A Devil In the Dungeon [Youjo Senki/Danmachi]

[Sadguychet]

Unduly Discharged

Benjamin Franklin once stated in a letter to Jean-Baptiste Le Roy that there were only two great certainties in the world: death and taxes.

The latter was as true as it was self-explanatory. With governance comes a need for certain benefits to grease the wheels of society. Whether or not said grease is firmly shoved into the pockets of those at the top is a gamble in line with a very human condition, and up to the very societies that benefit from being a society in the first place.

The former – death – was a bit trickier. By all means, the statesman had it right. To 99.99% of the human population past, present, and future, death was an unavoidable certainty, and what lay beyond it was anything but.

But for one unfortunate soul – that 0.01% – it was starting to become a played-out trick.

Tanya looked around, an unpleasant sense of déjà vu washing over her as she took in the frozen yet fiery world around her. Flames blossomed in every direction, an inescapable wall of death coming straight toward her, but their heat could not be felt. Still, she knew that this was not due to any natural phenomenon, for this was a situation she had been in before.

Faced with their own imminent demise, most would panic and thrash against the world in some vain hope that it might be avoided. Tanya did no such thing.

"So," she spoke, though her words did not come from her mouth, "you've played your cards again, Being X. I must say, I had grown somewhat fond of your absence in the past several months. It's been decidedly peaceful without your meddling."

Her words were spoken not to the empty air, but to the visage of the girl in front of her; the one responsible for both of their deaths. Half-consumed by flames and possessing an expression that bordered on mania, Mary Sue looked gleeful at the prospect that she would be responsible for the Devil's death.

A true martyr. Tanya almost pitied the girl, so taken by blind faith and her quest for revenge that she never really had a chance to live. It was unfortunate, but of course, sympathy was reserved for allies and civilian casualties, and this girl had been nothing but a thorn in her side since the day she joined the war. Tanya would say she was happy for her death, but well, the method certainly left something to be desired.

Tanya didn't bother cursing her imminent demise. Though her mind still churned, spinning the gears of human rationality, she knew her body was long since lost. High explosives had a tendency to move at a speed that renders human biology fundamentally obsolete. Even Tanya, whose reaction speeds bordered on the inhuman, was still a prisoner of biological latency. Nerve impulses crawled through the body at a pathetic hundred meters per second, a glacial pace compared to the threat she was facing.

By the time the light of the spark had hit her retinas, the shockwave had already claimed the space she occupied. She was dead the millisecond the girl's finger twitched on that detonator.

"Well? Do you have anything to say?" she spoke again, annoyance staining her tone. "Or is this your next attempt to punish me? I must say, the prospect of staring my own death in the face in perpetual limbo is a much more creative punishment than simple reincarnation."

Mary's face, still twisted in a gleeful visage of martyrdom, it twitched. And then her lips began to move, though the rest of her remained unnervingly still.

"There are less demanding ways to call out for your Lord, my dear Atheist." Being X's voice was a rough timbre compared to the raspy screams that Tanya had come to associate with Mary. "It seems that my absence has not strengthened your faith as I hoped."

Tanya would have crossed her arms if she had a body. Instead, she settled for projecting a wave of profound annoyance. "Strengthened my faith? In what? Your ability to act like a petulant child when I refuse to play house with your little experiments?"

The entity controlling Mary's lips didn't deign to reply to the insult immediately. The fiery scenery around them flickered, the frozen image of the explosion wavering like a damaged film reel.

"Insolent as ever, I see," Being X hissed through Mary's vocal cords. "You befuddle me, Atheist. You possess a soul that cries out for divinity, yet you plug your ears. I have offered you power, I have offered you purpose, and every time you spit in my face."

"I don't recall spitting," Tanya corrected smoothly. "If anything, I have been a model employee. I fought your wars, I led your armies, and I died for your entertainment. My service record is impeccable. I believe I am owed a discharge, not another round of your juvenile interference."

"A discharge is granted when the job is done," Being X retorted, the girl's face contorting into a scowl that looked out-of-place with the light burning in her eyes. "And your faith is as barren as your front lines. You still do not understand. You cling to your rationality like a drowning man to a stone, insisting that even the state of this world is nothing but a matter of chance."

"Oh, I'm certain that you played your hand in shaping this hellish world," Tanya decided. "A war of sycophants all praying to the same God, never knowing he is the one who pitted them against each other. Quite an interesting approach, setting your 'children' against one another just for my sake. You truly are the picture of divine magnanimity."

"That is enough."

The voice boomed, shaking the very fabric of the frozen moment. The image of Mary Sue, or rather the puppet being used by the entity, leaned forward, and the flames around them flared brighter, turning from a burning orange to a blinding white.

"I have tried patience. I have tried trial and tribulation. And yet, you remain a hard-headed, ungrateful wretch of a soul," Being X declared, Mary's lips moving in sync with the thunderous declaration. "If you will not find faith on the battlefield, then perhaps another approach is required."

Ah, so another reincarnation. How droll.

"So what? You failed to live up to your own expectations and now you're going to send me to another war-torn world hanging on your every word," Tanya shot back, disgust evident in every word. "It truly boggles the mind that a being claiming to be the creator of all things would display such a vivid lack of imagination."

"It's clear that your earlier theories were incorrect, so I'm simply pivoting to something more appropriate," Being X said, the corners of Mary's mouth stretching into a grotesque smile. "A world where gods walk among mortals, and where their blessings are as tangible as the sword in your hand.

"Let us see if you can maintain your staunch atheism when the ceiling of the world is held up by divine whimsy."

Tanya felt a sudden, sickening lurch in her gut that had nothing to do with the entity's ominous words. It was the sensation of gravity falling away, a sudden drop into an abyss that felt less like falling and more like being deleted from existence.

Sensation returned abruptly and Tanya stumbled, the toes of her polished leather boots catching on uneven stone, sending her sprawling onto hands and knees. Her chest hit the ground with a crack, knocking the wind out of her, but she was thankfully able to keep her head from joining the party.

"Damn it," she hissed, pushing herself up and immediately brushing invisible dust from her uniform. She was alive. That was something, she supposed.

She took a moment to assess her new situation. It seemed that Being X had decided to switch things up this time, as she found herself in a large, cavernous expanse instead of in the midst of being pushed out of a womb. Though truthfully, her current situation left much to be desired.

The walls around her glowed with unnatural luminescence, casting a soft green glow on the world around her. The air was thick and smelled of mud and something distinctly metallic, like copper left out in the rain.

Blood.

Tanya followed proper protocol when faced with an unknown situation and immediately scanned her surroundings, taking in the damp walls and dark tunnels around her, before her eyes locked onto something that didn't fit: a body slumped against the wall near her.

It was a corpse, or at least what was left of one. The unfortunate soul was clad in armor that looked like a crude parody of antiquity—donning a pitted metal cuirass and leather armor underneath. The body beneath was mangled, missing an arm, while the helmet had been caved in by something with significant blunt force, oozing blood onto the floor around it.

A saber lay on the floor nearby, just out of reach, clutched tightly by disembodied fingers.

The sight was gruesome, but compared to what Tanya had seen on the front lines, it was ultimately nothing. Her eyes scanned the body clinically, searching for markers that might tell her of its origins.

The cut of his clothes and armor was unfamiliar to her, with no crests or flags to signify his allegiance. His armor was riveted, akin to what one would see from Dacian mercenaries in Imperial history books, but somehow Tanya didn't think Being X would simply send her back two or three hundred years to teach her faith.

Deciding that she could glean nothing more from the site, Tanya turned away, and it was only then that she noticed a distinct lack of weight on her back. She reached up, heart sinking as her fingers failed to find purchase on a leather strap slung across her chest. Her rifle was missing.

She spun, looking back the way she had fallen, but the ground was bare stone. Tanya cursed. Her rifle must have slipped from her grasp during the explosion.

Continuing her inspection, Tanya shifted her attention to the gem around her neck. With a calm that bordered on catatonic, she reached up to her neck. Her fingers brushed against the cold, hard casing of her computation orb, and she froze as she found a break in the normally smooth surface.

She pulled it down to inspect it, frowning at what she saw. The casing was marred by a jagged fissure that ran down the center like a lightning strike, and the usual red luster was completely dead. In its current condition, it would serve as no more than a very expensive paperweight.

"Wonderful," Tanya spoke, her voice flat.

She did a quick pat-down of her person. Her combat knife was present, as was her Luger P08, sitting snug in its holster. It was fully loaded with one in the chamber which, combined with the two spare magazines, gave her twenty-five rounds in total. Not much, but certainly better than nothing.

"So I'm not completely helpless, at least," Tanya spoke aloud as she clipped her computation orb back into its proper place.

No sooner had she done that, a low, guttural growl echoed off the glowing walls, causing her to freeze. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard before, something halfway between a man and a wolf and steeped in predatory malice.

Tanya spun around, boots skidding on the damp stone, and her eyes narrowed as she saw the shadow of a creature slowly loping out of the dark.

The beast was completely alien to her, a cross between a man and some kind of hairy beast that walked on two legs and possessed eyes that glowed unnaturally.

Though she had never seen its like before, Tanya's mind immediately categorized the creature as a hostile entity. She was proven correct as a moment later, it snarled and lunged in her direction, claws poised to tear her flesh from her bones.

Years of military training pushed away surprise. Tanya calmly unholstered her pistol, aligned it with her lunging target, and fired a single shot.

BANG

Her aim was perfect, and her round took the creature in the forehead with a wet thud. The back of its head exploded outward in a spray of dark fluid and matted fur. The beast's forward momentum carried it another step before it collapsed in a heap at her feet.

In the enclosed space, the report of her weapon detonated like a thunderclap, the sound waves bouncing frantically off the glowing walls and smashing into her eardrums without mercy. Tanya winced, her ears ringing violently. That was stupid of her; firing a weapon in a cavern was akin to sticking one's head inside a church bell and striking it with a hammer. If she had to defend herself with this pistol for any extended period, she would be deaf before she saw the sun again.

To Tanya's surprise, the corpse at her feet suddenly began to smoke. She stepped back, anticipating some sort of last-breath retaliation, but instead, the beast began to dissolve, fading away into nothing. A single, tiny purple gem was left where it had once been, glinting in the dim light.

Unfortunately, before she could even take in her victory, the damp air was filled with a chorus of snarls and guttural barks.

The shadows at the periphery of the cavern began to writhe and detach themselves from the darkness. Three more of the creatures stepped into the bioluminescent glow, their eyes fixed on her with a hunger that was entirely unnerving. They chattered amongst themselves, clicking their teeth and brandishing their claws.

This is just perfect, Tanya thought, her eye twitching as she stepped away from the encroaching horde.

She calculated her next moves with a certain amount of detachment. The acoustics in here alone were a war crime against her own hearing. To discharge her weapon eight more times in this echo chamber would likely rupture her eardrums, leaving her permanently deafened. Assuming this place was as lousy with these things as she imagined it was, losing the ability to hear an ambush predator growling in her ear was a death sentence.

Fire discipline was the foundation of survival. But survival becomes significantly more difficult when the environment itself conspires against you.

The first creature, emboldened by the lack of immediate fire, lunged. It moved like a bounding lion, its muscles rippling beneath matted fur as it closed the distance with outstretched claws.

Tanya pivoted on her heel, the rough leather of her boot gripping the stone floor as she sidestepped the beast's trajectory. It was a clumsy evasion compared to what she could have achieved in flight, but it sufficed in this situation as the creature's claws raked the air where her neck had been a split second before, missing her by a hair's breadth.

As the beast overshot its mark, Tanya snapped her leg out, the heel of her heavy combat boot driving into the back of the creature's knee with a sickening crunch. The beast howled, its leg buckling under the sudden strike. It pitched forward, slamming face-first into the stone, and Tanya didn't hesitate to follow up. She pulled her combat knife and drove it down into the beast's head with a sickening squelch.

The beast let out one final cry and went still, but Tanya wasted no time in admiring her handiwork. In battle, pausing to gloat over a defeated enemy was a surefire way to get shot by the one behind them. She scrambled over the corpse toward the dead adventurer, her fingers closing around the hilt of the fallen saber just as the remaining two beasts decided to stop their posturing.

The sword felt foreign in her hand—poorly balanced and slick with blood and grime and endlessly heavy compared to the lighter steel of her ceremonial officer's sword. Even so, the extended reach was worth it. She'd rather not face two enemies with just a combat knife.

The second creature lunged, faster than the first. Tanya didn't try to dodge again; there wasn't enough room. Instead, she planted her feet and channeled every ounce of her upper body strength into a single thrust. It was an ugly motion, but desperation often made up for a lack of elegance.

The point of the crude saber breached the creature's chest with a wet, tearing sound that echoed off the walls. The beast shrieked as its momentum carried it down the blade, bringing its snapping jaws dangerously close to Tanya's face. She could smell its rancid breath as the razor-sharp teeth nearly clamped down on her nose, but she didn't flinch.

With a grunt of exertion, she planted a boot squarely on the creature's heaving chest and shoved backward. The steel slid free with a sickening squelch, and the beast collapsed to the stone, thrashing in a spreading pool of its own dark blood.

One left. Tanya panted, adrenaline coursing through her veins like ice water.

The last creature, perhaps possessing a spark of animal cunning its brethren lacked, did not immediately lunge. It circled her, its head low, eyes darting between Tanya and the slowly disintegrating corpses of its fellows.

Tanya shifted her stance, adjusting her grip on the saber to get into a more proper stance.

"Come on then," she muttered, keeping the blade point trained on the beast. "Believe it or not, I don't have all day."

The creature seemed to understand her words and snarled. Whatever intelligence set it apart from the other beasts disappeared as it gave in to its primal instincts and crouched low before springing toward her.

It was faster than the others, and Tanya didn't have the time nor the leverage for another thrust. Faced with no other option, she dropped to one knee, ducking under the arc of its claws, and brought the saber up in a desperate slash. The poor quality of the steel ensured it wasn't a clean cut. The blade snagged on the beast's hide, dragging through tough muscle and sinew before biting deep into its abdomen.

The beast fell atop her, a suffocating weight of fur, muscle, and foul-smelling fluids. It gave a final growl before it began to dissolve into ash and smoke, thankfully freeing her of the impressive weight.

Tanya slid backward, kicking away the dissolving pile of ash and viscera before the strange purple gem could clatter against her boots. She took a moment to catch her breath, the sound harsh in the sudden silence of the cavern. That had taken a surprising amount out of her. It seems that the wound she'd sustained during her fight with Mary Sue still lingered.

Taking a breath, Tanya took stock of her appearance. She was currently dressed in her regulation flight suit, her boots stained with muck, and her hands coated in a layer of drying blood that belonged to at least two different species and three different people.

Hardly the image of an Imperial Major.

Her eyes drifted back to the butchered remains of the adventurer. The armor that had failed him might yet serve her.

She knelt beside the corpse, ignoring the sticky pool of blood, and began the gruesome task of stripping the dead.

The leather straps were stiff and slick, requiring her to use her combat knife to cut through the buckles. As Tanya worked, the dead body shuffled and made grotesque noises as the damaged flesh was jostled. She grimaced.

Though she had done much during her stint in the Rhine, corpse looting wasn't something she often took part in. Thanks to the Empire's superior logistics, it was usually unnecessary and often frowned upon.

As it stood, however, there were no supply lines to call upon, and sentimentality for the dead was a luxury afforded only to those with the delusion of safety.

Tanya was many things. Delusional was not one of them.

The cuirass settled heavily onto her shoulders. Tanya had expected a struggle; fitting adult gear onto a frame as petite as hers was usually an exercise involving excessive padding and extra notches made with the tip of her knife. However, as she tightened the leather harness, she found the fit to be surprisingly snug. The metal plates rested comfortably against her chest, the hardened leather flaps protecting her sides without restricting her range of motion.

It was a bit strange that something ostensibly made for a full-grown man could be so easily adjusted to fit her slighter frame, but Tanya wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said horse provided defense against claws and teeth. She cinched the final buckle, the smell of old sweat and blood filling her nose, and turned her attention back to the corpse.

Tanya's eyes narrowed as she inspected the rest of the scavenged gear. The dead adventurer clearly hadn't died from lack of supplies, but rather a lack of competence.

She picked up a dagger tucked into a sheath on his belt. It was chipped along the edge, the steel dark with age and neglect. It was the weapon of someone who either didn't know how to maintain their gear or simply didn't care about their survival enough to try. She tossed it away.

Next, she unhooked a satchel from the corpse's belt. It was made of thick, treated canvas, the kind of material that could survive a trench soaking, and currently looked to be in better condition than the man wearing it. She loosened the drawstring and peered inside.

