I stood there in the silent dungeon, staring at the rune flickering on the wall like a breathing ember.
My hand hovered over it.
I could feel its pull — that whisper in the back of my mind, that seductive promise of more power.
But for once, I hesitated.
I lowered my hand.
"Not yet," I muttered, my voice echoing off the cold stone. "One step at a time."
I turned away as I put the stone in my tattered cloak pocket and moved forward.
Deeper.
By the time I reached the stairs leading to the lower floors, my heartbeat had evened out. My mind felt sharper, my body thrumming with a low, dangerous energy.
I descended slowly, each step echoing into the gloom below.
When I stepped onto the 5th floor, I felt the air shift immediately.
The walls here weren't the same pale blue of the upper levels. They shimmered in a sickly, almost luminous light green, the stone warped and pitted like old bone. The passages felt tighter, the turns sharper — more like a living thing than architecture.
I took a deep breath, forcing the stinging air into my lungs.
"Welcome to the deep end," I whispered.
It wasn't long before I saw them.
Killer Ants.
They moved in clusters, their chitinous bodies clicking and scraping against the stone. Each one was the size of a dog, their mandibles snapping as they dragged their clawed limbs forward.
My stomach twisted.
I watched them from the shadow of a cracked pillar.
I counted — five of them, spread out but moving in a loose pack.
My fingers flexed around the hilt of my knife. I had to be quick, silent, or they'd tear me apart before I could Blink.
I slipped out from the pillar, staying low, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
The first ant turned, antennae twitching. I lunged forward, driving my knife up under its jaw.
It let out a horrid shriek, legs thrashing as ichor sprayed across my hand.
The others reacted instantly.
I yanked my blade free and rolled to the side just as two charged past, mandibles snapping at empty air.
I stumbled to my feet, slashing wildly as one lunged. My blade sliced across its face, but it kept coming, black eyes gleaming with rage.
I ducked, twisted, drove the knife into its neck joint. It spasmed and collapsed into a spray of black mist and a small crystal.
Two down.
I turned — but the other three were almost on top of me.
"Shit!" I hissed, backing up.
I raised my hand to Blink — but a sudden cold spike of exhaustion shot through me again.
Not yet.
The first ant lunged. I dodged left, narrowly missing a swipe of its claw. Another slammed into my side, throwing me against the wall.
Pain exploded in my ribs, and I gasped, tasting blood.
I scrambled up, lashing out with the knife. The blade connected, slicing through one of its eyes, and it shrieked, thrashing violently.
Before I could finish it, a sudden shadow shifted behind me.
I froze.
I turned, my eyes widening in horror.
A War Shadow.
It stood tall, pitch-black, with an elongated body like a nightmare sculpted from smoke. Its arms were impossibly long, each ending in three shimmering, blade-like claws. Its face was an empty oval, no eyes, no mouth — just a void.
I swallowed, my body screaming to move.
It lunged forward, faster than I could track. I barely ducked, feeling the claws slice through my cloak, missing my neck by inches.
I rolled, my breath tearing from my lungs. My ribs screamed with every movement.
I slashed upward, hitting nothing but air as it twisted impossibly out of reach. It lunged again — this time, it grazed my shoulder, hot blood splattering the green walls.
I stumbled backward, knife raised. The last Killer Ant shrieked and rushed forward as well, pincers wide.
I had no time to think.
I pivoted and ducked under the ant's charge. At the same moment, the War Shadow struck forward again — its claw went straight through the ant's skull, splitting it in half.
The ant dissolved instantly, leaving behind a crystal that clattered to the floor.
I seized the moment.
I lunged forward, ramming my knife up under the War Shadow's chin — or what counted as a chin. The blade met resistance, then slid through something soft and gelatinous.
The Shadow let out a horrid, echoing screech, its claws flailing wildly as it staggered backward.
I tore the blade free, backing up with heaving breaths, sweat and blood dripping down my face.
The creature staggered again, then its body began to crumble — dissolving into a mass of black mist that scattered into the air.
For a moment, I just stood there. My hand trembled, the knife slick with dark ichor.
Then I fell to my knees, panting, my vision swimming.
I looked at my hands — cut, bruised, coated in blood that wasn't entirely mine.
Slowly, I scooped up the crystals, slipping them into my pocket with shaking fingers.
I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold, damp stone.
I laughed — a broken, exhausted sound.
"I… I'm alive," I whispered to the empty corridor.
