Chapter 1: A Name Without a Face

Cold.

That's the first thing I remember.

The stone beneath me wasn't just cold—it bit. Like the floor was trying to remind me I was alive, and it was doing it with teeth. I sucked in air. The smell hit me next—wet earth, iron, and something acrid, like sweat and blood baked together in too small a space. My throat burned with it.

I blinked. No ceiling. Just shadows. Endless stone. Cracks ran along the walls like veins. Torches flickered in sconces along the corridor, barely pushing back the dark. The light hurt my eyes.

My hands trembled as I pushed myself upright. Callused. Scabbed. Dry blood coated my knuckles like rust. My fingers flexed—slow, like they were remembering how.

"...Where...?"

My voice was hoarse, foreign even to me.

Where am I?

I searched for memories, for something—anything—that explained what the hell this place was. But there was nothing. A hollow cavern behind my eyes where my life should've been. No names. No faces. No home.

Just a word.

Ren.

Not a name I recognized. Not one I remembered choosing. But it echoed in my head, steady and unshakable. My heartbeat matched it. Ren. Ren. Ren.

It would have to do.

My legs groaned as I stood, muscles protesting like I'd run ten miles through fire. But even through the haze, my body moved. Like it didn't care that my mind was a shattered window—it remembered.

Something clattered nearby. A scuff of movement. Then another. Not footsteps—pads. Claws against stone.

My ears perked. I dropped low, crouching out of instinct. I didn't remember learning to move like that. But it felt natural.

Two shapes slipped from the dark ahead. Reptilian. Too many teeth. Their eyes gleamed yellow, fixed on me. One hissed, low and mean.

Monsters.

I didn't know the word, but my body reacted to it. My pulse spiked, but not in fear. My fists clenched, and a different kind of clarity cut through the fog.

Fight.

I surged forward before I could think. Closed the distance. One of them lunged—but I dipped low, felt its claws slice air just above my head, and drove my fist straight into its gut. A crunch. It shrieked.

I moved like I was born to. Elbow, twist, knee—my body flowed, one strike into the next. The other one leapt at me—too close, too fast—and I pivoted, bringing my shoulder up to take the hit. Pain bloomed across my ribs as I was thrown back, but I rolled with it, came up swinging.

Fist met snout. Then stone. The creature didn't get up.

I stood there panting, blood dripping from my knuckles, chest heaving.

I should've been terrified.

But I felt… alive.

Something deep inside throbbed with warmth—not power, exactly. But potential. Like a fire that had just remembered how to burn.

Then I heard it.

A scream.

Not a monster's. Human.

Young. Terrified.

My feet were moving before my brain caught up. Down a corridor, then another. The scream echoed—closer now, desperate. My fists clenched tighter. I didn't know who was screaming. Didn't know why it mattered.

But my gut twisted at the sound.

I had to move.

I burst into a larger chamber—and froze.

A boy—maybe a teenager, white hair plastered to his face with sweat—was sprawled on the ground. A giant beast loomed over him, red skin slick with blood, massive axe dragging behind it. Muscles like boulders. Eyes like molten coal.

It roared.

The boy didn't move. Too afraid. Too close to death.

I didn't think.

I ran.

My legs pounded the stone as the Minotaur raised its axe. My body screamed. My mind burned.

And I slammed into the beast's side just before the axe came down.

The impact was like running into a wall. My shoulder exploded with pain, and the Minotaur barely staggered—just turned toward me, confused.

I didn't let it think. I brought my fist up into its chin—bone and fury.

It grunted. Took a step back.

That's when the axe came around.

I raised my arms. It hit like a train. I went flying—hit the stone hard, the air ripped from my lungs. I rolled, bones rattling.

Everything hurt.

I felt as though that blow should have killed me. But it didn't. I was alive—only suffering a wicked bruise. I stared at the discolored welt forming on my arms... and my lips thinned into a tense line.

I stood up.

Blood ran down my brow. My left shoulder felt wrong. But I was still breathing. Still moving.

The boy stared at me, wide-eyed. Shaking.

I glanced at him.

"Get up," I growled, chest heaving. "Run."

He didn't move. Frozen. He was paralyzed with fear.

I grit my teeth. 'Shit.'

The Minotaur roared again.

I cracked my neck. Dropped into a stance I didn't remember learning. But it felt right. Natural.

"Alright then," I muttered, wiping blood from my mouth. "Round two."

The Minotaur lumbered forward, every step sending tremors through the stone beneath me. Its eyes weren't confused anymore. They were locked on me—wild, angry, aware. I'd pissed it off.

Good.

It meant the kid was no longer its target.

I spat blood and steadied my breathing, shaking out my hands. My knuckles were already raw from the earlier fight. My shoulder throbbed from the last hit—dislocated? Didn't matter. Not yet.

