Day 1: Arrival
Orario rises before Bell Cranel like a dream made stone.
The massive white walls stretch toward the sky, dwarfing everything around them. Babel Tower pierces the clouds at the city's heart—impossibly tall, impossibly beautiful, impossibly real.
I'm here. I actually made it.
Bell stands at the city gates, a small figure among the crowds streaming in and out. Her pack holds everything she owns—a few changes of clothes, her grandfather's old knife, and the money she saved from two years of working odd jobs in her village.
Not much. But enough to start.
She touches the knife at her belt—worn handle, slightly rusted blade, completely inadequate for real combat. But it was Grandfather's, and that makes it precious.
"Go to Orario, Bell. Become an adventurer. Live the stories we read together."
His final words, spoken from his deathbed three months ago. The man who raised her, taught her, filled her head with tales of heroes and dungeons and gods walking among mortals.
I'll make you proud, Grandpa. I promise.
Bell takes a deep breath and walks through the gates into Orario.
The city swallows her immediately. Noise crashes from every direction—merchants shouting, adventurers laughing, the constant rumble of carts on stone. People of every race move past—humans, elves, dwarves, beast people, even the occasional pallum.
It's overwhelming. Exciting. Terrifying.
Bell clutches her pack tighter and heads toward the heart of the city. Toward the Guild, where adventurers register and Familias recruit.
This is where it begins. My story. My adventure.
She doesn't notice the eyes that assess and dismiss her in seconds. Doesn't realize how small she looks, how young, how utterly unprepared.
Doesn't know that in this city, dreamers either become legends or become cautionary tales.
Day 2: First Rejections
The Loki Familia headquarters is impressive.
A massive building in the wealthy district, clearly maintained by one of Orario's strongest Familias. Armed guards stand at the entrance, and adventurers in expensive gear come and go with casual confidence.
Bell approaches nervously, smoothing down her simple dress, trying to look presentable.
This is it. Just ask. The worst they can say is no.
She walks up to the guard. "Excuse me. Is Loki Familia accepting new members?"
The guard looks down at her. Up and down, assessing with experienced eyes. His expression doesn't change, but something dismissive enters his gaze.
"Got a referral?"
"N-No, but I—"
"Combat experience?"
"I've trained with my grandfather—"
"Level and stats?"
"I... I don't have Falna yet. That's why I'm applying—"
"Sorry, kid. Loki Familia only accepts experienced adventurers or exceptional prospects with referrals." His tone isn't unkind, just matter-of-fact. "Try smaller Familias."
"But I can work hard! I'll train every day! I just need a chance—"
"Next."
The guard's attention shifts to someone behind her. Bell stands there for a moment, dismissed, invisible.
She walks away, throat tight.
It's okay. There are other Familias. Lots of them.
Freya Familia doesn't even let her inside.
"We're not recruiting."
"But I haven't even explained—"
"We choose our members. We don't accept applications."
The door closes.
Hephaestus Familia listens to her pitch—earnest, hopeful, probably too desperate.
The receptionist is polite but firm. "We primarily recruit craftsmen and smiths. Do you have any crafting skills?"
"I can cook a little—"
"Combat-focused applicants need exceptional potential or existing Falna. Come back when you have experience."
Takemikazuchi Familia interviews her properly at least.
The god himself sits across from Bell in their training hall, kind eyes assessing her carefully.
"Why do you want to be an adventurer?"
"My grandfather raised me on stories of heroes. He wanted me to come to Orario, to live those stories myself." Bell's voice trembles slightly. "I want to become someone he'd be proud of. Someone strong enough to help people."
"Noble goals." Takemikazuchi smiles gently. "But I sense something else. What are you really seeking?"
Bell hesitates. "I... I want to meet someone special. Someone I can become a hero for."
The god's expression saddens. "I see. Bell Cranel, your heart is sincere, but my Familia has limited space. I need to prioritize applicants with clear direction and existing combat capability. I'm sorry."
"I understand. Thank you for your time."
Bell bows and leaves, eyes burning.
Four rejections in one day. Maybe five if I count the ones that wouldn't even see me.
Day 3-5: Desperation
The next three days blur together in a cycle of applications and rejections.
Miach Familia: "We'd love to help, but we're already struggling financially. We can't support a new member right now."
Soma Familia: "Sure, we'll take you." But something about the recruiter's smile makes Bell's skin crawl. She declines and leaves quickly.
Dozens of smaller Familias, each with their own reasons:
"Too inexperienced."
