come back! Once I become a hero, I'll visit you!" Bell said proudly, swinging his short blade, his small body just barely able to reach the scarecrow's head.
"I don't mean that time," his grandfather said, growing serious. "I mean the time when you can't defeat the monsters."
"Will there ever be such a time?"
Bell believed that if he just kept training, he could earn the happy ending of the stories he loved so much.
Grandfather fell silent. He looked into the distance, lost in thought.
After a long pause, his voice grew hoarse. "There will be. One day you'll understand. Don't forget what I'm telling you now."
"I'll remember everything you say, Grandpa."
"Good." His grandfather smiled warmly, stopping Bell's training. Taking the worn dagger into his own hand, he asked, "Child, why are you training?"
"To become a hero, of course."
"And what else?"
"To meet girls... and protect their smiles."
His grandfather burst into laughter. "Well said! Then don't be sleeping in a place like this."
He returned the dagger to Bell.
At some point, that familiar, battered silver-white blade had turned a clear sky-blue.
!
"Someone's waiting for you to come back, hero."
His grandfather's voice faded into the distance.
Bell coughed up blood—and remembered everything.
He'd been ambushed.
As he charged the giant species, that pitch-black Goblin had hidden among the monster horde and loosed a stealthy arrow.
Though Bell hadn't seen its figure and had been on guard, he hadn't expected the arrow to be that fast.
In the face of that sneak attack, he could only rely on instinct to twist his body and avoid a fatal wound.
The arrow tore into his abdomen.
The searing pain made him black out for an instant. His dagger was soaked in blood.
As if to make sure the hit was fatal, the surrounding goblins withdrew. The pitch-black monster drew its bow once more, and the giant goblin began to gather power.
The Dia Fratel continued to echo.
Airmid must be enduring the monster's claws right now. Bell could almost see her—the Dea Saint shielding the potion in a corner, back to the goblins, chanting her magic.
Healing light glimmered over his body, but with the arrow still buried deep in his abdomen, the wound refused to close.
In that brief moment, the boy roared in fury.
"What kind of hero can't even save a girl!"
He gripped the arrow's shaft tightly but didn't pull it out. With the arrowhead lodged inside, pulling it out carelessly could leave fragments behind.
To remove it completely, he pushed the shaft further into his own body.
Flesh screamed.
His roar shook the air.
The healing light flared, blazing even brighter.
Under the pitch-black Goblin's disbelieving stare, Bell Cranel stepped once more onto the battlefield.
The healing chant resounded through the passage.
Advance, hero.
Bell lunged forward, arrows whistling past his ears and explosions erupting at his side.
Neither blades nor claws could halt his advance.
Fight, hero.
The sky-blue dagger sliced through the throats of one monster after another.
The dark Goblin fired arrow after arrow, retreating in fear.
The boy's target wasn't the giant Goblin—
it was him.
"Gah!!"
The monsters piled up before the Pitch-Black Goblin, forming a twisted wall.
Leap over them, hero.
Bell dodged the rain of attacks, stepping on the goblins' bodies as he leapt into the air.
The arrows had been waiting. The Pitch-Black Goblin grinned wickedly and released its bowstring.
Bell had already anticipated it. He threw the sturdy wooden club he'd taken, knocking the arrow off its path.
In the monster's stunned gaze, the boy roared as he plunged down from above.
Run.
Run now.
The dark creature once again recalled the terror it had felt the moment it was born. It finally understood why the Dungeon feared this newcomer—this boy who always stood back up, no matter how many times he fell.
No matter how deep the wound, he never wavered in his belief.
This relentless courage—even the [Unknown] Dungeon could not fathom where his journey would lead.
And for those who reached the other shore, there was one name shared by all.
Hero.
The song carried far, and within that blinding white light, the Pitch-Black Goblin met its end.
Time seemed to stand still.
Every monster stared blankly at the boy's figure.
"Gah!"
...
As the sinister black mist dispersed, countless goblins fled in terror. Even the giant Goblin had lost the will to fight. It dropped the monster it held and sprinted away from the boy.
The tide began to fade.
In the chaos, trampled by their own kind, most of the monsters were crushed to death.
Footsteps echoed like thunder. Bell didn't give chase. Instead, he ran straight to Airmid's side.
The Dea Saint saw him and let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Cranel-san, are you all right?"
"Airmid-san, are you all right?"
They spoke at the same time.
Realizing it, they both smiled.
As the tension finally eased, Airmid looked at Bell's blood-soaked clothes and immediately understood what had happened.
He must have pushed himself again.
"Thank you for saving me, hero."
Airmid spoke her gratitude softly.
"Let's save that for when we get back," Bell replied, his mind still on the giant Goblin that had fled. Unease lingered in his chest.
"You're worried about that monster?" Airmid saw through his thoughts. "I don't think it'll be a threat to anyone. The Guild must have already sealed off the fifth floor."
After a brief discussion, they decided to return to the surface early and check on the situation along the way.
Airmid carefully stored the potion into glass bottles and stepped out into the corridor.
The wind had risen.
The closer they came to the main passage, the stronger it blew—almost as if someone were deliberately chasing the stench of blood.
The cool wind swept through everything.
As they walked, the cries of monsters echoed faintly, yet none appeared before them.
Feeling a flicker of fear, Airmid reached out and took Bell's right hand.
To their surprise, what awaited them ahead was not a monster—but an Elf girl.
"Cranel-san, I'm so glad you're safe."
Her voice was clear and melodic. The breeze scattered the lingering black mist, as if declaring the end of the monster tide.
Under the faint glow of phosphorescence, the Elf girl's eyes fell on their joined hands.
She frowned slightly, her thoughts unreadable.