Chapter 8 – Just Take It! Choose Whatever You Like!
Within just a few short minutes, the entire registration process was complete.
As of now, Shin Akira was officially recorded as an adventurer in the Guild's central registry.
"Akira-san," Eina said, adjusting her glasses slightly as she leaned forward. "As your assigned advisor, allow me to give you your very first piece of guidance: 'An adventurer should never go adventuring.'"
...A contradictory statement, no doubt. But her gaze held a weight that made it impossible to dismiss as a joke.
Eina Tulle had seen it all. As a Guild employee, she was no stranger to "missing persons reports" and "death notices." It was a part of her daily life.
And so, every single adventurer who passed through her care—no matter their background—always heard the same advice.
But very few ever listened.
Because the truth was... no matter how many rookies registered, the numbers never grew.
For each new face that showed up—one more vanished into the Dungeon, never to return.
"Thanks for the warning," Akira replied with a smile. "I'll keep it in mind."
"May fortune always be on your side, Akira-san."
"Appreciate it~"
Akira couldn't help but feel a certain fondness for the young elf woman. She had a warm and sincere air about her—someone who genuinely cared.
Tsubaki, meanwhile, just gave a small grin but didn't say anything. She knew Eina well enough.
But this time, they'd be entering the Dungeon together. And Tsubaki was a Level 5 adventurer. With someone like her around, nothing too dangerous was likely to happen... right?
As they stepped out of the Guild building, