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Divine Resonance

Volume I – Chapter I

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She manifested herself in a swirling petals of pink, the delicate blossoms dancing around her body in a mesmerizing display of otherworldly elegance; droplets transformed themselves into a gentle cascade of glittering diamonds — a subtle radiance shimmering amidst the rain. With a serene, almost aloof demeanor, she raised a hand to unfurl an ornate umbrella, its canopy adorned with patterns that mirrored her ethereal beauty.

'My, my... quite a nice change, isn't it~?' A disarming smile, tinged with the barest hint of disinterest, graced her lips as she swept her gaze across the sprawling metropolis; her features, radiant and beguiling, held an enchanting quality that seemed to transcend the boundaries of mere aesthetic. 'So many things just waiting to be discovered~'

She proceeded to turn her sight towards the hooded knight walking around the city, to a pair of adventurers arguing about something related to justice, and towards a figure cloaked in royal blue — her flowing white hair swaying with the wind before her eyes settled on the mega-structure that lies beneath the layers of stone that is Babel.

'... though I suppose I'll leave that one for last~'

The Dungeon — a timeless rift of unfathomable depths with powers akin to mysteries woven into the very shadow of its existence.

No one seems to know when it came to be... yet one thing was certain; it stood as a colossal enigma, its yawning depths and treacherous labyrinths beckoning adventurers with promises of glory... of treasures and of the unknown. Its entrance — an ominous maw carved into the heart of the earth — emitted an aura of both fascination and foreboding, drawing in explorers from every corner of the realm.

So old was the Dungeon that legends were whispered among the denizens of the so-called 'Genkai'. They spoke of its origin, tracing its genesis to a cataclysmic event that had once shattered the world... that within its depths lay secrets and creatures far beyond mortal comprehension.

A chasm of darkness, it was said to have been... a gaping hole that spat forth horrors the likes of which nightmares could scarcely conjure. In an age lost to the memories of even the most learned of scholars, countless heroes of old — valiant warriors and wise mages — had risen to confront this malevolent force, standing as bulwarks against the ceaseless tide of monstrosities; they sacrificed themselves, their attempt to seal the ravenous maw immortalized in the blood-soaked annals of history.

Of course, as tales of the Dungeon spread, a settlement began to take shape around its entrance — a melting pot of scholars, merchants, curious onlookers, and so much more; each, and every single one of them drawn to the allure of the unknown... that, and of fortune. This burgeoning settlement — teeming with cultures and aspirations — eventually grew in size, coalescing into what was now known as Orario — a city with achievements so grand that people all over the world crowned it as the City of Heroes... even if that title is a little bit... undeserving at times.

Nonetheless, for centuries, brave souls had ventured into its cavernous depths, each expedition unveiling both wonders and perils — forging tales of triumph and tragedy that echoed through the annals of time. The labyrinth became more than a mere abyss; it evolved into a crucible of courage, testing the mettle of those who dared to delve into its shadowy recesses.

'Not that it could provide for an adequate entertainment on its own,' she thought with an air of amusement, her orbs of amethyst flitting towards the figures milling about in the streets. 'Still... these potentials...'

With an almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, the petals surrounding her body began to dance to an unseen melody — a gentle breeze carrying their delicate forms across the cityscape; she paused for but a moment, her gaze sweeping across the horizon before returning to the hustle and bustle below — hundreds, if not thousands of possibilities playing out in her mind as she observed the interactions between mortals and immortals alike.

'Really... mankind and their antics... so unpredictable, yet endlessly entertaining~' A laugh, light and melodic as the tinkling of a distant bell, bubbled forth from her lips — a glint of anticipation dancing in her eyes as she shifted her attention towards the distant part of the city. 'Now, if only that one would stop moping around; everything could've been so much more interesting~'

'...'

Cold, mild rain continued to descend upon the enclave, whispering tales of despair as they touched upon the rusted rooftops and the worn-out streets; the muted gray of the clouds above mirrored the desolation below, while muddy pathways morphed themselves into treacherous rivulets, carrying with them the weight of forgotten dreams and unspoken sorrows. Dilapidated shanties — patched together with bits of salvaged wood and tattered cloth — leaned precariously against each other in a desperate attempt to defy their inevitable decay. The scent of dampness mingled with the acrid odor of refuse, creating with it a sickening cocktail that hung thick in the air.