The mark on my hand pulsed weakly, as if acknowledging my stubbornness.
I looked down the corridor.
.
.
.
.
I don't remember how long I sat there after the War Shadow crumbled into mist. Minutes? Hours? My whole body ached, my head buzzed with exhaustion and adrenaline.
At some point, I forced myself up, each movement pulling a ragged breath from my throat. My cloak was shredded, my shirt clung to me, soaked in blood and sweat.
I needed out.
Step by step, I staggered back through the green corridors. My knife dragged at my side, my fingers too tired to grip it properly. The Dungeon pulsed around me, alive and watchful.
A few stray goblins appeared along the way, but they shrank back when they saw me — or maybe they sensed the raw, feral edge that clung to my soul now.
When I finally saw the spiral stairs leading up, relief threatened to drop me to my knees.
I climbed slowly, each step a small victory, until I finally emerged back onto the first floor of Babel. The bright stone walls, the echo of footsteps, the smell of metal and oil — I almost collapsed just from the familiarity.
I shuffled into the lobby area, weaving past new adventurers waiting to register or cash in crystals. Their eyes darted toward me — toward my blood-soaked clothes, torn cloak, and trembling hands.
I ignored them, forcing myself toward the exit.
I was almost at the doors when I heard it.
A low, amused whistle.
I froze.
"Oi, oi… what the hell is this? Some filthy stray dog crawlin' out of the Dungeon?"
My head turned, my heart crawling into my throat.
Four figures stood near the entrance, like a wall I could never hope to climb.
At the center was a small figure — barely my height, maybe even shorter — with scruffy blond hair and sharp blue eyes that gleamed with amusement and calculation. Despite his child-like frame, he radiated an authority that crushed the air around him.
Finn Deimne.
To his right, an elf woman taller than anyone else present, jade hair tied elegantly, eyes calm and impossibly deep. Riveria Ljos Alf — the high elf mage.
Beside her, a golden-haired woman stood in silence, gold eyes locked on me like a hawk. Ais Wallenstein. The Sword Princess.
And finally — the fourth, a gray-haired werewolf with orange eyes, a wolf tail flicking behind him, and a permanent sneer carved into his face. Bete Loga.
I swallowed hard.
Finn stepped forward first, his expression polite, almost gentle — yet his eyes missed nothing.
"You seem to have had quite an eventful dive," he said, tilting his head slightly. "First time?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My throat felt like sandpaper.
Riveria's gaze swept over me, her eyes lingering on my wounds, my ruined clothes, the faint pulse of the mark on my hand. She exhaled softly, almost in pity.
"You're alive," she said, voice even but gentle. "That alone is impressive."
Bete scoffed, stepping forward. His sneer twisted wider as he looked me up and down, eyes sharp enough to flay skin.
"Pathetic," he barked, spitting the word like venom. "Can't even hold a knife properly. You look like a worm that crawled outta a corpse pile."
I flinched, a surge of anger bubbling up under my exhaustion.
"Leave him alone, Bete," Ais said softly, her voice clear and quiet. Her golden eyes never left me, studying me like I was a puzzle she couldn't quite solve.
Bete clicked his tongue, glaring at her, but didn't argue.
Finn took another step, his hands behind his back. His tone stayed gentle, almost fatherly.
"What's your name, adventurer?"
I forced myself to stand straighter, ignoring the pain screaming through my ribs.
"Ogun," I managed to rasp. "I… I just wanted to try."
Finn's smile twitched slightly at the edges.
"Try?" he repeated. "Most wouldn't survive what you seem to have gone through. Yet here you are… alive, even if barely."
His eyes flicked briefly to the mark on my hand — and for a heartbeat, something sharp and knowing flickered there.
Riveria stepped closer, her presence somehow calming and heavy at the same time.
"That mark," she murmured. "It isn't a Familia blessing… is it?"
I stiffened. I didn't answer — couldn't.
Finn raised a hand slightly, stopping her. His blue eyes fixed on mine, warm yet piercing.
"We're not here to interrogate you," he said kindly. "But Orario is not merciful to the reckless. You should consider joining a Familia. Without support, you'll die. No amount of luck or… strange gifts will save you forever."
Ais tilted her head slightly, a faint curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"You're strong," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Or… maybe stubborn."
I tried to speak, but my voice broke.
Bete snorted again, stepping closer. His orange eyes glinted with savage amusement.
"Look at him," he growled. "Barely standing. He'll probably get eaten on his next trip down."
