Careless.
Heith wasn't upset for failing to stay alert—she had noticed the goblin's sneak attack, but instinctively hadn't bothered to dodge.
Every time an adventurer advanced a level, the difference in power became enormous. For a Level 2 adventurer, a weak Level 1 monster like that shouldn't have posed any threat at all.
It was precisely that overconfidence—a basic mistake born from common sense—that had led to this awkward situation.
The girl's breath was close enough to feel. The sharp pain spreading from Bell's back made it hard for him to stand right away.
"I'm sorry."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. More than the faint scent surrounding him, it was the sensation in his hands that made him apologize.
And that, truly, was the reason for his apology.
Bell could swear to the gods it was nothing more than an unavoidable accident.
His grandfather had always said that formation was crucial in a battle against monsters. The warrior drew the enemy's attention, the mage attacked from range, and the healer—the most important member—had to be protected at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing oneself.
Bell remembered that well. That was why, the moment the goblin struck, he'd thrown himself toward Heith without hesitation.
Yes—this was absolutely an act of force majeure.
Feeling the strange softness in his right hand only reaffirmed that conclusion.
It was softer and warmer than even the finest pillow, as if it could envelop everything within it.
"Please let go... no, actually—just get up first."
Heith's voice trembled slightly as she spoke. She quickly realized that if Bell released her now, he'd fall forward entirely into her arms, so she changed her wording mid-sentence.
Thankfully, they were inside the Dungeon. If anyone had seen this, she honestly didn't know how she would react.
"I'm just glad you're okay."
Bell withdrew his arm, pushed himself up, and extended a hand toward Heith.
"Thank you for saving me," she murmured after a short pause. Her cheeks reddened as she took his hand, rising to her feet and brushing dust from her white robe.
Usually, she was the one bending over to tend the injured. Having the roles reversed wasn't such a bad feeling.
"Protecting the healer is part of my duty."
Bell glanced at the spiked club lying nearby, and his suspicions only deepened.
Adventurers often dismissed goblins as mindless, club-swinging fodder—but the ones he'd faced were anything but simple.
Following his gaze, Heith explained softly, "That's a goblin drop. Sometimes it's a body part, other times it's a weapon. Monsters drop all sorts of strange materials."
Perhaps due to the Dungeon's twisted logic, the dagger Bell had thrown had clearly struck down the goblin—but its weapon had been treated as a Drop Item and ended up striking him instead.
If one chose to see the earlier incident as a "bonus," he supposed that made it a lucky accident.
Pushing that thought aside, Heith noticed a faint trail of blood on the spiked club.
"You're injured?"
"Just a scratch."
"Turn around. Let me see."
"It's fine. Doesn't affect my movement. No need for healing."
Bell's stubbornness wasn't without reason. That ambush hadn't been random, and if they were to keep moving forward, he needed to save the healer's magic for emergencies.
"Turn. Around." Heith's tone left no room for argument.
Several tears ran down the back of Bell's coat, blood seeping through the fabric and staining it crimson.
"Honestly," Heith muttered, "you're practically covered in wounds. Even if they're small, you need to take care of them. If they get infected, it won't stay small for long."
"Yes, I'll be careful."
Bell kept his eyes and senses trained on their surroundings while leaving the treatment to her.
Heith's chant was as swift and precise as ever. Within moments, the burning pain in his back faded completely.
"You should rely on healers a little more. In my familia, my companions practically treat healers like all-purpose tools."
It was rare to find someone like Bell who genuinely thought about things from a healer's perspective.
"Heith-san, you haven't been bullied by your familia, have you?"
Normally, healers were held in high regard. It wasn't an exaggeration to say they held power over life and death—people like that should be respected and protected by their allies.
Bell recalled Heith's slightly tired face, the faint dark circles beneath her eyes, and voiced his concern honestly.
Heith gave a small, bitter smile, as if remembering something. "They're all good people. I wouldn't call it bullying... but it can be exhausting."
"If there's ever anything I can do to help, just say the word."
Hearing that, a small flutter of warmth rose in Heith's chest. She quickly hid the feeling behind a calm smile. "You can save that promise for when you reach Level 2, Hero."
In today's Orario, the fastest adventurer to level up was Ais Wallenstein—the Sword Princess. Even with her natural talent, it had taken her a full year to reach Level 2.
For Bell, that same journey would probably take several times longer.
"Then it's a deal. When I level up, if you ever need to talk, you can come to me anytime."
Bell's words weren't born from blind confidence. The sacred text engraved on his back seemed to faintly echo the passion within his heart.
He gripped his dagger firmly and stepped deeper into the cave.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Having grown used to goblin ambushes and encirclements, Bell's movements in battle became increasingly refined.
"To be honest," Heith said during a break, "with skills like yours, how did you even end up collapsing on the first floor?"
From what she'd seen, Bell's combat ability was impressive—perhaps even aided by a bit of luck. Most of the goblins he fought were taken down with a single, clean strike.
Monsters didn't dissolve into black mist unless their Magic Stones were removed, yet in all the time Heith had followed him, she hadn't seen a single goblin corpse left behind.
That alone spoke volumes about Bell's capability.
So why had he stopped at the first floor?
"Maybe I just wasn't used to how the monsters fought."
Bell saw two main reasons for his earlier failure. First was bad luck—the goblins he'd encountered were far stronger and more intelligent than what other adventurers described.
The Dungeon's hostility had been overwhelming, spawning a sudden swarm of monsters. That part was simply an unfortunate circumstance.
The second reason was more personal. To keep a promise he'd made to his grandfather, Bell had entered the Dungeon for the first time without receiving Falna. His failure had been inevitable.
But he didn't mention that. No one would have believed it anyway—and it would only trouble Eina.
"I think you'll make a fine hero," Heith said sincerely.
These days, most low-level adventurers preferred the safe route—slowly grinding their abilities through cautious hunts. But without taking risks, their personal skill would eventually lag behind the growth of their own Falna.
Bell was different. His technique was exceptional. Every bit of growth he achieved would likely be a qualitative leap rather than a small step.
"Then I'll have to work hard to live up to your expectations."
As the sound of footsteps echoed from deeper in the tunnel, Bell tightened his grip and dashed forward.
Heith watched the white-haired boy's figure disappear into the dim light, and before she realized it, she found herself wondering—just what kind of great deeds would he one day accomplish?
Then the thought startled her. Wasn't that too presumptuous? Such thoughts might draw the unpredictable eyes of the gods.
But she quickly reasoned with herself. Simply watching over Bell's growth shouldn't be a problem.
After all, this was the Dungeon—the one place beyond the reach of divine gaze.
Heith followed quietly after him, a faint, almost invisible smile touching her lips.