A woman — her hair matted and clothes threadbare — huddled over a feeble fire, attempting to cook a meager meal from scavenged scraps; her gaunt face bore the etchings of hardship, and her eyes, once vibrant, now reflected the somber hues of resignation — even if they still retain within them a hint of stubborn hope. Children with bare feet darted through the maze of narrow alleyways, their laughter carrying a note of both innocence and hunger. Malnourished dogs — their ribs protruding like skeletal frames — scoured the refuse for any semblance of sustenance, while flickering lanterns struggled against the persistent gloom; they sputtered and danced in the gentle breeze, their light revealing the creases of lives spent grappling with a world that had forgotten them.

'... mankind... they are as tenacious as ever...' A forlorn smile played upon his lips as he observed the struggles of the slum's inhabitants — their efforts to subsist in the face of overwhelming adversity a reminder of the transient nature of mortal existence; the dripping eaves and the creaking shutters seemed to echo their silent tribulations — his tanned skin touched by the cool drizzle as he slowly shook his head.

His feet sank into a murky puddle, the water tainted with the remnants of forgotten aspirations; a subtle, barely audible squelch echoed in the desolate alley, its sound a melody that harmonized with the melancholic rain. The third King of ancient Israel paused in his stride, his striking, amber eyes casting a discerning gaze upon the surroundings; braided strands of his long, white hair clung to his neck, while the soft pitter-patter of raindrops resonated with the rhythmic pulse of his contemplation — his countenance unaffected by the grim tableau.

'Still... yet another chance at life... was it?'

And to think that it had all begun with a single wish — a simple, foolish, yet heartfelt desire for a new beginning...

'... how laughable...' He couldn't help but to muse on the absurdity of it all, his eyes flickering with a blend of mirth and bitter amusement.

Born to ascend the throne, he wore the crown with the weight of destiny etched upon his countenance; confidence masked his true nature — a king dancing to the silent strings of fate — devoid of the warmth that colors the mortal souls. A wise and benevolent monarch, they believed him to be, but little did they know that his performance was but a facade — one that act as a mere reflection of a deeper truth... that his every action, his every decree... a scripted performance.

He who held within himself the True Wisdom was — in the end — nothing more than a fraud... a false sovereign draped in an illusion of regality; his eyes, void of empathy, beheld the suffering of his own people as one would gaze upon lifeless puppets on a stage. For why would a king, divinely ordained and burdened with the knowledge of the inevitable, bother to care with the transient lives of his subjects? The ephemerality of human endeavors... their flicker of joy and their prolonged dance with despair... all of it were to him but a fleeting moment in the relentless march towards that which is oblivion.

... or at least, that is how it was supposed to be...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Came a familiar voice that sliced through his musings, its velvety undertone a mere whisper against the symphony of the rain; he glanced to the side, his smile softening ever so slightly as he turned his attention towards the new arrival.

"Leona..." The gentle drizzle seemed to add a tender note to his word, its tone a stark contrast to the harsh realities that surrounded them; his eyes met those of the woman, a figure adorned in an opulent garment — her piercing blue eyes mirroring the vast expanse of a sky shrouded in clouds.

"Ohoo?" She raised a quizzical eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing upon her lips as she took a step closer. "Leona, was it?"

"... sorry," his voice emerged with a wry chuckle, the apology hovering in the air like a fleeting specter of sincerity; he returned his gaze towards the inhabitants of the slum, a thin sphere forming around the woman with naught but a gesture of his hand — the translucent film undulating gently in response to the rain. "It's just... I don't really know what to think..."

"About our new 'circumstances'? Or about all..." The Universal Genius swept her hand across the desolation before them, her shades of azure reflecting the colors of a world stuck in a perpetual struggle. "... this?"

"Both, actually..."

"Ah... I see," a sigh made its way out of her lips — her breath mingling with the cool raindrops, creating with it a fleeting mist that hung between them. "No one would blame you for that, I guess... but you know, Romani, sometimes, it's better not to dwell too much on things that you cannot change."

"... Romani?" He raised his eyebrows at the name the Caster had just used.

"Mhmm," she tilted her head playfully, her eyes holding a glint of mischief as she observed the reaction that flickered across his expression. "After all, you are Romani Archaman as much as you are Solomon."

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The silence that followed stretched while droplets clung to the barrier — each, and every single one of them creating a shimmering illusion that refracted the subdued light of the cloudy morning; he glanced at the woman with an arch of his perfectly shaped eyebrow — twin orbs of amber reflecting the complex dance of emotions within.

"... I suppose I am," an uncharacteristic grin broke upon his face, his words containing a subtle hint of bemusement; he turned his gaze upwards, the curtain of raindrops casting a delicate veil upon his countenance. "Still... things that you can't change, was it?" He mused aloud, his voice trailing into the distance as he closed his eyes. "I wonder..."

