"Blake, do you understand?"
Hestia leaned over him, still pressed against his back, pointing at the paper with a gloved finger.
"Each basic ability has ten stages. The more you train, the stronger you get. Right now, you're at zero because you haven't started yet."
She explained how proficiency worked—each stage had a limit of 99 before moving to the next rank.
To improve, he just had to use his abilities. Strength, endurance, dexterity, agility, and magic—each skill would evolve with effort. But once he got close to the cap of 999, progress would slow to a crawl.
"And look at this—you have three magic slots! Most adventurers don't even have one!" Hestia said excitedly.
Blake chuckled at her enthusiasm. "I see. That's a good thing, right?"
"Of course! Magic is everything in battle. A strong sword is great, but if your opponent turns the ground beneath you into a pit of lava, what then?"
She had a point. Magic was a game-changer, a power that could turn an ordinary fighter into an unstoppable force.
"I get it, Hestia," Blake said, offering a small smile. But while she was thrilled about his stats, he was more distracted by how close she was, her soft body pressed against him.
"Hmm, tomorrow we're moving out of Hephaestus' house, so let's rest well tonight. And don't forget, we need to register at the guild in the morning! Hestia's familia is finally official!"
As if realizing something, Hestia finally climbed off him, humming happily.
Blake wasted no time getting up. "I'll be heading out first."
Before she could react, he was out the door in record time. Staying any longer would've been dangerous for his sanity.
"Geez, it's not like I bite... We could've just slept together."
Hestia pouted, folding her arms as she watched him leave.
Leaning against the door outside, Blake sighed. That goddess was a handful.
"You handled yourself well," a voice said.
Blake turned to see Hephaestus approaching, exhaling a slow smoke ring from her cigarette holder.
"Hestia's completely open-hearted with those she cares about. But if you had tried anything stupid, I'd have kicked you out personally," she said bluntly. Then she smirked. "Of course, if you two became lovers, that'd be a different story."
Blake chuckled. "I have no interest in taking advantage of anyone, goddess or not."
Hephaestus nodded, then her gaze fell to the sword at his waist. "That weapon of yours... it's interesting."
"Frost Whisper?" Blake glanced at it, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. "My sister gave it to me for my birthday."
"I see." Hephaestus exhaled another smoke ring. "No wonder it has a spirit."
Blake raised an eyebrow. "A spirit?"
"Not a literal one. But weapons absorb their wielder's will over time. Yours has been cherished, not just used. That's rare."
A genuine compliment from the goddess of forging? That was unexpected.
"As a gift to celebrate Hestia's new familia, let me modify it."
Blake hesitated. "I appreciate the offer, but... I don't want to change her. If she changes, it won't be Frost Whisper anymore."
Hephaestus studied him for a moment, then smirked. "You really do love your sword, huh? Relax, I'm not going to change it. I'll just add an indestructibility effect. No matter what happens, she'll never break."
Now that was an offer Blake couldn't refuse. "Alright. I'd be grateful for that."
"Good. Come back in a week to pick it up. Oh, and your room's just down the hall," she said, turning away.
Blake watched her leave, then muttered, "Thank you."
After saying their goodbyes to Hephaestus, Hestia practically dragged Blake to the guild headquarters.
The building was massive, designed like a grand temple, with towering pillars and intricate carvings. Inside, the first-floor hall was bustling with adventurers, some forming parties, others cashing in their earnings.
Hestia, practically bouncing with excitement, ran off to register her familia, leaving Blake alone.
"Bored already?" he muttered to himself.
That's when the entrance doors swung open, and a group of four entered.
Of all the people to walk in...
Among them was someone he already knew—Ais Wallenstein, the famous Sword Princess. The very same girl who had inspected him like a rare specimen when he first arrived in Orario.
"Great," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Just my luck."