Morning light filters through the church windows, painting the old stone in soft gold.
Leon wakes before dawn as always, but today feels different. Today marks the beginning of a deeper dive—not just floors one through five, but pushing further. Testing his limits. Seeing how far his training, his Qi, and his new blades can take him.
He performs his morning forms with extra care, each movement precise, each breath controlled. Qi circulates naturally through his channels, warm and responsive. His body is ready. His mind is focused.
Time to prepare properly.
In the kitchen, Leon gathers ingredients with deliberate attention. Today's breakfast needs to be special—enough energy for Hestia, and a message without words. I'm ready. Trust me.
He infuses every component with Qi. The rice absorbs the energy like it's been waiting for it. The eggs glow faintly in his hands before he cracks them. The vegetables practically hum with stored power. By the time everything is cooked and plated, the meal radiates a warmth that goes beyond temperature.
Footsteps on the stairs.
Hestia appears, hair slightly messy from sleep, rubbing her eyes. She stops when she sees the table.
"You're up early. And cooking again." Her voice is soft, still half-asleep. "What's the occasion?"
"Sit. Eat."
She does, taking her first bite. Her eyes widen immediately.
"Leon, this is... this is even better than usual. How is that possible?" She takes another bite, then another. "What did you do differently?"
"More Qi. More care." Leon sits across from her with his own plate. "I wanted today's breakfast to be memorable."
Hestia pauses mid-bite, chopsticks frozen. Her eyes meet his, understanding dawning.
"You're going deeper today, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"How deep?"
Leon sets down his chopsticks. "I'm planning an extended dive. Multiple days. I'll clear the upper floors systematically, then push into the middle floors. Test my limits properly."
"How many days?" Hestia's voice is carefully controlled.
"One to two weeks, depending on progress."
"Two weeks?" Hestia's chopsticks clatter onto her plate. "Leon, that's—that's too long! What if something happens? What if you get hurt and can't come back?"
"I'll be careful—"
"You said that last time and came back covered in blood!"
Leon meets her gaze steadily. "Last time I was unprepared. Weak equipment, untrained skill, overconfidence. This time is different. I have Tsukikage and Kagezashi. I've mastered Qi fundamentals. My stats are high. And I've learned from my mistakes."
"But two weeks..." Hestia's hands tremble slightly. "That's so long, Leon. I'll be worried every single day."
"I know." Leon's voice softens. "That's why I made this breakfast special. So you'd have something good to remember while I'm gone."
Hestia's eyes get watery. "That's not fair. You can't just cook amazing food and then disappear for two weeks."
"I'm not disappearing. I'm training. Growing stronger. Fulfilling the promise I made—to become strong enough that you never have to worry about me coming home broken."
"I'm always going to worry! That's what family does!"
"Then let me give you a different promise." Leon leans forward. "I won't go past floor ten. That's my limit for this dive. Floors five through ten, no deeper. And if anything feels wrong—if I'm injured, exhausted, or in real danger—I'll retreat immediately. No heroics, no pushing past my limits."
Hestia wipes her eyes roughly. "You promise? Really promise?"
"I, Leon Fury, promise not to exceed floor ten during this dive, and to retreat if I'm seriously injured or in danger I can't handle."
"Say it properly."
"I swear on my honor as your child and as a martial artist—I will not take unnecessary risks, I will not go past floor ten, and I will come back safely to you."
Hestia stares at him for a long moment, tears streaming down her face. Then she stands, walks around the table, and pulls him into a fierce hug.
"You better keep that promise. If you die down there, I'll never forgive you."
Leon returns the hug awkwardly but genuinely. "I'll keep it."
They stay like that for a while—goddess and adventurer, family saying goodbye without saying the words. Eventually Hestia pulls back, wiping her face.
"Okay. Okay." She takes a shaky breath. "You need to prepare. Go buy supplies. I'll... I'll clean up breakfast."
"Hestia—"
"Go. Before I change my mind and lock you in the church."
Leon stands, bows formally, and heads downstairs to gather his equipment.
The market district is busy when Leon arrives.
He moves through the crowds with purpose, mentally checking his list. A week or two in the Dungeon requires serious preparation—not just combat gear, but survival supplies.
First stop: a general goods shop.