"Now, now... look at the bright side; at least you are free to make your own choices now~"

He could only shake his head in response, the white strands of his braided hair swaying gently with the motion; his eyes, once amber pools of wisdom, now held within them a glimmer of uncertainty as he resumed his walk — his sight falling upon the world beneath the rain-soaked clouds.

At this point in time, the slum had long since grown accustomed to its own melancholic rhythm, yet the arrival of the two individuals clad in attires so out-of-place had sparked whispers among some of its inhabitants; the King — with his ornate white vest, black pleated skirt, and luxurious mantle — and his fellow Spirit — with her garment of red and brown, crimson resplendent cloak, and blue silky gloves — stood as anomalies against the backdrop of the muted tones that defined the slum for what it is. The denizens stole furtive glances, their gazes laden with curiosity and suspicion, yet the duo remained unperturbed, seemingly oblivious to the quiet scrutiny that accompanied their every step.

"Still... for the Phantasmals to be able to walk freely like this," a gaggle of children, their clothes patched and their laughter infectious, ran past them as the brunette continued her observation — the extra pair of ears on top of their head denoting them as members of Demi-Human races known as Chienthrope and Cat People. "This world certainly is interesting, don't you think~?"

"Perhaps..." He responded with a noncommittal shrug, his gaze meeting that of a young girl who peered from behind a dilapidated wooden fence — her dirty face framed by unruly strands of hair; a faint smile played upon his lips as he acknowledged her presence, his eyes conveying a certain warmth that seemed incongruent with his usual demeanor. "Though it's not that different compared to our time back at Chaldea, to be honest... well... if we disregard the apparent lack of world-ending threats, that is..."

"Aw... now, don't be like that~" The Caster cooed, her blue orbs alight with a mischievous spark as she nudged him with her elbow. "It's not like we're here to save the world, anyway; besides, I'm sure things will be better this time around~!"

"One can only hope..." A chuckle, bitter and melancholic, rang in the air as his sight drifted towards the rings that adorned his fingers — silver, instead of their familiar bronze — a small ember settling into his heart as memories of his past flashed through his mind. "Still... I suppose we should at least see this through right to the very end..."

The scratching of a quill echoed throughout the office, its sound providing for a soft counterpoint to the rhythmic patter of the rain against the tall windows; each droplet raced down the glass, distorting the cityscape beyond into a blurry mosaic of colors. A thin veil of mist draped over the vibrant lights, lending an ethereal quality to the view. The scent of aged wood and freshly brewed tea mingled in the air, creating with it an atmosphere of studious tranquility.

Bookcases lined the walls — their shelves packed with an impressive collection of leather-bound tomes, each one acting as a repository of knowledge spanning various realms of expertise. Paintings of a distant landscape hung upon one side of the room, while a series of maps adorned the remaining spaces — their surfaces acting as a charter to the known territories of Genkai; pins of various colors punctuated the cartographic display, marking key locations and strategic points with meticulous precision.

Seated at a grand desk, surrounded by a constellation of parchment and scrolls, was the Braver — fingers dancing with a practiced motion as he added his signature to another set of documents.

'... as expected,' he let out a wry smile, his hand moving to stamp a paper with the official seal of his Familia. 'We're going to be in the red... again.'

Being one of the most prominent factions in Orario, Loki Familia had always borne the weight of expectations — a responsibility that came with both prestige and burden... yet, despite their valor in the dungeon and the admiration they garnered, Finn Deimne cannot deny that their financial conditions remained... an enduring challenge, at best.

Equipment repairs, provisions for the members, compensation for the deceased, and debts incurred from previous ventures; with each, and every expedition, the strain on their coffers only seemed to increase. Of course, such things were to be expected... after all, Loki Familia was of the Exploration type — one of the most, if not the most proactive in their activity of delving into the depths of the dungeon. The thrill of the unknown, the allure of the uncharted, and the desire to conquer whatever lies beyond the boundaries — these are some of the driving forces that propelled their Familia forward. It was a legacy they bore with honor... a legacy that demanded sacrifice.

That they managed to surpass even the revered Freya Familia in their relentless pursuit was a point of personal pride for the Pallum...

Regardless, while it had earned them both accolades and respect, it doesn't change the fact that — from a purely financial perspective — their endeavors has had them walking upon a precarious tightrope; the constant need for a new gear, replenishment of supplies, and the unpredictability of the dungeon ensured a relentless drain on their resources.

'... it is what it is, I suppose,' jade-colored eyes met his gaze as he extended the financial report towards the only other person in the office, her presence a silent reassurance as he leaned back in his chair. "Looks like another fund raising is in order..."

