Though he had seen it in the original story, witnessing Hestia kneel before Hephaestus in person still stirred sothing in Charles. Even Hephaestus seed a bit awkward—Hestia had actually cast aside her pride and lowered herself in front of so many people.
Setting aside her… "ambiguous intentions" toward her child, she really did qualify as a capable Familia goddess.
The reason Hestia knelt was simple: she wanted to take out a loan from the Hephaestus Familia to custom-order a top-tier piece of equipnt that even a beginner adventurer could use—for the sake of the rabbit.
Since Charles's matter had already been resolved, Hephaestus decided to take both Hestia and Charles back to the Hephaestus Familia's mansion.
Charles wasn't much into these kinds of banquets anyway—especially with Freya's eyes lingering on him more and more. The smartest thing he could do was make a strategic retreat.
Leaning outside Hephaestus's room, Charles could hear snippets of the conversation inside.
After a while, Hephaestus called him in.
Charles entered and saw Hestia beaming with excitent—seed like she had achieved her goal.
Hephaestus turned to Charles. "Your business has been settled for now. You probably won't have trouble from anyone for a while. Still, be cautious. So, what are your plans going forward?"
Charles thought for a mont. "Nothing too special. I promised Welf before the expedition that I'd help him achieve his next milestone. His stats are maxed out, so to trigger a feat, he needs to improve his combat abilities. I'll be training him for a while."
Hestia suddenly lit up. She scooted over and said, "Training, huh? I've heard it's more fun with more people. Hey, Hephi's adventurer—would you mind taking on one more student?"
She really was putting her all into Bell.
But she had little choice. With only one mber in the Hestia Familia, she lacked the structure other Familias had. Hestia herself could barely support herself with part-ti jobs, let alone help Bell grow.
He was lacking in both equipnt and combat capabilities.
Figuring that one more debt wouldn't hurt, Hestia just went ahead and asked.
Hephaestus smacked Hestia hard on the head. "You've got so nerve. It wasn't enough to get to make equipnt for you—you've got the gall to ask one of my children to train yours, too?"
Clutching the growing bump on her head, Hestia whimpered, "Co on, it's not like that! Just let my kid watch on the sidelines or sothing!"
Hephaestus sighed and looked at Charles. "Sorry about this. She's hopeless, but she is technically my friend. Take this as a favor, would you?"
Charles waved it off. "Please, no need to apologize. It's not a big deal—just one more student. I've got the ti, anyway. I already told Welf we'd et on the northern wall at dawn tomorrow. Hestia-sama can just send your child there then."
With the ti agreed upon, Charles left. He didn't ask to watch Hephaestus forge the equipnt.
That jet-black dagger worth a "friendship price" of two hundred million valis was a one-of-a-kind treasure in all of Orario. The Hestia Blade, forged by the smithing goddess Hephaestus with divine-level technique, wasn't just a weapon. It had its own status and could grow just like an adventurer.
In other words, that dagger could essentially be considered another mber of the Hestia Familia—one that had received a god's blessing.
And Hephaestus hadn't even used divine power to forge it. She created life itself purely through her technique.
That kind of skill wasn't sothing you could learn just by observing. In fact, watching it might actually throw off one's own path as a smith.
Still, Charles believed he would reach that level one day.
After receiving so final instructions from Hephaestus, Charles took his leave.
The next morning, he climbed the wall of Orario.
The morning sun lit his face as he exhaled deeply, awakening every fiber of his being.
"Um… are you Charles-san from the Hephaestus Familia?"
Charles turned around to see a timid white-haired boy running toward him from a distance.
When the boy reached him, Charles said, "That's . You must be Bell—the one Hestia-sama asked to train."
Bell nodded and then gave an imdiate, deep bow. "I'm really sorry for the trouble!"
Charles replied, "No need to be so formal. Hestia-sama asked herself. Besides, I was going to train our own rookie, too. Having one more might even make it more effective."
As they spoke, Welf arrived as well.
Charles hadn't expected the two future companions from the original story to et this way, but he introduced them nonetheless.
They would have plenty of ti to get to know each other later, so Charles announced the start of training right away.
Though his specialty was unard combat with Dragon Slayer magic and long-blade techniques, Charles knew enough about other weapons to teach two rookies.
Welf used a broadsword, while Bell used daggers and shortswords.
Charles first explained the characteristics of various weapons and taught them fundantal techniques. Of course, he had already trained Welf during their ti in the Dungeon, so most of today's lesson was focused on Bell.
Once they were both familiar with the basics, Charles started the real training.
And the best way to train combat skills? Combat itself.
Charles personally acted as their sparring partner, fighting both of them at once—barehanded, while they wielded weapons.
At first, Bell worried he might hurt Charles. Later, he turned red with embarrassnt over how naive that had been.
Welf chuckled on the sidelines. Bell had honestly thought having a weapon would close the gap? Too young, too naive.
But Welf also realized that behind that snowy hair and red eyes, Bell was a good-natured and earnest kid.
Charles's training thod was straightforward—he would strike directly at the weaknesses in their attacks or defenses, guiding them to incorporate the techniques they'd just learned into muscle mory.
Of course, this wasn't a pleasant process. The spots Charles hit really hurt. But that pain helped their bodies rember, ensuring they wouldn't repeat the sa mistakes.
On the city wall at dawn, two fledgling adventurers pushed through the pain, drenched in sweat—growing rapidly with each strike.
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