Tanya's brow furrowed as she pulled the book from the satchel. It was a thick, leather-bound thing, the cover stamped with a design that looked vaguely like a key, though the tooling was worn and illegible. Expecting a diary or perhaps something that would give her information on where she had been dropped, she opened it to a random page in the middle.

She was met with the stark, pristine white of empty paper.

She flipped to the front. Blank. She flipped to the back. Blank. She ran her thumb over the edges of the pages, looking for ink blotches or impressions that might indicate invisible writing, but found nothing. The book was completely empty. Tanya closed the cover with a snap.

"A diary he never got around to starting," she surmised, tucking the empty tome back into the satchel. "Or perhaps he was illiterate. Given the state of his equipment, I suppose basic literacy was too much to ask for."

She plunged back into the satchel and found something much more interesting than an empty book. Buried beneath a pouch of purple stones, her fingers brushed against something wrapped in wax paper. She pulled it out and gave it a tentative sniff, and the scent of salt and cured meat assaulted her nostrils.

Rations. Around half a pound of cured meat, if she was estimating correctly. It would last her a few days if she rationed it properly, though she didn't see any water to wash it down with or otherwise keep her hydrated.

"Beggars and choosers, I suppose," she muttered, slipping it back into the pack.

With her new acquisitions secured, Tanya stood and tightened the straps of the borrowed armor. First things first, she needed to get out of this cave. Or at the very least, find a safe spot to hole up for the night. The prospect of rescue was a dim one but not impossible, and she'd rather not spend too much time surrounded by monsters like the ones she just killed.

Considering this is a cave, the exit is likely above me somewhere, she thought as she took her first steps into the darkness. I can only hope that Being X didn't shove me ten miles deep just to spite me.

