The morning in the inn's backyard met them with coolness and the sound of slicing air.
"Ha!"
Bell's wooden sword blurred in a rapid lunge, aiming for the forearm. Raine didn't block. A minimal shift of the body, a turn of the hip—and the blade passed a centimeter from the fabric, while the tip of his own weapon softly but perceptibly poked Bell in the side, marking a fatal hit.
They didn't stop. This wasn't a fight, but a lesson where a mistake cost a bruise, not a life.
"The fourth floor," Bell exhaled, breaking distance and immediately rolling away from a counterstrike. "Those lizards... Maybe we should just bypass them?"
"Narrow corridors," Raine, holding his sword in a relaxed, lowered stance, lazily stepped aside, letting the opponent's momentum pass him by. "They'll box us in."
The fight continued. Bell's breathing was ragged, but he kept the rhythm. Raine saw the boy's brain frantically searching for solutions right in the middle of the skirmish. That was good. In the Dungeon, there would be no time for conferences.
"Vulnerability in the joints?" Bell shouted, blocking an overhead strike and wincing from the recoil in his arms. "Or... the eyes?"
"Better," Raine nodded, increasing the pressure.
The clatter of wood against wood accelerated. Raine, noticing that Bell, like himself, was starting to run out of steam, decided to end it.
"I have business in the city," he threw out, deflecting another lunge. "Meet me past noon by Babel."
Bell, taken aback for a second by the change of topic, tried to catch his breath and grinned, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"No way? A date, really?"
"Something like that."
The answer sounded so mundane that Bell froze with his mouth open. His guard dropped for exactly a moment—enough for Raine. A short, blurred movement, a light tap on the crown of the head, and Bell, yelping, toppled onto the grass.
"Dead," Raine stated, putting away the training sword. "Don't get distracted."
***
Orario was waking up, filling with its habitual hum.
Raine walked along the cobbled streets, inhaling the mixture of aromas from fresh pastries. Groups of adventurers hurried past: some with the enthusiasm of a novice, others with the grim determination of a veteran. Merchants noisily raised the shutters of their shops, barkers cleared their throats before a long day.
He was in his usual clothes—simple, comfortable, betraying neither warrior nor rich man. His destination was in the North District, where the trade routes of artisans and food suppliers intersected.
Ahead, amidst the stream of people, a familiar figure flashed.
A petite brunette with two long twintails, digging her soles into the cobblestones, was dragging a cart behind her that was clearly heavier than she was.
"Hnnngh..." a strained grunt reached Raine. "Come on... cursed tub..."
She braced her legs, leaning forward at an angle that defied gravity, but the cart moved at the speed of a tired snail. Raine couldn't help but chuckle. For all her outward absurdity and childish spontaneity, there was a stubbornness in this Goddess worthy of respect.
He quickened his pace, approaching silently from behind.
"Would this diligent croquette seller deign to accept some help?" he said right above her ear.
Hestia jumped, nearly letting go of the cart handles.
"Raine?!" She spun around, her blue eyes rounding.
"Hello, Goddess Hestia," he smiled politely and, without waiting for permission, took the handles from her.
The difference in Strength, even considering Raine was an ordinary human, was colossal. What the Goddess had been dragging while straining her tendons weighed significantly less to him. The cart rolled forward easily.
"Oh... Thank you," Hestia exhaled, trotting alongside and fixing her disheveled pigtails. "You saved me. I thought my arms would fall off before I reached the spot."
"Don't mention it," Raine replied, maneuvering between passersby.
"And... sorry about the jacket," she suddenly added quietly, looking guiltily at his sleeve.
"The jacket?" he asked, though he guessed what she meant.
"Well, back then... when I... anyway, I feel awkward," she hesitated, clearly recalling the past embarrassment.
"I wouldn't have dared to do otherwise," Raine joked, easily turning the cart at an intersection. "Leaving a lady in distress is bad form. Besides, it would have been unpleasant if you had fallen asleep right there on the pavement. Or, God forbid, caused trouble for strangers with your snoring."
Hestia turned red as a poppy flower.
"I do not snore!" she protested, but immediately deflated, lowering her head and hiding her face in her palms. "But you're right... That would have been terribly shameful."
