The tavern was quiet. The night crowd had dispersed hours ago, the chairs were stacked, and the scent of ale and roasted meat lingered like a satisfied sigh in the air. In the dim candlelight of the bar, two women sat across from one another, the only sounds being the low clink of glass and the faint crackle of fire from the hearth.
Mia poured herself a generous serving of dark dwarven whiskey into a heavy mug and took a long, steady sip. Her broad shoulders slumped slightly—not from weariness, but from the weight of the thoughts she'd kept silent all evening.
She looked across the bar at Syr, who was dreamily hugging a cushion to her chest, cheeks flushed, feet swinging slowly under the stool like an infatuated schoolgirl.
Mia grunted.
"You've been acting like a love-sick pup ever since we dragged that boy in," she said flatly, setting her mug down with a thud. "What's gotten into you, Syr? That much dotin' over a kid? Don't tell me it's just because he's got pretty eyes."
Syr's fingers pressed into the cushion, her face somehow growing redder. "It's not his eyes," she breathed softly, her voice syrupy with wonder. "It's... everything. His soul..."
Mia's brows furrowed. "So it is his soul then." She exhaled through her nose, not bothering to hide the worry in her eyes. "I figured as much, the way you lit up when you looked at him. But you've seen thousands of souls, girl. Why's this one got you acting like a deer in heat?"
Syr placed her chin on the cushion, eyes gleaming in the flickering candlelight. "Because I've never—ever—seen a soul like his. Not in all my years. Not in any world, in any form." She sighed blissfully, hugging the pillow tighter. "It was like looking at something divine."
Mia leaned forward slowly, her voice low and edged with caution. "What color was it?" Syr's lips spread into a dreamy smile. She giggled, then whispered, "All of them."
Mia blinked. "...All?"
Syr lifted her head now, both hands against her warm cheeks. "When I looked at him, I didn't just see a glow or a flame, or even the usual hue most mortals carry." She paused, her eyes far away now, lost in the memory. "I saw a tree—a great, translucent one, like Yggdrasil itself. Its roots wrapped deep into his being, its branches reaching high, swaying in the emptiness of space."
The room was quiet.
Syr's voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "And the colors... they shimmered across every leaf, every limb. Red, gold, violet, sapphire, emerald... dozens I can't even describe. Stars hung around it like tiny blessings. It was like a soul born from the union of all the heavens and myths."
Mia slowly sat back, rubbing a hand over her face. "Hells... that sounds like a once-in-a-thousand-years kind of soul."
"No," Syr said with certainty, "a once-in-a-lifetime one."
The declaration hung in the air like divine judgment. The fire popped quietly in the distance. Mia picked up her drink again, watching the girl—no, she reminded herself, the goddess—sigh like a maiden in love.
"You're fallin' for him," Mia said gruffly, more a statement than a question. Syr let her hands fall to the counter, face flushed and smiling dreamily. "Mmhmm." She wiped a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth, clearly not realizing it was there until it had already escaped. "I think I already have."
Mia's fist hit the table hard enough to rattle the glassware. "Damn it, Freya!"
Syr blinked, caught off guard, but not surprised. "Mia—"
"No," the dwarf said, pointing a thick finger at her. "He's a kid. He's ten. Let him grow up a little bit before you start trying to claim him." Syr closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the smile never quite leaving her face. "I know," whether it was sincere or play-acted, even Mia couldn't tell. "But it doesn't hurt to guide him. To help him... until he's old enough to choose for himself."
Mia narrowed her eyes. "And what if he doesn't choose you?" Syr tilted her head, gray hair catching the candlelight like a halo. Her voice, when she answered, was soft... and chilling. "He will."
"I'll never let him go," she whispered, fingertips tracing invisible rings in the wood of the counter.
"Even if he walks to the edge of the world, even if he turns away, I'll be there. He was born with a soul that calls to me, Mia. That soul is mine."
Mia stared at her for a long time. Then, finally, she drained the rest of her whiskey and set the mug aside. "I just hope you don't end up breaking him," she muttered. "Because if you do..." Syr's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, something ancient shimmered behind them, like a storm just behind the clouds. "I won't."
The two sat in silence for a moment longer. The candle burned lower. Then, somewhere far away—far deeper than the city streets, deeper than the Dungeon's upper floors, deeper than even the middle levels...
In the shadowed depths of the Deep Floors, in a place where light had never touched and monsters older than nightmares slumbered in silence...
A woman stood in the darkness, or rather, was the darkness. Her form was cloaked in layers of night itself, her hair swirling like liquid shadow. Pale eyes blinked open slowly, and a cold smile curved across her lips. The air around her trembled. She lifted her head slightly, as though listening to a song from far above.