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to snap back. The mark on my hand pulsed faintly, like it shared my anger.
Finn stepped forward one last time, his expression softening again.
"Think carefully about your path," he said. "Not everyone gets a second chance. Or a third."
He turned to leave, signaling the others. Riveria nodded to me politely, her jade eyes unreadable. Ais lingered for a moment, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
Then she turned away, following them.
Bete rolled his eyes at me one last time before striding off, muttering under his breath about "weaklings and idiots."
I stood frozen, my breath shallow, my legs trembling.
I watched their backs until they disappeared into the lobby's upper corridors, the heavy silence they left behind pressing down on me like a mountain.
Then, finally, I let out a shaky exhale and sank to the floor, my head falling into my hands.
Ais had called me strong. Finn had told me to think. Bete… well, Bete was Bete.
The mark pulsed softly, almost approvingly.
I stared down at it, my chest heaving.
"Yeah," I muttered to myself. "I need to rest. But next time… I'll be ready."
Step by step, I made my way to the exchange counter.
Misha was there, her pink hair bouncing slightly as she leaned over the counter, chatting with another guild employee. When she saw me, her eyes widened, her jaw dropping open.
"Oh my?! Wh-What happened to you?!"
I dragged myself to the counter and dropped the pouch of crystals. The clink of them hitting the wooden surface echoed louder than it should have.
"Need… to cash these," I rasped, avoiding her wide, shocked eyes.
She stared at me, then at the crystals — then back at me. Her pink eyes softened, the corners of her mouth tugging downward in concern.
"You… you actually went in there alone?" she whispered.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
She sighed, her fingers trembling as she began sorting the crystals into a small metal dish. She passed them under a weighing crystal, numbers flickering in the pale light.
"Four thousand Valis," she said quietly, sliding a pouch of coins across to me.
I reached out and took it with shaky fingers.
She hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, her voice low but firm.
"Ogun… please. This isn't a game. You need a Familia. Or at least someone to watch your back."
I kept my head down, staring at the coin pouch in my hand.
"Thanks," I muttered.
She opened her mouth again, but I turned before she could say more. My footsteps echoed as I left the counter, the warmth of her concern following me like a ghost.
When I stepped out into the fading daylight, the cool breeze cut through my torn cloak like a blade. My ribs throbbed with every breath.
I found an inn after a few streets — a squat, narrow building tucked between a weapons shop and a potion vendor. The sign out front was cracked and faded, but it promised cheap beds and hot meals. That was all I needed.
I slipped inside, dropped a handful of Valis on the counter, and ignored the innkeeper's wide-eyed stare at my blood-soaked clothes.
The room was small. A single bed, a rickety wooden table, a cracked washbasin.
I dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, the smell of must and old wood filling my nose.
For a long time, I didn't move. My body felt hollow, like it had been scraped clean from the inside.
The mark on my hand pulsed faintly in the dark, like a silent heartbeat.
I closed my eyes.
Finn's words echoed in my mind.
Think carefully about your path.
Riveria's calm gaze.
Ais's quiet observation.
Bete's scorn.
Misha's soft, pleading voice.
I clenched my fist around the pouch of Valis until my knuckles cracked.
A Familia. Support. Safety.
But would they really accept someone like me? Someone who crawled out of the Dungeon half-dead, marked by something no one could explain? Someone already tainted by power that wasn't meant for this world?
I opened my eyes and stared at the mark again. It seemed to shimmer in the dim light, as if it were listening to my thoughts.
"I don't know if I can trust them," I whispered into the stale air. "I don't even know if I can trust myself anymore."
I turned my head, my eyes tracing the cracks in the wall.
"But… if I don't…" I let out a bitter laugh, low and tired. "I'll end up in a gutter before I figure out half of what this mark can do."
Silence swallowed the room again, thick and heavy.
I rolled onto my side, pulling the ragged cloak tighter around me despite the pain.
For the first time since waking up in this world, I felt truly alone.
No crowd to vanish into, no monsters to distract me, no whispering mark to drown out the sound of my own thoughts.
Just me, and the choice clawing at the edge of my mind.
Join a Familia. Or walk this path alone.
Somewhere deep in my chest, a quiet thrill still burned — that reckless urge that pushed me forward despite everything. But under it now, there was something else.
Fear.
I shut my eyes again, my breath slow and unsteady.
Tomorrow.
I'd decide tomorrow.