Though, given how her last conversation with the so-called god had ended, it was a dim hope indeed.

~~~

"Check your straps again, Licia. You don't want to be fumbling with a loose buckle when a pack of Imps are breathing down your neck."

The young woman snapped to attention, her hands flying to the leather straps of her breastplate. "R-right! Sorry, Dorian!"

Dorian Vellius let out a long breath through his nose, the closest he ever came to openly expressing frustration with his junior. He was a tall man, broad-shoulders made broader by his armor, and like pretty much everyone in the Apollo Familia, he was conventionally attractive.

He'd been an adventurer for only a few years, but in that time, he'd learned that overeager newbies were far more dangerous to themselves than any monster the dungeon could throw at them.

"I'm not trying to nag you," he said, softening his tone. "But the floors down below are completely different from the upper levels. The monsters down there are faster, stronger, and there are a lot more of hem. A loose strap could mean the difference between walking out under your own power and being carried out in pieces."

Licia nodded rapidly, her auburn ponytail bobbing behind her. She was nineteen, barely an adult by Orario's standards, and had been with the Apollo Familia for just under a year. In that time, she'd proven herself to be a capable fighter with a sword and a surprisingly quick learner, but she was still green grass as far as he was concerned.

"I understand, Captain," she said, her voice trembling only slightly. "I won't let you down."

Dorian clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I know you won't. That's why I'm bringing you along in the first place."

Their little group was gathered in the main hall of the Apollo Familia's home, a sprawling complex of marble and golden accents that reflected their god's ostentatious tastes. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the bustle of preparation.

Besides Dorian and Licia, their party consisted of Marcus, a muscular axeman with hair the color of a hearth's coals, and Cressida, their resident silver-haired mage, whose pack was currently propped against a wall as she sorted through vials.

"Potions are sorted," Cressida announced, holding up a leather satchel that clinked with the sound of glass. "We should be good to work around ten floors or so if we're careful."

"Excellent," Dorian threw a nod the slim woman's way before glancing back. "Marcus?"

The axeman grinned, hefting his weapon onto his shoulder. "I've already checked my pack. Got everything I need."

"Good. Very good." Dorian surveyed his team with a critical eye. They were as prepared as they could be. The excursion to the lower levels had been planned for weeks, with their god's blessing. It was meant to be a proving ground for Licia, a chance for her to cut her teeth on tougher foes under the watchful eyes of veterans.

Normally, Dorian would be against this sort of thing, but he saw potential in the girl. Even if he thought her confidence could use some work.

"Let's get going," he commanded, turning toward the heavy oak doors. The others fell into step behind him, their boots echoing on the marble floors.

The walk to the dungeon entrance was a familiar one. Through the winding streets of the Orario, past the bustling markets and boisterous taverns, toward the great tower of Babel that dominated the skyline. Beneath that tower lay the dungeon, an endless pit of monsters and madness that had existed since time immemorial.

Other adventurers nodded at them as they passed, recognizing the sun emblem on their gear. The Apollo Familia wasn't the strongest in Orario, but they were well known. Even if not always for the right reasons.

They reached the dungeon entrance a short while later, the great archway yawned before them, and beyond it, the first floor stretched into darkness. A handful of other adventurers milled about, some emerging from the depths with tired but triumphant expressions, others steeling themselves before descending.

Dorian took a position near the entrance, watching as his party conducted their final checks. Licia was practically vibrating with nervous energy, her eyes darting between the dark opening and her own trembling hands. Marcus stood confident as ever, his axe resting easily on his shoulder. Cressida hummed quietly to herself as she verified the contents of her potion satchel one last time.

"Alright," Dorian said, rolling his shoulders beneath his armor. "Everyone knows the plan. We stick together, we watch each other's backs, and we don't take unnecessary risks. Remember, the Dungeon is alive, and it hates you."

"Understood, Captain!" Licia snapped off a crisp salute that was entirely too formal for the setting. Marcus just grinned. Cressida nodded.

Dorian turned toward the dungeon entrance, preparing to take his first step into the darkness—

Only to freeze as someone else stumbled out first.

A girl limped from the shadows like a ghost given form. She was small, childish, wearing a strange suit which was partially hidden by a cuirass that had seen better days. Though so had the girl wearing it.

Blood coated the girl like a second skin, some of it from monsters, just as much of it clearly her own. One of her eyes was swollen shut, the skin around it purple and angry, and she walked with a pronounced limp, each step dragging along a boot and leaving a red streak on the cobbler ground.

She clutched a saber in her right hand. The blade was broken about a third of the way down, and her grip on it was loose. Her fingers barely curled around the hilt as if they no longer had the strength to hold on properly.

For a moment, everyone stood frozen. The Apollo Familia, the other adventurers, even those working in the tower who just happened to be passing by.

Then the girl spoke.

"I am..." Her voice was hoarse, scraped raw by what sounded like days of disuse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I am requesting medical attention. And a soft bed, if one is available."

She took another step forward, her broken saber swinging loosely at her side. Her one good eye swept over them, oddly assessing for someone her age.

"Preferably soon," she added, her tone carrying an almost conversational lightness that made the situation even more surreal. "I believe I have sustained significant blood loss, and I would very much like to avoid losing consciousness before I've been properly treated."

As if her body had been waiting for those words, her remaining strength gave out. Her good eye rolled back, her broken saber slipped from her fingers, and she pitched forward, her small body listing like a sinking ship.

Dorian stepped forward as the girl began to tip over, but Licia was closer.

Without thinking, the young warrior dove forward, her arms outstretched. She caught the girl before she hit the ground, softening the blow at the cost of scuffing her brand new breastplate. The adventurer ignored it as she adjusted her grip, cradling the unconscious form against her chest.

The rest of the group quickly huddled around her. Cressida knelt beside Licia, her hands already digging into her satchel for the healing potions she had packed. Dorian stood over them, his heart still pounding from the sudden adrenaline. He looked at the dungeon entrance, then back at the bloodied girl.

"Well," he said, letting out a long, slow breath. "I think we should probably hold off on that excursion."

---

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[Sadguychet]

Under Review

Tanya's eyes snapped open as the girl awakened with a jolt. Groggy fatigue filled her to the brim but as always, her mind was the first to awake fully, already primed and taking stock of her surroundings as her heart hammered in her chest.

What she found was a rather nice ceiling with decently spaced beams meant for bearing a heavy load. The walls were painted cream and accented by dark oak paneling, and around a dozen or so other beds were spaced evenly across the room, with her in the middle. They were unoccupied; she was the only one in the room.

Satisfied that she wasn't in immediate danger, Tanya next took stock of her current state of being. The memories from last night were already flooding back, a canvas of blood and desperation, yet despite that, not a single ache or injury seemed to remain on her person.

Tanya experimentally flexed the fingers of her left hand, then clenched them into a fist. The motion was smooth, fluid, and entirely painless. She ran her hand down her side, feeling for the bandages that should have wrapped her ribs, or the jagged tear in her flight suit from sharpened claws, yet her fingers met the pristine, unblemished fabric of the white tunic that she was draped in.

"At least I know I wasn't dropped in some medieval shithole," the girl muttered, satisfaction painting her tone. "Medical care this efficient would be impossible to find even in the twenty-first century."

Which begged the question; where had her death and impromptu nap landed her this time?

Turning her head, Tanya spied a small pile of items arranged upon a nightstand beside her admittedly comfortable bed. The military green of her flight suit was unmistakable, as was the shape of her gear resting upon it. She reached over, gingerly picking up her pistol, and racked the slide, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Loaded. And the safety was off as she had left it. It seemed that for all that this world had in medical technology, they fell quite a bit behind in basic firearms training.

Which could bode well for Tanya, depending on the disposition of the locals. Superior firepower often won the day, after all.

Tanya performed a quick rundown on her gear. Every bullet was accounted for, as was her knife and the holster that had been strapped to her thigh. Even the cuirass that she had looted was present, leaning against the nightstand, metal scoured of grime and rust, though the dents still remained as a testament to the damage than it absorbed. The satchel was beside it, still bulging with the goods she had plundered.

The saber had seemingly disappeared, though considering that Tanya remembered breaking the top half of it off in the skull of a rather tenacious goblin-like monster, that was somewhat understandable.

Tanya's musings were cut short as the door suddenly unlocked with a sharp click, the handle turning to admit an unassuming woman with her nose buried in a stack of official-looking documents.

Given her circumstances, Tanya was on guard instantly, her hand slipping beneath the sheets to grip the hilt of her combat knife. She didn't draw it just yet, but she was fully prepared to at a moment's notice as she assessed the newcomer.

The woman was dressed in an admirably professional ensemble: a grey suit jacket paired with matching pants, black gloves, and a tie knotted securely at her neck. It was the uniform of a bureaucrat or an administrative officer, someone who managed the logistics of an organization from behind a desk rather than on the battlefield.

However, it was the features peeking out from the fringe of her brown hair that gave Tanya pause. Pointed ears, tapering to a delicate tip.

An elf, Tanya noted, a dull sense of amusement filling her as she stared at the protrusions. It seemed Being X had a sense of theme. First a magical industrial war, now high fantasy. How incredibly cliché.

One would think that a grifter peddling miracles would steer clear of magic, yet so far it seems my own was the only world where that is actually the case, Tanya thought snidely as she watched the woman. Though considering what humanity managed without that, it's not as if it was exactly needed.

The woman hummed a tune to herself, completely oblivious to her audience, and Tanya watched her move throughout the room. After around a minute of idling, the woman finally turned towards the bed. It was only when she finally looked up and noticed the pair of blue eyes tracking her every move that her composure shattered.

"Eek!" The woman yelped, stumbling back a step and nearly dropping her entire stack of papers in a chaotic flutter across the floor.

Tanya watched the display with a raised eyebrow, her grip on the knife relaxing slightly as the woman scrambled to regain her composure, clutching the scattered papers to her chest like a shield. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson, and she took a moment to compose herself, smoothing out her uniform with trembling hands.

"You-you're awake!" she stammered, her voice high in surprise. She cleared her throat, attempting to retrieve a veneer of professionalism. "I… I honestly wasn't expecting you to be up and moving so soon."

Tanya released the handle of her knife, though she kept it within easy reach beneath the covers. "I have a high tolerance for pain and a remarkable constitution besides that. Where am I, and who are you?"

The woman blinked, seemingly taken aback by Tanya's blunt tone. She stepped forward, pulling a chair up to the bedside. "You're in the Guild's infirmary, in the city of Orario. You were brought here after you collapsed in front of the Dungeon. I am Eina Tulle. I was assigned to oversee your recovery and intake. Or well, I wasn't, but the one who was is on break so I'm covering for her for the moment."

Filing that tidbit away for later, Tanya focused on the more important part of that sentence.

"Intake?" Tanya repeated, her eyes narrowing. "So I am a prisoner?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that!" Eina rushed to assure her, setting her papers down on the nightstand. "When we searched your things, you didn't have any identification on you – or at least none we could recognize. The standard procedure for unregistered adventurers who appear in the Dungeon is to hold them for observation and debriefing once they're stable to make sure no… foul play is involved."

The last part of that sentence was accompanied by hesitation and a fitful glance at Tanya, but the girl was more busy wrapping her mind around the prospect of the institution she had found herself in.

The woman had spoken of a Guild. Tanya's knowledge of the setting was admittedly limited – she had far better things to do in both her lives than indulge in fantastical media – but some terms were universal.

In this instance, Guild was likely referring to an organized administrative body managing soldiers or in this case 'adventurers'. With management, came bureaucracy, and that was where Tanya thrived.

"I see," Tanya said finally. "And how long was I out?"

"About two days," Eina informed her, adjusting her glasses. "You made quite an entrance too. Marched right out of the Dungeon half-dead and bleeding and asked for medical attention before passing out. Some of the people present thought you might have died right there."

Tanya didn't remember any of that. Truth be told, she didn't remember much of yesterday – bloodloss was funny like that – but she was happy that at the very least, she hadn't let anything slip about her more... supernatural circumstances.

"I see," Tanya said simply. Eina observed her for a moment, her brown eyes softening with a look that Tanya immediately recognized: pity. She probably thought that Tanya was some sort of child soldier which, while technically not inaccurate, wasn't the full truth either.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Eina broke the silence with a gentle tone. "But I'm afraid I need to ask you a few questions for the intake. It's standard procedure for situations like this."

Tanya resisted the urge to sigh. Of course. Red tape was the one universal constant across dimensions, it seemed.

"Very well," Tanya replied, shifting slightly to sit up straighter. She clasped her hands in her lap, the picture of a disciplined soldier. "I will answer to the best of my ability. Please, proceed."

Eina seemed momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in demeanor, but she quickly recovered, pulling a pen from her pocket and poising it over a clipboard.

"First, can you confirm your name?"

"Tanya Degurechaff," she stated.

"Degurechaff…" Eina repeated slowly, the syllables rolling off her tongue with a hint of difficulty as she scribbled the name onto her form. "That's certainly a unique name. I don't believe I've heard a surname like that in Orario before. Are you visiting from another region?"

Tanya offered a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You could say that. My home is quite far away."

"I see..." Eina said, her face twisting in slight confusion. "And do you have a Familia?"

Tanya stared at her blankly, the word foreign to her ears.

"Excuse me?"

"A Familia," Eina repeated. "It's fine if you don't have one, but if you do or have ever been a part of one, I need to mark it down."

Tanya frowned, "I'm not sure what the term means, exactly. Can you explain?"

Eina tapped her pen against the clipboard, her brow furrowing slightly as she searched for the best way to explain a concept that was apparently so foundational to this society that it was a standard question for medical screenings.

"A Familia is a group of adventurers who have received a Grace, or blessing, from a God," she started. "The Gods descend from the heavens to live among us, you see. They bestow their power upon us — a Falna — which grants us the abilities to fight the monsters in the dungeon. In exchange, we serve them and uphold their ideals."

Tanya stared at her.

The silence stretched out for a long moment, until it became uncomfortable even for Tanya. She blinked once. Then twice.

"I'm sorry," Tanya said, her voice dangerously polite. "I must have suffered some temporary brain damage. For a moment, it sounded like you said that gods descend from the heavens to walk among you."

Eina blinked, tilting her head slightly in confusion. "Yes, that is correct. They live here in Orario, within their respective compounds alongside their chosen children. The Loki Familia, the Hephaestus Familia, the Ganesha Familia... surely you've heard? It's been this way for quite some time."

Tanya felt a vein begin to throb in her temple. Being X…

The sheer audacity of the entity knew no bounds. First, he unilaterally decides that her lack of faith was a personal affront worthy of eternal torment. Then, after she dutifully serves and dies – again – he doesn't just send her to a new world. He sends her to a world where he has set up a fan club. It seemed she had underestimated Being X's creativity. A society based entirely on the whims of these 'gods' sounded less like a paradise and more like a nightmare tied up in high-fantasy wrapping paper.

"Are you feeling alright?" Eina asked, leaning forward with concern. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm quite alright," Tanya managed to grind out, her jaw tight enough to crack a walnut. She pressed a hand to her stomach, feigning sickness. "I'm afraid I'm just feeling a bit nauseous all of a sudden."

Eina accepted the explanation with an easy nod, though her brow remained furrowed with concern. "Rest is still the best medicine. Please, take a moment to compose yourself."

Tanya took a deep breath, shoving the existential crisis regarding the abundance of deities into a mental box. She needed to focus right now.

"I think it passed," Tanya said after a moment, gesturing for the woman to continue. "Please go ahead."

Eina hesitated for only a moment before relenting. "Very well. Let's start with..."

The next half-hour was an exercise in tedium that Tanya honestly found somewhat comforting. The questions were standard, repetitive, and precisely the sort of dull bureaucracy she excelled at navigating. Name, age, date of birth, standard questions that were impossible to mess up, but easy to lie about if needed. The routine of it allowed her mind to wander, dissecting her situation even as she provided answers.

When asked about her origins, Tanya stuck to a half-truth that would be impossible to verify. "An island nation named Japan. No, I do not know the exact location relative to here." She kept the details vague, citing a lack of memory as to how she ended up in the Dungeon in the first place.

Finally, Eina set down her pen and capped it with a soft click. The sound signaled the end of the interrogation, and Tanya sat up straighter, already swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to prepare for her imminent discharge.

However, before she could, she was hit with yet another piece of bad news.

"That concludes the necessary questions regarding your identity and health," Eina said slowly. "However, before I can process your discharge, we must address another matter. A… financial matter."

Tanya froze, one foot on the floor and the other still dangling in the air. Her instincts, honed by years of navigating the administrative labyrinth of Japanese bureaucracy, began to scream at her.

"Financial matter?" Tanya repeated, her voice flat. "I wasn't aware that the medical care here was privatized. If there is a bill, I am afraid you will find me currently lacking in local currency."

"It's not just the medical fees, though those are part of it," Eina admitted, looking pained. She picked up a different sheet of paper, this one covered in numbers that made Tanya's eyes twitch just by looking at them. "You were unconscious for two days. During that time, you were administered several healing potions. Very expensive ones."

She took a breath and continued, the words rushing out as if she wanted to get them over with as quickly as possible. "If it were the guild who administered the potions to you, there wouldn't be an issue. However, due to the severe nature of your injuries, you needed to be treated immediately. The Apollo Familia were the ones to do so."

Tanya's eyes narrowed, sensing what was left unsaid. "And let me guess. Since they saved my life, they expect me to repay them somehow?"

"I am afraid so," Eina said, looking as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world. "Furthermore, they claim that because they were forced to treat you and bring you here instead of entering the dungeon as planned, they incurred additional opportunity costs which have been added to the total."

She turned the clipboard around, sliding it across the bedside table so Tanya could see the damning figures. She stared, the migraine from earlier returning with force.

"One-hundred thousand Valis," Tanya spoke the absurd sum aloud, slowly turning to look at Eina. "And since I do not possess this currency, I assume the Apollo Familia has proposed a method of repayment? Perhaps indentured servitude?"

Eina flinched at the word choice but didn't deny it. "They have requested that you join their Familia to work off the debt. It's not an uncommon arrangement for adventurers who find themselves in difficult financial straits."

"Of course it isn't," Tanya muttered, leaning back against the headboard. Being X truly had grown a sense of humor. She had escaped the draft of one world only to be virtually pressganged into the service of a divine fan club in another.

However, Tanya Degurechaff was not a soldier who accepted conscription lying down. She had spent a lifetime as a salaryman, and debt negotiation was, unfortunately, part of the job description.

Tanya tapped a finger against her chin, her mind racing to find any possible loophole in this implied contract. This was classic predatory lending wrapped up in the guise of divine benevolence. If she accepted the offer immediately, she would be admitting total liability and accepting the terms without negotiation. And giving up any chance of legal repose while she was at it.

"I assume this debt transfer is a standard Guild regulation?" Tanya asked, her voice probing.

"Yes, it is," Eina confirmed, though she looked uncomfortable doing so. "To prevent adventurers from defaulting on life-saving medical debts, the Guild allows creditor Familias to claim the debt for service."

"I see. And is there a grace period afforded to the debtor to arrange for independent repayment?" Tanya pressed. "Or is the transfer of debt to the creditor immediate and binding without option for external settlement?"

Eina blinked, seeming surprised that she had even asked. "Legally, yes. A debtor is given thirty days to settle the balance before mandatory conscription to the creditor Familia is enforced."

"Mandatory conscription," Tanya repeated, the words tasting like ash. "And I assume the Apollo Familia is aware of this regulation?"

"They are the ones who filed the paperwork," Eina admitted quietly.

Tanya suppressed a sneer. So it was a shakedown, then. A pragmatic move on their part, but infuriating to be on the receiving end of.

"Very well," Tanya said, smoothing the blanket over her lap. "I would like to exercise my right to this grace period. I will find the funds myself within the month."

Eina looked surprised. "Oh, really? Most people in your situation just accept the Familia's offer to be done with it."

Tanya offered a thin smile. "I prefer to maintain control over my own career path, Miss Eina. I am sure you understand. Corporate loyalty is all well and good, but one should never sign a contract without reading the fine print, and frankly, being drafted into a religious organization sounds like a violation of labor rights."

Eina didn't seem to know how to respond to that, so Tanya pressed on.

"Now, regarding my immediate discharge? Am I free to go?"

Eina started, a look of mild bewilderment crossing her features before she quickly recovered. "Oh! Yes, of course. You're medically cleared." She stood up, clutching the clipboard tightly. "I almost forgot – you are entitled to the salvage that you recovered in the dungeon. Since it wasn't registered to any specific party as far as we could tell, it is legally yours to keep or sell to cover your initial expenses."

With a final, sympathetic look at the small girl, Eina turned and made her exit. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound of the lock engaging echoing in the now silent room.

Tanya watched the door for a moment, making sure the woman was truly gone, before her head fell back against the pillow with a soft thump, and she let out a long sigh.

It seemed that while she had escaped the hell of an industrialized world war, she had been dropped into a situation nearly as treacherous. The life of a debtor in an unfamiliar city, governed by even more 'deities', was not one she would have wished on her worst enemy.

Perhaps that was why Being X had chosen it.

Well played, you sanctimonious bastard, she spat in her mind as she stared at the ceiling. You may have just managed to find my very perfect hell. Congratulations.

The ceiling didn't speak back, but Tanya had no doubt he was laughing at her from on high.

The bastard.

---

Get chapters to this fic early at Sadguychet | Patreon! Chapter 6 has just been posted!

 

[Sadguychet]

New Environment

Tanya spent a few minutes lamenting her current situation before she decided she had wallowed enough in her own self-pity. She had work to do if she didn't want to end up as an indentured servant to whatever being touted itself as an ancient sun god.

She got dressed quickly, stripping off her white tunic and swapping it for her flight suit. The garment had been properly cleaned and even stitched, much to her pleasure. The boots were even shined as if she had done so herself.

Tanya fitted the cuirass over the whole ensemble, strapping it on with some difficulty. The pitted metal cuirass may not have fit the aesthetics of her standard issue military uniform, but she wasn't going to simply lug it around and she certainly wasn't going to leave it here.

Once properly fitted, she strapped her knife to her thigh and did a quick inspection on her pistol one last time before holstering it at her hip. Finally satisfied, Tanya grabbed her satchel and made her way out of the infirmary.

The Guild hall proper was alive with activity, a bustling cathedral of chatter and movement that would have made the wartime HQ back in the Fatherland seem like a dingy office in comparison. The architecture was grand without being ostentatious, built in accordance for actual needs rather than to satisfy an ego. Tanya immediately approved.

The moment Tanya stepped out of the infirmary corridor and into the main lobby, she felt the weight of dozens of eyes turning to appraise her, followed by a smattering of whispers and pointed fingers.

Tanya ignored the attention with the practiced ease of a veteran officer who had long since grown numb to the scrutiny of subordinates and superiors alike. Perhaps some of them were there when she collapsed, or perhaps they were simply confused why a child was marching out of the infirmary. It didn't matter. She had more important matters to attend to.

Eina was seated at a booth along the far wall, speaking to a group of armored adventurers with a harried expression before she turned her head and caught sight of Tanya. Her face lightened slightly and she offered a tentative wave. Tanya returned the gesture with a polite nod, but did not approach. The woman was clearly busy, and Tanya had no intention of interrupting her work out of some misplaced sense of obligation.

She made her way across the hall, weaving through the crowd of adventurers. The double doors loomed ahead, grand enough to suggest that whoever had built this place wanted visitors to feel small.

Tanya pushed them open and stepped through, the cool evening air hitting her face as she paused on the threshold, beholding the city she had been dropped into. Orario.

And what a city it was. Tanya took a moment to simply observe her new surroundings, digesting the sight before her with weary eyes.

She was greeted by a bustling street, choked full with people of all ages and even races. Some were clearly adventurers, donning armor and weapons of varying quality, while others were simple civilians in modest clothing going about their daily business. Food stalls had been set up right across from the Guild, clearly taking advantage of the healthy traffic to peddle their wares. It appeared to be working, as each stall was being patronized by at least two or three customers.

The buildings were a blend of stone and timber, practical in their construction but possessing a certain charm that even Tanya could notice. The streets were paved with cobblestones, worn smooth by years worth of shoes, and lined with shops selling everything from weapons to dried herbs to clothing.

The atmosphere was decidedly warm and fantastical, the kind of scene Tanya imagined one might picture when cracking open a fantasy book to get lost in the pages of an imagined world. All in all, a far cry from where she was before.

I imagine a few of my men would have enjoyed visiting a place like this, Tanya thought as she began to walk, keeping her pace unhurried as she took in the scenery.

