Chapter 1
You wake, hearing the soft chirp of crickets and the wind gently lapping at the grass beneath your feet.
The night is young, the sun only recently disappearing beyond the horizon, and the world smells so alive and exciting in a way you have rarely experienced.
Stumbling upright, you scan your surroundings. An open field of wild grass, with mountains dotting the horizon, and a well worn dirt path you knew led to Orario, the only city in the world that had a dungeon.
All roads lead to Orario, the saying goes.
A long time ago, the first gods and goddesses arrived here in the lower world, seeking excitement and companionship. They offered their blessings in return for servitude.
Those who had a god's blessing became part of a familia, able to "level up" fighting monsters. There are many types of familias, though most were exploration based with the end goal being dungeon exploration.
You recall the process of descending and of sealing your divine power away, but it still thrums inside you. You know the seal on your powers is weak and so easily breakable, but the purpose of descending for most gods was to experience the world as mortals did, and for now you are content to do the same.
It was a pity that gods were forced to forgo the convenience of the powers that came with godhood, though you understand it was to maintain the power balance between gods and the dungeon.
However, just like how the goddess Hephaestus was a skilled blacksmith, control of the wind came to you as easy as breathing. (You were Aeolus, the goddess of wind after all).
On your journey to Orario, you first find civilization in the form of a small village hidden deep in the mountains.
An old man took you in (you know him as Zeus, king of the gods) and gave you shelter in exchange for watching over his adopted grandson - allowing you to temporarily experience the mortal lifestyle you had been so eager to seek.
You feel at home here. Though you barely know anyone around you, high up in the mountains, the constant presence of the wind offers you some semblance of familiarity.
The village is a tight knit group, a community that knew one another by name and was on good terms with one another. To your surprise they seem to accept you into their family quickly, perhaps more due to the glowing words Zeus tells them than from your own efforts.
You pass the time pleasantly, helping Zeus maintain his log cabin and watching over his adopted grandson, Bell.
His appearance is what you first notice.
His pretty face is framed by soft white hair, with cute red eyes filled with fleeting childhood innocence.
He is particularly fond of the stories of adventurers, and begs you to read him Dungeon Oratoria each night, a book depicting a noble hero from decades ago. You do your best to voice the wide cast of characters as he listens, enraptured.
You smile as he tells you about his plans to become an adventurer, much like the hero in the story. There is no arrogance in his voice, only sincerity, and for that you are even more drawn to him.
Your back is pressed against the gentle curve of a tree, humming a soft tune as you watched the slowly darkening night sky. The wind, familiar as an old friend, dashes across your face at irregular intervals.
Bell sits next to you, having decided to stay up to watch the night fall and the moon rise; to marvel at the constellations that could only be appreciated from high up in the mountains.
His presence is warm, like the gentle crackle of fireplace you often curled up next to. Slowly, you've both become comfortable around each other's company.
You idly reach towards him and gently pull him towards you, carefully stroking a lock of unruly hair behind his ear.
He wiggles in your grasp, flushing and stuttering like a shy schoolgirl, and you like it very much. It was strangely cute.
So you can't help but laugh, your long hair dancing across your face as you watch the wide range of emotion his face displays.
Years pass, and you find yourself enjoying the quiet life in the mountainside with the villagers you had grown to care for. Bell is older now, more mature, but to you, he is still the shy boy you watched growing up.
The villagers see you as a good luck charm. Since your arrival the weather had been suspiciously favourable. Some men even tried to court you, but you are quick to turn them away. Zeus knows you are uncomfortable with the attention, and soon the attempts stop completely. For that, you are thankful.
Despite a part of you happy to live out your life this way, another part of you heart began to hunger for more. You were the goddess of wind, and despite the bonds you formed in this peaceful village, thoughts of leaving for Orario constantly weighed heavily on your mind.
You wanted to explore the vast world you knew many other gods and goddesses had fallen in love with.
Your reluctance to leave Bell is the only thing holding you back.
Before gods had descended a thousand years ago, monsters freely roamed the surface, a major roadblock on the progression of humanity. It was only after the tower of Babel was built over the dungeon that humans were now finally able to thrive.
Despite Babel stopping the influx of most monsters arriving to the surface, encounters were not unheard of, so you are only slightly surprised when one day, when you are deep in the forest, the wind brings news. Monsters, it whispers to you.
Though monsters on the surface were noticeably weaker compared to their dungeon counterparts, they all had one thing in common, a natural instinct to hunt and kill humans.
