Bell Cranel descended the mountain with a steady pace, his senses alive to the vibrant world around him. The dense forest was unlike any he had traversed before—lush, thick, and teeming with life. Each step he took felt like venturing deeper into the heart of an untamed world. The air was pure and sharp, carrying with it the scent of pine and wildflowers, a reminder of how young this earth still was.
Bell could feel the strength of the land beneath his feet, its untapped energy thrumming like a heartbeat. He was in a time long before the gods had descended, and there was an ancient vitality here, raw and untempered. Even though his mind still reeled from the realization of time travel, his spirit was invigorated. He had left the world he knew, but this one—this past—offered new challenges and adventures.
As he pushed his way through the underbrush, his eyes caught sight of smoke rising in the distance. A settlement. His heart quickened. He had wandered the wilderness for days now, living off the land, but human contact would offer him insight, and more importantly, a sense of direction.
Bell moved with ease through the thick foliage, eventually breaking through the treeline to find himself at the edge of a bustling village. The settlement was small but lively, with simple wooden buildings, carts rolling by on dirt paths, and villagers going about their daily lives. It was a world of hard work and toil, but there was a sense of unity here, of survival.
Curious, Bell made his way toward the largest building at the village center. A sign hung above the door, the words carved in elegant script: The Mistresses of Fate Tavern. It was a fitting name for such an establishment in a time when the whims of fate could make or break a man.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Bell was greeted by the warmth of firelight and the hum of conversation. The tavern was filled with men and women sharing drinks and stories, their faces weathered by hardship but lively with spirit. He approached the bar and ordered a drink, his eyes scanning the room.
"New face, huh?" A deep voice caught his attention.
Bell turned to see a tall, burly man with dark hair and a bushy beard standing beside him. His broad shoulders suggested he was no stranger to hard labor or battle.
"Yeah," Bell responded with a smile. "Just arrived. Name's Bell."
The man gave a hearty laugh and clapped Bell on the back. "Bell, huh? Name's Hagen. Good to meet ya. We don't get many newcomers in this part of the kingdom."
"Kingdom?" Bell asked, intrigued.
Hagen nodded, his grin fading slightly. "Aye, the kingdom of Ankhetor. It's ruled by King Waldstein, a noble man, strong as an ox and fierce in battle. The King's been recruiting men for his army, preparing for a great campaign against the monsters that plague our lands."
Bell's heart raced at the mention of monsters. Ankhetor... this was the ancient name of what he knew as Orario. He leaned in, eager to learn more. "Monsters, you say?"
"Aye," Hagen replied, his voice dropping as if speaking about a solemn topic. "They've been terrorizing the villages for years. King Waldstein's dream is to wipe them out, so his son, Prince Albert, can inherit a peaceful world. It's a noble cause, and the King's set to arrive today to see who's worthy of joining him on his crusade."
The thought of fighting monsters in this world, in its ancient and raw form, stirred something within Bell. "I'd love to join," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "There's nothing like the thrill of battle."
Hagen smiled approvingly. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that. Come, drink with us. We've a bit of time before the King arrives."
Bell joined Hagen and his group, sharing stories and downing drinks. The tavern buzzed with the talk of the upcoming battle, of the glory that awaited those who fought in the King's army. The camaraderie was infectious, and for a moment, Bell forgot the weight of his journey. He was here, among good men and women, and for the first time in days, he felt truly at home.
Hours later, the door to the tavern burst open, and a hushed silence fell over the room. The villagers stood at attention, their faces filled with awe and reverence. Bell turned, and his breath caught in his throat.
King Waldstein had arrived.
The King was a towering figure, his presence commanding without needing to speak a word. His armor, polished to a gleaming silver, seemed to catch the firelight and reflect it with an ethereal glow. His face was stern, but there was a quiet nobility in his gaze. Behind him stood a retinue of knights, each as imposing as the next.
"Men of Ankhetor," the King's voice boomed across the tavern. "I seek warriors. Not just any, but those with hearts of steel and wills of iron. The war against the monsters is at hand, and I will have only the best by my side."
One by one, the men in the tavern lined up, presenting themselves before the King. His sharp eyes appraised each of them, judging their worth in silence. Bell stood at the end of the line, calm but eager.
When King Waldstein's gaze fell on Bell, something passed between them—an understanding. The King's eyes narrowed, and Bell could feel the weight of the King's judgment, not just as a warrior, but as a leader. And in that moment, the King knew. This man, who called himself Bell Cranel, was far greater than any warrior he had ever encountered—even greater than himself.
"Step forward," the King commanded.
Bell did as he was told, standing tall before the King. Their eyes met, and though no words were spoken, there was a mutual respect between them.
"You will come to the palace," the King said, his voice firm. "And tomorrow, you will be taught the ancient ways of battle and magic. I have seen something in you, Bell Cranel, that I have seen in no other. We will fight side by side."
Bell nodded, a grin forming on his lips. "I look forward to it, Your Majesty."
The King gave a curt nod, and Bell, along with a few select others, were escorted to the palace—a sprawling fortress of stone and iron. There, they were given armor forged by the finest smiths, and the next day, their training began.
Over the next few months, Bell was immersed in the world of ancient warfare. The people of this time, though without Falna, were powerful in their own right. Their techniques were raw and brutal, their magic more primal and unrefined, but devastating in its force. Bell watched and learned, adjusting his own style to fit the world he now found himself in.
His body grew stronger with each passing day, his muscles hardening from the rigorous training and harsh conditions of life in Ankhetor. The very air seemed thicker with power, and Bell's base strength began to rise, his base stats increasing as he adapted to the brutal world around him. He could feel himself growing tougher, more resilient. Every battle, every lesson sharpened his skills and his mind.
Bell relished in it all.
For the first time, he was being pushed beyond his limits, and he loved every second of it. As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, he found himself not just surviving, but thriving. His divine power slumbered beneath the surface, but it was his mortal side, his human tenacity, that drove him forward. He fought, learned, and grew stronger, all while keeping his true strength hidden from those around him.
The day of battle was approaching, and Bell was ready. He would fight alongside King Waldstein and his warriors, against the monsters that threatened this world. But even as the battles loomed, Bell knew there was more to this ancient land—secrets yet to be uncovered, and challenges that would push him to new heights.
And he would face them all with a smile on his face and fire in his heart.