Danmachi: Bell Gojo

Bell awoke slowly, the world around him quiet and still, a stark contrast to the chaos that had nearly consumed him just days ago. His body felt heavy, every muscle aching from the prolonged battle against the Black Dragon. He shifted slightly and winced, the toll of the fight still evident in every movement.

As he opened his eyes fully, he saw Alfia sitting beside him, her usually composed expression softened with a mixture of concern and exhaustion. She had barely left his side since the battle, her protective instincts—both as an adventurer and as his aunt—keeping her close.

"You're awake," Alfia said softly, her voice betraying just a hint of relief.

Bell nodded, his throat dry as he tried to find his voice. "How long was I out?"

"A few days," she replied. "You pushed yourself beyond your limits, but... you did it. The Black Dragon is gone."

Bell took a deep breath, letting the weight of that statement sink in. They had won. But at a great cost.

His thoughts immediately went to those they had lost—Zald, the captains of Zeus and Hera Familia, and so many others who had given everything in the fight against the apocalyptic beast. The weight of their sacrifice pressed down on him like a heavy mantle, and for a moment, the victory felt hollow.

Alfia seemed to sense his thoughts, her hand resting on his shoulder. "They fought knowing the risks, Bell. They believed in the cause. In you."

Bell clenched his fists, fighting the tears that threatened to well up. "I wish I could have saved them."

Alfia's gaze softened even more, and for the first time, Bell saw the pain in her eyes too. She had known these people for years, perhaps centuries, and their loss had struck her deeply. But she was stronger now, her bond with Bell providing her with a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a long time.

"We mourn them," she said quietly. "But we also honor them by moving forward. That's what they would have wanted."

Bell looked at her, feeling the deepening connection between them. They were family—something that had become more than just a word to him. In the aftermath of everything, Alfia had become not just a mentor or a distant figure from his past, but someone he could rely on. Someone he could trust completely.

They sat together in silence for a while, letting the weight of their shared grief and survival settle between them. Finally, Bell spoke again, his voice low. "I won't forget them. Any of them."

Alfia nodded, her hand squeezing his shoulder gently. "Neither will I."

A week later, after Bell had recovered enough strength to stand without feeling like his legs would buckle, the group held a proper send-off ceremony for their fallen comrades. The air was filled with the scent of incense and the sound of quiet murmurs as Zeus, Hera, and Alfia led the somber gathering.

The bodies of Zald and the others had been laid to rest in the valley, their graves marked with simple stones. It was a tradition from their era—one that spoke of the honor in returning to the earth after a life of battle. Bell stood at the edge of the ceremony, his heart heavy but his resolve stronger than ever.

As the flames from the pyres flickered, casting shadows over the solemn faces of those gathered, Bell whispered a silent promise to himself and to the fallen. He would carry their strength, their memories, with him. And he would not let their sacrifice be in vain.

Alfia stood beside him throughout the ceremony, her presence steady and comforting. She, too, had lost much in this battle, but she was not one to let grief consume her. Together, they mourned, bonded more deeply by the shared loss, and Bell felt a renewed sense of purpose burning in his chest.

The week passed, and soon it was time to return to Orario.

As Bell, Zeus, Hera, and Alfia made their way through the bustling streets of the city, they were met with curious—and sometimes fearful—gazes. The gods who had once ruled supreme in Orario had returned, and their mere presence brought with it a wave of tension. The air was thick with unspoken questions, but no one dared to approach them.

It wasn't until the news of their victory against the Black Dragon began to spread that the tone of the city shifted. Whispers of admiration replaced the fear, and soon, cheers erupted as people realized what had truly happened. The Black Dragon, the nightmare that had haunted Orario for generations, was dead.

And Bell Cranel, the young adventurer who had surpassed all expectations, was hailed as the hero who had led the charge.

But Bell's mind wasn't on the celebrations that erupted in the city. His thoughts were fixed on one person in particular. Freya.

When they finally reached her temple, Bell found her waiting for him with a look of both relief and anticipation. She ran toward him, her arms wrapping around him tightly as she pressed herself against him. Her lips found his in a passionate kiss, and for a moment, all the exhaustion, the pain, and the grief melted away.

"You're back," she whispered against his lips, her voice filled with emotion.

"I'm back," Bell replied, holding her close.

The warmth of her embrace, the soft feel of her lips—it grounded him in a way that nothing else could. Freya, with her divine beauty and intoxicating allure, had promised him more than just power. She had promised him a life of passion, of devotion. And now, as they stood together, Bell knew he had returned to more than just Orario. He had returned to her.

That night, Bell found himself in Freya's quarters, where she had prepared a feast unlike any other. But it wasn't the food that had Bell's attention. It was Freya herself—and the surprising company she had gathered.

Freya had not forgotten her promise. As Bell sat down, Freya, with a mischievous glint in her eye, introduced him to the goddesses she had called upon.

Demeter, with her radiant figure and heavenly curves, stood to his right, her soft smile both warm and inviting. Hephaestus, her athletic body and fiery red hair framing her beautiful face, gave Bell a challenging look, as if daring him to keep up. Loki, with her mischievous smirk and that wondrously dangerous glint in her eyes, looked ready to cause some trouble.

And then, to Bell's shock, came the final goddess to join them. Hera herself, regal and beautiful, stood at the far end of the room, her presence commanding attention. She met Bell's wide-eyed gaze with a soft smile, her voice smooth as she said, "I thought it only fitting that I join this... celebration, given everything you've done."

Bell blinked, trying to process the sight of Hera standing there, and then he felt Freya's hands slide around his shoulders, her lips brushing his ear.

"I promised you a reward, didn't I?" she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Tonight is your night, Bell."

With a mixture of awe and excitement, Bell let the moment wash over him. He didn't need details to understand what was coming. Surrounded by goddesses who adored him, he knew this night would be one of passion, affection, and love.

For a moment, Bell let himself be swept away in the divine embrace of the goddesses, the weight of the world and the battles fought far behind him. At least for now, he was simply Bell Cranel—the hero who had earned his reward, a reward he will most certainly enjoy to its fullest.