Morning arrives with Leon standing in the Guild exchange hall.
He's cleaned up since yesterday's return—washed the dungeon grime away, changed into fresh clothes, ate a proper meal. But exhaustion still clings to him, visible in the dark circles under his eyes, the slight stiffness in his movements.
The exchange clerk examines his loot with widening eyes.
Magic stones from floors five through ten—dozens of them, organized by floor and monster type. Drop items—lizard scales, beetle shells, the Minotaur horn fragment. All carefully preserved, properly documented.
"This is from an eleven-day solo dive?" the clerk asks.
"Yes."
"Floors one through ten?"
"Yes."
The clerk's fingers fly over his abacus, calculating rapidly. "Total value... sixty-three thousand valis for the magic stones. Another twelve thousand for drop items. The Minotaur horn fragment alone is worth eight thousand—those don't drop often from juvenile variants."
He writes out the total. "Eighty-three thousand valis."
Leon accepts the coin voucher silently. Enough money to live comfortably for months. Enough to upgrade equipment, buy supplies, invest in the Familia.
But as he walks out of the Guild, the number feels less important than what he learned earning it.
Eleven days. Alone. Constantly alert. No backup. No safety net.
The realization grows heavier with each step toward home.
Afternoon sunlight streams through the church windows when Leon pushes open the door.
"LEON!"
Hestia's voice is half scream, half sob. She rushes across the room and throws herself at him, nearly knocking him over despite her small size.
"You're back! You're actually back! I was so worried—eleven days, Leon, eleven days without any word—" She pulls back, looking him over frantically. "Are you hurt? You look exhausted. Did you eat? Are you—"
"I'm fine, Hestia." Leon's voice is gentle. "Tired, but fine."
"You better be fine because if you died I would have—" Her voice breaks. She buries her face in his chest, crying openly.
Leon pats her back awkwardly, letting his goddess cry out eleven days of accumulated worry. When she finally calms down, she pulls back, wiping her eyes roughly.
"Okay. Okay. You're home. You're safe." She takes a shaky breath. "Let me update your status. I need to see how much you've grown."
They head to Leon's basement room. He removes his shirt and lies face-down. Hestia's finger glows with divine light as she activates his Falna.
The script appears, and Hestia gasps.
"Leon... look at this."
She begins writing frantically:
Leon Fury - Level 1
Strength: C-687
Endurance: C-751
Dexterity: B-802
Agility: B-789
Magic: I-0
Skills:
[Enlightened Spirit]
[Battle Clarity]
[Unwavering Foundation]
[Qi Control] - Evolution Detected
Manipulation of life energy. Can be channeled through body, weapons, and environment. Efficiency scales with understanding. New application unlocked: Environmental Perception - sense energy flows in surroundings.
"Your Dexterity and Agility broke into B-rank!" Hestia's voice trembles with excitement. "And your Qi Control evolved—you can sense environmental energy now?"
Leon sits up, looking at the status sheet. The numbers are significant—massive growth from eleven days of intensive combat. But it's the skill evolution that interests him most.
"Environmental Perception," he murmurs. "I can sense energy flows around me. That would have helped in the Dungeon—feeling monsters spawn, detecting ambushes..."
"You're ready to level up," Hestia says quietly. "These stats are more than sufficient. You just need an achievement the Falna recognizes. Did anything happen on this dive that might qualify?"
"I defeated a Minotaur variant. Juvenile, but still significantly stronger than me."
"That might do it!" Hestia's excitement returns. "But let's not rush. You said you wanted strong fundamentals before leveling. And honestly..." She looks at him seriously. "You look exhausted, Leon. Really exhausted. Not just physically."
Leon nods slowly. "Eleven days of constant alertness. Fighting alone, sleeping lightly, always watching for threats. It's... draining."
"That's what I was afraid of." Hestia sits beside him. "You're strong, Leon. Incredibly strong for your level. But even the strongest adventurers don't dive alone for that long. There's a reason parties exist."
"I know."