"It is not that surprising, unfortunate as it is... especially if we consider how the last expedition had gone." The High Elf responded without missing a beat, her voice carrying with it a soothing cadence that often accompanied her composed demeanor. "In fact, I'm surprised that we have managed to maintain our financial standing as well as we have."

"The advantage of a well-established Familia, I'm afraid..."

"Even so..." She shook her head, the paper landing on the table with a delicate grace. "No matter; I will lead a party down to the 28th. It should not take us longer than a couple of days."

"Are you sure, Riveria?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, his hand reaching for the delicate porcelain that sat untouched on the corner of his desk. "I could ask Gareth if you're too busy with your lecture... perhaps Raul and Aki, as well..."

"No, there is no need for that... I have been meaning to train some of our mages and have them learn how to 'concurrent chant'; this incursion will provide us with ample opportunities to do so." Steam rose in gentle wisps as her fingers curled around the handle of her own cup, carrying with it a rich fragrance of the carefully steeped leaves. "As for the lecture, I will arrange for a substitute during my absence... besides, it is not like I'm planning to stay in the dungeon for long."

"Ah... the School District, then?"

"Mhmm... I have heard that the ship will arrive in the city sometime within the next week." She inclined her head in acknowledgement, her jade-colored hair cascading gracefully over her shoulder as she lifted the cup to her lips. "We might as well see if there is anyone among their numbers that we could recruit into our rank. Preferably a mage... or any long-range combatants, really."

"Another drain on our coffers, huh..." A pained smile crossed over his features as he took a sip of the still-warm tea, its bittersweet flavor mirroring the undercurrent of his thoughts. "Well, you should at least take Loki with you; her intuition is pretty spot-on for these kinds of things."

"Perhaps," the High Elf let out an amused huff, her eyes glinting with a knowing light as she considered the suggestion. "Though I will argue that her presence would act as a deterrence rather than an asset."

And wasn't that the truth?

With her penchant for mischief and an unconventional, lustful approach to the female population, the Goddess could indeed pose a rather unique challenge towards their recruitment efforts. Nonetheless, that does not mean that she's entirely incapable of contributing to their efforts — her keen insights and strategic mind were virtues that even Finn himself could not dismiss lightly.

Of course, considering their goal and the likelihood of Loki messing up their plan...

"A double-edged sword, I'm sure..." The chuckle that came out of his lips held within it a tinge of weary acceptance, his gaze falling upon the rain-streaked window as he allowed himself a moment of contemplation. "You know, there is always the option of leveraging your status as a High Elf to appeal to the potential recruits. Many would be drawn to the prospect of serving under someone of your caliber... especially the elven ones."

"And exploit the reverence they hold for the High Elves in general?" She scoffed lightly, her tone unwavering in its resolve. "Nonsense; it would go against everything I stand for. Besides, attracting individuals based on something so... superficial, is not a sustainable strategy for our Familia's growth." His fellow executive paused for but a moment, the inflection of her voice shifting ever so slightly as she continued. "Let them be drawn to the legacy that we forge, not to the heritage that we carry."

"Hmm... is that your father's?"

"... no... it was my mother's."

"Fair enough..." He raised his hand in mock surrender, his expression a mixture of both resignation and bemusement as he proceeded to — deliberately — change the topic of their conversation. "So? How goes the investigation on your end?"

"As well as you might have imagined, I'm afraid." The High Elf responded, her features maintaining an air of calm resolution. "I had a few of our members scour the streets, especially in light of the circumstances. Unfortunately, it appears to be a dead end. The Guild itself has no information regarding our mysterious knight, and what little we managed to gather from the witnesses were, in the end, inconclusive at best."

"Nothing of note, then..." His fingers tapped against the polished surface of the desk, the faint throbbing in his thumb taking almost all of his attention as he let out a sigh. "Shame... I was hoping for a lead... something that could help us shed a light on the incident."

Not that he could blame them, really. Even his contacts — competent as they are — had failed to produce any substantial information regarding their quarry.

Despite what many would think, an expedition into the deep floor requires more than just brute strength; it demanded strategy, cooperation, and a keen understanding of the dangers that lurk behind every corner of its walls... and while levels and abilities could elevate their prowess to a certain degree, there existed a limit even the most skilled of adventurers could not hope to surpass. No one, not even Ottarl himself — the one who bore the title of the strongest in Orario — was exempt from this fundamental rule.

For an unknown to be able to navigate its labyrinthine depth without so much of an aid?

He didn't like it...

Not only did it challenge the established norms of the dungeon's exploration, the presence of a figure capable of such feats would undoubtedly disrupt the hierarchy amongst the Familias — a prospect that, if left unchecked, could potentially tip the delicate balance of the power that truly governed the city.