Then, she whispered with serpentine delight: "Oh... he has arrived."
"There you are…"
The voice was soft, like silk brushing against my ears in a world without light.
I stood in a place of absolute darkness. Not the darkness of sleep or shadow—but something alive, something ancient. I couldn't see my body, nor the ground beneath me, only the black expanse that stretched infinitely around me.
Then… she emerged.
A woman. No—something more than a woman. Beautiful, impossibly so, but not in a mortal way. Her form shimmered, part mist, part silhouette. Her hair flowed around her like ribbons of midnight smoke, her eyes glowing with a soft, pale blue that pierced straight through me. The darkness around her didn't hide her; it obeyed her, as though it were her breath, her blood.
She was the void and the shape within it.
"There you are…" she said again, with a strange blend of joy and inevitability.
I couldn't speak. I felt small—tiny, like a leaf in the presence of a storm. My heart raced, not in fear, but awe. She stepped toward me, her presence swallowing the nothingness around us. The world felt… heavy.
"Wait there, my child," she whispered, her voice echoing like a memory in the deepest parts of my soul. "I will come to you."
And with that, she vanished.
Darkness collapsed inward—
—and I gasped awake.
My eyes shot open, breath coming in short bursts as I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling of the Hostess of Fertility's storage room. My hand clenched the thin blanket as the weight of the dream clung to my chest. I sat up slowly, wiping the cold sweat from my brow.
What was that? I thought. That woman… or being. She felt like the dream version of a goddess, but not one I recognized. Not from the stories, not from the lore I remembered from Danmachi. She wasn't Freya. She wasn't Loki. There was something primal about her—like she was part of the Dungeon itself.
I shivered, even though the room wasn't cold.
I turned toward the window.
Still dark. Maybe 4 or 5 AM by Earth standards. The sun hadn't even begun to rise. Most sane people would've rolled over and gone back to sleep.
But I wasn't most people.
"No time like the present," I muttered, quietly sliding out from under the blanket and dressing quickly in the same work clothes from yesterday.
Slipping out through the tavern's rear door, I found myself in the cool morning air. The stone streets were damp with dew, the silence of Orario resting over everything like a soft blanket.
I stepped into the courtyard behind the tavern, took a deep breath… and began.
Push-ups first. I dropped to the ground and braced my hands on the cobbled stones. My ten-year-old arms still ached from yesterday's work, but I pushed through.
One. Two. Three. Four—
By thirty, my arms trembled. By seventy, my breath was ragged. By the time I hit one-fifty, I collapsed face-first, wheezing into the stone.
"Gods…" I groaned. "I asked for rapid growth, not rapid death."
But I wasn't done.
I pulled myself up and moved into squats, each one sending a jolt through my thighs. I paced them with breath. My muscles screamed by the one-fifty mark. By two hundred, my legs shook like twigs in a windstorm.
Then came plank holds.
Arms trembling, abs burning, I forced my body into stillness. It was like trying to hold a collapsing tower. My body—still new to this world, to this weight—was rebelling at every second.
But I endured.
Because I knew: this pain was my investment. This body might have potential, but I needed to earn every inch of strength. The Dungeon wouldn't care if I was a protagonist or not. It would eat me alive if I wasn't ready.
And I would not die again.
After finishing my routine and letting myself recover with a few deep breaths, I stood slowly. My shirt clung to me with sweat. My arms and legs felt like overcooked noodles. But my heart—my soul—was burning with fire.
Time to run.
I slipped into the alley, jogging slowly at first through the sleeping city. The familiar cobblestones beneath my feet echoed softly in the quiet.
As I passed storefronts and shadowed homes, I made mental notes—familiarizing myself with landmarks, alleys, signposts. It was easy to get lost in Orario if you didn't know your way. The circular layout of the city, radiating around Babel Tower, was beautiful… and confusing.
Here and there, I passed a few other early risers.
A gruff old dwarf hauling crates near the market.
A few fellow joggers, some younger adventurers in light armor. One of them nodded to me in passing.
Then… a woman staggering from an alley near the red-light district. Her makeup was smeared, her perfume strong enough to burn my nose, and she giggled as she clung to the arm of a drunken man.
The air stank of perfume, booze, and something else. The pleasure district, still winding down from its night of revelry.
I turned my eyes forward and picked up the pace.
By the time I reached the Dungeon's entrance, the sun had just begun peeking over the horizon, casting gold light against the massive white tower of Babel that pierced the sky like a blade. The dungeon entrance at the tower's base stood quiet, like the maw of some slumbering beast.