Despite the monsters lurking just beneath their feet, the city itself was alive. The people were—if not happy—then at least content. There was a distinct lack of tension in the air, the absence of the haggard expressions and desperate movements that characterized a populace living under the shadow of war.

"I suppose the Dungeon gives them a common enemy," Tanya murmured to herself, stepping around a group of laughing teenagers. "At the very least, they're unlikely to be fighting amongst themselves if there are holes full of monsters everywhere."

That was good news for her. It meant she didn't have to worry about being drafted into some strange conflict after she cleared her debt. A stable economy with a consistent external threat was far preferable to the chaos she had left behind.

As she walked, Tanya took note of the numerous races around her. Humans were the majority, but she spotted individuals with pointed ears like Eina's, others with stockier builds and thick beards, and a few with animalistic features such as tails, ears, and even fur.

As she walked, her eyes caught a commotion near one of the stalls. A young man with cat ears and a striped tail had been cornered by a merchant, his hand still buried in a pouch that clearly didn't belong to him.

"Thief!" the merchant shouted, grabbing the pickpocket by the scruff of his neck. "Someone call the guards!"

Tanya observed the scene curiously, taking stock of the situation. The cat-eared youth struggled vainly, spitting curses while passersby stopped to watch. What interested her the most however, was the reaction of the crowd.

There was disgust, clearly directed at the act of theft itself, but Tanya noted that the disdain didn't seem particularly targeted at the boy's race. Even a nearby woman with rabbit ears was giving the pickpocket dirty looks, her expressions no different from the humans in the crowd.

A bit of discrimination is to be expected with so many races in such close proximity, Tanya thought, continuing on her way as a pair of armored guards arrived to haul the thief away. But it doesn't appear to be institutionalized.

That was somewhat surprising but also refreshing. In her experience, prejudice flourished most dangerously when it was codified into law. As long as this society's biases remained at the interpersonal level, she could navigate them easily enough.

Tanya turned down a side street, her mind already churning through the logistics of her situation. She had one month to repay one hundred thousand Valis. She possessed a broken computation orb, a pistol with limited ammunition, a combat knife, a piece of battered armor, and a satchel with an empty notebook.

Not the worst starting position, but far from ideal.

The first order of business was clear: she needed to learn the basics of this world. Laws, currency, geography, the current geopolitical state of affairs. Information was the foundation upon which all successful operations were built, and she was currently operating blind. She needed to find a library or some other public information repository so she could fill in some blanks.

Tanya wandered the streets for some time, keeping her eyes peeled for any building that might be what she was looking for. The architecture was eclectic, with some structures looked almost medieval while others possessed a more classical sensibility. None of them, however, appeared to be a library.

Though it wasn't as though all hope was lost. Tanya quickly discovered that while she was a stranger in this world, the language was no stranger to her. The signs above shop doors, the labels on crates being unloaded from carts, the posters plastered on walls—all of it was in Japanese.

"Reusing assets, Being X?" Tanya muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to scoff. "How lazy."

After thirty minutes of searching with no luck, Tanya decided to bite the bullet and ask a local for directions. She scanned the street for someone who looked approachable but not overly chatty, and her eyes quickly landed on a small food stall tucked into an alcove between two larger shops.

It was being manned by a short woman with black hair done up in twin pigtails and proportions that were, quite frankly, absurd. She was also dressed in oddly fancy attire for her profession, her bust straining against an elegant white dress, complete with silk gloves, with ribbons attached around her neck and in her hair.

She was arranging a tray of some kind of fried food, humming cheerfully to herself as Tanya approached. She raised her eyes as Tanya stopped in front of her stall, her face splitting into a cheerful, if somewhat tired, smile.

"Hello there! What would you like?"

The woman's eyes flicked over Tanya's appearance, but she didn't comment, keeping that smile plastered on her face as she waited for a reply.

"Good afternoon," Tanya said, dipping her head politely. "I apologize for interrupting your work, but I was wondering if you could direct me to the nearest library."

The woman blinked, clearly having expected a different request. "A library? I think we have one of those…" She put a finger to her chin, murmuring to herself. "Uh… Oh! Yeah, it's just a couple blocks north from here! You'll see a big building that looks like a church. There's no sign out front, but you won't miss it if you know what you're looking for."

Tanya nodded, filing away the directions. "Thank you. I won't take up any more of your time."

Her business concluded, she turned to leave, but before she could take more than a step, the woman's voice called out behind her. "Wait! Don't you want to buy something?"

Tanya paused and turned back. Her eyes fell upon the items the woman was peddling. What she had mistaken for pastries turned out to be some kind of fried potato snack, golden and slightly misshapen, sitting in a neat row on a wax paper liner.

They didn't look particularly impressive, but the smell was unexpectedly pleasant, rich with the scent of oil and salt. Her stomach, traitor that it was, chose that exact moment to remind her that she hadn't eaten in two days. Unfortunately, her pockets were just as empty.

"I'm afraid I don't have any money at the moment," Tanya said. "Perhaps another time."

The woman looked taken aback, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She glanced from Tanya's face to the potato puffs and back again, her brow furrowing with something that looked suspiciously like concern.

Then, with an oddly determined look, she picked up one of the puffs and held it out across the counter. "Here."

Tanya stared at the offered food. "Excuse me?"

"Take it," the woman said, pushing it toward her insistently. "You look hungry. Besides, if you like it, you can always come back and buy a few more later!"

Tanya accepted the wrapped potato, holding it gingerly in her hands. It was warm, radiating a gentle heat that was pleasant against her skin.

"A sample to reel in customers," she observed, holding the food up for inspection. "A good business practice, if a bit inefficient. You're betting your product against people's selfishness."

The woman blinked, and then laughed. "Oh, I don't know about that. You just look like you need it."

Tanya regarded her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she took a bite.

The crispy potato skin yielded to her teeth with only the barest pressure, bursting open to reveal a soft, fluffy interior. Salt and butter blended together in a pleasant manner, giving the normally flavorless spud a burst of something actually palatable, and Tanya found it no challenge to take another bite immediately after she swallowed the first.

"It's pretty good," Tanya complimented, finishing the puff in two more bites. "Thank you for your generosity. I will endeavor to repay it once I have established a stable income."

The woman beamed. "I'll hold you to that! Good luck with the library!"

Tanya gave the woman a polite nod of farewell before continuing on her way, following the directions she had been given. The potato puff sat warmly in her stomach, and she licked her lips free of lingering salt.

Maybe there's an art in making something that simple, she mused as she turned onto a new street. Whatever the case, I'll certainly be coming back.

True to the woman's word, the library wasn't difficult to find. Tanya walked two blocks north, her eyes scanning the buildings until she spotted exactly what had been described: a large structure that bore a striking resemblance to a church, complete with high windows and a bell tower. There was no sign proclaiming it as a library, but the architecture was rather distinct.

However, as she approached the heavy wooden doors, she noticed a piece of parchment tacked to the center of them.

Tanya stepped closer, squinting at the handwritten notice.

"Closed for deep cleaning and recataloguing," she read aloud, her voice flat. "Expected to reopen tomorrow. We apologize for any inconvenience."

She stared at the sign for a long moment, her expression unchanging.

Of course.

Of course the library would be closed. Of course it would be closed for something as mundane as cleaning, and of course it would reopen the very next day, just soon enough to make waiting the only logical option while still being an inconvenience.

"If I didn't know better," Tanya muttered, turning away from the locked doors, "I'd say you were testing my patience. But we've already proven that you lack the creativity for something so specific, I'll chalk this up to simple bad luck."

Being X, unsurprisingly, did not respond.

Tanya sighed, tucking her hands behind her back as she considered her options. She could wait until tomorrow to access the library, but that left her with the rest of the afternoon and evening to fill. She still needed to secure lodging for the night, so she could begin formulating a plan to repay her debt.

"This is a textbook fantasy setting so a tavern, perhaps?" She muttered to herself.

That way she could gather information from the locals in a more informal setting. Alcohol had a way of loosening tongues, and even if she couldn't afford to drink, simply being present might yield useful intelligence.

With a new destination in mind, Tanya set off again.

She wandered the streets aimlessly, following the flow of traffic in hopes that it would lead her to her destination. Night was slowly transitioning to evening, and it was quickly approaching the time for dinner and a stiff drink.

Soon enough, the crowd led Tanya to an area of the city that smelled heavily of cooked meat and spices. People laughed boisterously outside of businesses, tipsy or well on their way there. She was where she wanted to be.

She quickly found herself standing before a modest but well-maintained establishment. The sign above the door held the words "Hostess of Fertility" painted in cheerful, if slightly faded, lettering.

The tavern was clearly popular; even from the street she could hear the murmur of conversation and the clink of tankards from within. Tanya pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The interior was exactly what she had hoped for – warm lighting, burning hearth, and a homely atmosphere. Patrons filled the tables, ranging from what appeared to be local craftsmen enjoying an early dinner, to a group of heavily armed individuals sitting at a table near the back, their voices raised in boisterous laughter that bordered on belligerence.

Tanya approached the bar, sliding onto a stool with only a bit of difficulty. The surface was clean, she noted, and the stools were well-maintained. All signs of an establishment that cared about repeat business.

"Welcome, welcome!"

The voice was surprisingly deep for a woman, carrying a warmth that seemed to fill the room. Tanya turned to find herself being addressed by a woman of stout build who moved around the bar with an authority that spoke of ownership. She had tan skin, dark hair pulled back into a practical bun, and forearms that flexed as she wiped down a tankard with a cloth.

"First time in Orario, sweetie?" the woman asked, setting down the tankard and leaning on the bar. Despite her demeanor, her eyes were sharp, taking in Tanya's gear and petite frame with an appraisal that was assessing but not unkind.

"You could say that," Tanya replied. "I assume you are the owner?"

"Mama Mia," the woman confirmed, extending a hand that could probably crush walnuts. Tanya shook it, her own tiny hand completely dwarfed in the woman's grip. "And you are either the most confident child I've ever seen, or the shortest adventurer to crawl out of that Dungeon in one piece."

"Sometimes one does what one must," Tanya said flatly. "Age is merely a number, at least as far as competency is concerned."

Mama Mia blinked, then let out a booming laugh that drew eyes from nearby tables. "Ha! Fair enough, kid. Fair enough. So, what'll you have? The stew's fresh and the bread's not too stale yet."

"I'm here for information, primarily," Tanya folded her hands on the bar. "And perhaps a room, if you have one available."

"Plenty of both," Mama Mia said, nodding toward the stairs. "Rooms are thirty Valis a night, including breakfast. Dinner's extra unless you're buying the stew."

Tanya's expression didn't change. "I'm afraid I don't have any local currency at the moment."

Mama Mia's smile dimmed slightly, her brows drawing together. "Then why in the world would you—"

"However," Tanya interrupted, reaching into her satchel and producing the patched pouch she had scavenged from the dead adventurer. She untied the drawstring and let the purple stones spill onto the wooden bar with a heavy clatter. "I have these."

Mama Mia leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with interest. She picked up one of the crystals, holding it to the light where it cast a faint violet glow across her face.

"Well, well," Mama Mia murmured, rolling the stone between her fingers. "We don't usually take raw drops from the Dungeon, but… give me a second to count these out."

"Be my guest," Tanya nodded, happy that her offer hadn't been dismissed out of hand.

Mama Mia counted the stones quickly, her lips moving silently, then scooped them back into the pouch. She did it with the ease of someone who had clearly done it millions of times before, making Tanya wonder if her earlier words were completely true.

She counted everything in less than thirty seconds. She tied the sack closed and looked at Tanya with a grin, "Pretty good haul, kid. By my reckoning, there's enough here for two weeks of full room and board."

Tanya nodded, accepting the terms immediately. "That is more than acceptable."

"Good. You sit tight. I'll fetch your keys and get you something to eat. No arguments! You look thin as a stick under that armor," Mama Mia turned and lumbered toward the back, her heavy boots thudding against the floorboards.

Tanya obeyed, settling onto the barstool and letting her boots hang a few inches off the ground. She rested her hands on the polished wood of the bar, taking the opportunity to scan the room.

The Hostess of Fertility seemed to be rather popular. When she walked in, there were a few open tables still available, but they were quickly filling up. Waitresses bustled back and forth, taking orders and filling tankards, and the rowdy group in the back continued their boisterous celebration, their laughter occasionally punctuated by the crash of a tankard slamming against wood.

She was still cataloging the exits when the presence manifested beside her.

"Well, well, well," a voice slurred, rich with the particular arrogance of alcohol and unearned confidence. "What's a little thing like you doing sitting all alone? Waiting for your parents to pick you up?"

Tanya carefully kept her eyes forward and her expression neutral, even as her fingers twitched slightly toward her knife. The voice belonged to a man, young by the timbre, and clearly intoxicated. She could smell the alcohol on him.

"I said," the voice repeated, closer now, accompanied by the scrape of a stool being dragged across the floor. A hand came down on the bar beside her, invading her personal space in a very deliberate manner. "You look a bit young to be drinking, rookie. Or are you one of those 'child prodigy' adventurers I keep hearing about?"

Tanya turned her head slowly.

The speaker was a young man with rugged features, though they were currently softened by drink. He wore armor of a higher quality than most in the room: polished bronze and leather accented with a crest Tanya did not recognize. His eyes were glazed but confident, the look of a man who was used to taking what he wanted and rarely being told no.

"I am not looking for company," Tanya said flatly. "I suggest you return to your celebration."

The man laughed, drawing the attention of a few nearby patrons. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Come on, don't be like that. My Familia takes care of its own, you know? We could always use fresh faces. Cute ones, especially." He reached out as if to touch her shoulder.

Tanya's hand slipped past her knife and gripped the rim of the barstool. The man was close enough that she could drive her elbow into his throat with only a little difficulty, and from there she would be pleased to do as she wished. It would be messy, and likely involve a brawl with his companions, but it was better than—

"Oi!"

The voice cracked like a whip across the tavern, freezing the man's hand inches from Tanya's armor.

Mama Mia stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her massive frame filling the frame, keys clutched in one hand and a platter of warm bread in the other. Her narrowed eyes were fixed on the adventurer with an intensity that chilled even Tanya's bones.

"Get your hand off of my customer," Mama Mia said, her voice even but carrying a promise of pain. "Now."

The man hesitated, his drunken pride warring with his survival instincts. He withdrew his hand, raising it in a placating gesture, though his smile remained oily. "I was just being friendly. Welcoming a new adventurer to the city, you know? I didn't mean to make her uncomfortable or nothing."

"That so?" Mama Mia said, striding forward with a gait that made the floorboards groan. She set the platter down with a thud, then reached across the bar.

Mama Mia's thick fingers closed around the man's wrist and twisted with enough force to crush bone. The man let out a yelp as he was forced to his knees, his arm bent at an angle that promised pain if he resisted.

"Well in that case," Mama Mia said conversationally, leaning over the bar so her face was inches from his. "you won't have any trouble apologizing to the girl and getting out of my business. You're disturbing the other customers, and I've had enough of you lot stinking up my tables with your cheap wine and cheaper manners."

"S-sorry," the man gasped out, his face red from the pressure or humiliation.

Mama Mia released him with a shove that sent him stumbling backward into his table, upsetting several tankards. His companions—the same group that Tanya had noticed when she walked in the door—rose with indignant shouts, but one look from Mama Mia had them thinking better of causing problems. Muttering curses under their breath, they gathered their gear and dragged their humiliated companion toward the exit.

The tavern quickly settled back into its usual rhythm, though conversation was a bit muted out of respect for the dwarf's power.

Mama Mia dusted off her hands and turned back to Tanya, her expression softening instantly back into that of a hospitable innkeeper. "Sorry about that, dear. Some of the adventurers around here get rowdy when they're celebrating. Bread's on the house tonight, and here's your key. Your room's at the top of the stairs, third door on the left. Clean sheets, lock on the door, and a window that opens if you need air."

Tanya accepted the key graciously. "Thank you. For the help, and the room."

"Anything for a paying customer," Mama Mia laughed. "No one bothers my guests while they're under my roof."

Tanya nodded, tucking the key into her pocket. "I believe I will take dinner in my room, if it's all the same. I've had a bit of a rough day."

"Fair enough. I'll send something up in an hour," Mama Mia said, already turning to wipe down the bar with a rag that could have doubled as a towel. "And kid? If anyone else bothers you, you tell me. I don't tolerate harassment of my customers, no matter how big their Familia is."

Tanya paused at the stairs, looking back at the broad-shouldered dwarf. For the first time since arriving in this world, she felt something akin to relief.

She climbed the stairs to her room, already calculating how to turn thirty days and a debt that would make most scream into a future that did not involve indentured worship.

 

[Sadguychet]

First Step of Many

After a restless sleep plagued by dreams of death – specifically her own – the next morning found Tanya sitting at a small table in the back corner of the Hostess of Fertility. The tables around her were mostly empty apart from the few patrons willing to be up and about this early, which suited her just fine.

A cup of steaming coffee sat in front of her, alongside a stack of books borrowed from the library that had finally reopened its doors. She was endlessly thankful that this world had access to such a drink. Even moreso that the beans in this particular establishment were of exceptionally high quality.

She took a sip from her beverage, turning to the next page in the especially thick tome she was reading. The books she had acquired were a mix of legal codices, history books, current Guild regulations, and a surprisingly comprehensive guide to the Dungeon's known ecosystem. Tanya had been reading since dawn, her blue eyes scanning page after page with the thoroughness of a student cramming for a final exam.

One hundred thousand Valis in thirty days. A breakneck pace by any standard, and one that didn't really leave her many options when it came to the field of employment. Even if one disregarded her age, she very much doubted she'd find a position that both suited her, and paid enough to work through the debt, in any reasonable amount of time as far as her debt was concerned.

Twofold, if her prospective employers learned why she was seeking employment in the first place, that may well throw a rather large wrench into the mix.

No. From what she had gathered so far, her best options didn't lie within the city, but below it.

She turned the page of the guild regulations, her finger tracing the text. The legal framework of Orario was refreshingly straightforward. Adventuring was regulated but not restrictive. Any individual could register with the Guild, provided they were of age or, in the case of orphans, possessed the means to support themselves. No Familia affiliation was legally required for basic Dungeon access, though the text strongly recommended joining one for 'safety and guidance.'

"Guidance," Tanya muttered, flipping to the next section. "Yes, I'm certain the gods have my best interests at heart."

The most important part of the text came a little ways into the third chapter, describing adventuring and the rules involved in undertaking such a task. According to Guild law, there was no prohibition against entering the Dungeon alone. The practice was certainly discouraged, as death rates among solo adventurers were significantly higher than those in parties, but it was not illegal. The Guild simply required registration, a waiver of liability, and a small processing fee.

"I can work with this," Tanya murmured, pulling a blank page from the leather-bound journal she'd scavenged. She began jotting notes, transcribing the text and page number for later reference. "Register with the Guild. Secure hunting grounds in the upper floors. Minimize overhead by avoiding party fees and Familia tithes."

She paused, tapping the pencil against her lips.

The biggest issue, of course, was the admittedly abysmal state of her adventuring capabilities. Her stint in the Dungeon had been harrowing, and though that could be somewhat mitigated by proper preparation, it didn't change the fact that her computation orb was damaged beyond repair, her ammunition was limited, and her prepubescent body was not exactly optimal for sustained combat.

The Falna system the locals spoke of might bridge that gap, but accepting a divine blessing was out of the question. She'd rather die first. Again.

"Excuse me?"

Tanya looked up to find a young woman standing beside her table, a pot of fresh in hand. She was slight of build with gray hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, and large, expressive eyes that regarded Tanya openly. She was dressed in a waitress uniform with a nametag worn plainly on her breast reading 'Syr'

"Your cup is empty," the woman said, gesturing with the pot. "Would you like a refill?"

Tanya glanced at her cup, noting that she had indeed drained it dry sometime in the last hour. "Please."

The woman poured her a fresh cup of rich caffeine, but didn't leave immediately, her gaze drifting to the stack of books on the table.

"You've been reading since the kitchen opened," she observed, her but inquisitive. "Researching something important?"

Tanya saw no reason deflect. The woman was simply making conversation, and information flowed both directions in a tavern.

"My current financial situation," Tanya said, tapping the open time with the erase of her pencil. "I'm in an unfortunate amount of debt, and I'm assessing my options for repayment."

The woman's expression shifted to one of sympathy. "Debt can be difficult. How much is it?"

"One hundred thousand Valis," Tanya said. "To be paid within the month."

The woman's eyes widened, the coffee pot nearly slipping from her fingers. "One hundred? B-but you're so young! How did you manage to accrue that much debt?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't inherited," Tanya explained, her tone clinical. "I collapsed after climbing out of the Dungeon and, being the good samaritans that they are, the Apollo Familia used some of their own supplies and took the time out of their day to make sure I was healed up nice and soundly."

The woman's brow furrowed, "That's nice of them. But it doesn't explain why you're in so much debt."

"Well, they expect repayment of course," Tanya smiled thinly, "Both for services rendered and opportunities lost. It seems they had planned an expedition that my injuries waylaid for the time being."

Tanya turned back to her book, "They extended an offer to join their Familia and work off the debt through service. A classic arrangement, I'm told. Practically charitable, if one doesn't examine the particulars too closely."

Syr set the coffee pot down on the table, sliding into the seat across from Tanya without asking permission, her expression shifting from sympathy to something closer to indignation. "That's not charity. That's coercing people into joining them."

"Is it?" Tanya tilted her head, gesturing with her pencil. "From their perspective, they provided life-saving medical intervention to an unknown individual with no collateral and no established credit. Assuming the risk of non-payment is hardly unreasonable. The opportunity to convert that debt into loyal labor is simply good business."

Syr's cheeks puffed out slightly, her brow knitting together. It was an oddly expressive face, Tanya noted. Every emotion seemed to play across her features without a filter. "It's still wrong. They're taking advantage of people when they're at their most vulnerable."

"Most business models rely on leverage," Tanya said simply. "This one is simply more direct than most."

She turned back to her notes, scratching a figure onto the page. "Regardless, I have no intention of accepting their terms. For one, indentured servitude lacks the stability of traditional employment, and I prefer to maintain control over my own career trajectory."

The less said about who she would be serving, the better. Tanya's research hadn't just delved into the economics of this new world. She had also taken the time to familiarize herself with its religious landscape, and what she had found was deeply troubling.

The gods of Orario were not distant, abstract entities requiring faith to believe in. They were tangible, walking among mortals in the flesh, living in extravagant compounds, and personally selecting followers to bless with supernatural abilities. They held festivals, conducted business, and – on rare occasions – even engaged in romantic trysts with their own Familia members.

It was a theocracy disguised as a meritocracy. Every meaningful institution in Orario bore the fingerprints of some deity or another. The Hephaestus Familia controlled the majority of high-quality weapon production. The Loki Familia counted among the most powerful exploration forces in the city. Even the Guild itself, ostensibly neutral, had been founded by a god.

And the common people? They prayed openly, attended festivals without irony, and spoke of their patron deities with genuine reverence rather than the performative piety Tanya had observed in her previous world.

Atheism and agnosticism were virtually nonexistent here. Why wouldn't they be? The gods answered prayers with measurable results. They bestowed blessings that could be quantified in statistics and combat performance. Faith wasn't required when evidence was abundant.

Tanya had to admit, it was a brilliant trap.

Being X had crafted a world where his existence, and that of entities like him, was irrefutable. Where the very concept of disbelief in gods was akin to denying the existence of the sun. There was no room for skepticism when the supernatural sat at the table beside you and ordered lunch.

Which meant that Tanya's particular brand of theological dissent would be viewed as madness at best, or blasphemy at worst.

She had read enough to know that the gods of Orario were not universally benevolent. A mortal who openly rejected their existence or denounced them as frauds would quickly find themselves a target. Not for something as rash as execution, perhaps, but definitely for attention.

Tanya had long since learned that the attention of any being who touted themselves as above the mortals around them was never a blessing.

Syr studied her for a moment, her large eyes searching Tanya's face. Whatever she found there seemed to trouble her, though Tanya couldn't imagine why.

"Well," Syr said finally, standing and retrieving the coffee pot. "If you need anything, just let us know. Mama Mia likes to take care of her guests, and I hope you find a way to pay off your debt."

She departed with a gentle smile, leaving Tanya alone with her books and her thoughts.

The girl turned back to her research, flipping to a section on the Dungeon's upper floors. If she was going to hunt monsters for profit, she needed to know what she was facing.

One month. One hundred thousand Valis. All she had to do was maintain a low profile, avoid antagonizing any major Familia unnecessarily, and keep her theological opinions firmly to herself.

She could manage that much.