'And the fact that we have yet to locate the last remnants of the Evilus...' The refreshing taste of the tea washed over his mouth as he took a deliberate sip — lips closing around the rim of the cup before settling back; he arched an eyebrow, his mind wandering towards the distant possibilities before he dismissed the thought with but a shake of his head. "Well... so long as they don't prove themselves to be hostile, I guess we could more or less leave them be... for now, that is."

"I suppose... though it might be wise to keep some of our members on the lookout... just in case, of course." The High Elf suggested, her voice trailing off slightly at the end. "Then again, there is always that small chance that we are making a big deal out of nothing."

"If only we'd be that lucky," a soft chuckle made its way out of his lips as he set the teacup down, the sound laced a hint of dry humor. "But yes, considering the circumstances and the discrepancies in the reports, it wouldn't hurt for us to exercise caution... at least for a little while."

"Mmm... still, I could not help but wonder which Familia that adventurer belonged to..."

"Who knows? Honestly, I myself prefer to know what they're doing right now..." His eyes went towards the window, his sight lingering on the rivulets cascading down the glass before he peered into the cityscape — the rain-drenched streets reflecting a kaleidoscope of shimmering lights as the city continued its daily hustle and bustle. "Would've been nice if they were on our side, though..."

The door opened with a smooth, almost imperceptible creak, the wood yielding to her touch as she took a half-step forward — her hand gliding from the handle to the clasp of her cloak. The fabric cascaded down her arm like a waterfall of silk, its royal hues catching the faint light of the room before she draped it over the rack by the shelves. Her step came to a deliberate stop as a squirrel-like creature, small and nimble, leaped gracefully from a nearby desk — its tiny paws finding purchase on the fine fabric of her attire.

"-verse this so-called 'Dungeon', seeking both glory and purpose, even if they are rather... hmm... how do I say this? Misguided in their pursuits, perhaps? Not to mention their tendency to underestimate the dangers that lie within its depths... well, according to what I managed to gather, that is. Still, you'd think they'd have learned by now... but alas, hu-"

"..."

She could feel the warm and comforting presence of the Cath Palug as he began to nestle and curl himself around her neck, his form a reassuring weight against her skin as she stood before the window. The rain performed a symphony upon the glass — each drop a percussive note in a melodic cascade of staccato beats; the tips of her fingers grazed against the translucent sheet, her eyes closed as she tried to ignore the incessant buzzing in her ears.

"-silience often comes hand in hand with its ignorance. Charmingly tragic, don't you think~? How they become so oblivious to the perils that they face, determined to carve their names into history... then again, like I once said to Sir Lance-A-Lot, what's life without a bit of a risk, right~? I suppose it's all ab-"

"..."

"-gate. Ah, but the Guild, bless their bureaucratic hearts, does try to corral these people. Though I suppose their restrictions can feel rather... stifling, for the lack of a better word. Of course, given the nature of the endeavors these adventurers undertake, something as su-"

"..."

"-ce called Falna. It is something any Gods and Goddesses might offer to those they deem worthy. A sort of divine blessing, if you will. Fascinating, isn't it? Oh, and speaking of, I'm fairly certain that even you would be able to do the same. Why, I heard that even a spirit could be granted one, provided that the deity finds them to be a-"

"... Merlin."

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Her utterance of his name stopped him dead in his tracks, his gaze meeting hers as a bead of sweat started to trickle down his forehead.

"... y-yes?"

"... get to the point."

"... ah... ahahaha... well, uh... you see," The Grand Caster flashed her with a sheepish grin — his tone faltering ever so slightly. "Er... say... have you ever thought about forming a Familia?"

Proofreading and Editing by - (Try to send me a private message if any of you are interested).

Author's Note: Really sorry about the chapter. It's bad, I know... wanted to update all of my fanfics at the same time, but ended up losing all of the chapters because of my own stupidity. Haha~ 38k words, gone just like that... ah, damn it. So, yeah... this chapter is basically me writing what is on top of my head. Hope you enjoy it... if you don't, well, you're welcome to bash me on this one... just keep it as gentle as possible~

Disclaimer: Fate series belongs to TYPE-MOON; DanMachi belongs to Fujino Ōmori.

Next Update: TBA.

Archangel Xieron Chaos God: Since the fic has gone past a hundred followers, then maybe I will~ Though I'll need to update my persona and PSO2 fanfics first before working on this one.

CallMeCayde: I'm leaning towards EMIYA for now... we'll see~

formerlyarandomreviewer: Yup, I didn't realize that until you pointed it out. Then again, this is a fanfic, so I just need to come up with a decent and plausible explanation. Haha~

FGOrider23: Uh... I don't think so?