I stopped for a moment, hands on my knees, panting hard. My body ached from every muscle, but I stood proud.
"Next time I come here," I whispered to the tower, "I won't be the same helpless kid."
As I turned to jog back, that's when I saw them.
A trio of girls jogging from the opposite direction, light on their feet, their steps as graceful as dancers and powerful as trained warriors.
Even from this distance I recognized the silhouettes—two taller girls, and one shorter, slender figure with long, golden hair that shimmered in the morning light.
Ais Wallenstein. Tiona and Tione Hiryute. They were dressed in light training gear, likely on a morning run as part of their Familia's conditioning we passed each other in silence.
Ais' eyes met mine—golden, curious, and calm. Her expression was blank at first, then softened slightly as we passed. No words. Just a moment.
Tiona turned to her, grinning. "Hey Ais, you know that kid?"
Ais glanced back briefly, still watching me. "…No. But…" Her voice was quiet. "He just felt… different."
Tione snorted. "Everything feels different to you lately. You say that about cats sometimes." I heard them laugh as they passed, the sound fading behind me. I didn't look back. My heart was pounding—not from the run this time, but from that encounter.
That was Ais Wallenstein. I just passed Ais Wallenstein. Even if she didn't know it, she was a legendary figure in the making. And somehow, she noticed something about me. My body was too tired to blush, but my mind was racing with adrenaline and awe.
Keep going. Focus.
I made it back to the Hostess as the sun crept higher over the rooftops. Rather than go in the front, I circled around back and resumed my training where I left off.
Another round.
Fifty more push-ups. A hundred more squats. A long, painful plank hold that nearly made me cry.
And that's when I saw her—leaning quietly against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
Ryu Lion.
Dressed in her usual uniform, her green hair catching the morning light, she watched me finish my last squat before speaking.
"You're working hard this morning," she said simply.
I straightened, breathing hard, sweat rolling down my temples. "A strong body," I managed between breaths, "is a good foundation."
Ryu's gaze flicked over me—evaluating, perhaps even approving.
She nodded once. "Prep starts in an hour. Cleaning, restocking, sweeping. Be here ten minutes early."
I gave a tired but firm smile. "Yes ma'am."
Ryu turned to head back inside, her footsteps quiet on the stone.
I let out a long breath and sat down on the cold stone, feeling the soreness settle into every part of me.
Day two. Survived. Progress made.
I looked up at the sky.
The world of Orario was massive. Dangerous. Divine. But this time… I was in it. Alive, breathing, growing stronger by the day.
And whatever that dream meant—whoever that woman in the dark was—I knew she was coming.
But I'd be ready.
Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
It doesn't sound like much when you say it out loud, but it felt like I had lived several lifetimes crammed into those days—sore muscles, dish piles, sweep runs, training, lectures, and awkward social interactions included.
I was adjusting, slowly but surely.
Every morning, I rose before the sun, stepped into the courtyard behind the Hostess of Fertility, and went through my training. 150 push-ups, 200 squats, planks, runs through the waking streets of Orario. By week two, the soreness didn't knock me flat anymore. My muscles ached, yes—but with familiarity. I could feel my body adapting. Growing.
I caught glimpses of it in the mirror: arms firming up, thighs thickening, my posture sharpening. My blessings—those gifts granted to me in the void—weren't silent anymore. They stirred.
My stamina rose quicker than I expected. My reflexes? Sharper than any kid's should be. I could tell when someone behind me was about to bump into me with a tray, or when Mia's thick-soled boots were about to come stomping toward my tail for slacking.
My Mind's Eye was beginning to awaken even my Divine Luck was having its say. Case in point—the drunk elf woman.
She'd walked in with a few friends one evening after the dinner rush. she and her girls were drinking quite a lot I could smell it from their table. I was just gathering up empty mugs when she leaned over, swaying slightly with a sultry smile that immediately put my nerves on edge.
"Well now," she'd drawled, eyes half-lidded. "Aren't you a cute little thing? She stared at me for a second with a disapproving look. It's such a shame you're only a half-elf, but if you keep growing like that, sweetheart, and maybe, just maybe I could look past it and let you take care of me. Mmm?"
I was frozen halfway between indignation and the urge to hurl. I didn't even have time to respond before—
"Is there a problem here?" Syr's voice came first, honey-sweet and ice-cold. Then Ryuu, who materialized behind the elf's seat like a quiet reaper. "Your tab," Ryuu said, placing the paper down with a distinct thump.
The elf blinked at both of them, clearly too buzzed to realize how close she was to a closed-casket funeral. Syr's smile widened. "If you and your friends would kindly pay up... and leave a generous tip for our hardworking boy here."
