Chapter 3

It was difficult for Shirou to say what exactly Hestia saw when he tapped her over the shoulder, but her outward reaction was enough to assuage him of any doubts that his gambit had been rather effective.

Through the history Shirou had gleamed from certain divine weapons, he understood that most Gods had terrifying levels of perception. Granted, the ones in Orario and the lower world were in weakened states, but the ability itself shouldn't have vanished. The only surprise Shirou had was Hestia's inability to perceive everyone's nature from a distance, but he could theorize that it may have to do with them being Demi-Gods.

However, Gods were Gods, and Demi-Gods were only considered half. Whatever protection Rider and the others had regarding a God's perception was null against direct contact.

It was an observation Shirou had quickly made when Rider first patted Hestia over the shoulder and the stout and bubbly Goddess halted in her tracks. The myriad of expressions that flickered across her face ranged from confusion to downright grief.

Hestia's subsequent actions and words only further convinced Shirou of his analysis.

Therefore, he too touched Hestia over the shoulder.

Shirou had no clue just what Hestia may perceive, but if there was one thing that he was confident in, it was the ambiguity of his inner world. He may not technically be a Demi-God to his knowledge, but numerous Divine attributed weapons existed in his inner world. Let alone the fact that by seamlessly Tracing and integrating the characteristics of a weapon over himself, it enabled him to augment his body. For example, he'd never be able to wield a certain axe-sword to strike nine times at God-Speed with only standard Reinforcement.

In essence, he may not be Divine, but he could certainly feel Divine, and that was enough of a ruse.

Part of the conditions he'd agreed upon was the confidentiality of his true identity. What that meant, was that he'd have to make one that was believable, and that meant letting others come to their own conclusion. He was a terrible liar, and Gods could likely detect lies. This was his best choice.

Plausible deniability and all if things went awry.

They left Hestia be. She really looked like she needed it.

There was a reason why Rider, Caster, and Archer didn't stick around after revealing their identities to their kindest aunt.

The short-stacked Goddess was going to be fidgety around them for a while...him included from the look of Hestia's eyes on him.

Bell stayed with Hestia as her sole support, and that was more than good enough for Shirou who excused himself and re-entered the abandoned church.

Expectedly, Rider and Archer were waiting for Shirou near the entrance, Caster having already ascended to the second floor to reattend to his patients.

Archer filled Shirou in with more detail pertaining to Caster's current endeavors, knowing that Shirou would likely agree with them. Caster and Shirou were different people with differing personalities, but Archer could infer that their perspectives in saving others was the same.

"Caster just needs Divine Blood for a complete revival," Archer concluded. "Since our goal is the completion of the Dungeon, gaining more allies is tactically sound. Caster also said it could also serve as leverage in case of political pressure from Orario's current powers."

Shirou accepted the point and nodded. Caster was eccentric, but he wasn't stupid by any stretch.

Moreover, if Shirou was shocked at Caster's revival abilities, it was greatly mitigated by the knowledge of Caster's True Name and legend.

Something impossible with Caster turned into something completely natural. However, Archer and Caster weren't the only Servants present.

Beside Archer, Rider was making a face; deep in thought to the point that he forgot to report anything he discovered while gathering intelligence in Orario.

Shirou didn't press. He was never that kind of person, and besides, if Rider had learned something truly important, he would have already said it.

"Something wrong, Rider?" Shirou asked.

Rider perked up, a hand running through his short cropped green hair. He didn't appear irritable, more melancholic if anything.

"Nothing. I'm just not one to like to keep still when uninjured." Rider muttered before shaking his head and moving towards the church's exit. "I'm going to head out. Cool my head for a bit, you know? But I should be back for dinner. I know Servants don't need to eat but damn…"

Rider grunted, and he was gone, likely still hung up over whatever thoughts clouded his mind.

Shirou didn't stop Rider, let alone limit his freedom. Rather, he focused his attention back on Archer.

"And, you Archer?" Shirou asked.

Compared to other Masters, Shirou treated his Servants more like people than overpowered familiars.

"I'll stay and keep guard." Archer crossed his arms, thoughtful yet hesitant. "That kid, Bell…no never mind. I'll set up a perimeter and then be right back."

"I could always set up a bounded field," Shirou offered, to which Archer shook his head.