I didn't know where the courage came from. I just knew I couldn't let it fall. Not now.

The beast charged, and I met it head-on.

I ducked beneath its first wild swing, boots scraping across stone. Its axe carved through the air with a howl, missing me by inches. I closed the gap, driving my fist into its ribs. It was like punching a slab of meat wrapped around a boulder. I followed with an elbow to its gut, then leapt, slamming both fists down on its back like twin hammers.

The Minotaur grunted—then grabbed me mid-air and hurled me like a ragdoll.

I smashed into the wall. Pain exploded across my spine. I dropped to my knees, vision swimming. Everything was spinning.

But I got up.

Slow. Shaky. Gritting my teeth.

"Why...?" the white-haired kid whispered from behind, voice trembling. "Why are you…?"

I couldn't answer him. Could barely breathe. But I looked at him—right at him—and grinned through bloody teeth.

"...I dunno," I rasped. "My body moved on it's own, I guess."

The Minotaur roared and charged again. This time, I sidestepped at the last second, using the momentum to launch myself onto its back. My arms wrapped around its thick neck as I began to drive blow after blow into its skull.

"Fall," I growled, "Damn it—fall!"

It slammed its back into the wall—crushing me. Bones cracked. I screamed but didn't let go. I could barely see from the pain. My body screamed louder than I ever had. I brought my forehead down against its skull in a desperate headbutt.

It reared back, dazed.

I moved.

Somewhere deep in me, something shifted. It was like a gear clicking into place. The pain dulled. My heartbeat slowed—became focused. I didn't grow stronger. Not magically. Not instantly. But everything felt sharper.

I saw an opening.

My body took it.

I dropped down, swept its knee, and brought a crushing blow to the side of its leg. The Minotaur roared in agony, staggering. I climbed up its torso, fists hammering, elbows driving into muscle and bone. My hands were torn, knuckles shredded—but I didn't stop. Couldn't.

It tried to swing its axe again, but its grip faltered. My fists blurred. My breath came in ragged gasps, every movement a war against my own limits.

And still, I fought.

It caught me once more with a backhand. My jaw snapped sideways—I think something broke. I hit the ground, rolled, and didn't get up right away.

Black crept into the edges of my vision. My chest heaved, lungs scraping for air. My hands were shaking too hard to close into fists.

The Minotaur lumbered toward me, bleeding, limping—but still monstrous. Still towering.

I pushed myself up to one knee.

The kid was still there. Watching. Frozen. Pale.

He shouldn't be.

He shouldn't still be here.

"You gotta run…" I whispered. But I don't think he heard.

The Minotaur raised its axe one last time.

I clenched my teeth. My legs screamed.

But I stood.

Not because I thought I could win. Not because I was stronger. I wasn't.

But because I refused to die kneeling.

I raised my fists again, broken and bleeding as they were. My vision tunneled.

I could barely hear the Minotaur's roar.

Could barely hear my own heart.

Then—something else.

A whisper. No, a rush of wind.

A blur of silver shot past me.

Steel sang through the air.

A woman with blonde hair like that of silk landed in front of me like a sword dropped from heaven, her blade glowing with deadly grace. Beautiful. Deadly. I'd never seen someone so beautiful in my life... or at least, I don't remember seeing someone so beautiful.

The Minotaur roared again—but it sounded… afraid.

In two swift, perfect movements, she danced through it. Her blade severed tendons, opened arteries. The Minotaur collapsed with a shriek of rage and pain. Another slash hissed through the air, cleaving the beast in two and severing its roars; its axe clattering uselessly to the stone floor.

It didn't rise again.

I watched it fall. Disintegrate to dust.

And then I fell with it.

My knees gave out. The adrenaline was gone. I hit the ground hard, face scraping the cold stone. I couldn't move. My body refused.

The kid from earlier ran to me, shaking me, voice panicked.

"Hey! Hey—please! Are you okay?! Say something!"

I looked at him, barely able to keep my eyes open. His hands were shaking. His eyes are wide with something like awe.

He looked at me like I was a hero.

I coughed, trying to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. My lips barely moved.

"...told you to run…"

And the world went dark.

X-X-X-X-X-X

I floated aimlessly in darkness. I felt weightless. My head was fuzzy... did I die? I don't remember much. I remember saving a kid from being killed by some sort of... monster.

"Ren..."

A voice called out to me. Soft, gentle, like wind chimes. I felt warm. Static filled the black space I floated within. A flicker. And then I saw someone. A beautiful woman. With pale skin like snow, and long black hair tied up into a braid that hung over her shoulder. Her eyes were a crystalline blue, like radiant sapphires...

And she was looking down at me. With warmth. Like a mother would look at her child.

I felt and indescribable warmth bloom within my chest at the sight of her. But also heartache. Why...? I can't remember...

