Bell leaned heavily against the shop counter, arms crossed, frustration etched into every line of his face.
Hestia, clad in a worn apron over her usual attire, was sorting supplies on the shelves behind him. Though she tried to focus on her task, her eyes kept drifting back to her child, concern plain on her face.
"I just don't get it," Bell muttered, frustration thick in his voice. "Even with the new armor, no one wants to be supporter for me.Either they think I'm too weak or they think I am not reliable."
Hestia paused, her hand resting on a box "It's not something you can force, Bell," she said gently. " It's just matter of time."
Bell ran a hand through his white hair, letting out a slow sigh. "But how long is that supposed to take? I can't keep going alone.I need a reliable teammate."
The door creaked open behind him,as a red-haired man stepped inside. With his soot-streaked shirt and rough hands, he looked like he'd walked straight out of a forge. He glanced around the shop, then at Bell, and gave a dry nod.
"You were looking for a teammate?" he said, tone casual but firm.
Bell turned, blinking in surprise. "Yeah… but it's been hard. No one fits. Everyone's either they want too much money or thinks I'm not good enough."
Welf smirked faintly. "Sounds familiar."
He stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been into the Dungeon too.as I need to dive deeper now for materials. And to level up."
Bell studied him for a moment. "So, are you saying you want to team up with me?"
"I'm not saying we're partners just yet," Welf replied. "But if you're serious, I'm willing to give it a shot. We can do a test run."
Bell's expression brightened slightly. "That's would be great."
Welf chuckled. "Then we'll try it. See if it works."
Behind the counter, Hestia cleared her throat. Both men turned to find her leaning on the shelf with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Well, well. Look at you two, all serious." She grinned. "But didn't you say you were looking for a supporter? Someone to carry your gear?"
Welf raised an eyebrow. Bell looked away, flustered.
"We'll figure it out!" he muttered.
Hestia laughed, turning back to her shelf. "You better. Otherwise, I'm hiring a cart and naming it vice-captain."
As the atmosphere lightened, Bell rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Welf, who had stepped toward the door.
"Alright then," Welf said, glancing over his shoulder. "Let's meet tomorrow morning at Babel's entrance. Light gear. We'll test the waters."
Bell nodded. "I'll be there."
Welf hesitated, then extended a hand. "Name's Welf. Welf Crozzo."
Bell took the hand, then paused. "Crozzo...?"
Behind him, Hestia's head tilted. "That name rings a bell…"
Welf's expression tensed. "Yeah. That Crozzo."
Bell blinked, unfamiliar. "Sorry... should I know it?"
Welf let go of the handshake with a shrug. "Doesn't matter. You will eventually."
"I'm Bell," the boy offered. "Bell Cranel."
Welf gave a short nod. "Well, Bell—try not to get us both killed tomorrow."
"I'll do my best," Bell replied with a tired smile.
With that, Welf turned and exited. The soft jingle of the door echoed behind him.
Bell remained still for a moment, then sighed and looked at Hestia.
"You okay?" she asked.
"Yeah… it feels… right."
Hestia hummed. "He's rough, but I didn't sense anything bad from him. Though that name nags at me."
"He didn't seem eager to talk about it."
"Then don't push," Hestia said, flicking her fingers at him. "Instead think how to find someone who can carry a bag or two?"
Bell smiled sheepishly. "I'll think about it."
"Think harder," she muttered. "Or I'm really getting that cart."
Later That Evening — Guild Headquarters
In a quiet chamber within the Guild, Shakti Varma stood with her arms crossed behind her back, delivering her report with crisp precision.
"There's been a noticeable uptick in merchant activity near the lower wards," she said, eyes fixed on a map of Orario spread across the table. "Unregulated stalls. Off-the-book transactions. More troubling—black market movements have increased. We're tracking the trade of rare materials and forged permits."
Guild officials exchanged uneasy glances as the report sunk in.
"And the supply chain?" one asked.
"Iron, mithril, adamantite—all growing scarce. Even Familia smiths are reporting shortages. Prices are climbing."
She paused. "And no surprise, some Dungeon crystals aren't reaching the vaults."
An older member muttered, "What's Hephaestus doing? Of all people, she should be leading a response."
Shakti's tone flattened. "According to her Familia, she hasn't left her workshop since yesterday."
Elsewhere — Hephaestus Familia Forge, Sealed Workshop
Deep beneath the city, the great forge halls echoed with hammering and flame. Yet in one sealed chamber, tension simmered.
Tsubaki Collbrande stood over a worktable, one eye narrowed at the wreckage of a ruined prototype: a charred barrel, cracked mana chamber, and a melted rune conduit.
"Again?" she growled.
Ragna, her senior smith, wiped soot from his brow. "That's the third one."
Tsubaki slammed a gauntleted fist onto the table. Tools rattled with the force. "We're doing everything right—infused steel, mithril reinforcement, stabilized inscriptions. Even mimicking magic sword."
"But it's still failing," Ragna said. "Mana burns too fast, recoil shatters the frame. And when we try enchantments for stability, the cost quadruples."
Tsubaki scowled."Magic swords are made to fire once or twice—because of this those cost a hundred million."pointing to the one purchase form the shop this one it's only cost 10 million, if somebody else can build why can't I build the same thing"
Ragna folded his arms. "It's not we can't it it just the cost is not making sense."
Silence fell, broken only by the distant sound of hammering.
"We're missing something," Tsubaki muttered. "Either something we don't understand… or something we haven't seen."
Ragna nodded slowly. "You should wait for Lady Hephaestus. If anyone can figure this out—it's her."
Tsubaki's silence was agreement enough.