"A warrior trusts their one instinct over the spells of a mage or magus." Archer stood up to his towering height, and then lumbered off with surprising speed and agility.

Like Rider, Shirou did not stop him, but instead considered what he should do from here on other than prepare dinner. He was sure that Hestia and Bell might take a liking to his cooking, and in truth, it was one of his hobbies to indulge in the smiles his food brought.

"-Oh, ugh, you're the only one here?"

Shirou glanced towards the church's entrance where Hestia was peeking her head through. Bell wasn't next to her, Hestia having insisted about a private 'family' talk.

Noticing that Shirou was alone, Hestia's expression grew somewhat relieved. It was likely still overwhelming for her to endure Rider, Caster, Shirou, and Archer's presence all at once, given recent revelations, and one at a time was perfect.

"Caster's upstairs, and Rider and Archer are doing their own things." Shirou answered after a moment of pause, watching Hestia awkwardly bumble her way towards him as if he were a rare specimen.

"M-My nephews have proper names," she pouted, feeling stuffy. "Why the secrecy?"

"Because they have enemies," Shirou didn't even blink and offered a plausible explanation. "I'm sure Apollo would love to meet Rider, wouldn't he? What about Zeus and Caster?"

Hestia cringed, her expression wrinkling. Obviously, she didn't broach the topic again, seeking to change it instead into something Shirou wasn't expecting. She pulled out a knife and what seemed like a ball of her own Divine energy, and a request.

"You want me to try making Bell a weapon?" Shirou repeated, quickly assuming Hestia must have seen something related to his forging skills when he'd touched her.

He didn't even notice the underlying gleam in Hestia's eyes.

All things considered, Shirou did have time on his hands and the forging techniques of every single weapon in his inner world. All this to conclude…

"It shouldn't be too much of a problem. Do you have any specific requirements?"

"Thank you!" Hestia clasped his hands. "I-I'll definitely pay you back."

Shirou thought about it before he remembered. "Well, there is one thing Caster may need help with."

Hestia tilted her head, but nodded without much thought while watching Shirou gather his things and request a forge to work over.

An aunt should be gracious, right?

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Medicine was Caster's sole purpose in life. His legend immortalized through the teachings and discoveries he'd left behind to the point of denying even death.

Then and now in his current summoning, nothing changed. Caster was still the same man now as he was before.

A devotee to medical innovation and discovery.

In the middle of a make-shift medical ward and workshop, Caster set his staff in the middle of the room. It emitted a field of healing aura reminiscent to Apollo's that offset the deterioration of the patients. Most were comatose, and lacked the ability to sustain themselves.

Orario was a backwater place too reliant on magic to the point medical progress had stalled to a crawl. Caster was not amused, but criticizing this world's development was, in the end, pointless. He'd just have to put up with the annoyance if the trade off was the chance to perfect his legendary elixir.

Caster moved towards a patient he decided to focus on, not because the woman was important, but because he wished to prove a point to her.

Mixing Divine Blood with a concoction, he force fed the silver haired woman he rescued in the lower depths of the Dungeon, rubbing her jaw to make her swallow.

Caster watched a moment later as the woman blearily opened her eyes, but frowned when Caster realized the woman couldn't do much else.

Caster noted the observations down on a written parchment.

-Potency appears to differ by Divine Blood.

-Likely a stronger reaction if paired with the patient's Falna corresponding to their patron God.

-All other substitutes require a copious amount of Divine Blood, and even then, to a weakened result. Perhaps more blood was required? A 10/1 ratio? TBD

-At the very least, the patient has regained consciousness.

Off to the side, and on the church's first floor, an anemic looking Hestia was supported by Bell, still stunned that the second floor had really become a medical clinic.

Whether Hestia was abusing the situation to have Bell dote on her, Caster could care less. He did not know how she'd been talked into this experiment, but Caster was more than willing to accept. Of course, he would have preferred to have drawn more blood, but was stopped by Shirou and Archer when Hestia had a dizzy spell.

As a Doctor, Caster was not fooled by his aunt's antics. She looked all too happy for a sick patient, but it wasn't his business. He got what he needed to start, and that's all that mattered to him.

Caster leaned in closer to inspect the woman better.

The woman was alert if anything. Her pupils were dilated, likely from denial and disbelief, but it didn't last half as long the moment she met eyes with Caster.