"You're going to grow up big and strong, my little Ren..."

Strong...

"... and I hope that one day, you'll use that strength to protect others who can't protect themselves."

Are you my...?

Before I could finish the thought, the void was filled with static again. I reached out uselessly as the image of the woman faded. I tried to cry out, but nothing left my lips—I couldn't speak I couldn't scream...

And then, something grabbed me. I was being dragged further into the abyss. I thrashed and squirmed, aimlessly reaching out for the image of a woman that had long since faded away. The image of a woman I couldn't even remember.

And then—a flash of light.

My eyes snapped open and I sucked in a startled breath, oxygen filling my lungs as I stared at a pale white ceiling. What... what happened...

"...where...?"

The smell hit me first.

It wasn't antiseptic like the hospitals I vaguely remembered—if those memories were even mine—but more… herbal. Earthy. Faint traces of lavender, dried rosemary, and something bitter clung to the air. The scent of salves and poultices.

My body felt heavy. Like I'd been buried under a mountain and just clawed my way out.

I tried to sit up—and immediately regretted it. A lance of pain tore through my side. I gasped and collapsed back against the bedding. Soft, not straw. Silken sheets. I was on a cot, not unlike a hospital bed but handcrafted, maybe? Polished wood, carved edges. Too delicate for a battlefield ward, too refined for a common room.

Definitely not dead.

"Ah, so you're finally awake."

The voice was composed, almost serene. I turned my head slowly—everything ached—and saw a woman in flowing white robes, trimmed with soft blues and gold thread. Long, light-brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, and she looked far too graceful to be anything but important.

... she also had dog ears.

I feel like that's important to mention.

Also she was pouring tea.

"You've been asleep for nearly two days," she continued, not looking at me, "I admit, I was curious whether you'd make it through the first night. You were in quite the state when they brought you in."

"They…?" I croaked. My voice was dry, barely above a whisper.

She offered a polite smile and passed me a small clay cup, the steam rising from it faint but comforting. "The boy you saved, and the Sword Princess herself. Quite the pair, bringing in a bloodied stranger with no familia crest, half-dead from a Minotaur fight."

I blinked.

Minotaur.

The word snapped back into my brain like a hammer to the skull. I remembered flashes. Pain. Roaring. A blur of white hair. Blood—so much blood—on my hands, and fists slamming into coarse hide.

I closed my eyes. It came back in waves.

"I remember…" I muttered. "It… it should've killed me."

"It nearly did," the woman said plainly, pulling up a stool beside my cot. "But you didn't die. You endured. Even pushed back. Crude, brutish style—but effective."

I looked at her sharply. "You saw?"

She smirked a bit, sipping her tea. "No, but the damage to your hands and arms told quite the story. Brawler, I assume? No weapons?"

I flexed my fingers. They were bandaged. It felt like my bones had been glued back together by faith and stubbornness.

"…no weapons," I echoed. "Didn't need them."

The woman hummed. "That may need to change. Even so—most adventurers wouldn't dare face a Minotaur at Level One. And certainly not alone. The fact you not only held your ground but motivated someone like Bell Cranel…"

That name again.

Bell.

I didn't know him. Not truly. But in that moment—when I saw him frozen in fear—I moved. Without hesitation. It was like something in me couldn't let him die. Couldn't let him become another corpse in a place like this.

... whatever this place was.

"… that boy is... well, fresh. Reckless. But after that encounter with the Minotaur—and your actions? Something felt different about him," the woman added gently. "He sat beside your bed for nearly half a day before someone from his familia came to take him home. Said he wanted to thank you properly when you woke up."

I stared at the ceiling.

I didn't know who I was. Where I came from. Why I was in this world to begin with. But in that fight—in those moments where death loomed and everything hurt—I felt something rise in me.

Something that refused to be small.

The woman rose, setting down her cup.

"Oh, forgive me. I never introduced myself. My name is Naaza Erisuis. I'm part of the Miach Familia—we run this clinic and specialize in potions, salves, and all things alchemical. We don't usually get patients like you."

I forced a dry laugh. "I'm… not exactly usual."

She smiled again, this time softer.

"No, Ren. I don't think you are."

I flinched.

"…How do you know my name?"

"You spoke it. In your sleep. Or rather—you screamed it. Like you were trying not to forget it."

I clenched the sheets, heartbeat rising.

So I had almost forgotten. Just like the woman in the dream. Her face already slipping from my memory like sand through open fingers.

Naaza turned toward the door. "Rest. There'll be time for questions later. For now, drink your tea, and try not to open your stitches again. I'd rather not have to realign your ribs twice in a week."

I didn't respond. Not at first. I just laid there in silence.

Then—

"…Thank you," I murmured.

She paused. Glanced back over her shoulder.

