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.

---

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