While it's not to say that this place you ended up lacked security, (after all, monster encounters were uncommon, though not unheard of), you were not entirely confident that a group of farmers could properly defend themselves against them.
You are scared to imagine what they could do to the village. What they could do to Bell.
When you return, it doesn't take long for you to spot the tall three meter pig headed monsters wandering indiscriminately around the outskirts of the buildings.
Orcs were rarely seen on the surface, most commonly found on floor ten of the dungeon. While weaker monsters such as a goblin could be carefully handled by just about anyone, it took an experienced level one adventurer to take down an orc.
Unfortunately, this high up in the mountains, they might as well be on the moon, too far away for any semblance of help to arrive in time.
A major part of you is eager to assist, but with your powers sealed away, you are just as human as any of them. To the people here, you are just another girl that got tangled up in their affairs. There was no point in risking a potential expulsion to heaven just for something like this, not after you only recently descended.
The people in this place are as resilient as the wildlife that grew here. It wasn't unreasonable to expect them to figure out a solution on their own. Perhaps they could ensure their safety on their own. Perhaps.
So you do nothing but watch as the orcs approach the houses scattered throughout the outskirts, weakening their doors with fluid motions and strong, deadly blows, forcing those on the outskirts of town to abandon their homes and group up in the center of the village, hoping for safety in numbers.
They hold makeshift weapons, and the orcs seem aware of the threat of them, approaching carefully and out of range. Those that try to close in are driven back by the collective efforts of the villagers.
But they can do little damage through the thick hides of the monsters.
Despite the overwhelming odds, some try to fight back. You see a group of men screaming a hoarse battle cry as they desperately charge an orc from behind, one of them stabbing deeply into its side with wrought iron pitchforks.
The orc screams in pain as dark blood drips out of its abdomen, and for a split second, you hope it is enough. But the orc simply turns around with the pitchforks still inside its body, and smashes the man with its club, knocking him aside like a ragdoll. Enraged by the pain, it rushes towards the grouped up villagers.
The crowd parts in fear, abandoning all semblance of order. For a split second you catch a glimpse of a boy with familiar white hair.
Fear slowly builds in your chest as you desperately run towards him, shouting his name, though the fearful cries of the villagers quickly drown out your voice. You can barely hear yourself in the chaos.
Run away, common sense dictates. Gods were forbidden from using their divine abilities here. One slight slip up, and you would be expelled back to heaven.
Perhaps by leaving, you could stay in this world a little longer, visit Orario like you had always wanted.
But what worth was that when the one you loved was irrevocably hurt?
Do you dare risk?
But you aren't really in the shape to be making good, proper decisions. Mostly you just want this to be over.
You can vaguely hear someone familiar calling out your name.
"Aeolus!"
You feel the wind shift, and you duck, dodging a club that would have otherwise taken your head off. Your attacker, towering over you, swings again, but this time you are ready.
The overcast sky twists as howling winds slam into the orc with immense force, pushing it into the dirt. It opens its mouth in a soundless cry as its insides are crushed.
You are the last thing it sees before it crumbles to ash.
Not wanting to break your seal, you try to limit your power, but without much practice, the method to proper control evades you like wind through your fingertips.
Pressure builds up around you, making it impossible to breathe. A growing storm forms in the distance.
The other orcs turn towards you, now seeing you as the biggest threat. They are screaming, but in fear or anger? You can't hear anything over the rushing wind.
To you, the battle lasts too long, the wind blowing at terrifying speeds, carving apart anything in their path, pale green flesh and weaponry alike, avoiding only the people you held dear.
Too everyone else, it was over in a heartbeat.
Quick, efficient, ruthless.
The wind is gone.
In the mountains, this place of endless wind, it seemed as if the world was suddenly holding its breath.
You don't look up in the direction of the mountain, and you don't imagine how quiet and kind the world was when you lived up there. Bell's encouraging smile doesn't make it past the back of your mind.
You must go, Zeus had told you. You cannot deny him, not when he was the one who had taken you in, his voice reminding you of a place where he had absolute control.
You were no fool to realize you had tapped into your divine powers, and though Zeus had decided to overlook your transgressions, you are scared your presence would undoubtedly bring the attention of other deities who may not.
So you quietly slip away in the dead of night, running away from the place of your crime. You are gone before the sun has a chance to rise again.
You take nothing, except for the clothes upon your back and the memories formed with those precious few.
Despite everything, you are fine with the outcome. You have your goals; and in a sense, you are glad to finally move on.
(You don't ever notice Bell's lonely form watching you as you left.)