"You're welcome, Ren."

And then she left, the door clicking softly behind her.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time after that. The warmth of the tea slowly spreading through my chest.

I should've died.

But I didn't.

And maybe… maybe that meant something. But for now, I didn't worry about that. I was tired. So I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to claim me again.

X-X-X-X-X-X

It was later—how much later, I wasn't sure. Time blurred when you were half-drugged and bandaged like a mummy. I was awake, though. Awake enough to feel the tight pull of stitches across my ribs. Awake enough to hear footsteps just outside my room.

There was a knock. Gentle. Hesitant.

"Um… hello?"

The door creaked open slightly, and a head of snowy white hair peeked in. Wide crimson eyes met mine—startled, like I wasn't supposed to be looking back.

"Oh! You're awake! I—uh—sorry! I didn't mean to wake you!"

He fumbled with the door, almost dropping the basket in his hands.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

It was him.

The kid. The one I'd jumped in front of. The one I fought for. He looked younger than I remembered—fresher-faced. His hands fidgeted nervously as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with awkward care.

"I—I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said. "I mean, um, you kind of saved my life. So. Yeah."

He smiled, shy but genuine.

"I'm Bell. Bell Cranel."

I sat up slightly with a wince, careful not to tug my side too much. "Ren," I said. "Just… Ren."

Bell nodded quickly. "Right. Ren. Cool name."

Silence stretched.

He looked down at the basket, then back at me. "Oh—uh, I brought apples. From a vendor near our home. I didn't know what else to get, and you were asleep for so long I thought maybe, I don't know, you'd want something fresh."

He set the basket on the small table beside my bed like it was some kind of offering to a war god. Then, awkwardly, he pulled the chair from the corner and sat down, wringing his hands in his lap.

"I, uh… I really wanted to say thank you. You didn't have to save me. And that thing—the Minotaur—it should've…"

He trailed off, looking ashamed.

"You froze," I finished for him.

He winced. "Yeah…"

"You were scared."

"…Yeah."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"But you're still here."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"You didn't run. You didn't turn your back. You stood your ground, even if your legs wouldn't move. That means something."

Bell's eyes widened a little. Then he dropped his gaze, cheeks dusted pink. "…You were amazing. I've never seen someone fight like that. You didn't even have a weapon. You just kept going. Even when you were bleeding and—"

He swallowed. "Even when you were losing."

I let my head rest back against the pillow, exhaling slow.

"I didn't want to lose," I muttered. "Not in front of you. Not when someone needed me."

That's one thing I remembered about myself... I hated losing.

Bell didn't speak right away. Then:

"…You reminded me of the heroes in my grandpa's stories."

That caught me off guard.

"Stupid," he added quickly. "I know. But when I saw you fighting that thing—when I saw you take hit after hit and still push forward—it was like…"

He paused, biting his lip.

"It made me want to be stronger. Like you."

Something stirred in my chest. I don't know what it was—pride? Melancholy? It was something. Something I couldn't quite place.

I looked at him again, really looked this time. The kid was a little awkward, but there was something in him—an earnestness I hadn't seen in a long time. Maybe ever. I didn't know where I was or why I was here, but if someone like him was still trying to be a hero…

Maybe I was in the right place after all.

"…thanks for the apples," I muttered.

Bell lit up like a sunrise. "You're welcome!"

He stood, nodding a bit too fast. "I should get going. But, um… can I come visit again?"

I blinked at him.

And for the first time since waking up, I smiled.

"Sure, Bell."

His grin could've rivaled the sun.

As he left the room, I gazed out the window while grabbing an apple and biting into it, savoring the crunch and sweet juices as I let my mind wander...

"A hero, huh...?"

X-X-X-X-X-X

The room was quiet after Bell left. Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. The rhythm of distant footsteps, the occasional creak of wood, and the faint murmur of voices down the hall were the only reminders that the world still existed outside this little room. But all I could feel was this strange… itch. Not physical. Deeper.

I wasn't tired. I should have been.

I fought a Minotaur with nothing but my fists. Took a beating that should've crushed me. And yet—

I slowly sat up.

No spike of pain. Just a dull soreness.

I peeled back the blanket and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the cool floorboards. My body felt… weirdly light.

Testing my weight, I stood up.

No stagger. No limp. Just tight muscles and a twinge near my ribs that quickly faded the longer I stayed standing.

"…This doesn't make sense," I muttered, flexing my hands. I could feel the lingering bruises, but it was like they were days old, not hours.

I began moving slowly. Shoulder rolls. Neck rotations. Light stretches. Each motion felt smoother than it had any right to be.

I dropped into a squat, then into push-ups. Then plank.

No burning pain. No sharp jolts.

Just… strength.

I started shadowboxing, breathing steady, fists slicing the air. Jab. Cross. Duck. Hook. Uppercut.