~~~

After a few more hours of study, Tanya decided she had done enough cramming for one evening and placed the books in her room. She ate lunch in her room, did another equipment check, then slipped out of the front doors of the Hostess of Fertility just as the beginning of the lunch crowd began to roll in..

The midmorning streets were crowded, the foot traffic thick enough that Tanya had to weave between bodies sideways. It shouldn't be difficult to register with the Guild, provided they didn't entertain some fee due to her previous excursion technically being unsanctioned. With luck, she would be able to descend today.

Tanya kept her pace brisk, her eyes forward and head down as her mind ran through the list of tasks she needed to accomplish at the Guild.

Unfortunately, she was far too preoccupied with her thoughts and as she rounded a corner, she nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.

Tanya sidestepped at the last moment, knocking shoulders with the other person instead of sending them sprawling. She opened her mouth to deliver an apology and continue on her way, but the words died in her throat.

The boy standing before her was absolutely drenched in blood, enough that Tanya could do nothing but stare. It soaked him from his hair to the tips of his boots, as if he had stepped into a shower dyed red.

Tanya wasn't the only one staring. The sight drew eyes from every direction. Passersby stopped mid-stride, their conversations dying as they stared at the blood-soaked teenager standing in the middle of the street.

Tanya had seen her fair share of carnage. The trenches of the Rhine had been painted with enough blood to fill a dried up river. She had walked through battlefields where the mud was as red as claw and pieces of both ally and foe hung from barbed wire like macabre decorations.

This sight didn't beat them, but it was certainly a close second.

"Oh, sorry!" the boy said, a bright smile splitting his face despite the gore. His red eyes were clear and alert, with no trace of pain or shock. "I was in a hurry and didn't see you there. Are you okay?"

Tanya stared at him for a long moment, her mind processing the sight. The boy was speaking clearly, moving without hesitation, and showed no signs of the pale, glassy-eyed shock that typically accompanied severe blood loss. The blood wasn't his


"I'm fine," Tanya finally said, taking a step back as a drop of crimson stained the ground in front of her boot. "Though I believe you may have frightened half the street."

The boy blinked, seeming to notice their audience for the first time. His face scrunched in embarrassment, but if he was blushing, Tanya couldn't tell.

"Ah, sorry about that," he said again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just came from the Dungeon so I haven't really had a chance to clean up. I was going to see my Goddess."

Tanya's eye twitched. Here he was, covered in enough viscera to fill a bathtub, and his first priority was to seek out his god. Either his head was empty, or he was simply clueless.

"Your priorities are your own," Tanya said, stepping aside to let him pass. "I suggest you hurry. The crowd is beginning to attract attention."

The boy's eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't considered that walking through a public street while looking like a walking crime scene might draw notice. He ducked his head in a quick bow, his white hair flopping forward.

"Right! Thanks, um..."

He trailed off, clearly waiting for a name. Tanya simply raised an eyebrow.

"Have a good day," she said instead.

The boy straightened, his smile returning with full force. "Thanks! I hope you have a good day too!"

And with that, he was gone, disappearing down the street at a near-sprint, leaving a wake of disturbed whispers and wide-eyed stares in his wake.

Tanya watched him go, her expression unreadable.

"Moronic," she murmured.

She turned and continued toward her destination, filing the encounter away in the back of her mind.

A few minutes later, she exited the busy streets to step inside similarly crowded halls of the Guild. Men and women lined up in cues in front of attendance kiosks, waiting to attend to their business. Whatever that may be. Tanya found the shortest line and stepped to the back.

The line moved with a speed that Tanya found frankly refreshing. It was a stark contrast to the sluggish, red-tape-ridden bureaucracy she had often dealt with in her previous lives. It took her only minutes to move half a dozen places, and soon enough, she was next up.

When she stepped up to the kiosk however, found herself staring at a woman who was, oddly enough, not looking at her.

The woman was only marginally taller than Tanya herself, possessing a stocky, solid build that suggested she could wrestle a grown man into submission without breaking a sweat. She had tan skin, dark hair cut into a angled bob, and wore the standard Guild attendant uniform that looked ready to burst at the seams due to her musculature.

Tanya tilted her head slightly, analyzing the woman's features even as she waited to be acknowledged. The library texts had mentioned the prevalence of demi-humans and the interbreeding between species. The woman was clearly a byproduct of that.

"If you're here to register, please have the proper forms ready," the woman said boredly, her eyes still scanning a document on her desk. "If you're here to exchange magic stones, you need window four."

"I am here for the former," Tanya stated, "Though I'm afraid I don't have any identification."

The woman sighed, a long, rattling sound of profound boredom, and finally looked up. Her dark eyes locked onto Tanya's face, and she blinked.

"You!" the woman barked, slamming her hand down onto the counter.

Tanya stiffened. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're the girl!" the woman exclaimed, once again failing to enlighten Tanya as to what she was talking about. "The one that nearly died out in front of the dungeon!"

Tanya frowned, glancing around as whispers emerged from the people around her. "I didn't realize that the tale had spread so far."

The woman snorted, waving a hand. "Do you have any idea how boring it gets around here? Your name's gonna be on everyone's lips for the next few months unless something more interesting happens."

She stuck out a hand. "Adris Garsana. I was the attendant scheduled to handle your intake yesterday, but wouldn't you know it, nature called at the exact wrong moment. By the time I got back, you were already up and gone."

Tanya looked at the offered hand for a moment before taking it. Adris's grip was firm, calloused, and professional.

"Tanya Degurechaff," she replied. "And I apologize. If I had known there was someone waiting to gawk at me, I would have laid in bed for a few more hours.."

"That woulda just made me feel right shit," Adris laughed, "Anyway, it's good to see you're back on your feet. What brings you back here? Here to beg the Guild for a loan?"

"No," Tanya said, placing her hands on the counter. "I am here to register as an adventurer."

The silence that followed her statement was pronounced. Adris stared at her, one eyebrow slowly climbing toward her hairline.

"Register," Adris repeated, the word falling flat as if she had spoken in a foreign language. She stared at Tanya, then leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kid, you just crawled out of the Dungeon looking like you went a few rounds with a silverback. You sure you wanna go back?"

"I do," Tanya nodded. "I have already reviewed the Guild's statutes. Solo adventuring is permitted, provided the adventurers register and sign the necessary waivers."

Adris rubbed her temples with a groan. "Legally? Sure. You can walk right back down there and get yourself eaten by a goblin five minutes later, and I'll be forced to fill out the paperwork."

"I managed to survive well enough last time."

"Well enough, she says," Adris snorted, "Look, kid, unless you got inducted into a Familia in the last twenty-four hours, you don't have a Falna, and that means you're weaker than the freshest level one. I'd suggest you take a little bit to think about this and find a god to–"

"I'd prefer to remain without any blessing," Tanya carefully kept the sneer off of her face, "I'll admit I was unprepared last time, but I've done my due diligence and my research. This is the most effective way to pay off my debt."

Adris looked at her for a long moment, her brown eyes searching Tanya's face. Then, she let out a sharp, cynical laugh.

"You've got a problem with the gods," Adris observed, surprising Tanya. "I've seen it before. Usually from people who got burned by a bad Familia, or religious nuts who think the Dungeon is the entrance to the underworld. You're smarter than that though."

"Let's just say I've had bad experiences with their kind and keep it at that," Tanya countered evenly. "I prefer to be left to my own devices as far as my soul is concerned."

"You're going to get yourself killed is what you're going to do," Adris muttered, pulling a thick stack of parchment from beneath the counter. She uncorked an inkwell and grabbed a quill, the feather looking absurdly small in her calloused hand. "Still, I can't stop you. The paperwork says you're of sound mind and body, and you're not a criminal."

Adris tapped the parchment on the counter to straighten it, the sound sharp against the ambient noise of the hall. "Fill this out. Name, age, race. The usual."

Tanya picked up the quill and printed her information with neat, blocky handwriting, the kind born from two lifetimes filling out official documents in triplicate. She was pleased to find that she could answer most of the questions truthfully; it seemed to only cover the bare essentials to the sentience of the one filling it out.

At the bottom of the document was the final field. Familia Affiliation.

Tanya left the space blank.

Adris snatched the parchment, scanned it quickly to ensure the legibility was passable, and then reached for a stamp, slamming it down onto the paper with a heavy thud. Setting it to the side, she then grabbed a small slip of metal from a drawer and slid it across the counter.

"Here," Adris said. "Your adventurer card. Don't lose it. Replacements cost five hundred valis, and I'd rather not add on to that debt of yours."

Tanya took the metal plate between her thumb and forefinger. It was a simple, unadorned piece of metal with her name and age engraved on it, alongside official text denoting its purpose.

"If you're planning on heading down today, you'll want to head to the main entrance," Adris said, jerking a thumb toward the massive tower of stone visible through the high windows. "Babel. I'm sure you've seen it. The entrance is at the base."

"I believe I can find it," Tanya said, slipping the card into her pocket. "Thank you for your help, Adris."

"Yeah, yeah," Adris waved her off, already reaching for the next of forms. "Try not to die in the first five minutes. If my bosses find out I'm the one who gave you that card, they'll get grumpy, and I hate grumpy paperwork."

The more things change… Tanya thought, stepping away from the kiosk and heading for the door.

---

Get chapters to this fic early at Sadguychet | Patreon! Chapter 9 has just been posted!

 

[Sadguychet]

Delving

Tanya's first willing foray into the Dungeon was already shaping up to be a much more pleasant experience than her desperate dash to safety.

Tanya regarded the monster charging toward her with narrowed eyes. A quick flick of her wrist as it got into range, and the goblin dropped to the ground, choking on its own blood as its mangled weapon slipped from its fingers.

Tanya watched it writhe for a moment, her knife dripping onto the stone floor of the Dungeon. The creature's hands clawed weakly at the wound in its neck, its beady eyes rolling back in its skull as it gasped for air that would never come. Stepping forward, she ended its suffering with a firm stomp to the neck, feeling the vertebrae crunch beneath her boot.

"Much easier," Tanya murmured, crouching beside the dissolving corpse to retrieve the magic stone. "It's remarkable how easy it is to deal with these things when one isn't fighting for their life."

The stone wasn't very big and shined dimly under the light of the cavern. Tanya examined it for a moment before dropping it into her pouch with the others.

She had killed six creatures just like it so far. Six corpses, six stones, and not a single scratch on her person. So far, she hadn't even been grazed.

Preparation, she decided, made all the difference. She had spent a great deal of time researching the monsters she might find on these upper floors, as well as those she had come across on the ones below. Her efforts had clearly borne fruit.

Tanya moved forward, her boots making soft sounds against the stone. The Dungeon's upper floors were a labyrinth of corridors and caverns, lit by luminescent moss that clung to the walls in patches. The light was dim but serviceable, and she had already mapped out a route that avoided the more heavily trafficked areas.

Her knife sat comfortably in her grip. It wasn't her preferred weapon, but she was not going to use her Luger unless she absolutely couldn't help it, and not just out of mercy for her eardrums. Her ammunition was finite. She couldn't exactly requisition more 9mm rounds in a world that had never heard of Parabellum cartridges.

A sound echoed from somewhere to her left. Tanya pressed herself against the wall, slowing her breathing as she listened. The skittering of claws against stone, the guttural chittering that marked goblin communication. A patrol, perhaps, or a hunting party.

She counted the noises. Three, maybe four. Manageable if she was careful.

Tanya crept forward, keeping her footsteps light. The corridor bent ahead, and she used the angle to peer around the corner without exposing herself. The goblins were huddled around something on the ground—a corpse, from the look of it. They were preoccupied, their attention focused on their meal.

The first goblin died without ever knowing she was there. Tanya's knife found the base of its skull, severing the spinal cord and dropping it instantly. The second turned at the sound of the body falling, but by then Tanya was already moving, her blade slashing across its throat in a spray of blood that thankfully mostly missed her.

The third and fourth reacted with the predictable panic of ambush victims. One fled, scrambling to its feet and running down the corridor in a desperate attempt to escape, while the other charged, brandishing a crude club and a screech of rage.

Tanya sidestepped the charge, lashing out as it ran by her. Her knife found the goblin's heart, and she twisted before yanking it free. The creature dropped, twitching and smoking.

The fourth goblin had made it to the ceiling, clinging to the stone with wiry limbs as it screeched for help. Tanya considered her options. She could let it go—it would warn others, potentially draw more enemies, but she could simply leave the area before they arrived. Or she could pursue, risking being led into a trap.

Neither option was optimal.

Instead, Tanya breathed and reached deep within herself.

Magic in this world was different. In her previous life, it had been more akin to science, answering to formulas as opposed to feelings. Her computation orb had served as the crucible in which raw mana was refined into usable spells, and without it, complex casting was essentially impossible. The formula for a simple optical spell might exist in her mind, but without the hardware to process it, the mana remained mostly inert.

Here, however, the rules had changed.

Tanya had spent her evenings at the Hostess of Fertility experimenting in the privacy of her room and what she had discovered was both surprising and deeply intriguing. Her magic in this world was more malleable or at the very least responsive. Though she still needed to set the rules that her magic would follow, the equations had been… dumbed down, for lack of a better phrase.

It was still difficult, certainly. Like learning to write with one's non-dominant hand after lifetimes of using the other. But it was possible, if only for a moment or two.

Tanya raised her hand toward the fleeing goblin. She visualized the formula in her mind, the complex equation that was usually handled by her Type 95 doing the grunt work instead of her brain. A second passed, and then two, before her mana responded, pooling in her palm with a warmth that was familiar yet foreign.

The goblin turned, as if to check if she was pursuing, or perhaps it had felt the surge of magic. Either way, that decision cost it dearly.

A green glow suffused the edge of Tanya's knife before shooting outwards as if it had been shot from a cannon. Tanya flicked her wrist as it sped past the goblin, and the creature shrieked as her magic caught it along its back.

Tanya prided herself in keeping her knife as sharp as it needed to be. Her mana blade was even sharper. Magic wasn't bound by the limits of metal, and it would be fair to say the edge of her attack had more in common with a strand of hair rather than the razor that was used to cut them.

The goblin let out a gurgled cry as its body fell to the ground in two separate halves, bisected along the waist. Tanya's spell, for its part, lasted just long enough to get the job done before wavering violently and dispersing. Tanya frowned as the fatigue set in immediately. Though magic was easier achieved, it seemed that the trade-off was a drain far greater than she was used to. Hopefully it could be mitigated with practice.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar vein. Tanya established a rhythm: find a corridor, carefully clear the monsters, harvest the stones, move on. The Dungeon's upper floors were teeming with the creatures, and while individually they posed little threat, their numbers made them a consistent source of income. Each stone wasn't worth much—perhaps a hundred Valis if she was being generous—but the volume added up.

She was not alone in her efforts. Other adventurers passed her by occasionally, parties of two or three who moved with a variety of confidence through the upper floors. They would nod in her direction and then proceed to clear out tunnels before she could reach them. It was mildly irritating, but Tanya understood the nature of the workplace. The Dungeon was bountiful, but not infinite. Competition was inevitable.

Still, the Dungeon was, in essence, a self-sustaining resource extraction operation. The monsters were the product, and they regenerated at a rate that allowed for continuous harvesting. It was the kind of system that would make any industrialist weep with envy, and Tanya certainly wasn't going to complain.