"I need camping supplies," Leon tells the shopkeeper, a middle-aged human woman. "Bedroll, flint and steel, rope, water skins. And a proper pack to carry it all."
"Going deep?" she asks while gathering items.
"Middle floors."
"You'll want the reinforced pack then. Costs more, but won't tear when monsters attack." She shows him a sturdy leather pack with metal reinforcements. "Forty-five hundred valis."
"I'll take it. And add two weeks of preserved food—dried meat, hard bread, nuts, dried fruit. Things that won't spoil."
She nods and begins packing. "You're well-prepared. Most young adventurers just grab weapons and charge in. Then we hear they died because they couldn't make fire or forgot to bring water."
"I prefer to survive."
"Smart." She finishes packing everything and calculates the total. "Eight thousand valis even."
Leon pays without hesitation. His funds from the floor five dive can handle this.
Next: a potion shop.
The store is small but well-stocked, shelves lined with colorful bottles. An elf woman stands behind the counter, reading a book.
"I need healing potions," Leon says. "Mid-grade, ten bottles."
She looks up, assessing him with cool green eyes. "Ten bottles? That's expensive. Fifteen thousand valis."
"I can afford it."
"Can you use them properly? Most adventurers waste potions by drinking at the wrong time or using too much at once."
"I know how they work. Drink immediately after combat for best absorption. Don't drink mid-fight unless life-threatening. Don't mix with other potions within an hour."
The elf's eyebrow rises slightly. "You've done research. Good." She retrieves ten bottles from a secured cabinet. "Mid-grade potions heal moderate wounds and restore stamina. They won't fix broken bones or fatal injuries, but they'll keep you alive through most situations."
Leon packs them carefully into his new bag, cushioning each bottle with cloth. "Thank you."
"Don't die. Potions are wasted on corpses."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Final stop: a supply store specializing in adventurer gear.
Leon buys bandages, antiseptic salve, a whetstone for maintaining his blades, spare bowstring, and a small first aid kit. Another three thousand valis.
Total expenditure: twenty-six thousand valis. A significant amount, but necessary. Preparation is the difference between success and becoming another cautionary tale.
Leon returns to the church with his fully stocked pack. It's heavy—maybe forty pounds—but manageable. His Strength stat can handle it, and Qi enhancement can reduce the burden if needed.
In his basement room, Leon lays out everything methodically:
Tsukikage and Kagezashi, freshly sharpened and oiled Bow and two full quivers of Qi-compatible arrows Full armor set (leather, flexible, adequate protection) Camping supplies Two weeks of food and water Ten healing potions First aid supplies Flint, rope, knife, and miscellaneous tools
Everything he needs for an extended dungeon dive.
Leon straps on his equipment piece by piece. Armor first, adjusted for mobility. Twin blades on his back in an X-pattern, easily drawn. Bow and quiver on his left side. Pack secured firmly, weight distributed properly.
He checks his reflection in the small mirror.
The young hunter from Torren Village is gone. In his place stands an adventurer—equipped, prepared, deadly.
Ready.
Leon climbs the stairs one last time. Hestia waits in the main room, trying to look composed and failing completely.
"You're really going."
"Yes."
"And you'll be careful."
"Yes."
"And you'll come back."
"Yes."
Hestia walks up to him and adjusts his armor straps with trembling fingers. "Your left shoulder guard is loose. You'll chafe." She tightens it carefully. "There. Better."
"Thank you, Hestia."
She steps back, clasping her hands in front of her. "I know I can't stop you. I know this is what you came to Orario for—to grow stronger, to test yourself, to find whatever you're looking for." Her voice cracks slightly. "But please, Leon. Please be safe. You're the first person who chose me. You're my family. If something happened to you, I..."
Leon kneels, bringing himself to her eye level. "I will return. That's a promise from your child to his goddess. No matter what happens down there, I'll come back to you."
Hestia throws her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. "You better. Because I'll be waiting. Every single day, I'll be waiting for you to come home."
"I know."
They hold each other for a long moment—family saying goodbye, knowing it might be a week or more before they see each other again.
Finally, Hestia pulls back, wiping her eyes. "Go. Before I really do lock you in the church."
Leon stands, bows deeply, and turns toward the door.
"Leon."
He looks back.