Sweat beaded on my brow, but it wasn't fatigue—it was momentum. My body was responding, adapting, refining itself with every punch. The more I moved, the better I felt.

Faster.

Sharper.

Stronger.

What the hell is happening to me?

Just as I slipped into a combination of footwork and strikes, the door creaked open.

"Hey, I'm just checking in to make sure you're—OH SWEET G—!"

The girl practically exploded into the room before skidding to a full stop, slapping both hands over her eyes.

I froze mid-punch.

She had dark blue hair tied into twin buns, and wore a simple healer's robe that hugged her figure generously with the Miach Familia crest on the sleeve. Her face was beet red, and steam looked like it was about to shoot out of her ears.

"Wh—Why are you out of bed?! You're supposed to be resting!" she stammered, peeking between her fingers like I was some kind of scandalous exhibit.

"I'm… exercising?" I said dumbly.

"Exercising? Y-You're covered in bandages! You shouldn't even be standing!"

I looked down. Oh. Right. I wasn't wearing a shirt. The bandages wrapped tight around my torso and arms, highlighting every bit of muscle the Gods apparently gifted me with. Sweat clung to my skin. I must've looked like I just walked off the pages of some cheesy adventurer pin-up calendar.

"I feel fine," I said, grabbing a towel and rubbing the back of my neck.

"Wha—you feel fine?! That's not—!" She shook her head rapidly, flailing her arms as she turned her back. "Put on a shirt or something, you crazy man!"

"...Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned. "You sound kind of flustered."

She whipped around her face ten shades of crimson.

"I am not flustered! I'm professionally concerned!"

"Right," I said, nodding. "That makes sense."

She glared. "You're impossible."

I tilted my head. "...Do you want an apple?"

She made a strangled noise and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I blinked at the closed door, then shrugged and went back to stretching.

What a weird place.

X-X-X-X-X-X

I woke up to the smell of something warm and sweet—honey, maybe? Cinnamon? My stomach growled before I even opened my eyes.

Sitting up, I stretched with a quiet grunt, muscles still sore but not nearly as stiff as before. Bandages crinkled against my skin. Someone had redressed them sometime during the night. Probably the same girl who almost had an aneurysm over my torso.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed just as the door opened again, more carefully this time.

"Ah—good, you're awake," she said, poking her head in, eyes firmly locked above my neckline this time. She carried a tray with a bowl of something steaming and thick. "I brought you breakfast. Don't start shadowboxing again."

"Sure," I muttered, reaching for the tray. She handed it off and stood awkwardly to the side, arms crossed.

I took a bite. Porridge. Not bad. Warm. A little nutty.

"You feeling any better?" she asked, watching me carefully.

"I mean, I probably shouldn't be alive, so yeah. Pretty great, actually," I said with a shrug. "Still no clue where I am, though."

She blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"I woke up yesterday to a cow-man trying to splatter a white-haired kid across the walls. Haven't really had a chance to sit down and process things since then."

Her brows lifted slowly, lips parting in realization. "Oh… oh, you're serious."

I gave her a flat look. "Is this a 'normal memory loss' place or should I be worried?"

"No, no—it's just…" she scratched her cheek, clearly at a loss. "You really don't know what Orario is?"

"Nope."

"You don't know what the Dungeon is?"

"Nope."

"You don't know what Gods are?"

"…Pretty sure I'd remember something like that."

She stared at me for a long moment before exhaling in a slow, almost pained sigh. "Okay. You definitely need to talk to Miach-sama."

Ten minutes later, I was led through a narrow hall and into a sunlit chamber that smelled faintly of herbs and incense. The walls were lined with shelves packed with books and glass bottles of things I couldn't even begin to name. Sitting at a simple wooden table was a man with deep blue hair and kind, thoughtful eyes.

He looked up from a scroll and offered a soft smile.

"So, you're the young man who decided to box a Minotaur with his bare hands," he said, his voice calm and warm.

"I've made better choices," I replied dryly, rubbing the back of my neck. Then, I paused. "...I... think."

He chuckled and gestured to a chair. I sat.

"I'm Miach, head of this Familia," he said. "And you are?"

"…Ren. I think," I said, hesitating. "It's the only name that feels right."

Miach's eyes narrowed just a little, not in suspicion—more like concern.

"One of my children, Lazuli,"—he nodded to the blushing girl hovering awkwardly behind me—"tells me you remember nothing about Orario, the Dungeon, or the divine."

"Yeah. Sorry if that's inconvenient."

"Not at all," Miach said with an understanding smile. "Amnesia is rare, but not unheard of. Memory can be fragile—particularly when the soul itself has been… shaken."

I frowned. "Soul?"