By early afternoon, her pouch had grown heavy. The weight of the stones pulled at her hip, and she could feel the strain in her lower back from the constant crouching. Her knife was slick with residue that she hadn't had time to properly clean, and her cuirass bore a new scrape from a kobold that had managed to land a glancing blow.

Even so, it was a profitable day, all things considered. She didn't know quite enough about the exchange rate to estimate her haul, but the weight of her pouch spoke for itself.

She was considering packing up for the day when voices echoed through the corridor—human. Another pack of adventurers was just ahead, heading in her direction.

Seeing no reason to hide herself, Tanya rounded the corner and found herself face-to-face with a group of three. They were dressed in a mix of leather and metal and bore the emblem of a wine chalice on their breastplates. Their equipment was well-maintained but showed signs of wear, the kind that spoke of regular use rather than neglect.

The party consisted of two men and a woman. The taller of the men had a spear slung across his back, while his shorter companion carried a shortsword at his hip. The woman, who appeared to be the leader based on her position at the head, had a rapier at her side and an expression of mild surprise as she saw Tanya round the corner.

"Well lookie here," the woman said, her eyes scanning Tanya's form with an appraising look. "Didn't expect to see anyone this out of the way on the third floor. Are you by yourself, kid?"

Tanya kept her face blank, though her eyes narrowed a bit. Though the Dungeon was ostensibly the enemy of all adventurers, that didn't mean that humanity wouldn't still do what it did best. Give a man a knife and there's a chance he'll use it to take what isn't his.

Deep below ground, surrounded by monsters and dangerous terrain, "accidents" were bound to happen. It wasn't common, but it certainly wasn't rare enough to remain ignorant of the dangers. Tanya would be best served keeping her solo status to herself for now.

"I just wandered a bit from my party," Tanya nodded curtly. "I'm making my way back to them. We have a spot to meet up nearby."

When in such a situation, it was always prudent to ensure the other party believed that you would be missed. Tanya had made it appear as if she was expected to rendezvous with her party soon and dissuaded this group from preventing her from doing so.

Whether or not they picked up on her subtle threat wasn't easy to tell. A snort came from the shorter man. "And you're taking the time to loot? You're pretty thrifty."

"I prefer to think of myself as a pragmatist," Tanya said evenly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my destination lies past you. I wouldn't advise going the way I came anyway. There's not much there anymore."

She moved to step around them, but the woman shifted to block her path. The motion was casual, almost friendly, but Tanya immediately tensed.

"Wait a moment," the woman said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "That armor you're wearing looks familiar. Where did you get it?"

Tanya's mind flashed back to the dead adventurer, his face caved in from whatever had killed him, his armor still serviceable if battered. She should have guessed that he might have friends who would realize she was wearing a dead man's clothes.

Tanya's fingers twitched around her knife. "I found it. Why do you ask?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she took a step closer. The two men flanked her, their postures shifting from casual to something more alert at their leader's movement. "That armor belongs to a member of our Familia. He went down into the Dungeon a few days ago."

Tanya filed away the timeline. A few days. That aligned with her own arrival in this world, and with the state of the body she had found. The corpse had been fresh, or close to it.

"I see," Tanya said, keeping her voice neutral. "Then I'm afraid I have unfortunate news for you. I found the armor on a body a few floors below us. The individual in question was already deceased when I came across them."

The woman's expression flickered—not with grief, but with something that looked closer to irritation. "Henry's dead?"

"Quite thoroughly, I'm afraid. Something had caved in his skull. Likely a kobold or something similar, given I found a rather large group of them relatively close by."

"Damn it," the shorter man muttered. "That idiot. We told him not to go down alone."

"Told him," the taller one agreed, shaking his head. "Multiple times."

Tanya observed their reactions. There was sadness, certainly, but it was muted and overshadowed by something else. Frustration, perhaps, or disappointment.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, her rapier swaying at her hip. "Well, that complicates things. Henry's gear was worth a decent amount. The Guild would have given us the rights to it if we found him, but now you've gone and claimed it."

"I wasn't aware that the dead retained property rights in Orario," Tanya said. "My understanding was that salvage was subject to a finder's claim."

"Salvage?" The woman laughed, though it carried no humor. "That's a generous term for looting a corpse."

"Perhaps, but I prefer to think of it as efficient resource allocation," Tanya replied. "The previous owner had no further use for it, and I had immediate need."

The shorter man scowled, his hand drifting toward his shortsword. "You've got a lot of nerve, kid. That armor is Soma Familia property. You're walking around wearing gear that one of our own bled in."

"And I am grateful for its protection," Tanya said, her voice still calm. "Should you wish to negotiate its return, I am open to discussing fair compensation for the service it has rendered me. However, I would remind you that I am under no legal obligation to surrender it if I find your offer distasteful."

The woman's smile turned sharp. "You really got a mouth on you, kid. A lot of things happen in these tunnels that the Guild never hears about. Maybe you start rethinking what you're doing before it lands you in a heap of trouble."

Tanya's eyes narrowed at the threat. She could fight them. Her knife was still drawn, and she had enough mana for perhaps two more of her spells before exhaustion set in. Three against one was poor odds, but she had faced worse.

However, before she could move further upon that train of thought, the shadows in the corridor began to shift.

Tanya heard it first—the skittering of claws against stone and the guttural chittering of goblinkind, and she sighed.

"You might want to postpone this conversation," Tanya said, her grip tightening on her knife as she caught sight of shadows moving behind the group. "We have company."

The woman turned, her rapier clearing its sheath in a single fluid motion. The two men followed suit, their weapons raised as the first goblins emerged from the darkness behind them.

There were more than Tanya had anticipated. A dozen at least, their beady eyes gleaming with hunger as they poured into the corridor.

But they weren't the only threat to be faced. Tanya turned as she heard a noise behind her–almost drowned out by the goblins' cacophonous cries–and cursed.

The creatures were taller than goblins, their bodies lean and sinewy beneath armor-like plating. Their arms ended in wicked claws that gleamed like polished steel, and their faces were devoid of any feature except for hollow, empty eyes. They moved with an eerie silence, their forms blurring at the edges as they drifted forward.

War Shadows.

"Shit," the taller man hissed. "War Shadows this high up? That's not normal."

"Neither are this many goblins," the woman said, her voice tight. "They must have migrated up from the lower levels."

The goblins surged forward, and the Soma Familia members moved to meet them. The woman's rapier flashed in the dim light as she cut down the first one as it leapt toward her. The two men followed her lead, the spearman thrusting his weapon to keep them at bay while the shorter one's shortsword carved bloody arcs through the many who slipped through.

Tanya backed away, positioning herself against the wall as she assessed the battlefield. The goblins were manageable in small groups, but a horde of this size required coordination that she simply didn't have with the present group. The War Shadows, however, were a different matter.

One of the creatures drifted toward her, its claws extended. It moved with an unsettling grace, its form seeming to phase between solid and ethereal. Tanya had read about them in the library. War Shadows were known for their speed and their razor-sharp claws, which could cut through armor as if it were paper.

The Soma Familia members were already engaged with the goblin horde, their attention fully occupied by the swarming creatures. The second War Shadow was circling around the flank, preparing to strike at the woman's exposed back.

"Behind you!" Tanya called out.

The woman spun just in time to parry the War Shadow's claws, her rapier catching the blow with a screech of metal. But the creature was fast, and its second strike caught the spearman across his arm. He howled in pain, his weapon clattering to the ground as blood sprayed across the stone.

Realizing that this may be too much for the group and not fancying her chances alone if they were to die, Tanya pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the injured War Shadow, her knife held low. The creature turned at her approach, its hollow eyes fixing on her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. It raised its claws, preparing to strike, and Tanya slid beneath its guard, her knife carving a line across its midsection.

The War Shadow shrieked, a sound like grinding metal, and stumbled back. The wound wasn't deep enough to kill, but it was enough to draw its attention away from the spearman. Tanya rolled to her feet, putting distance between herself and the creature as it recovered.

"Focus on the goblins!" she shouted to the Soma Familia members. "I'll handle the War Shadows!"

The woman hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes meeting Tanya's. Then she nodded, turning back to the horde with her rapier raised. "Let her distract those two! We'll deal with this lot!"

Tanya didn't wait for acknowledgment. She was already moving, her mind racing as the first War Shadow recovered and lunged toward her.

It came at her with claws extended, its lanky body shivering with anticipation. Tanya ducked beneath the first swipe, feeling the displaced air ruffle her hair as the claws passed inches above her head.

She countered with an upward slash, but it jerked its body out of the way just in time, leaving her knife to scrape a shallow wound instead of the gash she intended. The creature barely seemed to notice the cut, its hollow eyes fixed on her as it reared back for another strike.

Tanya twisted away, her boots skidding on the stone as she put distance between herself and the monster. It screeched at her, a cry clearly meant to intimidate and make her pause. Unfortunately, it gave her just enough time to formulate a magical equation in her mind.

The air around her knife shimmered as she poured the energy into the blade, extending its edge with a ghostly green glow. The War Shadow lunged, and Tanya swiped her hand through the air like she was conducting a full orchestral score.

Her enhanced blade caught the creature's claws mid-swing, slicing all three of them off in one fell swoop. The monster shrieked, abandoning its charge in favor of nursing its wound, and as it stumbled off-balance, Tanya lunged forward and drove the blade into its chest.

The War Shadow shrieked and clawed at her. Tanya wrenched her knife free and dove to the side, feeling the tips of its claws rake across her cuirass. The metal held, but she could feel the impact in her ribs. If she hadn't been wearing it, she would have been shredded.

She rolled to her feet and pressed the attack before the creature could recover. Two quick strikes to the same wound she had already opened, each one carving deeper into its chest. The War Shadow staggered, its movements becoming sluggish as dark ichor seeped from the gashes, and Tanya twisted, lashing out with her blade.

The monster's head detached from its shoulders in spectacular fashion, rolling across the floor a ways down the corridor.

The body dissolved into ash before it hit the ground, leaving behind only a magic stone that clattered against the stone floor. Tanya scooped it up without breaking stride, already turning toward the second War Shadow.

It was circling the Soma Familia members, looking for an opening in their formation. The goblins had been thinned out significantly, but there were still enough to keep the group occupied. The taller man, the spearman, was clutching his wounded arm and trying to stay out of the fray.

The second War Shadow saw her coming and abandoned its circling. It surged toward her, faster than its companion had been. Tanya barely had time to raise her knife before it was on her, claws flashing in the dim light.

She deflected the first strike. The second caught her across the thigh, slicing through her flight suit and into the flesh beneath. Pain flared, and she hissed through her teeth as she stumbled backward.

The creature pressed its advantage. Another swipe, this one aimed at her throat. Tanya threw herself to the side, her shoulder hitting the stone wall hard. Her knife hand came up on instinct, catching the War Shadow's claws on her blade.

It was a testament to imperial craftsmanship that the blade didn't shatter immediately, but the impact still sent a jolt through her arm that made her fingers spasm. Her knife nearly slipped from her grip.

"Please just die," she snarled, pouring more mana into the blade.

The green glow intensified, and with a surge of effort, she pushed the War Shadow back. It stumbled, and Tanya seized the opening. She lunged forward, driving her knife into the creature's "throat" and carving downward in a brutal slash that opened it from neck to navel.

The War Shadow collapsed in a heap. Tanya stood over it, breathing hard, her knife dripping with ichor that slowly evaporated into wisps of dark smoke.

The spell flickered and died and the fatigue set in immediately. Her limbs felt a bit heavier than usual and a dull ache was setting in behind her eyes. She had pushed her magic further than she had intended, and the cost was making itself known.

But there was no time to rest. The goblin horde had been reduced to a handful of stragglers, and the Soma Familia members were mopping them up. All except for the spearman, who was still clutching his wounded arm and looking pale.

A goblin broke free from the melee, its beady eyes fixing on the injured man. It raised its club, preparing to bring it down on his skull—

Tanya's knife took it in the back.

The goblin shrieked and crumpled, dissolving into ash before it hit the ground. The spearman stared at her with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

"Those who remain still in an active melee are usually the first to die," Tanya said, retrieving her knife from the dissipating corpse. "Do remember that for next time."

The last of the goblins fell to the leader's rapier, and silence descended over the corridor. Tanya took a moment to catch her breath, her hand pressing against the wound on her thigh. It wasn't deep, but it stung. She'd check it more thoroughly once she was safe above.

She moved to collect the magic stones from the War Shadows she had felled, dropping them into her pouch with the others. The stones were larger than the goblin stones and pulsed with a faint inner light. Worth significantly more, if her research was accurate.

"I'll be taking these," she said, holding up the stones. "You can have the others."

"Like hell you are."

Azalea stepped forward, her rapier still drawn. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set in a stubborn line. "You're wearing gear that belongs to our Familia, and now you're claiming stones from monsters that attacked us?"

"Monsters that I killed," Tanya corrected, her voice flat. "Your party was occupied with the goblins. I can't imagine you would have fared better fighting on two fronts."

"Azalea, come on." The shorter man sheathed his shortsword, his expression weary. "She saved Darris's life. And she took down two War Shadows by herself. That's not nothing."

"We would have taken them too," Azalea snapped. "We killed the lot; those stones should belong to us."

"The stones belong to whoever killed the monsters," Tanya said, her grip on her knife tightening. "That is Guild law. If you wish to dispute it, you are welcome to file a formal complaint with the administration. I'm certain they will be fascinated to hear how you attempted to extort a solo adventurer in the Dungeon."

Azalea's face twisted with anger, and for a moment Tanya thought she might actually attack. The woman's rapier was still in her hand, and her stance had shifted to something more aggressive.

"Azalea." The shorter man's voice was wary. "She used some kind of skill to kill those War Shadows. Did you see it? That green glow? I've never seen anything like it."

"A skill doesn't change the fact that she's—"

"It changes the fact that she could probably kill us if she wanted to," the man interrupted. "She took down two War Shadows by herself. While we were struggling with goblins. Think about that for a second."

Azalea hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Tanya's knife, still drawn and still faintly stained with monster blood.

Finally, she let out a sharp breath and sheathed her rapier. "Fine. Keep the stones. But this isn't over, girl. You're walking around in gear that belongs to the Soma Familia, and sooner or later, someone's going to collect on that debt."

"You can get in line behind everyone else," Tanya said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have wounds to attend to."