"Too young."
"We need specialists, not general applicants."
"Come back when you have Falna."
"Without a god's blessing already, you're a liability."
Some are kind about it. Others are dismissive. A few are openly cruel.
"A girl that small? She'd die on floor one."
"Dreamers like you come to Orario every day. Most don't last a week."
"Go home, kid. This city eats people like you for breakfast."
Each rejection chips away at Bell's confidence. By day five, her savings are running low, her hope is fading, and she's sleeping in a cheap boarding house that smells like mold and desperation.
Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this.
But every time the thought surfaces, she remembers Grandfather's smile. His stories. His belief in her.
Just a little longer. Someone will accept me. Someone has to.
Day 6: Breaking
Rain falls over Orario.
Bell sits on a bench in a small park, pack clutched to her chest, watching the gray sky weep.
She tried seven more Familias today. Seven more rejections.
Her money is almost gone. The boarding house wants payment she can't afford. And tomorrow... tomorrow she doesn't know what she'll do.
I failed. I came to Orario to become an adventurer, and I can't even find a god to bless me.
People hurry past, seeking shelter from the rain. No one looks at the small white-haired girl crying on a bench. In Orario, broken dreams are too common to notice.
Bell pulls out Grandfather's knife, holding it with trembling hands.
The blade is worn, the handle wrapped in old leather that's coming loose. It's not a weapon for the Dungeon. It's a relic. A memory.
"This was my knife when I was young, Bell. It's not much, but it kept me alive. I want you to have it."
"Grandpa, I can't take this—"
"You can and you will. When you're scared or lonely in Orario, hold this knife and remember—I believe in you. Always have. Always will."
Bell presses the knife to her forehead, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa. I'm so sorry. I tried so hard, but no one wants me. No one thinks I'm good enough."
The rain soaks through her clothes. Her pack is getting wet. She should find shelter.
But she can't seem to move.
What do I do now? Go home? Admit defeat? Live in that village forever, knowing I failed?
The thought is unbearable.
But so is staying here, homeless and hopeless, in a city that doesn't want her.
"Grandpa..." Her voice breaks. "I miss you. I miss you so much. Please tell me what to do. I'm so lost."
The rain continues to fall.
No answer comes.
Day 7: Fate
Evening arrives with Bell still wandering.
She left the park when the rain stopped, walking aimlessly through Orario's streets. Her pack is lighter now—she sold her spare clothes to pay for one more night at the boarding house. Tomorrow, she'll have nothing left to sell except Grandfather's knife.
I can't. I won't. That's all I have left of him.
Bell's stomach growls. She hasn't eaten since yesterday morning—one small meal, the cheapest thing she could find. Her head feels light, fuzzy, like she's watching herself from far away.
Maybe I should just go home. Admit this was a mistake.
The thought doesn't even hurt anymore. She's too tired for pain.
She turns down a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Fewer people here. Darker. The kind of place Grandfather would have told her to avoid.
Bell doesn't care anymore.
She leans against a wall, sliding down until she's sitting on the cold stone. The knife is still in her hand—she's been holding it all day, like a talisman, like proof she existed to someone.
"Grandpa." The word comes out as a whisper. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I'm not brave enough. I'm not—"
Her voice breaks.
The tears come again, hot and bitter, streaming down her face. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
"Are you alright?"
The voice is gentle, concerned, distinctly feminine.
Bell looks up through tear-blurred vision. A young woman stands in front of her—petite, maybe just over five feet tall, with black hair tied in twin tails and bright blue eyes. She wears a simple white dress with a blue ribbon.
But there's something about her. An aura, a presence that's hard to define. Something that marks her as different.
A goddess.
"I-I'm fine," Bell says automatically, trying to wipe her eyes.
"You're clearly not fine." The woman kneels down, putting herself at Bell's eye level. "You're soaking wet, you're crying, and you look like you haven't eaten in days."
"I'm okay. Really. I don't want to bother—"
"Too late. I'm bothered." The woman's smile is warm, genuine. "I'm Hestia. What's your name?"
"B-Bell. Bell Cranel."
"Bell." Hestia says the name softly, like she's testing it. "That's a lovely name. Bell, why are you crying alone in a dark alley?"
"I..." Bell's throat closes. She can't say it. Can't admit her failure out loud.
"It's okay." Hestia sits down beside her, heedless of the dirty ground. "You don't have to tell me. But I'm not leaving you here alone."