"Yes." He leaned forward slightly. "You are in the city of Orario, the only city in the world built atop the Dungeon. A place of endless danger, wonder, and reward."

"Right. The Dungeon. That giant hole full of monsters."

"Not just a hole," Miach corrected gently. "It's alive in a sense. Ever-changing. The further you go, the more powerful—and strange—the creatures become."

That sounded… insane. And somehow, thrilling.

"And the Gods?" I asked.

Lazuli groaned quietly behind me, as if bracing herself.

Miach just smiled. "We, the Gods, descended from Tenkai—Heaven—to experience the mortal world. To live among you. To learn, to laugh, to… struggle."

I raised an eyebrow. "Gods… living as people?"

"We've sealed our Arcanum—our divine powers—so we can walk among mortals as equals. Mostly." He gave a slightly sheepish grin.

"And these 'Familias'?"

"We bestow a blessing—a Falna—to chosen individuals. It transforms them, allows them to grow stronger through effort and experience. To defy natural limits."

Falna. A divine stat sheet, basically. Cheat codes with a built-in level system.

"And I don't have one of these?"

Miach shook his head. "You don't. Which is part of what makes your survival even more miraculous."

I leaned back, absorbing all of that. "So if I want to get stronger—officially—I need to join a Familia."

"Correct. But joining one isn't just a power grab," he said. "It's a commitment. A bond. Familia means family. You live, fight, eat, and suffer together."

I nodded slowly, more out of instinct than understanding. "Makes sense."

Miach smiled again, kind and quiet. "You are not bound to us, Ren. You are welcome here until you're well enough to walk your path. But when you're ready to choose your Familia… choose from the heart."

I don't know why, but those words hit deeper than I expected. Something echoed in my chest, a ghost of that dream, that woman's voice—

"Use that strength to protect others."

I looked down at my hands. Bandaged. Bruised.

...Familia, huh...?

X-X-X-X-X-X

Time passed in a strange haze of herbal tea, bandage changes, and Lazuli popping in to make sure I wasn't trying to do squats when I wasn't supposed to.

To her eternal frustration, I was.

I couldn't help it. The soreness in my body faded fast—unnaturally fast—and there was this buzz in my muscles. Like something under my skin wanted to move. Stretch. Fight again. Shadowboxing became a ritual. I kept it quiet at night so Lazuli wouldn't scold me.

Bell came by every so often. The first time, he was so stiff and nervous he nearly knocked over the bedside stool just sitting down.

Every time he visited, he was a little more comfortable. His stories were awkward but earnest—getting stronger, deeper floors, his Goddess helping him train. There was a fire in his eyes when he spoke about getting stronger. It reminded me of the one I felt when my fists connected with the Minotaur's jaw.

I was halfway through some stretches, beads of sweat trailing down my back, when I heard a familiar voice echo through the hallway.

"Bell! Slow down! You're going to trip and crack your head open!"

"Sorry, Goddess!"

That voice.

I paused, wiping my forehead with a towel just as the door creaked open—and in stepped Bell, slightly out of breath, followed closely by a petite woman with twin tails of midnight hair and sapphire eyes almost too big for her face. She wore a white dress, a blue ribbon tied—oddly—beneath her chest, and walked like she had something to prove despite her height.

... she also had enormous tits. I don't know why I focused on that detail specifically. I'm just gonna look her in the eyes from now on.

"Yo," I said simply, tossing the towel over my shoulder.

Bell brightened immediately. "Ren! You're up again!"

"I was never down."

He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right."

The girl stepped forward, hands on her hips, expression a mix of curiosity and assessment.

"So you're the guy my Bell told me about," she said. Her voice was confident—bordering on smug—but also just a bit teasing. "The mystery man who jumped in and saved him without even being part of a Familia."

"Guess so," I replied. "And you are?"

She blinked, visibly startled. "Wait—you don't know who I am?"

"…Should I?"

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. "I'm Hestia! The Hestia! Goddess of the Hearth! Of family! Of love! Of adorable charm and unshakable cuteness!"

Bell looked mortified. "G-Goddess!"

I stared blankly. "Right… so you're one of those Gods Miach was talking about."

She pouted, crossing her arms. "Those Gods? Excuse me?"

"No offense, you're just… shorter than I expected."

Bell gasped like I'd committed blasphemy.

Hestia's eye twitched. "Bell. Hold me back."

He flailed. "P-Please don't hurt him, Goddess!"

I raised both hands. "I'm kidding. Mostly."

She stared at me long and hard. Then huffed. "You are as weird as he said."

Eh?

Bell coughed. "A-Anyway! I told Goddess about you, and she wanted to meet you herself."

Hestia nodded, regaining her composure. "Anyone who protects my Bell like that deserves a proper thank you—from his Goddess."

She stepped forward and bowed—gracefully, sincerely.