There was far less contempt or scorn in her eyes this time; replaced instead with confusion, shock, and a flicker of a calculative gleam when she darted her gaze around the room and took in the other patients. Some the woman knew were dead, and like her, they were here.

Then, for the longest time, the woman's gaze focused on Bell and Hestia through the window of the second floor, but again, Caster said nothing.

A patient's confidentiality was also the responsibility of a physician.

Her eyes turned back to face Caster who hardly reacted. If anything, his disinterest and his 'it was only natural' approach looked smug to the woman's perspective.

"I told you, did I not?" Caster inspected a potion bottle, watching the liquids blend into a homogenous solution, not even giving the woman his full attention. "I am a Doctor, and mere death is no excuse. There is no one I cannot heal."

Caster put down the concoction he was making by distilling Hestia's Divine Blood to ascertain its properties, before finally focusing on the woman in full.

"Now follow my finger."

Like before, Caster moved his index finger in front of the woman's gaze, testing to see her reaction response time to gauge levels of awareness.

This time, the woman grudgingly complied given everything that's just happened to her. It was in her best interest.

"Can you speak?"

Silence was the answer, nothing else on the woman able to move.

"Movement restricted to eyes," Caster muttered while jotting down the observation in his papers.

Caster than placed a finger over the woman's wrist, and gradually began poking her up the arm with increasing pressure.

"Blink twice if you feel this."

The woman did so, though she made it apparent that she was annoyed.

Caster could care less. What mattered to him was a patient's ability to communicate and convey how they were feeling. The fact the woman could only use her eyes made the Q&A more difficult than it should have been.

"Hn. Tactile sensation has returned then." Caster concluded before moving onto a more important matter.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

The woman stared flatly at Caster, and rolled her eyes. Obviously, she couldn't speak.

"Let me rephrase myself." Caster clicked his tongue, understanding his blunder and choosing to elaborate. "Beyond saving you, your body was racked with some sort of horrid illness."

The woman's eyes froze for the longest time at Caster's nonchalant diagnostic before she gave up any pretense of calm as she realized an immediate oddity.

"You should have been prone to constant bouts of pain and fatigue while awake. Agony even. That disease, I got rid of it. But I need you to confirm."

Turbulent emotion flickered in the woman's eyes; more than any words could describe, and Caster continued as if he saw nothing.

"Blink twice if you still feel pain, once if you don't."

No response. Well, not the right one anyway.

"-I said blink, not cry, you uncooperative woman."

The woman was glaring through tears, no longer knowing how to feel as she indeed no longer felt pain or fatigue while awake.

"I'm certain you're not deaf. I checked."

...

It was going to be a long observational period.

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The life of an Adventurer was not always as cracked up as it was thought to be. More than just a route to fame, strength, or monetary gains, it was dangerous. This was the aspect most neglected in tales such as Dungeon Oratoria. The feats of adventuring heroes focused in the ancient times were recorded within it before the descent of the Gods. Then again, stories meant to inspire were never meant to dissuade an audience. Rather, themes of struggling and overcoming hardship were much more emphasized.

A tired sigh escaped a guild representative's mouth in the guildhall situated in Babel. She wore the guild's uniform, a woman's dress shirt, bow tie, and gray slacks. Her low-rimmed glasses were the only exception to her uniform, secretly wearing them because it gave her a stricter demeanor.

Her name was Eina Tulle, a half-elf with a slim body, pointed ears, and shoulder-length brown hair that framed her emerald-coloured eyes.

Upon graduating from school at fourteen, she took a post in the guild reception hall since it paid well, and she wanted to quickly pay her tuition back to her parents. Originally excited for her new job, she learned that it wasn't as ideal as she thought it would be.

She was a receptionist of the guild at Babel charged with administering Adventurers to their appropriate level in the Dungeon.

Essentially, she was an advisor, the official term: a Dungeon Advisor.

Easy, right?

Adventures would register under her, and she'd advise them of the basics of the dungeon. For someone as book smart as Eina, repeating words she'd read and memorized were a simple affair.

However, the aspect she'd not been prepared for early in her career was the sense of loss and guilt when those she'd advised never returned.

The loss of her friend, Maris Hackard still haunts Eina to this day. Was it her fault? Had she not taught them enough? Had she been too complacent?