Reaching the necessary spot—a small patch on a busy street—Raine set down the cart. He watched with interest as Hestia, trying to regain her divine dignity, began to lay out her inventory.
"This baby runs on a pure mana stone!" she declared proudly, noticing his gaze directed at the bottom of the cart. "Look, there's a special circuit for heating the oil."
She flipped a switch, and a soft reddish light lit up inside the device.
Raine narrowed his eyes. Magic stones. The basis of this world's economy and technology. Unlike his past world, where progress was driven by electricity and steam, everything here ran on crystallized magic extracted from monsters. Street lamps, kitchen stoves, even water supply systems—it all worked on "batteries" beaten out of living creatures in the Dungeon. Paradoxical: to keep civilization thriving and kettles warm, a daily genocide in the catacombs is required. An elegant, but cruel system.
"Impressive," he said aloud. "Efficient and smokeless."
Hestia, meanwhile, put on a white apron over her... specific dress. Raine mentally noted that the blue ribbon under her chest seemed to perform not so much a supporting function as an architectural one, creating a structure that defied physics.
"That's it!" She clapped her hands, assuming the pose of a confident entrepreneur. "Step right up, folks! Best Jagamarukuns in Orario! From the Goddess herself!"
Raine stepped slightly aside, leaning against the wall of a building, and began to watch.
The spot chosen wasn't bad: the flow of people was dense, an intersection nearby. But...
Five minutes passed. Ten.
Adventurers hurried to the dungeon, citizens to their business. No one stopped. The enthusiasm on Hestia's face began to melt like butter in a skillet. Her shoulders slumped, her smile became forced.
Raine chuckled quietly, turning away to hide his smirk.
Noticing this, Hestia wilted completely. She looked as if she had just been stripped of her Goddess status for the second time.
Not wanting to prolong the torture, Raine peeled himself off the wall.
"One, please," he walked up to the counter, laying out coins.
Hestia started, instantly brightening.
"Aha! First customer! Coming right up, we'll make it in the best possible way!"
The oil sizzled. The aroma of fried potatoes and spices wafted down the street. Raine watched her movements—fast, a little fussy, but diligent. A few minutes later, he was handed a hot, golden... Jagamarukun? What kind of name was that anyway?
"Well?" Hestia looked at him with the hope and pride of a chef. "Tasty, right? Can't wait to ask for seconds, can you?"
Raine took a bite, chewed slowly. His face remained impenetrable.
"Preparation took about five minutes," he said dryly, looking her straight in the eye. "For street food, that is an eternity. The customer will leave without waiting."
Hestia's smile faltered.
"The taste isn't bad," Raine continued his ruthless analysis. "But the texture is a bit dry. After a couple of bites, one gets thirsty, and you have no drinks. Besides, it's too heavy for breakfast—fat and starch. A stone in the stomach before work. But... passable."
With every word, Hestia's gaze became more glassy. She seemed to shrink in size, turning into a small, life-beaten dot.
When Raine reached for his purse to leave a tip, she asked hollowly:
"Why did you even come? To mock me?"
"Overheard by accident," he answered simply. "How a little girl was driven to tears by an angry boss and threatened with firing. Surprising, isn't it?"
Hestia paled, then flushed with anger and shame.
"You... you were eavesdropping?!" She clenched her little fists, and her voice cracked into a squeal. "That's... that's blasphemy! Divine punishment will befall you for mocking a Goddess! I... I'll give you such a...!"
She started waving her arms, trying to portray a formidable deity, but suddenly froze. His words replayed in her head. About cooking time. About dryness. About drinks. It wasn't empty slander. It sounded like...
She looked up. Raine stood and looked at her—calmly, benevolently, with a slight half-smile. He wasn't going anywhere. He was waiting.
The anger evaporated instantly, giving way to desperation.
Hestia sniffled, her pigtails drooping forward as she abruptly bowed before him, nearly hitting her forehead on the counter.
"Please, help me!" she shouted into the wood of the tabletop. "I don't want to lose this job!"
Raine nodded with satisfaction.
"Of course, Goddess."