"Thank you, Ren."

For a moment, the room was quiet.

I blinked. "...You're welcome."

She straightened up, proud grin on her face, like she'd just performed a sacred rite. "Soooo. You recovered pretty quick. What's your deal?"

I paused. "Honestly? I don't know. I don't remember anything before that fight. Not even sure 'Ren' is my real name."

Both Hestia and Bell went wide-eyed.

"That's horrible," Bell said.

"Sounds like a blessing in disguise," Hestia muttered. "No taxes, no heartbreak, no embarrassing secrets…"

I couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped me. "Could be worse, I guess."

Bell nodded. "Still, if you're looking for a Familia…!"

"Bell." Hestia gave him a sharp look.

"…Right. Not yet," he said, looking sheepish.

Hestia turned to me again, folding her arms under her chest. "Well, you're welcome to drop by the Hestia Familia anytime. We may be small, but we're awesome."

Bell nodded so fast he looked like he might strain something.

"Use that strength to protect others."

Her voice rang through my mind again. I paused, my face neutral as I thought over the offer.

I smiled. "I'll think about it."

X-X-X-X-X-X

The dream didn't come back. No pale-skinned woman. No soft voice in the dark. Just the chirping of birds outside and the smell of herbs and disinfectant lingering in the air.

I sat up in bed, stretching my arms behind my back until my shoulders popped. No pain. No soreness. Just a weird, residual energy, like I'd been asleep too long and now my muscles were itching to be used again.

I glanced down at my hands. They were clean now—no more dried blood, no bandages. Just faint scars trailing across my knuckles, almost like proof of what happened.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I had stayed here long enough.

Later That Day...

Lazuli nearly dropped the tray of dried herbs when she caught me rolling my shoulders and slipping on the plain tunic they'd lent me.

"You're leaving?! Already?"

I blinked. "Not permanently. Just… thought I'd go see Bell and Hestia. She said I could visit. Thought I'd take her up on it."

Lazuli looked like she wanted to throttle me and pull me into a bed at the same time.

"You do realize you're technically still healing, right? I mean, sure, you're healing unnaturally fast, but that doesn't mean you're invincible!"

I scratched the back of my head. "I feel fine. Better than fine, actually."

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I swore her ears twitched.

"You're one of those stubborn types, huh."

I shrugged. "Probably."

She sighed, walking over and pressing a small cloth pouch into my hand. "At least take this. Herbal compress. For muscle fatigue. You're going to get sore later—don't look at me like that, you will."

There was a pause. Her gaze softened. She looked at me like she was trying to memorize my face before I walked out the door.

"You're not… joining Miach-sama's Familia, huh?"

I gave her a small smile. "No. But I'm grateful. You've all taken care of me when you didn't have to. I won't forget that."

Lazuli blinked quickly. "W-Whatever. Just don't get yourself killed being some kind of dumb hero again."

She turned and stormed off, mumbling something about "stupid muscle-heads" and "shirtless lunatics."

I promised myself I'd pay her a visit when I had the chance.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Miach was already waiting, calm smile on his face, blue robes fluttering lightly in the spring breeze.

"You're sure?" he asked.

I nodded. "I've been stuck in a bed too long. I want to see more of this place. Orario."

He chuckled softly. "Then it's only fair I be your guide."

As we walked through the winding streets of Orario, my eyes soaked in everything like a sponge. There was nothing familiar here. Tall, fantastical architecture. Merchants shouting out exotic goods. Beastfolk, elves, dwarves, humans—all intermingling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was loud. Colorful. Overwhelming.

I loved it.

"So... you really don't remember anything?" Miach asked, hands folded behind his back.

"Not a thing," I admitted. "No home. No family. Just the name Ren and the instinct to throw a punch."

"And yet you saved a child from a Minotaur with no armor and no status."

I shrugged. "It felt like the right thing to do."

He smiled, a little wider now. "You're an odd one, Ren."

I nodded at a group of adventurers brushing past us with swords and cloaks and cocky grins. "These are the people who go into that 'Dungeon,' right?"

"Correct. Adventurers. Members of Familias, like mine—or like Hestia's."

"And they make a living fighting monsters in a giant pit?"

Miach laughed. "That's a very crude, yet not entirely inaccurate description."

"This place is weird," I muttered. "Not bad. Just weird."

Miach smiled knowingly. "You'll fit in just fine."

It didn't take us long to arrive at what I could only assume was Hestia and Bell's home.

It was a modest-looking place. Stationed on the edge of town, it looked like an old abandoned church—the walls were chipped, some of the roof's plating was missing, and moss and overgrowth wrapped around the building like a mysterious green veil. And yet, it had a cozy feeling to it. It wasn't bad. It definitely put into perspective Bell and Hestia's current living situation.

