AT THE SAME TIME
MICHAEL
They wouldn't let me leave like that. Eina snapped orders faster than a battlefield captain. Someone dragged a chair over. Someone else shoved a cup of bitter recovery tonic into my hands. I barely tasted it. My fingers were shaking too hard as I set the Ignis Stone down on the counter, carefully, reverently, like it might crack if I breathed wrong.
"Sit, don't move." Eina said, already pulling out clean cloths. "If you pass out, I am billing you for the paperwork."
"I am fine." I muttered.
That was a lie, everything hurt. My bones felt like they had been replaced with hot iron rods. My lungs burned every time I breathed too deeply. When Eina poured water over my hands, the grime washed away in red streaks. The lizard's blood clung stubbornly, dark and sticky. I stared at it while she worked. The dungeon had been loud, roaring, screeching, the scrape of claws on stone, but right now the Guild hall felt louder. Whispers buzzed around me like flies.
"Is that really-"One of them asked.
"No way he brought that back alone-"Another asked.
"That's an Ignis Stone, right…?"Third one added.
Eina's hands paused.
"Michael." Her voice went quiet. "Your Falna is reacting."
"What?"I asked.
She didn't answer instead, she grabbed the wooden status block again, pricked her finger, and pressed it to the engraved surface. The glow this time was immediate brighter, sharper, almost hungry. Symbols spilled out fast, lines of divine script assembling themselves with unsettling speed, too fast.
"No." She whispered.
My stomach dropped.
"What?" I asked again, hoarse.
She stared at the parchment as it had personally offended her. Then she looked up at me. Slowly, carefully, like I might explode.
"Michael." She said. "When was the last time you updated your status?"
"Yesterday morning." I said. "Before I-"
Her laugh burst out sharp and disbelieving.
"You absolute idiot."Eina said.
"What-"I began,
She turned the parchment around and shoved it in my face. I didn't understand the numbers at first. They swam, my vision blurred, but then the words settled. LEVEL: 3 I stared. Once, twice.
"That's wrong." I said faintly.
Eina planted both hands on the table and leaned forward.
"It is not wrong."She said.
"But I didn't, I didn't do enough combat, I-"
"You fought a floor guarding monster and extracted an Ignis Stone alive." She snapped. "Your body was pushed past its limit. Your Falna responded. That's how leveling works."
My heart started pounding again, harder than in the dungeon. Level 3. I laughed. A short, broken sound.
"No." I said. "No, no, no, that's bad. That's really bad." "Bad?"Eina asked.
"I wasn't supposed to level up." I said quickly. "If I level, people notice. The Guild notices. God's notice."
Her eyes widened.
"You did all this." She said slowly. "Trying not to level up?"
I nodded as slence fell between us then Eina dragged a hand down her face.
"I swear to the gods." She muttered. "You are going to kill me before you kill yourself."
My chest felt tight, not from pain this time, but panic. Vesta. She would know, she always knew. She would see it in the way I moved, the way my aura felt different, heavier. She would look at me with that soft, worried expression and ask one gentle question and I would fall apart. I stared down at my cleaned hands. They still trembled.
"Don't announce it." I said quietly. "Please."
"Michael, a level up is official Guild record-"Eina began.
"Delay it." I begged. "Just a day. One day. Let me bring this to her first."
She studied my face, the exhaustion, the fear, the stubborn resolve.
"You are really doing this for her." She said softly.
"Yes." I said. No hesitation. "Everything."
Eina exhaled, long and tired.
"One day." She said. "That is all I can give you."
"Thank you." I whispered.
She slid the parchment away, then wrapped my hands properly, firm but gentle.
"Go home." She ordered. "And if your goddess hits you with a ladle, you deserved it."
I managed a weak smile. I gathered the Ignis Stone again, its warmth pulsing steadily in my palms, like a living hearth, proof, hope and trouble. Level 3. I pushed myself to my feet, legs still shaking, and headed for the door. Vesta wanted peace I was about to bring her fire.
AT THE SAME TIME
VESTA
The hearth felt wrong. Not the stove though it wheezed like it always did nor the rain tapping through the crack in the roof. It was deeper than that, quieter. The steady warmth that usually lived in my chest faltered, tugged, then surged, like a flame suddenly fed too much air. I stopped mid step, a bowl in my hands.
"That child." I muttered.
Across the counter, Hestia looked up from her tea.
"Hm?"She asked.
I closed my eyes. There, Michael. His presence brushed against my divinity, familiar and warm… and changed. Denser, sharper. Like a fire that had learned a new way to burn, stronger. My fingers tightened around the bowl.
"He leveled up." I said.
"WHAT?"Hestia nearly screamed.
"I said he leveled up." I opened my eyes slowly. "Recently. Very recently."
The hearth symbol at my collar glimmered, its intricate loops glowing faintly as if answering my mood.
"That's not possible!" Hestia blurted. "He shouldn't be anywhere near-"
"He pushed himself." I cut in. "Past safety, past reason."
The memory of this morning slammed back into me: scraped hands, guilt pouring off him, the way his aura jittered like a flame about to gutter out. Anger flared hot and divine. Then fear slid in underneath it, cold and sharp.
"He went into the Dungeon." I said quietly.
"Alone?"Hestia's teasing smile vanished.
"Yes."I said.
"Vesta."Hestia began.
"He didn't tell me." I said, my voice tightening despite myself. "He didn't want me to worry."
Hestia groaned and leaned back.
"Of course he didn't. Idiot boy has a martyr complex the size of Babel."Hestia grinned.
"That does not make this acceptable." I snapped.
I turned away, pacing. Each step made the hearth pulse harder, like it wanted to run ahead of me.
"He changed." I whispered. "And he thinks I won't notice."
"You can still feel him, right?"Hestia watched me carefully.
"Yes." I said at once. "Alive, hurt, exhausted, but alive."
That only twisted the knot in my chest tighter.
"What are you going to do?" Hestia asked.
I stopped and stared at the door.
"What every goddess does when her idiot follower risks his life without permission." I said flatly.
I grabbed a ladle and hestia winced.
"Ah. The sacred weapon."She said.
The door creaked open a heartbeat later. Michael stepped inside, and the air shifted. Heat rolled through the room, his presence heavier, steadier, unmistakably different. My divinity reacted instantly, the hearth symbol flaring bright. Level 3. I didn't need a status sheet, I didn't need the Guild. I looked at him, bandaged hands, torn shirt, posture straining to look normal, and the guilt on his face confirmed everything.
"Michael." I said softly, and he froze.
Slowly, he looked up and in that moment, he knew, I knew.