She turned and walked away, not allowing herself to limp until she was certain she was out of sight.

~~~

The trek to the surface proceeded without anything eventful occurring. One or two more monsters slain and Tanya was once again at the gates of Babel, her pockets much heavier than before.

Taking her haul to the Guild, she walked away seven thousand Valis richer after the fees were processed. A good haul, thanks mostly due to the War Shadows' much more valuable monster stones.

One day of hunting had yielded nearly ten percent of her total debt. If she could maintain that pace, she would be debt-free in a fortnight.

Unlikely, of course. The War Shadows had been an unexpected boon, and their stones had inflated her earnings significantly. She couldn't count on such luck every day, but it was progress.

And progress, Tanya reflected as she climbed the stairs to her room at the Hostess of Fertility, was all she could ask for.

She closed the door behind her and began to disrobe. The wound on her thigh throbbed, but it had already begun to clot. She would clean it and bandage it, preferably in the bath. A nice soak and a hot meal would do wonders for her haggard state before she went to bed.

Tomorrow, she would do it again. And the day after that. And the day after that. One hundred thousand Valis. One month.

Tanya glanced at the nearby wall where a painting hung, the picture of a beautiful woman painted upon the canvas. A thin smile spread across her face.

"Perhaps not quite as daunting as you imagined, is it, Being X?"

The painting remained silent, and Tanya scoffed stripping off her cuirass and moving to the suit underneath.

As she turned away, the eyes of the painted woman narrowed with malicious intent.

 

[Sadguychet]

Dinner with a Debtor

One week into her new life in Orario, Tanya found herself standing in the middle of a weapons shop, contemplating a shelf of sharpened steel.

The dungeon was a dangerous place. This was a fact that she had become intimately acquainted with over the past seven days. Her borrowed equipment had served her well enough in the upper floors, but it was beginning to wear. The cuirass was dented and battered and she was beginning to worry that the defense it offered was falling behind the weight it produced upon her shoulders. Furthermore, while her knife was adequate, it was meant to be a fallback weapon, hardly meant for the rigors she was putting it through.

If she wished to maintain her current pace without endangering herself beyond reason, she would need to acquire more adequate supplies.

To that end, Tanya had set aside a small sum from her earnings. The exact figure had been carefully calculated, enough to purchase serviceable equipment without biting into her margins or risking her ability to pay off her debt. Every Valis spent was a Valis that wasn't going toward her freedom, but dying in the dungeon would be even more costly in the long run.

She had spent the better part of the morning browsing the various weapons shops, searching for something that wouldn't break the proverbial bank. The selection was vast, ranging from high-quality steel that cost more than her entire debt, to rusted scraps that would likely shatter on first contact with a monster.

Tanya had narrowed her options down to two.

The first was a straight sword with a simple cross guard. The blade showed signs of wear, with a manageable amount of rust that could be cleaned off with proper maintenance. It was a serviceable weapon, or at least it would be once she serviced it. However, the blade was short, and she was in the throes of puberty and still growing. She would outgrow it rather quickly, and purchasing a weapon that would need replacing in a matter of months was poor resource management.

The second option was a saber with a half-moon guard. The blade was unadorned and unengraved, lacking the ornamental flourishes that seemed to drive up the price of other weapons in the shop. That said, she was looking for functionality over beauty, and it was honestly quite well-made when compared to the others sitting on the shelves. The only downside was the hilt, which allowed space for only a single hand. Other than that, it was a perfectly fine weapon.

Tanya glanced down, reading the price tag. Fifteen thousand Valis. A bit steep for her blood, but easily haggled down with a few of the right words.

Tanya took the saber off the shelf and brought it up to the counter. The shopkeeper, a stocky man with a thick beard and hands that looked capable of crushing stones, looked up from his ledger.

His eyes, dark and beady beneath a shelf of brow, flicked between Tanya and the weapons she had been examining for the past quarter hour.

"You've been staring at those two for a while," he observed, voice grating. "You planning to buy something, or just window shopping?"

Tanya straightened, her hand still resting on the saber's hilt. "I'm giving my selection the thought it deserves. It wouldn't do to entrust my life to poor quality armaments."

The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed. "Nothing here is poor quality, kid. You want something that'll kill goblins, I've got it. You want something to wave around to your friends and make you look all tough, go somewhere else."

Tanya frowned slightly. The man's bluntness was refreshing, in a way. No false promises of grandeur, no inflated claims about the weapons' pedigree. Just the bare facts, delivered with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

"I'll take the saber," she decided. "I will require a scabbard as well."

"Scabbards are extra," the shopkeeper said, already reaching beneath the counter. "Another five hundred. You want it fitted to your hip or your back?"

"Hip. I prefer my weapon accessible rather than theatrical."

He grunted in acknowledgment and produced a simple leather sheath from beneath the counter. It was worn but clearly well-made, the stitching intact and the leather supple enough to not crack when drawn. Tanya inspected it briefly before nodding her acceptance.

"Fifteen thousand five hundred," the shopkeeper said, scratching the figure onto a scrap of parchment. "You paying in stones or coin?"

Tanya held up a hand. "Hold a moment, let us discuss the price."

The shopkeeper's expression shifted, amusement flickering across his weathered features. "You want to haggle? You look like you just crawled out of the orphanage, kid. What do you know about pricing weapons?"

"Enough to know that fifteen thousand is excessive for a blade of this quality," Tanya replied, turning the saber so that the light caught the edge. "The steel is decent, I'll grant you, but the balance is slightly off. The weight distribution favors the tip, which suggests it was forged by someone who prioritized reach over maneuverability. A common mistake in amateur weapons."

The shopkeeper's amusement faded, replaced by something closer to grudging interest. "You've got a sharp eye."

"I've had experience with blades," Tanya said, which was technically true. "The hilt wrapping is also starting to fray at the edges. Nothing a bit of leather work won't fix, but it indicates the weapon has seen use. It's not new, is it?"

"Consignment piece," the shopkeeper admitted. "Adventurer needed quick coin, sold it to me last week. I cleaned it up, sharpened the edge, but you're right that it's not fresh from the forge."

"Then fifteen thousand is unreasonable for a secondhand weapon," Tanya said, setting the saber on the counter. "Twelve thousand. That's fair for both of us."

The shopkeeper crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Thirteen five. I've got overhead to consider and it's still a good piece. Rent doesn't pay itself."

"Twelve five," Tanya countered. "And I'll take the scabbard for free. I doubt many would look close enough at this sword to consider actually buying it. It'll just continue to take up space unless I take it off your hands."

The man snorted, but there was a glint of respect in his eyes now. "You drive a hard bargain for someone who barely comes up to my counter." He studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine. Twelve five for the saber, but the scabbard's another three hundred. Final offer."

Tanya considered pushing further, but recognized the tone in his voice. He had reached his floor, and pressing the issue would only sour the transaction. "More than reasonable, thank you."

The shopkeeper wrapped the saber in a length of worn cloth and tied it with a bit of twine. Meanwhile, Tanya counted out the coins from her pouch, twelve thousand, eight hundred in various denominations, and slid them across the counter.

The man swept them into his palm and began counting, his lips moving silently as he verified the total. Satisfied, he dropped the coins into a strongbox beneath the counter and pushed the wrapped weapon toward her.

"Pleasure doing business," he said, the words more routine than sincere. "You need anything else, you know where to find me."

"I'm certain I will," Tanya replied, tucking the wrapped saber under her arm. "Good day."

She turned and made her way toward the exit, her mind already turning over her next set of priorities. The saber was a solid investment, one that would serve her well in the coming weeks. She would need to break it in properly, familiarize herself with its weight and balance before relying on it in combat. Perhaps she could find a secluded area of the upper floors to practice–

"Hey! Wait up!"

Tanya paused mid-step, and turned to find two figures approaching from down the street. A man and a woman, both dressed in armor. Adventurers.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with tanned skin and dark hair that fell in loose waves around his face. His features were classically handsome, the kind that seemed sculpted rather than born. The woman beside him was shorter, with auburn hair tied back in a braid and a soft face that dimpled with her smile.

They gazed at her with a strange amount of familiarity despite the fact that Tanya was certain she had never met them before. She eyed them and the sun emblem crested upon the breastplate of their armor.

A sun, she thought, fighting a sneer. These two belonged to the Apollo Familia.

But what did they want with her? Were they here to lord the debt over her head or–even worse–to try and convince or even coerce her to join their familia?

Tanya withheld a guarded expression as the two approached, stopping just short of her.

The woman spoke first, her smile warm and genuine. "Sorry to startle you! We saw you coming out of the shop and wanted to catch you before you disappeared."

"You've been making quite a name for yourself this past week," the man added, his deep voice carrying the easy confidence of someone used to being heard. "A solo adventurer clearing the upper floors at your age? That's not something you see every day."

Tanya kept her expression neutral. "I'm simply making efficient use of my time. Is there something I can help you with?"

The two exchanged a glance that Tanya couldn't quite interpret. The woman's smile dimmed slightly, replaced by something more earnest.

"Actually, we wanted to talk to you about something," she said. "My name is Licia Dore, and this is Dorian Vellius. We're members of the Apollo Familia."

"I know who you are," Tanya said, her voice slightly angry. "You're here about the debt, I assume."

Licia blinked, surprise flickering across her features. "The debt? No, we–well, yes, that's part of it, but that's not why we wanted to talk to you."

"We're the ones who found you," Dorian said, crossing his arms over his chest. "When you came out of the Dungeon. You were in bad shape so we helped you out. We brought you to the Guild but couldn't stick around to make sure you were alright."

Tanya's grip on the wrapped saber tightened fractionally. "I see. Then I suppose I owe you my thanks for your timely intervention."

The words came out flat, stripped of any genuine warmth, and it was clear that both adventurers noticed it.

"You don't owe us anything," Licia said quickly, her hands rising in a placating gesture. "We just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Anyone would have done the same."

"Anyone with the means and the inclination," Tanya said. "I've found that altruism is far less common than people like to pretend."

Dorian studied her with an unreadable expression, his crystal-blue eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture. "You've got a cynical outlook for someone so young."

"I prefer the term 'realistic,'" Tanya replied. "Now, if that's all you wanted to say, I should be going. I have preparations to make for tomorrow's dungeon run."

"Wait, please." Licia stepped forward, her expression earnest. "We didn't come here to make you uncomfortable. We just... we wanted to make sure you were alright. And to explain something about the debt."

Tanya paused, one eyebrow raised. "Explain what, exactly?"

Licia glanced at Dorian, who gave a slight nod. She turned back to Tanya, her smile fading into something more serious.

"We had nothing to do with the debt," Licia said. "When we brought you to the Guild, we were prepared to cover the cost of the potions ourselves. It wouldn't have been a burden—our Familia has resources, and we were the ones who found you. It felt like our responsibility."

"But?"

Licia's brow furrowed. "But our god... Lord Apollo, he insisted on covering the cost himself."

"And I'm guessing you believe his intentions weren't entirely benevolent?."

Dorian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Lord Apollo has his quirks. He's a good god, for the most part. He treats his children well, provides for us, ensures we want for nothing. But he can be possessive when something catches his eye. He has a habit of latching onto people he finds interesting and finding ways to bring them into his Familia."

"The debt was supposed to be a way to bring you into the fold," Licia admitted, her cheeks coloring slightly. "It's not... it's not how we would have handled it. But Lord Apollo doesn't always consult us before making decisions."

Tanya felt her eye twitch. Of course. How utterly predictable. A god abusing their power to acquire trinkets in the form of adventurers who caught their fancy, all while disguising it as benevolence. The manipulation was so transparent that it would have been almost insulting if it weren't so typical.

Still, it seemed that the god acted unilaterally, and at least some of his followers were uncomfortable with his methods. Interesting. A crack in the facade, or simply the natural friction that existed in any organization?

"I appreciate your candor," Tanya said, and she meant it. Information was valuable, and these two were providing it freely. "However, my position remains unchanged. I intend to pay off the debt through my own efforts, not through servitude."

Dorian uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. "We're not here to pressure you into anything. Actually, we wanted to suggest something else entirely," he said. "Would you be willing to sit down with us for a meal? Somewhere we can talk properly?"

Tanya's eyes narrowed. "And what would be the purpose of this conversation?"

"To clear the air," Dorian said. "You're clearly under the impression that we're here to strong-arm you into joining our Familia. We're not. I thought if we explained things properly, there might be less tension."

"We'll pay, of course," Licia added, smiling widely.

Tanya considered the offer. While part of her balked at the idea of sharing a meal with her debtors, here was an opportunity to gather intelligence on the organization that currently held her financial leash. Any information she could glean about the Apollo Familia's structure, motivations, and potential weaknesses could prove valuable in the future.

"Very well," Tanya said. "I have some time to spare and I won't say no to a free meal. Lead the way."

~~~

The Hostess of Fertility was livelier than Tanya had grown accustomed to seeing it. The lunch crowd had begun to filter in, filling the tables with adventurers fresh from the morning's dungeon run. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread had saturated the tavern's air, making her stomach growl quietly.

A waitress placed plates of steaming food in front of them–thick slices of ham accompanied by soup, bread, and roasted vegetables. It was far more substantial than the simple fare Tanya had been ordering for herself, and she suspected the Apollo Familia members were used to eating well.

As the waitress walked away, Licia smiled brightly across the table. "The food here is fantastic. Have you ever tried it before?"

Tanya picked up her fork, examining the meal before her. "I live here."

Licia blinked, her smile freezing in place as her brain caught up with the words. Dorian took one look at her face and laughed loudly.

"Ha! I told you we should have taken her somewhere else. Everyone on this side of the city has visited the Hostess at least once."

Licia's cheeks flushed pink. "I didn't mean–I just assumed–" She fumbled over her words before sighing in defeat. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this."

"Clearly," Dorian said, still chuckling as he cut into his ham. "Though to be fair, most people your age don't live in taverns. They live with their Familia."

"Or with their parents," Licia added, recovering slightly. "Do you have family somewhere? Outside the city, maybe?"

Tanya took a sip of the soup in front of her, using the moment to formulate a response. Revealing too much about her situation was inadvisable, but appearing evasive might raise suspicion. A partial truth would serve best.

"I'm an orphan," she said simply. "No living relatives that I'm aware of."

Licia's expression softened with sympathy that Tanya found mildly irritating. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"I never knew them so it's not exactly a tragedy," Tanya replied easily.

"Where are you from originally?" Dorian asked, tearing off a piece of bread. "Your accent is difficult to place. Somewhere across the sea, I'd wager."

"A small island nation to the east," Tanya said. "Far enough that I doubt you would recognize the name. The journey here was... eventful."

"Eventful how?" Licia leaned forward, interest clear in her gaze.

"I'm afraid I don't remember much of it," Tanya lied smoothly. "The details are something of a blur. I woke up in the Dungeon with no clear recollection of how I arrived."

Dorian's eyes sharpened at that. "You woke up in the Dungeon? As in, someone took you down there?"

"Something like that, yes."

The two adventurers exchanged a look that Tanya couldn't quite read. It was Dorian who turned back to her, his expression considering.

"That would explain why you were in such bad shape when we found you," Licia said. "But it doesn't explain how you survived long enough to reach the surface. The upper floors are manageable for experienced adventurers, but for someone with no Falna, no backup, and no prior knowledge of the Dungeon..."

He let the sentence hang, and Tanya felt the weight of his scrutiny. She was sharper than her demeanor suggested.

"I have some combat experience," she admitted. "Enough to manage."

"Combat experience," Dorian repeated, his tone neutral but probing. "That's a peculiar thing for a child to have. Most people your age are still learning to hold a sword properly, let alone surviving the Dungeon alone."

Tanya shrugged, slicing into her ham. It was well-cooked, the juices soaking into the plate in a manner most pleasant. "Circumstances vary. I was not afforded the luxury of a normal childhood."

"That's..." Licia trailed off, her expression cycling through several emotions before settling on something like sadness. "That must have been hard."

"Hardship is relative. I've found that a difficult upbringing often produces more capable adults."

Dorian chewed thoughtfully, studying her over the rim of his cup. "You carry yourself like someone who's been through more than most adults ever will. It's not something you see in children."

Tanya's fork paused halfway to her mouth. She hadn't realized she was being so transparent. "Old habits."

"From where?" Licia asked. "You said you're from an island nation, but you didn't mention any gods. Most regions have at least one deity watching over them, even if they don't live directly in the area. The gods tend to stay in or near Orario, but their influence spreads far beyond the city walls."

Tanya kept her face carefully blank, setting down her fork and folding her hands on the table.

"Where I come from," she said carefully, "those who claim godhood are considered laughingstocks at best, and blasphemers at worst. Religion is prevalent, surely, but it exists without proof. Miracles are sparse, hearsay at best. And I'm not certain that it would be a good thing were any gods to make their presence known."

Licia's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Consider the implications," Tanya said. "In a society where gods walk among mortals, offering blessings and supernatural abilities, what happens to those who refuse to participate? They become second-class citizens by default, lacking the power that comes with divine favor. The very structure of such a society encourages dependence on entities whose motivations may not align with human interests."

Dorian's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's a unique perspective."

"Is it?" Tanya picked up her fork again. "I've observed that concentrated power, regardless of its source, rarely benefits those who don't possess it. The gods of this city may be benevolent–I wouldn't know, I haven't met them–but benevolence is not the same as accountability. When a being holds absolute power over your life, your livelihood, and your very soul, what recourse do you have if their interests diverge from your own?"

Licia opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain how to respond. Her expression had shifted from sympathetic to something more complex. Concern, perhaps, or confusion.

"You speak as if you've seen this happen," Dorian said quietly.

Tanya smiled thinly. "I've seen what blind faith can do. I've seen people throw their lives away for causes they don't understand, following leaders who claim divine mandate. The results are rarely positive for anyone except the leaders themselves."

In her mind, the image of Mary Sue flickered briefly. That manic grin, the absolute certainty in her eyes as she detonated the explosive that killed them both. A martyr for a cause she barely comprehended, guided by a being who treated human lives as pieces on a game board.

"The nation I come from gave themselves to science, rather than faith," Tanya continued, "the return of the divine would simply set our civilization back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Progress requires questioning, skepticism, and the willingness to discard old beliefs in the face of new evidence. Religion, by its nature, demands the opposite."

The table fell silent, and Tanya realized she may have said too much. These two were, by all accounts, devout followers of their god. Criticizing the very foundation of their society was not the best way to maintain cordial relations.

But when she looked at them, she didn't see offense or anger. Licia's eyes had gone wide with something that looked almost like realization, while Dorian's expression had softened into understanding.

"Let's move onto something else," Dorian said, his tone light but firm. He gestured vaguely with his cup. "I'm sure you didn't come all this way to be interrogated over a meal. Tell us about your adventures. We've heard about you working the upper floors. How has that gone?"