"This is the place?" I murmured under my breath.

"Not what you were expecting?" Miach gave me another knowing smile.

I shook my head silently.

Bell was already outside sweeping the porch when we arrived. He straightened up the moment he saw us, his eyes lighting up.

"Ren! You really came!"

I nodded. "Told you I would."

From inside, I heard the familiar voice of Hestia shouting something about laundry and potatoes. A second later, she popped her head out the door, twin tails bouncing.

"Oh hey, it's muscle-for-brains!"

I blinked. "Muscle-for-Brains...?"

"Yep! Fitting for your tall, brawny butt!"

Bell coughed violently into his sleeve.

Miach bowed his head. "I'll leave him in your hands, Hestia."

"You sure?" she asked, tilting her head. "You're not gonna try to recruit him one last time?"

Miach chuckled. "I have a feeling his path leads elsewhere."

He gave me one last smile and nodded.

I watched him leave, then turned back to Bell and Hestia. She was already standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a sly smirk on her face.

"Well? You coming in or just gonna admire the scenery?"

I stepped forward.

For the first time in days, I felt like I was walking toward something that made sense—even if I didn't fully understand what it was yet.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm coming in."

I walked inside and took a look around, blinking.

It was... modest.

A little cramped. The furniture mismatched. The floorboards creaked in odd places. And yet… it felt alive.

Warm, in the way a home is when people genuinely care about each other.

I stood just inside the doorway, taking it all in—Bell shuffling awkwardly with his hands behind his back, and Hestia looking up at me with that smile of hers. Equal parts smug and kind.

"Not exactly a palace," she said, hands on her hips. "But it's ours."

"It's nice," I replied truthfully. "Cozy."

She looked surprised by that. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and she turned her head with a huff.

"Well, of course it is! It's got me in it."

Bell muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "She really never changes."

We sat around the small table in the center of the main room, sipping warm tea Bell had made. I didn't talk much. Mostly listened—Hestia's stories were animated, full of tangents and exaggerated hand gestures, while Bell chimed in with occasional corrections or sheepish chuckles.

They were so different from each other. And yet… I couldn't imagine them apart.

"So," Hestia said, leaning forward with her chin in her hand, "what's next for you, Ren?"

I blinked. "Honestly… I don't know."

It felt weird to admit that out loud.

"I don't remember where I came from. Don't have any place to return to. No goals. No dream. Just... instinct."

Bell looked concerned, but didn't interrupt.

"I woke up in a strange place, saved someone I didn't know, and now I'm here. That's it. That's my whole story."

There was a beat of silence.

And then Hestia, voice softer than I'd ever heard it, said:

"Well… maybe this is where your story starts."

I looked at her.

She held my gaze, no teasing, no joking—just sincerity.

"You protected my Bell even when you didn't know him. You fought something no rookie should've been able to handle, and you survived. I know a good soul when I see one."

She sat up straighter. "You said you don't have a family. So why not… make one?"

Bell nodded beside her, his voice earnest. "We're small right now. Just me and Goddess. But we're strong. Because we believe in each other!"

"And we've got room for one more," Hestia added with a hopeful smile.

I looked between the two of them. My fingers tightened around the cup in my hands.

I hadn't realized it until now, but that aching emptiness inside me—the one I thought was just a side effect of my memory loss—was something deeper.

Loneliness.

And here were two people, flawed and messy and bright, offering to help fill it.

"…Are you sure?" I asked. "I'm not exactly… normal. I don't even know what I am."

Hestia snorted. "Oh, please. You think Bell was normal when I found him? He got lost in the city on his first day."

Bell choked on his tea. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up!"

She ignored him, reaching across the table to place her hand over mine.

"You don't have to be perfect, Ren. You just have to be you."

For a moment, all I could do was stare down at our hands. Her palm was small, but warm. Steady.

And then I smiled.

"Alright," I said quietly. "I'm in. I want to join the Hestia Familia."

The next second, chaos.

"YESSS!" Hestia exploded off her seat like a firecracker, fists pumping the air. "We got another one! That's two, baby! We're building an empire!"

Bell stood up too, a wide grin on his face. "Welcome to the Familia, Ren!"

I blinked. "That's it? No ceremony?"

Hestia was already digging through drawers, pulling out parchment and ink. "Well, I do need to inscribe your Falna. Back. Shirt off. Let's go."

I stared at her.

A beat of silence—

"…Pardon?"

A/N.

As you can see, I'm an impulsive son of a bitch. And after getting into Danmachi, I couldn't helo but write this out.

Dunno if this'll be high in my update rotation. We'll see depending on reception, I suppose!

Ren will likely have multiple love interests. Three at the max. Thinking of Ryuu being the main one—leave your suggestions if you wanna. Like I said, we'll see where this goes depending on rece.