"Do you?" Hestia's voice is gentle but firm. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've been training and diving solo since you arrived in Orario. And while it's impressive, it's also... lonely. Dangerous."
Leon is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks, his voice thoughtful.
"In my past life, I walked the martial path alone. It was necessary—my pursuit of perfection, my search for harmony, these were personal journeys. Others couldn't walk that path for me."
He looks at his hands—calloused, scarred, strong. "But this life is different. The Dungeon isn't a training ground. It's a battlefield. And on battlefields, even the strongest warriors need comrades."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I've been approaching this wrong." Leon meets Hestia's eyes. "I've been treating Orario like my village—hunt alone, survive through personal skill. But that's not how this world works."
"You want to join a party?"
"Maybe. Or..." Leon pauses, considering. "Maybe start small. Find a supporter first. Someone to carry supplies, watch my back during camp, handle logistics so I can focus on combat."
Hestia's expression shifts to surprise, then concern. "A supporter? Leon, most supporters in Orario are... they're not treated well. A lot of adventurers see them as pack mules, not party members."
"Then I'll treat them properly. Fair pay, respectful partnership, actual support rather than exploitation."
"That's..." Hestia smiles despite her worry. "That's very like you. But finding a good supporter isn't easy. The competent ones are already contracted to established Familias."
"Then I'll find someone uncontracted. Someone who needs a chance." Leon stands, stretching carefully. "But first, I need to recover. Properly. No diving for at least three days."
"Make it a week," Hestia counters. "Your body needs rest, Leon. Real rest."
"Five days."
"Six."
"Deal."
Evening finds Leon in the church kitchen, preparing dinner with meticulous care.
He infuses every ingredient with Qi—more than usual, using the cooking process as meditation, as recovery. The energy flows through his hands into the food, settling into each grain of rice, each slice of vegetable.
As he cooks, Leon's mind wanders.
Eleven days alone in the Dungeon. Successful, profitable, growth-inducing. But also isolating, dangerous, unsustainable long-term.
He thinks about the parties he's seen—adventurers working together, covering each other's weaknesses, sharing burdens. He thinks about his past life, where he taught students, trained alongside masters, achieved greatness through solitary effort but also through accumulated wisdom from others.
Even the strongest need someone to watch their back.
The thought crystallizes as he plates the food. Not weakness—pragmatism. Not dependence—smart strategy.
In his past life, he reached the peak alone. In this life, with Hestia and potentially others, maybe he can reach even higher.
Hestia joins him for dinner, praising the food between bites. They talk about his dive—the fights, the challenges, the lessons learned. She listens with complete attention, proud yet worried, supportive yet cautious.
"I meant what I said about the supporter," Leon says over dessert. "Next time I dive that deep, I want someone handling logistics. Let me focus purely on combat and advancement."
"I'll help you look," Hestia promises. "We'll find someone good. Someone trustworthy." She smiles. "Our Familia's growing, Leon. First you, now maybe a supporter. We're becoming real."
"We've always been real."
"You know what I mean." She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. "Thank you. For coming back safe. For trusting me enough to talk about this."
"Thank you for waiting. For believing I would return."
They finish dinner in comfortable silence, family sharing space, both contemplating the future.
Night falls softly over Orario.
Leon stands in the small courtyard behind the church, looking up at the stars. They're different from the stars in his old world—different constellations, different patterns. But they're beautiful in their own way.
He thinks about tomorrow, and the days after. Recovery. Planning. Finding a supporter. Preparing for the next dive.
But more than that, he thinks about growth—not just personal power, but wisdom. The understanding that strength alone isn't enough. That even masters need companions. That the journey is enriched, not diminished, by walking alongside others.
"Next time," Leon whispers to the stars, "I'll fight smarter. Not alone."
The night wind carries his words away into darkness.
But the resolution remains, solid as the earth beneath his feet, warm as the Qi flowing through his channels.
Leon turns and walks back inside, ready to rest, ready to recover, ready for whatever comes next.