In the majestic hall of the Pantheon, as always, an atmosphere of bustling activity reigned. Adventurers crowded the exchange counters, the jingling of coins mingled with the hum of voices, and the smell of parchment and ink battled with the scents of sweat and iron.
When the massive oak doors opened to admit two young men, no one paid them any attention at first. Plenty of newcomers walked in and out of those doors, after all. But as they made their way toward the registration desk, the gazes of those around them began to change.
Raine and Bell looked as if they had just crawled out of a mine. Their brand-new equipment, bought just a day ago, was coated in a layer of gray stone dust and soot. Long, ugly scratches marred Bell's white-and-red armor, and Raine's leather jacket was scorched and slashed in several places. Emanating from them was that specific, incomparable smell known to any adventurer in Orario—the smell of dampness and death. The smell of the Dungeon.
They approached the same counter where they had registered. The receptionist, seeing their condition, wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"We would like to see our advisor, Miss Eina Tulle," Raine said calmly. His voice was steady, despite his fatigue.
"Miss Eina is currently busy with..." the girl began, but upon meeting Raine's heavy amber gaze, she cut herself off. "I... I will inform her. Wait here."
Not more than five minutes passed before the familiar figure of the half-elf appeared from the staff corridor. Eina walked quickly, her heels clicking on the marble, tapping out a rhythm of irritation. She adjusted her glasses, and the lenses flashed predatorily in the light of the magic lamps.
Her gaze instantly fell on their dirty clothes, the scratches on Bell's armor, the dust in Raine's hair. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Follow me," she threw out in an icy tone, without even a greeting. "Room four. Now."
She turned and walked away without looking back, her entire demeanor radiating an aura of suppressed anger.
Bell swallowed nervously and glanced sideways at his friend.
"She's mad... really mad," he whispered.
"Expected," Raine shrugged. "Let's go."
The consultation room was quiet and cool. Eina slammed the door with such force that the map of Orario hanging on the wall shuddered. She walked to the desk, crossed her arms over her chest, and fixed them with a withering glare.
"You went into the Dungeon." It wasn't a question. It was a statement dripping with venom. "I clearly said, in plain language: 'No descent without a Falna.' I explained the risks to you. I told you the rules. And you... you ignored everything I said and climbed into the maw of monsters on your very first day!"
She took a step toward them, and Bell instinctively pressed himself into the back of the sofa.
"Look at yourselves!" her voice trembled with emotion. "Dirty, ragged... Your armor is ruined! Do you even realize how lucky you are to have walked back on your own two feet? I've seen dozens like you! Overconfident rookies who thought the rules weren't written for them. Do you know where they are now? In a mass grave outside the city wall!"
Eina took a breath, preparing for a new tirade. She was already imagining how she would lecture them about bruises, fractures, and stupidity. Her gaze slid over Bell's figure, looking for traces of wounds to point a finger at and say: "This is the price of your stubbornness."
But her gaze froze.
Yes, Bell's armor was scratched. The pauldron had a deep gouge, as if from a club strike. There were cuts on the leather inserts. But... on the youth's skin itself, there wasn't a scratch. Not a bruise. Not a drop of blood.
She shifted her gaze to Raine. His jacket looked like it had been chewed on. But he stood straight, relaxed, and there wasn't a hint of pain or stiffness from wounds in his movements.
Eina frowned. Her anger momentarily gave way to confusion.
"Wait..." she muttered, taking off her glasses and wiping them with the edge of her vest, as if hoping her vision was failing her. "You... you aren't wounded?"
Raine allowed himself a slight, polite smile.
"The Dungeon is indeed a dangerous place, Miss Eina. You were right," he said softly. "The atmosphere there is oppressive, and the monsters know no mercy."
With these words, he unhooked two tightly stuffed leather pouches from his belt. He untied the cords and inverted them over the desk.
Clink-clink-clink.
The sound of falling stones was like music. A purple rain poured onto the polished wood of the tabletop. Many dozens of small mana crystals formed an impressive pile. Among them, larger items fell with a dull thud: several sharp, yellowish fangs and a pair of long, curved claws.
Eina's eyes began to round. She looked at this mountain of loot, and her brain refused to correlate the facts.
"And yet," Raine continued, pouring out the contents of the second bag, turning the pile into a veritable mountain, "I must note that the rumors about the difficulty of the first floors are somewhat exaggerated. Although, I admit, starting from the middle of the third floor, the density of monsters made us sweat a little."
"The th-third?" Eina's voice cracked into falsetto. She leaned her hands on the desk, looking back and forth between the stones and the imperturbable Raine. "You... you went down to the third floor? Without a Falna?! The two of you?!"
She grabbed one of the claws. It wasn't a goblin trophy.
"A kobold claw..." she whispered. "These only drop starting from the third level..."
It was impossible. Newcomers, even in a group of five, usually returned from the first floor with a dozen stones, dirty, frightened, and wounded. These two had brought back a haul that an experienced level one adventurer party would envy.
"You've lost your minds!" she finally exhaled, collapsing into her chair. Her face paled. "Do you realize this is a miracle? Pure luck! Kobolds hunt in packs! If they had surrounded you..."
"We were surrounded," Bell interjected calmly.
Eina flinched.
"And you're alive! This is just... this is reckless!" she started winding up again, her fear for them transforming into a new wave of anger. "Complacency is what kills! You won today, but tomorrow luck will turn away! Look at your armor! It's destroyed! That means you took hits! If the blow had been just a little stronger, or the kobold a little bigger..."
