Fruit pulp sticks to my shirt.
That's the first thing I registered as I pushed myself out of the busted crates, the crowd's confused voices echoing around me.
A half-crushed apple rolls off my shoulder and thuds against the cobblestone as I force my legs underneath me.
"Hey—watch it!"
"Where the hell did he fall from?!"
"I didn't even see him! Did you see him?!"
Their voices blur together, a messy chorus of curiosity and irritation.
I shook splinters off my palms and straighten, ignoring the burning ache running up my spine.
No time to answer their questions.
No time to exist in their field of attention.
To the watching crowd many theories were being thrown around, some saying i was tossed off the top of the Tower Of Babel, owing my life to luck for angering the gods.
Others were positing i was a newly descended god who had an unlucky time dropping down to the land for the first time, unlike the other gods who arrive with a grandious means.
But for me, as i adapted to the feel of my new body.
The shadow's words still pulse faintly at the back of my skull.
Seven days.
I wipe dust off my face and step away from the damage, slipping through the press of bodies before any Guard decides to interrogate me.
The shopkeeper shouted at me loudly no doubt trying to get someone to stop me, trying to make me pay for the damage done to his stall and goods, but even if i felt bad which i dont, i dont have the means in which to pay for the loss.
The installed information in my new body had told me one very important thing, and that was i must slay a god within seven days, if i fail to do so i shall die and not be given another second chance.
But to have success at killing a god i must first increase my stats.
Unlike normal adventurers, i could easily access my status, the reson being was that my very soul itself was my Falna, rather than those poor fools running around with a gods imprint of servitude upon their backs.
The current issue was that it was a standard Level 1 start.
All my attributes were I 0
That made me just a regular commoner, and if i intended to slay a god and then get away i would need higher stats than this to accomplish my goal.
So with that in mind the Dungeon is going to be my only source of refuge.
But typically speaking one must be an adventurer to enter the dungeon, well not really but being an adventurer gets you access to facilities to sell your drops, all while getting access to subsidized services.
Towering white stone looms in the distance—the Babel Tower, unmistakable.
The center of everything.
Adventurers cluster around the entrance, some in armor, some barely dressed for combat at all.
Rookies laugh.
Veterans glare.
Gods stroll among them like bored nobility.
My lip curls.
They walk like they own the world.
I keep moving, letting the crowd swallow me again.
The Guild comes into view—a large stone building with uniformed staff stepping in and out.
It's crowded, but structured.
Orderly.
A place where the uninitiated go to understand how this city eats people alive.
If I want to move freely, I need basic paperwork.
Even if I don't intend to play by their rules.
I push open the Guild door.
~
The Guild door swings shut behind me with a solid thud, muting the street noise.
Inside, the air is cooler, full of parchment dust, ink, and the tired sighs of staff trying to herd adventurers into proper behavior.
Desks line the room.
Advisors speak rapidly, shuffling papers.
Adventurers—some nervous, some cocky—stand or sit in messy lines.
I take my place at the end of a queue.
A wolf-man ahead of me argues with a receptionist about injury compensation.
A pallum rookie trembles with a broken dagger in hand.
A group of Amazons laugh too loudly at their own jokes.
My eye twitches.
The structure here is oppressive.
Organized disorder.
A bottleneck of egos.
But I wait.
I need to understand the registration process, even if I already intend to circumvent half of it.
After several minutes, the line shrinks, and a voice calls:
"Next, please."
I step forward.
Behind the desk sits a half-elf woman with brown hair and green eyes, expression warm but sharp—Eina Tulle.
Even in the anime she had this aura of a well-meaning schoolteacher about to give you homework for your own good.
"Welcome to the Guild," she says with a polite smile. "Are you here to register as an adventurer?"
Her tone is professional, but her gaze sweeps over my clothes, my scuffed hands, the apple pulp on my shirt.
She immediately notes something's off.
"Yes," I answer. "I want to register."
"Alright. Then first, I'll need your name, your Familia affiliation, and—"
"Nemesis," I say, before she finishes. "But Neme is fine."
She nods. "Very well, Neme. And your Familia?"
"I don't have one."
Her smile freezes, just slightly.
"I don't have one," I repeat, letting the words hang.
Eina's fingers pause above her paperwork. Slowly, she sets her quill down.
"I see," she says, tone shifting—still polite, but firmer. "In that case, I'm afraid I can't process your adventurer registration."
I lean an elbow lightly on her desk. "Why not?"
"Because," she says gently, "only members of a recognized Familia can become licensed adventurers. A falna is required for Guild records, safety oversight, and rank progression. Without one, you're… well, a civilian."
I resist the urge to laugh.
If only she knew.
"So your answer is no," I say evenly.
"Not no," she corrects, hands clasping together. "Just… not yet. If you join a Familia—even a small one—we can complete your registration right away. You'll receive support, healing coverage, buyback rights for your magic stones—"
"I'm not joining a Familia."
The words come sharper than intended.
Eina blinks, surprised. "Is there a reason?"
"I prefer independence," I say.
"That's not how Orario works." She leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. "Please understand, going into the Dungeon without a Familia—without a falna—is extremely dangerous. People die every day. I can't in good conscience—"
"I'll manage."
"Neme," she tries again, brows tightening with genuine concern, "I've advised hundreds of adventurers. Those who go alone, without support, usually…" Her voice trails off, unwilling to say die horribly in a place that has no mercy.
I straighten, pushing off the desk.
"I appreciate the warning," I say, "but I'm going anyway."
She opens her mouth to argue—but I'm already stepping away.
"Neme!" she calls after me.
I didn't look back.
If she sees that I'm walking straight toward the Dungeon entrance, she'll probably sprint after me.
I was already hesitent to register with the guild seeing as the guild itself is an organization run from the shadows by the God Oranos who manages the dungeon itself, but its not like one needs to be an adventurer to access the dungeon.
And sure i'll lose out on some advantages but selling mana stones?
I'm planning to absorb them all to grow stronger, the only things i'd sell would be monster drops but those are so infrequently dropped that the worry about them is simply not worth it.
Besides its not like its illegal to sell dungeon drops elsewhere its just guarenteed at a set price within the guild.
Suffering a slight loss to be unhindered.
Acceptable loss.
Slipping from Eina's sight out the side door i quickly rushed to make my way back to the Towers base, the starting point of the dungeon.
This is the source of almost all of Orario's wealth, and so it will be for me as well.
A source of power, and a source i can gain what i currently lack.
Newbie adventurers die here everyday.
Whats to say their left behind armor and weapons cannot be used by another?