I found myself there before I even realized it.
I was born fifteen years ago. It was the same year the Zeus and Hera Familias—led by the strongest God and Goddess of that era—suffered defeat at the hands of the One-Eyed Black Dragon. That creature remains the last of the Three Great Quests, a legend known even to the children of the Lower World. That year marked the beginning of the Dark Age.
I still remember those days with haunting clarity. Chaos, fear, and despair blanketed the entire world. Orario itself had fallen into anarchy. Though people claim public safety has improved today, back then, everyone lived in a state of constant anxiety. Crime ran rampant.
I was born in this city, Orario. It is a place built like a seal over the maw that spews monsters: the Dungeon. Adventurers live here, making their living by slaughtering those beasts. They call it the City of Heroes.
But I knew better. Heroes—at least in a city like this—did not exist.
My parents belonged to the Soma Familia. Just as the son of a noble becomes a noble and the son of a peasant becomes a peasant, the Falna was engraved upon my back by the god Soma as soon as I was old enough to understand my surroundings.
However, shortly after I gained awareness of the world, my parents ventured into floors far beyond their capabilities. They died quite simply, leaving me behind... and for what? The answer was clear: money.
The loyalty of the Soma Familia members is not directed toward the God himself. Instead, they worship God's Wine, a nectar that shares their deity's name. Soma, the god of brewing, crafted it with his own hands using only ingredients from the Lower World, without utilizing his divine powers.
Yet, the taste of that wine goes beyond "exquisite"; it is demonic. If the failed batches sold at exorbitant prices in the market are one thing, the completed "original version" is something else entirely. If a mortal drinks it, they descend to the level of a beast, living only for the next drop until they sober up.
I once drank it myself. I couldn't think of anything else until the intoxication finally wore off. God's Wine was something that transcended the capacity of the Lower World's people; it could intoxicate even the soul.
By exploiting this dependency, the captain and several leaders established a rule: members would receive the wine once. Anyone wanting a second taste had to pay astronomical sums. Thus, the leaders lined their pockets while the members lived as adventurers, gathering money by any means necessary just to drink again, exactly as the leaders planned.
God Soma never uttered a single word regarding these conspiracies between the leaders and the members.
Perhaps Soma was not an evil god. He harbored no malice or ill intent toward us residents of the Lower World. What he felt was asceticism and indifference. The God had abandoned the people long ago, even before I was born.
Naturally, such a god would never save me. He likely didn't even know a follower like me existed in his Familia.
I cannot remember my parents' faces or their voices now. I didn't feel sad about it then, and I don't feel sad now.
After my parents died, no inheritance remained for a small child like me. I became utterly alone in this world. The days that followed were a literal hell.
No one helped me. There was no one to rely on. The Dark Age was not a peaceful time that allowed a child of the Pallum race—small-statured and without a family—to live in tranquility.
Once Orario lost the deterrent force of the Zeus and Hera Familias, the city suffered daily under the tyranny of the Dark Factions, the forces hostile to order.
In an environment where humans died like trash—whether they were commoners or adventurers—my survival wasn't due to skill. Luck was the biggest factor.
... Luck. Yes, I was blessed with the kind of wretched luck that only allowed me to survive.
I did anything to stay alive. I cast my pride away from the start. I curried favor with the scum of the adventurers who scolded me and called me a "child of an inferior race." I bowed my head and swallowed humiliation and muddy water just to see the next day.
But when I saw children my age in the city, walking hand-in-hand with their parents and laughing happily, I wanted to die. Why did I have to suffer like this? Why did I have to feel all this shame?
What was I living for? Why was I alone? I would curl up in a corner and cry all day.
Yet, my stomach would growl with hunger, and I felt disgusted by my own pettiness—my desire to live despite everything. I lost count of how many times I thought I was sick of it all and didn't want to live anymore.
Once my body grew somewhat, I began to venture into the Dungeon. Not out of a desire to follow in my parents' footsteps, but because the adventurer profession earned far more money than begging or simple manual labor.