Tanya inclined her head, accepting the change in subject with a small nod. She was pleased that they hadn't taken offense to her earlier diatribe, but she couldn't help but wonder if they had drawn the wrong conclusions from her words.

The way Licia kept glancing at her, with those wide, sympathetic eyes, suggested that they had got the wrong thing out of her little rant.

No matter. So long as they didn't go spouting her heresy to the town guards, they could think whatever they liked.

The meal lasted perhaps an hour in total. Dorian proved to be an amicable conversationalist, keeping the discussion away from sensitive topics and sharing anecdotes about dungeon diving that Tanya filed away for future reference. Licia was quieter, content to let Dorian lead, but she interjected occasionally with observations that revealed a sharp mind behind her soft demeanor.

Tanya didn't learn as much as she'd have liked about the Apollo Familia, but the conversation was... Enjoyable. Strangely so considering their shared circumstance.

When the meal concluded, Dorian offered to buy dessert, but Tanya declined. The food sat heavy in her stomach and she could feel her eyes growing heavy with fatigue. A good night's sleep would serve her better than sweets.

"I should retire for the evening," she said, rising from her seat. "Thank you for the meal. It was... pleasant."

Licia smiled at that, the expression genuine and warm. "We should do this again sometime. If you're not too busy."

"I make no promises," Tanya replied. "But I won't rule it out entirely."

Dorian tossed a pouch of coins to the waitress as they departed, offering Tanya a casual wave before disappearing into the crowd with Licia in tow. Tanya watched them go for a moment before ascending the stairs to her room.

In the comfort of her rented room, Tanya unwrapped her new saber and set it on the small desk beside her bed. The lamplight caught the edge of the blade, casting a thin line of reflected gold across the ceiling.

The two of them were quite good company, she reflected. It reminded her of meals with her men back in the Empire. Dorian possessed a dry humor that reminded her of Weiss, alongside a straightforward sense of competence that didn't need to announce itself. Licia, meanwhile, had the same soft countenance and clear empathetic demeanor that Visha had once worn.

It was a shame, really. Both of them had clearly been institutionalized by the society they were born into.

Tanya ran her thumb along the saber's edge. Sharp, but in need of honing. She would need to purchase a whetstone at some point to maintain it.

For now, though, she had planning to do.

~~~

The walk back to the Apollo Familia estate was a quiet one.

Licia and Dorian made their way through the streets of Orario as the afternoon sun settled over the city. The crowds had thinned somewhat as the lunch rush came to its conclusion, leaving the roads wide open for their stroll. Neither spoke for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts.

It was Licia who finally broke the silence.

"That poor girl."

Dorian glanced sideways at his companion, noting the furrow in her brow and the way she worried at her lower lip. It was a habit she'd never managed to break, one that surfaced whenever something weighed on her conscience.

"She's been through something," he agreed. "That much is clear."

"Something? Dorian, she talks about gods like they're..." Licia struggled for the right words. "Like they're tyrants. Something to be feared instead of revered."

"She's not entirely wrong."

Licia shot him a surprised look, and Dorian raised a hand before she could object.

"I'm not saying her views are correct," he clarified. "But she's right about one thing; power tends to concentrate, and those without it tend to suffer for it. We've both seen it happen within our own Familia."

Licia fell silent at that. They both knew exactly what he was referring to. Lord Apollo's interest in beautiful things had a tendency to cause problems for those who couldn't or wouldn't reciprocate his attention.

"Do you think she was abused?" Licia asked quietly. "By a god, I mean. Or a Familia?"

Dorian considered the question carefully. Tanya's words had been clinical, but beneath them lay a current of something deeper. Not anger, exactly. More like a wound long since scarred.

"It's possible," Dorian admitted. "The way she spoke about blind faith isn't exactly the words of someone who's simply skeptical. You don't speak about faith that way unless you've seen it fail someone. Unless you've seen it hurt someone."

Licia nodded slowly, her expression troubled. They walked in silence for another block, the stone streets giving way to the paved roads that led toward the wealthier districts of Orario.

"If she joins us," Licia said finally, "I want to make sure she feels welcome. Truly welcome. Not just because Lord Apollo wants her, but because she deserves a place where she can belong."

Dorian smiled at that, a small but genuine expression. "That's very kind of you."

"It's the right thing to do," Licia protested. "She's all alone, Dorian. She has no Familia, no family, and she's living in a tavern because she has nowhere else to go. If we can be the ones to show her that not all gods are the same..."

She trailed off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Dorian reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"We will," he promised. "We can still show her that the Apollo Familia is different. That we care about her as a person, not just as another member to add to our numbers."

Licia sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Do you think she'll be happy if she joins? After everything she said?"

"Perhaps not," Dorian said. "But that doesn't mean we can't show her regardless."

 

[Sadguychet]

Divine Summons

The morning sun had barely crested the rooftops when the summons arrived.

A servant had appeared at Dorian's door with a folded message, elegant script on fine parchment requesting his presence in the solarium at his earliest convenience. The wording was polite, as befitting a message from one's deity, but the implication was clear. Lord Apollo wished to speak with him, and 'earliest convenience' meant 'now.'

Dorian had dressed quickly, splashing water on his face and pulling on fresh clothes. He had a suspicion about what this meeting concerned. The previous day's meal with Tanya had been enlightening, and he had planned to report his findings to Lord Apollo at some point, but it seemed the god had decided not to wait.

The Apollo estate was a sprawling complex of white marble and golden finery, designed to catch and reflect sunlight at every possible angle. It was beautiful in the way that expensive things often were, though Dorian had long since grown numb to its opulence. He navigated the corridors easily, nodding to servants and fellow Familia members as he passed.

The solarium was located on the eastern side of the estate, a large sitting room designed for receiving guests. A massive plane of windows dominated one wall, offering an unobstructed view of the sun rising over Orario, and the furniture was plush and expensive, arranged in intimate clusters that encouraged private conversation.

Dorian reached the heavy oak door and paused. He could hear voices from within, one smooth and melodic, the other soft and timid. It seemed that Lord Apollo was already entertaining someone.

Dorian withheld a frown and pushed open the door. The room inside was bathed in the morning light, the windows doing their job admirably. Lord Apollo reclined on a couch near the center of the room, a chalice of wine in one hand.

His appearance, as always, was breathtaking. Red hair fell in perfect waves around a face of classical beauty. His features seemed sculpted by an artist with an eye for perfection, from the noble brow to the full lips. He wore loose robes of white and gold that left little to the imagination, the fabric draped artfully across his form.

Beside him, curled against his side with a possessive arm draped around his shoulders, was a young man Dorian vaguely recognized as one of the newer members of the Familia, barely a month into his service. He was around Lucia's age, perhaps younger, with pretty features and a nervous energy that suggested he was still acclimating to his new position.

Apollo's eyes slid over to Dorian as he entered. There was an anger there at the interruption, which vanished as he caught sight of the adventurer.

"Ah, Dorian!" the god said, a smile splitting his lips.

The young man beside Apollo stiffened at the sight of Dorian, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. He scrambled to extract himself from the god's embrace, murmuring apologies that Apollo waved away with an indulgent smile.

"I should go," the young man stammered, avoiding Dorian's eyes entirely. "I have… training. With the others. I forgot."

"Of course, dear," Apollo said, his voice honeyed. "We shall continue this evening."

The young man fled, practically tripping over himself in his haste to reach the door. He slipped past Dorian without a word, and then he was gone, the heavy oak clicking shut behind him.

Dorian kept his expression carefully neutral. He had long since learned not to comment on his god's entertainments. Apollo's tastes were well known within the Familia, and while some found them troubling, others saw them as simply the nature of a divine being whose appetites exceeded mortal conventions.

"Please, sit," Apollo gestured to the chair opposite him. "I trust you slept well?"

"Well enough, Lord Apollo," Dorian said, settling into the indicated seat. The cushions were sinfully comfortable, the kind that made it difficult to rise once one had succumbed to their embrace. "How may I serve you this morning?"

Apollo took a slow sip of his wine, his golden eyes never leaving Dorian's face. The morning light caught his features just right, rendering him even more impossibly beautiful than the light of day.

"I understand you and dear Lucia took our newest interest out for a meal yesterday," Apollo said pleasantly. "A social call, as it were."

Dorian nodded, relaxing into the plush seat. "We encountered her by chance, truthfully. We thought it would be good to build a relationship with her."

Apollo's smile widened, satisfaction settling over his elegant features. "I'm happy to see my Familia taking the initiative. How did it go?"

"Well enough," Dorian said carefully. "She's cautious, but not hostile. She accepted our company readily enough once she understood we weren't there to pressure her."

"Pressure?" Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Why would she feel pressured? She should be delighted that I've put so much work into getting her into our Familia."

The god looked down into his wine, swirling it thoughtfully. "Honestly, this whole debt situation is dreadfully droll. I'd rather just skip the formalities and inaugurate her today just to be done with it. But I suppose there is something to be said about the thrill of the chase."

Dorian studied his god for a moment, weighing his next words carefully. There was a line he had to balance when speaking with Apollo. The god valued confidence and honesty among his children, but he also valued flattery, and the trick was in discerning which was required in any given moment.

"What interests you so much about her?" Dorian asked. "She's a skilled adventurer for her age, but there are others with more experience who would eagerly join our Familia if asked."

Apollo's smile turned somewhat sharp. He set down his chalice, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee, his full attention now fixed on Dorian in an unsettling way.

"What interests any man who sees a waif in the prime of her youth?" Apollo said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "She may be young, but anyone could look at that young bud and see with certainty the beautiful flower it could become."

His smile grew larger. "And she has fire, Dorian. Such beautiful fire. You can see it even from afar. In the way she fights to keep her independence, just as she fought her way out of the depths of the dungeon with nothing but a broken sword. It's charming, in its own way. Most mortals would simply give in and enjoy the benefits of divine patronage."

Dorian felt his jaw tighten, and he forced the muscles to relax before the tension could become visible.

He had long suspected that Apollo's interest in Tanya was not purely about her potential as an adventurer. The god had always had an eye for beauty, particularly the kind that had yet to fully bloom. His 'collection,' as some within the Familia privately called it, included more than a few members who had caught his eye in their youth.

Dorian withheld his true thoughts and merely said, "I see."

The silence stretched, and Dorian found himself the subject of scrutiny under his lord's gaze. Apollo's eyes glinted, a smile on his face. "Yes. You do, don't you? You've had the pleasure of seeing our dear Tanya up close. Tell me, do you think she'll be capable of clearing her debt?"

Dorian considered the question carefully.

"She's determined," he said finally. "And resourceful. When Lucia and I spoke to her, she had just purchased a new weapon. From what the blacksmith said, it was well over twelve thousand Valis."

Now, Apollo's smile faded. "Truly? She's managed to make enough to comfortably spend that much?"

"Apparently so."

Apollo's expression shifted into something more calculating. He picked up his chalice again, swirling the wine as he contemplated this new information.

"How curious." Apollo took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes distant. "A mystery child with martial skills, dropped into the Dungeon without a Falna and not only survives, but thrives in the aftermath. A debt as large as hers would have drowned many working men, yet she's making good headway all on her own."

He laughed, a warm sound that settled upon Dorian's shoulders. "She really is delightful. I find myself wanting her even more now."

Dorian kept his face neutral, watching as his god set his chalice down and rose from the couch, his robes shifting gracefully as he moved toward the window. The morning sun silhouetted his form, casting him in divine radiance.

"She lives in that tavern, doesn't she?"

Dorian inclined his head. "Yes, Lord Apollo."

Apollo's smirk reflected sinisterly in the glass. "Good. I want you to give her a message for me."

~~~

The afternoon sun slanted through the small window of Tanya's rented room, casting long shadows across the desk where her newly acquired saber lay.

Today's dungeon crawl had been brief, merely a field test for the weapon before she committed to relying on it in earnest. A weapon had to be proven in combat before it could truly be trusted, and the upper floors had provided ample opportunity for such evaluation.

The results had been… adequate. The blade itself was serviceable, the edge holding true through a dozen goblin kills without noticeable degradation. However, the alignment was slightly off, the balance favoring the tip more heavily than she preferred. More concerning was the tang, which she had discovered was a bit loose around the hilt, producing a faint rattle when the blade made contact.

It was a common flaw in secondhand weapons, the result of previous owners who hadn't properly maintained the fittings. Fixable, but the time and effort required was far beyond what the cheap sword deserved. For now, the saber was usable, and that was all she required.

Tanya sat at the desk, a cloth in one hand and a small bottle of oil in the other. She worked the polish into the blade one stroke at a time, her eyes scanning for any signs of rust or damage that might have escaped her initial inspection, until a knock at the door garnered her attention.

She frowned, noting the time. A few hours until dinner, and she hadn't asked for any service. Who could be bothering her at this hour?

Opening the door revealed Syr standing in the hallway, the gray-haired waitress offering her usual gentle smile. She looked slightly out of breath, as if she had hurried up the stairs.

"Syr," Tanya said, setting aside her cleaning cloth. "Is something the matter?"

"There's someone here to see you," Syr replied, smoothing down her apron. "He's waiting downstairs at one of the tables. I thought you might want to know."

Tanya's brow furrowed at the mention of a visitor. "He?"

"A tall man," Syr described, raising a hand. "Dark hair, handsome. He said his name was Dorian?"

Tanya's expression flattened. Of course. The Apollo Familia member she had shared a meal with just yesterday. She supposed telling them where she lived was probably not a good idea in retrospect.

"Thank you for telling me," Tanya said, rising from her desk. "I'll speak with him."

Syr nodded and retreated down the hallway, her soft footsteps fading as she descended the stairs. Tanya took a moment to collect herself before securing her new saber at her hip and following after her.

The tavern was beginning to fill with the early dinner crowd, yet Tanya spotted Dorian immediately, standing at the bar and chatting with one of the waitresses. His face lit up when he saw her, an easy smile crossing his chiseled features.

"Tanya," he greeted, inclining his head. "I hope I'm not intruding on your rest."

"You are, somewhat," Tanya replied, stopping at a comfortable distance. "But I doubt you came all this way simply to chat. What does he want?"

Dorian's expression flickered briefly before settling into a neutral smile. "Straight to the point. I can appreciate that. Sit with me?"

They found a booth away from the doors and the noise. Dorian waved off a waitress that approached, leaning forward and placing his arms on the table with a serious expression.

"Lord Apollo has requested a meeting with you," he said in a measured tone. "He wishes to discuss your debt and your future in Orario."

Tanya's eyes narrowed. "My future is my own concern. And the debt will be paid in full within the allotted time."

Dorian raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not here to argue with you. I'm simply delivering a message. Lord Apollo wishes to speak with you personally."

"A personal meeting with a god," Tanya repeated flatly. "How flattering."

"I know you'd rather not," Dorian said, his voice low. "And I'm sure you have your reasons. But refusing a summons from a god is not a simple matter in Orario. Lord Apollo could make your life considerably more difficult if he chose to."

Tanya studied Dorian's face, searching for any sign of deception or ulterior motive. The man's expression remained open, his posture relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been present during their meal the previous day.

"Is that a threat?" Tanya asked, her voice mild.

"I didn't come here to threaten you," Dorian replied. "Lord Apollo is not accustomed to being denied, and he has already shown considerable patience by allowing you the month to clear your debt. Most in his position would have demanded immediate repayment or service."

"Considerable patience," Tanya repeated, the words tasting sour. "And what happens if I simply refuse to meet? From my perspective, I have nothing to gain from a face-to-face meeting with my creditor."

Dorian was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the table. "Then Lord Apollo will find other ways to bring you into the fold. Ways that may be considerably less pleasant than a simple conversation."

Tanya felt her jaw tighten. She couldn't risk that. She had made considerable headway into clearing her debt; complications at this stage might set her back further than when she first began.

"When is this meeting supposed to take place?" she asked finally.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Dorian said. "At the Apollo estate. I can escort you there myself, if you'd like. It would save you the trouble of navigating the city."

"That won't be necessary," Tanya replied. "I'm capable of finding my own way. Just tell me where to go."

Dorian hesitated, clearly wanting to protest, but he thought better of it. "The Apollo estate is in the eastern district, near the city wall. It's a large white building with columns. You truly can't miss it."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

Dorian rose from the booth, adjusting his armor as he stood. He looked down at her for a moment, his blue eyes holding hers with concern that Tanya found both unnecessary and vaguely irritating.

"I know you have no reason to trust me," Dorian said quietly. "But Lord Apollo is not an unreasonable being. You'll see."

Tanya smiled thinly. "I'm sure I will."

She'd keep her knife well at hand, just to be sure.