"The armor performed its function," Raine parried. "It took the damage, preserving the wearer. But you are mistaken, Miss Eina. There was no danger."
"No danger?!" Eina poked a finger at the deep scratch on Bell's pauldron. "And what is this? A friendly pat?"
Raine turned to his friend.
"Bell, explain."
Bell straightened under the elf's strict gaze. At first he hesitated a little, but then, remembering today's fight, he spoke more confidently:
"That... that was my mistake in calculating dimensions. I'm used to training in regular clothes. This armor is excellent, but the pauldrons add a couple of centimeters to my shoulder width. I dodged the blow the way I'm used to, but didn't account for that difference. The blow was a glancing one."
He touched the scratch.
"I've already understood the mechanics. Next time I'll correct my dodge distance. The monster won't touch me again."
Eina listened to him with her mouth open. This wasn't the excuse of a frightened child. This was a dry analysis of a mistake.
"And what about you?" She shifted her gaze to Raine, pointing at his tattered jacket. "Were you 'getting used to dimensions' too?"
"No," Raine smirked. "I needed to test the merchandise."
"What?" Eina didn't understand.
"We bought cheap healing potions at the 'Blue Pharmacy.' The price was suspiciously low, and the rumors were nasty. Going deep without knowing if your medkit works is foolishness. So I allowed myself to be hit. Superficial cuts."
He rolled up his jacket sleeve. On his forearm, a thin, already healed pink strip of new skin was visible.
"The potion worked instantly. Now I know we can rely on them. It was a calculation, Miss Eina. Not a mistake."
Eina took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. She was starting to get a headache. These two... they were abnormal. One tests potions on himself, taking a hit, the other analyzes armor geometry in combat.
"You... you are impossible," she exhaled, but this time there was no steel in her voice. "Fine. Let's assume you aren't just lucky, but talented suicides. But why? Why risk so much? You're still children! You could have waited, found a Familia..."
Raine became serious. All his relaxation vanished, giving way to that very aura of a leader that had forced the administrator to let them through.
"We respect your concern, Miss Eina. Truly. But we had three reasons to go down there today."
He raised one finger.
"First—finances. Orario is an expensive city. You saw the prices for equipment yourself. Living hand to mouth, moonlighting as porters or cleaners, waiting for the mercy of the gods—that's a road to nowhere. It's a swamp that sucks you in. We cannot afford to lose time and form on menial work for a crust of bread. We need funds for development, and the Dungeon is the only source."
He raised a second finger.
"Second—preparation. We aren't green rookies picking up a weapon for the first time. We've trained for years. And I needed to make sure our skills work here just as they do on the surface."
"And?" Eina asked skeptically. "Dungeon monsters are different from wild beasts."
"Bell?" Raine passed the floor to his friend again.
Bell nodded, and his eyes lit up with that special gleam that appears in fans of their craft.
"They are completely different, Miss Eina!" he began heatedly. "Beasts in the forest... they have instinct. A wolf won't attack if it sees you are stronger. It will circle, look for weakness, call the pack. And if it realizes it's losing, it will run. The goblins here... they don't have that."
He began to gesture, describing the monsters' movements.
"They are like dolls. They have one movement mechanic: 'see—scream—run in a straight line.' They don't protect vital organs. When a goblin winds up, it exposes its entire chest. Kobolds are slightly smarter, but they also attack by pattern. Their movements... they repeat. Sharp, but predictable. If you understand the rhythm of their 'spawn' and attack, they become just targets. They don't fear death, and that makes them vulnerable because they don't know how to retreat."
Raine smirked with satisfaction, seeing Eina's eyebrows creep up. Her skepticism melted before their eyes. The boy wasn't just waving a dagger; he was reading the opponent.
"And finally, the third reason," Raine raised a third finger, and his voice became harder. "Reputation."
He leaned on the table, looking the elf straight in the eye.
"We came to a city where strength is currency. We refused offers from shady Familias. We want to get into one that is worthy. But why should a strong Familia pay attention to two ragged boys with no name and no past?"
He swept his hand over the mountain of magic stones on the table.
"Hundreds of newcomers are knocking on doors right now, begging to be taken in. We don't want to beg. We want to be wanted. Clearing three floors as a duo, without a Falna, with a haul like this—that is a line on a resume that cannot be ignored. That is a statement. We are not here to be extras, Miss Eina. We came to become adventurers. And we proved that we have the right to call ourselves that."
Silence hung in the room. Eina looked at the two young men before her. At the dirty, but enthusiasm-radiating Bell. At the calm, rational Raine, in whose words iron logic shone through.
She suddenly realized that her fear for them, while justified, had indeed prevented her from seeing the main thing. They were not ordinary children. They had that core which distinguishes those who survive from those who perish.
She exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair.
"You... you are impossible," she said, but this time her voice held not irritation, but a note resembling resignation and, perhaps, even pride. "Fine. You win. I admit I underestimated you."
She took her quill and pulled the scales for valuing stones toward her.
"But," she looked at them sternly over her glasses, "that doesn't change the fact that you violated my order. And for that, you are treating me to dinner."
"With pleasure," Bell caught on.
"And one more thing," she added, starting to sort the stones. "If you want this 'statement' of yours to work... you need to convert these stones into Valis. And judging by the weight... the sum here will be impressive. Get ready, boys. It seems today you became the richest 'unemployed' people in Orario."