Fortunately, the Falna required to enter the Dungeon was already engraved on me. ... But even there, the cruelty of reality crushed me.
Simply put, I lacked talent as an adventurer. Since I was a Pallum, a race despised and considered inferior, and possessed no special gift, I couldn't even explore the upper floors.
Thus, only one way to earn money remained: becoming a Supporter. It was a job adventurers looked down upon, viewing us as mere servants for drudgery. Still, I had no choice but to do it or starve.
"Our profits will drop at this rate. Move faster! Get up now!"
"There's no share for a Pallum brat like you. Get out of my sight."
I endured harsh, emotionless insults daily. Often, they withheld my pay or beat me to vent their frustrations. Even so, I never protested. I continued to flatter and grovel because I didn't want to die. In the midst of those days, I lost the ability to smile. My emotions went numb.
... I felt my soul beginning to rot, but I didn't care.
I tried to escape that environment repeatedly, but they found me every time, stripping away any place I managed to establish.
Gradually, I became hardened and resentful. I used my transformation magic, Cinder Ella, to steal from the adventurers I loathed. I saved the money I gathered bit by bit, aiming to buy my way out of the Familia.
I had to leave the Familia. Without that, my life would never truly begin.
.... How cruel this world was to me.
That was when I met him. I met Master Bell.
At first, I thought he was an easy, naive target. But that impression changed completely when I saw him fight in the Dungeon. He ran around, single-handedly and effortlessly taking down monsters that adventurers older than him struggled to fight.
As the days passed and I got to know him better, I began to feel jealous—resentful even. His movements never suggested he was an adventurer who hadn't even completed a single month. His high "Status" was plain to see.
Though he acted humble and claimed it was all thanks to his mentor's teaching, I was certain he possessed an innate talent surpassing any adventurer I had seen. ── He was filled with that unfair, biased "talent" that I was never granted.
He also carried a knife that no Level 1 beginner should have, both in its design and its sharpness. When I asked, he said he received it from his Goddess. Meanwhile, I found no one to save me.
Even when covered in wounds, the light in his eyes never dimmed. He continued to exert agonizing effort. When I asked why he worked so hard, he said he wanted to catch up to the mentor he mentioned, and to the Sword Princess (Ais) who saved his life—and above all, to the brother who had always protected him.
What a luxury! He had talent, he was loved, and he even had brilliant goals for his life.
I thought to myself: I want to tarnish this pure heart.
Therefore, obeying the orders of the Soma Familia members who were threatening me, I betrayed him and tried to kill him. Then, I was nearly killed myself by that same member who coveted my savings.
"..... Ah, what a life. I achieved nothing, and there was nothing."
As I sat at the height of despair, simply waiting for death, Master Bell appeared and saved me.
He must have realized I was the one who stole his knife. He had every right to hate me—the person who deceived him and tried to kill him. ── Why did you save someone like me, when you aren't even a hero?
When I shouted that at him impudently, Master Bell smiled and said:
"I'm certainly not a hero, and maybe I'll never be one no matter how hard I try. But the hero I admire would never have left you behind."
He said that with a smile like a clown dreaming of heroism, and he took my hand with a sincerity that couldn't be faked.
Master Bell, you say you won't become a hero, but for me at least, you are my hero.
And so, I, Lilliruca Arde, became Master Bell's official Supporter. His Goddess, Lady Hestia, was a very kind deity... though she is my rival in competition.
One day, at the beginning of our contract, Master Bell dropped an unexpected bombshell.
It seems the brother Master Bell occasionally mentions also works as an adventurer here in Orario. .. Well, that was fine. Siblings entering different Familias is possible and happens often if they arrive in the city at different times.
The problem was that this brother is one of the leaders and the strongest striking force in the Loki Familia, the city's largest faction: the Sword Saint, Al Cranel.