I swear her eyes sparkled violet just for a second.
The elf and her friends coughed, stumbled over apologies, overpaid by more than a few thousand valis, and practically fled the tavern. Afterward, I stared at the two of them—my supposed protectors—and realized just how dangerous and adorable they could be at the same time.
From then on, Syr gave me a slightly tighter hug when I looked flustered. Which brings me to training Ryuu... she began hitting me on the back of the head during sparring.
Ryu had agreed to help me when time allowed. Most days, we were too busy—but sometimes between the morning shift and evening rush, we'd get an hour or two. We started with sparring. Light for her. Impossible for me.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't lay a finger on her. She moved like water—unreadable and fluid but the more I focused, the more I saw patterns. My Mind's Eye was tuning in. Every shift of her shoulder, the twitch of a heel, told a story. I began predicting when her palm would slap the back of my head before it even moved. I dodged twice.
Ryuu arched an eyebrow both times, not saying anything—but the tiny smile she hid behind her hair said enough.
And then… there was Syr.
She played her role as the big-sister waitress to perfection—guiding me, complimenting my work, fussing when I looked too tired. But I knew Freya's game.
I wasn't stupid. The smiles, the teasing, the constant proximity—it was like she wanted to melt into my bones. And I could feel her watching me with that same glimmer of interest she showed Bell Cranel in the anime only I wasn't Bell and I had no intention of being her toy.
That didn't stop her from trying. Just today, after cleaning up and wiping down the bar, she announced sweetly, "The girls are going to the public bathhouse together! You should come too, Cain~!"
I nearly dropped the broom. "I—uh—still have to train with Ryuu—" "Oh don't worry," she said, twirling a strand of her hair, "I'll wait behind. We can go together. I'll even wash your back!"
I stared at her, throat dry. "Th-th-that's not necessary, Syr—" Her smile grew more radiant. "I insist~!" Ryu, to her eternal credit, stepped in like the queen she was. "I'll stay and help Cain train," she said calmly. "He's still learning footwork."
Syr blinked, her eyes narrowing for half a second before she relaxed. "Oh? Well, I suppose you two can play together for now." She leaned in close and whispered into my ear, "But I'm going to be first one day."
She winked and pranced away after the others, leaving me stunned and mildly terrified. "Is she always like that?" I asked once she was out of earshot.
Ryuu gave a long pause, then simply said, "If she likes you, then yes." We moved to the courtyard, where Ryuu handed me a thick branch she'd plucked from one of the trees behind the tavern. Rough, long, balanced—it mimicked a training sword well enough.
"Let's start with the basics," she instructed. "Stance and grip. Hold the position until I say otherwise." I did as told, holding the branch like a sword, knees bent, back straight, arms firm.
My shoulders began to burn after five minutes. My forearms shook after ten.
Then we went through slashes—horizontal, diagonal, rising, plunging. She guided me through footwork: how to pivot, how to flow through a swing, how to keep my balance even when moving backward.
I did nearly two hundred swings, sweat dripping from my chin, the muscles in my shoulders screaming for mercy.
Ryuu finally spoke. "You can stop here." I panted, arms drooping. "No. Let me try sparring." She tilted her head. "Your arms are barely holding that stick."
"Then that'll make it more real," I said, forcing myself upright. "One round. I just want to test something." She stared for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll remain reactive. You be active. Come at me."
We circled. I attacked three times and each attack she parried. My muscles burned. My lungs were tight. But my eyes locked onto her every movement. Her breathing, balance. and foot placement, and then I saw it.
A flicker. A golden translucent line across the space between her hip and elbow. It wasn't physical. It was my Mind's Eye—reacting. A Shatterpoint, maybe. A moment of vulnerability.
I struck my makeshift blade swept through the air and landed. Ryuu's eyes widened slightly as the tip tapped her side. Syr, who had been watching from the kitchen door, clapped her hands in surprise. "Oh my~!"
Ryuu blinked down at me. "...Not bad."
I gasped for air, stick wobbling in my hands. "I was lucky. You let your guard down." Ryuu's tone turned firm. "Even if I did, you took the opening. That's not luck—that's awareness. Don't sell yourself short, Cain."
I smiled weakly. "Alright... but I won't count it until I land three clean hits. That'll be my bar." Ryuu gave the faintest nod, her eyes softening. "A fair challenge." Syr stepped closer, hands on her hips. "Okay, you two. Time for the bath! That's enough sweat and ego for one day." "I thought you went with the others?" "I told them I would come with you two, so let's go." With a smile, I groaned.
She smirked.