"Why?" The word slips out. "Why do you care? You don't even know me."
"Because you remind me of someone." Hestia's expression becomes distant. "Someone who also came to Orario with big dreams and no one to believe in them."
They sit in silence for a moment. Bell's tears slow, then stop.
"Were you... were you looking for a Familia?" Hestia asks gently.
Bell nods miserably. "I applied to dozens. No one wanted me. They all said I'm too inexperienced, too weak, too young, too—" Her voice breaks again. "Too everything."
"Idiots."
Bell blinks. "What?"
"They're idiots." Hestia's voice carries surprising firmness. "Rejecting someone based on what they are now instead of what they could become. That's not how Familias should work."
"But they're right. I don't have training, or Falna, or experience—"
"So? Everyone starts somewhere." Hestia turns to face her fully. "Bell, can I ask you something?"
"O-Okay."
"Why did you come to Orario?"
Bell looks down at the knife in her hands. "My grandfather raised me. He filled my head with stories of heroes and gods and adventures. He always said... he always said I could be special. That I could be someone's hero." Her voice drops to a whisper. "He died three months ago. Before he died, he told me to come here. To live the stories we read together."
"And you came. Even though it was scary. Even though you were alone."
"Yes."
"That's brave, Bell. Incredibly brave."
"I don't feel brave. I feel like I'm failing him."
Hestia is quiet for a long moment. Then she speaks, her voice soft but certain:
"Bell Cranel, would you like to join my Familia?"
Bell's head snaps up. "What?"
"My Familia. Hestia Familia." Hestia smiles—warm, genuine, full of hope. "I'm looking for children. For people with good hearts who want to become adventurers. You seem like exactly the kind of person I want in my family."
"But... but you don't know anything about me. I could be weak, or useless, or—"
"You're none of those things. You're someone who traveled alone to a dangerous city to fulfill a dying man's dream. You're someone who tried for a week despite constant rejection. You're someone who's still here, still hoping, even when it hurts." Hestia extends her hand. "That's the kind of person I want. So, what do you say? Want to be part of my Familia?"
Bell stares at the offered hand. At this goddess who appeared out of nowhere, who sat in the dirt beside a crying stranger, who offers acceptance without demands or conditions.
"I... I don't have money for Familia fees. I can barely afford food."
"I don't care about money."
"I don't have combat experience."
"We'll train you."
"I'm weak—"
"Not for long." Hestia's smile doesn't waver. "Bell, I'm not asking for perfection. I'm asking if you want a family. A goddess who'll support you. A home to come back to. A chance to become the adventurer your grandfather believed you could be."
Bell's vision blurs again. But these tears are different.
"Yes." The word comes out choked. "Yes, please. I want to join your Familia."
"Then it's decided!" Hestia pulls Bell into a hug, startling her. "Welcome to Hestia Familia, Bell Cranel! You're my second child, and I promise I'll take good care of you!"
Bell hugs back, crying into Hestia's shoulder—relief, gratitude, hope, all mixed together.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen where we live." Hestia pulls back, grinning despite the tears in her own eyes. "It's an old church. Drafty, dusty, but it's home. And you'll have a familia sibling—Leon. He's very strong, very serious, very kind. You'll like him."
"A sibling?" Something warm unfolds in Bell's chest. "I'll have a family again?"
"You will. We're small—just me, Leon, and now you. But we're real. We're family." Hestia stands and pulls Bell up. "Come on. Let's get you home, fed, and properly blessed. Tomorrow, we'll register you with the Guild and start your training."
Bell follows in a daze, still clutching Grandfather's knife.
I found one. A goddess who wants me. A familia that accepts me.
Grandpa, I think... I think things are going to be okay.
As they walk through Orario's evening streets, Hestia chattering cheerfully about the familia and the church and Leon's amazing cooking, Bell allows herself something she hasn't felt in days.
Hope.
Not the desperate, fragile hope of rejection and failure.
But real hope. Solid hope. The kind that comes from someone saying "you're wanted" when the whole world said you weren't.
"Bell," Hestia says, glancing back with a smile, "you're going to do great things. I can feel it."
"I'll try. I'll try so hard."
"I know you will. That's why I chose you."
They continue toward the old church, toward home, toward the beginning of Bell Cranel's true story.
Behind them, rain clouds part. Stars emerge, scattered across the darkening sky—eternal witnesses to a meeting that will change everything.
A broken girl and a hopeful goddess.
The beginning of something special.
The start of a family.