There isn't a single person in Orario who doesn't know the Sword Saint.
He is the true hero at the forefront of this generation. He shattered every speed record in Orario—and the entire Lower World—within just a few years. Currently, he is one of the two strongest individuals in the city. He possesses the extraordinary talent that allowed him to catch up to Ottar, nicknamed The Warlord, the captain of the Freya Familia and the only Level 7 in the city, in just over three years.
Indeed, the Sword Saint and Master Bell both have white hair and red eyes, and above all, they share the same family name. But it had never crossed my mind. To me, as someone at the bottom of adventurer society, he was a being above the clouds. I couldn't even conceive of a connection.
And it seems there were more bombshells. The mentor he repeatedly mentioned was none other than Vana Arganture, Bete Loga.
........... What is this? This is truly terrifying.
His brother is the Sword Saint and his mentor is Vana Arganture? It's only natural for him to become strong. It would be strange if he didn't.
The fame and dread of Vana Arganture are widespread among all Orario adventurers.
He is one of the leaders of the Loki Familia, much like the Sword Saint, and he tops the list of the most terrifying first-class adventurers in Orario.
He is the "problem child" of the Loki Familia who never hesitates to call others weak. They say that when ten second-class adventurers—who hated him for his tyranny—attacked him, he sent them all to the Dian Cecht Familia hospital.
Furthermore, for unknown reasons, he clashed with the Chariot, who is supposed to be Level 6 (a rank higher than him), and it ended with both of them severely injured.
Whether the opponent is weak or strong, he lunges without hesitation at anyone who crosses him. They say he might even attack the Gods. This is our impression of Vana Arganture, Bete Loga, the fiercest werewolf in Orario.
I thought it was just rumors, but according to Master Bell—his disciple—it's mostly true. Apparently, he feels like he's on the verge of death every day during training.
I assumed he became that monster's apprentice through the recommendation of his brother, the Sword Saint, but it turned out not to be the case. They met by chance in the Dungeon. After Bete mocked him, he suddenly kicked him in the stomach with the force of a Level 5 leg. Because Bell endured the pain and stood back up, Bete took him in for training.
.... What is Master Bell talking about?
Then, why are you saying that with a wide smile, as if you're proud of it? Lili is scared...
Master Bell, you have an abnormal side that makes you delve into the Dungeon even when you're in a state of wretched exhaustion... Did I perhaps make a mistake in choosing the hero who would save me?
.... What?! You're going now to train with Vana Arganture?! And I have to go and greet him too?!
No, no, Lili would prefer to decline... Please don't look at me with those eyes like an abandoned little rabbit. I'll come, I'll come with you.
My first meeting with Vana Arganture was filled with as much dread and roughness as the rumors suggested. I couldn't do anything but nod my head up and down like a broken magic item.
The training that began then could be described in one word: horrific. Master Bell received relentless attacks launched with massive physical power. He quickly became like a tattered rag while Bete rained insults upon him. If Master Bell fell, Bete kicked him in the side.
It was training that made the heart stop from terror. I actually tried to stop it, but Vana Arganture—Master Bete—glared at me with a piercing gaze and threw out a single sentence:
"You trash who doesn't even try to get strong while being this weak—don't interfere."
Those words stripped me of any will to resist. First-class adventurers are truly terrifying...
Despite treatment that looked like bullying, Master Bell never got discouraged. Instead, he attacked Master Bete with eyes gleaming.
It seemed Master Bete had taken a liking to Master Bell. Contrary to the roughness of his words and actions, I felt—since I watched people's faces daily—a hint of concern toward Master Bell outside of training hours, though it was very difficult to notice.
Although he is an extremely terrifying person, he seems to be a good person to the extent that Master Bell respects him. Master Bell liked Master Bete very much and treated him like a close brother... That's what I thought while watching them talk, leaving me out of the conversation.
Huh? Is my rival in love not the little Goddess, nor even the Sword Princess, but this wolf...?
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