Hestia is smiling through her tears. "Show that Dungeon what Hestia Familia can do."
Leon nods once, then steps out into the morning sunlight.
The streets of Orario are alive with morning activity.
Merchants call out their wares. Craftsmen open their shops. Adventurers stream toward Babel Tower—some fresh and eager, others exhausted from night dives, a few wounded and limping toward healers.
This is the rhythm of the Labyrinth City. Descend, fight, return. Repeat until you die or become legend.
Leon walks through it all with calm focus, observing everything.
A party of five elves passes by, their expensive gear marking them as mid-level adventurers. They laugh and joke, comfortable in their strength.
A solo dwarf trudges past, armor dented and stained, face grim. Survivor of a hard fight, probably lost party members recently.
A group of rookie humans clusters near a tavern, nervously checking equipment, clearly preparing for their first real dive.
Everyone has their own story. Their own reasons for entering the Dungeon.
Leon's reason is simple: Growth. Not wealth, not fame, not glory. Just the pursuit of strength, mastery, the perfect integration of skill and power that he glimpsed in his past life but never fully achieved.
This world offers opportunities his previous one never did. Here, gods grant power directly. Here, the Dungeon provides endless challenges. Here, Qi flows more freely, responds more readily, allows for things that would have been impossible before.
How far can I go?
The question drives him forward.
Babel Tower rises ahead, impossibly tall, its white stone gleaming in the morning sun. The entrance is crowded—adventurers entering and exiting in a constant stream.
Leon joins the flow, descending the spiral stairs into darkness.
Floor one welcomes him like an old friend.
The familiar blue glow, the organic walls, the smell of minerals and dungeon air. Leon has been here dozens of times now. The upper floors hold no mystery anymore—just training grounds, monster farms, stepping stones to deeper challenges.
He moves through quickly, not bothering to hunt. Goblins spawn and die to casual sword strikes as he passes. His goal isn't the upper floors—it's what lies beyond.
Floor two. Floor three. Floor four.
All routine now. War Shadows dissolve to Qi-enhanced arrows. Dungeon lizards fall to Tsukikage's precise cuts. Kobolds don't even slow him down.
Leon collects magic stones as he goes, storing them efficiently in his pack. The coins will be useful when he returns, but they're secondary. Experience is the real treasure.
By the time he reaches the stairs to floor five, the sun outside has reached its peak. Leon pauses, taking a moment to center himself.
Floor five. The floor that nearly killed him. Where his equipment failed and he fought monsters barehanded in desperation.
Different now.
Leon draws Tsukikage and channels Qi through the blade. It glows with that familiar golden light, perfectly responsive to his will. He can feel the weapon's quality—the way it conducts energy, stores it, releases it exactly when needed.
Hephaestus's craftsmanship combined with Hestia's faith. The blade isn't just metal—it's a promise made physical.
I won't waste this.
Leon descends the stairs to floor five.
The atmosphere changes immediately. Heavier. Warmer. The pressure that makes breathing slightly harder, the weight that settles on shoulders and minds.
This is where the Dungeon starts testing adventurers seriously. Where rookies die. Where the unprepared meet reality.
But Leon has prepared. Trained. Mastered his tools and himself.
He walks forward into the dim corridors, Tsukikage ready, Qi flowing naturally through his channels.
Behind him, the stairs to floor four represent safety—a quick escape if needed. Ahead lies the unknown depths, the challenges he came here to face.
Leon doesn't hesitate. Doesn't look back.
He simply continues forward, one disciplined step at a time, building toward something greater.
Back at the old church, Hestia kneels before the small altar she set up.
She's never been particularly religious, even as a goddess. Prayer always felt strange when you're one of the beings people pray to. But right now, with Leon descending into danger, she understands why mortals do it.
Please. Keep him safe.
She doesn't know who she's praying to—fate, fortune, the Dungeon itself maybe. It doesn't matter. The words are just a way to focus her hope, her fear, her love for the child who chose her.
"Come back safe, Leon. That's all I ask. Just... come back."
The church is silent except for her whispered prayer.
Outside, Orario continues its daily rhythm, indifferent to one goddess's worry.
But in the Dungeon's depths, Leon Fury walks deeper, carrying Hestia's blessing and his own unshakeable resolve.