A city unlike any other.
Steeped in ancient history, it had stood long before the gods descended, its foundations older than memory itself. It was a beacon, drawing adventurers, warriors, and dreamers from every corner of the world. A place where fortunes were made, legends were born, and death lurked beneath every step.
What made Orario unique wasn't its towering spires or labyrinthine streets—it was what lay beneath.
A vast, ever-changing labyrinth that birthed monsters, spewed treasures, and whispered promises of power to those daring enough to enter.
At the heart of Orario stood Babel Tower, a gleaming colossus of white stone and intricate metalwork that pierced the sky. It wasn't just the city's greatest landmark; it was a seal, locking the Dungeon's horrors below. Yet, for those who craved adventure, it was also the only gateway.
Today, standing in the shadow of this towering monolith, Blake Silverstone took his first step toward destiny.
After settling things with Ais and thanking his ever-helpful advisor, Eina, Blake had one more matter to attend to—finding a place to live.
Vallis, the local currency, was something he sorely lacked, but luck had been on his side. Thanks to a system lottery upon arriving in this world, he had acquired a flawless sapphire.
Exchanging it had netted him a staggering 10 million Vallis.
He wasted no time. Comfort was a necessity, not a luxury. He purchased a spacious villa, ensuring both he and Hestia had a proper home.
His tiny goddess had practically squealed in delight.
"Finally! I have someone to support me!" she had cried, her arms wrapped around him like a vice.
Blake had only chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Technically, this is my money."
Not that it mattered much. Money was just a tool. What mattered was what came next.
He secured himself a decent longsword, one that could hold up against the unknown dangers of the Dungeon. Now, standing before Babel Tower, he was ready.
Or at least, as ready as he could be.
As he moved toward the entrance, a girl caught his eye—if only for a fleeting second.
She had dull gray hair, tied into a casual ponytail. Her features were delicate, her expression warm and inviting, like the friendly girl next door.
She stepped forward, reaching out. "Excuse me, sir—"
But Blake, focused on his goal, walked right past her.
He didn't even glance back.
The girl—Syr—paused mid-step, her outstretched hand lingering in the air before slowly lowering. A strange glint flickered through her soft gray eyes, but she said nothing.
From a nearby tavern, a cat-eared waitress poked her head out, watching with curiosity.
"Syr, what are you doing?" she called, her tail swishing.
"It's nothing," Syr murmured, fingers tightening around a small purple magic stone in her palm. With a final look in Blake's direction, she turned and walked back toward the tavern.
Inside, a tall, emerald-haired elf behind the bar watched the exchange with intrigue. She had been there the night before when the commotion happened.
Was Syr... interested in that silver-haired adventurer?
Blake, blissfully unaware of the quiet intrigue behind him, stepped into the central square.
A piercing scream shattered the hum of the bustling plaza.
Blake turned just in time to see a large man collapse to the ground, convulsing violently. Blood gushed from his eyes, nose, and mouth, staining the cobblestone beneath him.
Recognition flickered through Blake's mind.
It was the same man from last night—the one who had lost 42 luck points before storming off in a fit of rage.
The adventurers nearby recoiled, keeping their distance. No one wanted to get involved.
Then, the horror began.
A grotesque squirming lump burst through the man's chest, splitting his ribs apart. In an instant, hundreds of tiny, black beetles poured out, their chittering bodies feasting on his flesh.
His screams cut off as his own body devoured him from the inside out.
Blake watched in silence, his expression unreadable.
He wasn't one to celebrate another's death, but...
Some people bring their own misfortune upon themselves.
With one last glance at the writhing mass of insects, Blake stepped through the titanium doors of Babel Tower.
Far behind him, a tall, lean figure watched closely.
He had been waiting for this moment.
From the shadows of the square, the man flicked his fingers, signaling his accomplices.
The Judgment Rings on Blake's fingers... he had overheard everything last night. Those rings weren't just jewelry. They were power.
And soon, they would belong to him.
A place of monsters, riches, and death.
For most, it was a trial of survival.
For Blake, it was just the beginning.