The shock changed her personality into an erudite, severe, and level-headed advisor who refused to grant permission for Adventurers to enter the dungeon without passing her standard. Bell Cranel was one such person under her radar, and she'd been particularly harsh on him due to how closely he reminded her of Maris.

The boy was bound to fall into danger, and then not make it back. Eina would be damned if she let him slip through her screening and lose him to the dungeon. The first time she'd even met him was when he tried to enter the Dungeon without a Falna of any kind. Obviously, she'd forbidden him entry, but enough about this topic.

There was something more pressing brewing in Babel that worried her.

Her eyes glanced in the direction of the Dungeon's entrance, her weight shifting from left to right until they focused on the guild manager speaking with a group of veteran Adventurers.

Babel and the guild had lost all contact with Rivira, the 18th Floor Safe Zone.

Eina's gut was giving her an ominous feeling, and it wasn't from stress, but anxiety. Sometimes being ignorant was better than being informed.

She pursed her lips.

Even if the guild wasn't directly tied with Rivira, Eina knew that they could still be considered associates to some degree as trade partners and an Adventurer hub within the Dungeon. Yet, complete silence from Rivira and the Adventurers that resided there was unheard of unless in the case of…an emergency?

Eina's thoughts were beginning to speculate, and that did little good for the butterflies in her stomach.

The guild was currently in the midst of forming an investigation party, but it was progressing slowly due to the shock of prior happenings.

It wasn't everyday people and friends that were thought dead would be hauled out of the dungeon by two people who moved too fast to even question or apprehend. Rumors already had Orario in an uproar. The least the guild could do was establish calm in its own establishment.

Thank goodness Eina wasn't the one assigned to settle everyone down though as she hated drawing attention to herself. It made her both too nervous, and too self-conscious to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak them. Nevertheless, and beyond her personal worries, she was obviously in for another long day.

Eina grumbled, slumping over her receptionist's counter.

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The time had come after an enjoyable afternoon of being doted on.

Hestia took a breath and focused on the person in front of her.

"Do you really have to watch?" Shirou asked while getting ready to forge in a smithy tied to the Hephaestus Familia that Hestia somehow managed to rent out for private use.

"Is there a problem?" Hestia asked, propping herself right and center to where Shirou was forging, eyes too focused to say she wasn't up to anything.

"No, but your current expression makes it seem like you have ulterior motives."

That's because she did.

"I bled for this, now just do it!" Hestia blushed, finally getting Shirou to stop asking her questions and just start.

As for Hestia, this was just as much a test as it was a gamble. She was a broke Goddess, and her Familia of one had always been sailing a financially sinking ship.

Money couldn't grow on trees, but blood could replenish. She was more than willing to help Caster, as she understood Caster's intentions after he'd tapped her over the shoulder.

It was two birds and one stone. Helping others, and benefiting as well.

The service to equip her Bell with an adequate weapon was basically free to Hestia when the alternative meant going to even more debt with Hephy.

Besides, if her conjecture was right about Shirou, then the simplest way to confirm was through watching him forge. Hestia had watched Hephy forge, and knew the feeling by heart while rooming with her friend for the longest time.

A-A secret love child, and Hephy didn't tell her?

The sound of a hammer smashing against metal drew Hestia out of her thoughts, and her focus onto Shirou who began smithing.

Soon, Hestia began to make a face, her lips tugging into a frown.

Although it was precise and skilled, it didn't seem like anything fancy or different from other blacksmiths in the Hephaestus Familia. Hestia would know since she'd free-loaded off her friend's kindness for quite some time. By personally witnessing Hephy smith, Hestia could infer certain things just from watching the procedure.

All things considered, Shirou's smithing was top-tier, rivaling the greatest of Hephy's Familia, but if he was truly a child of Hephy, then it wasn't quite at the right level yet.

More than anything else, how Shirou was going to imbue her specific Falna into the dagger was still lost on Hestia…

And then it happened.

Shirou pictured a forging technique able to harness Hestia's Falna, and the history of Rider's shield all but confirmed it.

"I am the Bone of my Sword."

The wave of energy that heated the area and blew back Hestia's hair was unmistakable to her.

A hammer struck down over an anvil, able to mold even magic and Falna into tools and weapons without the use of an Arcanum.

The embers of a divine forge were lit.

Hestia was never going to let Hephy live this down.

'G-Got to tell everyone!'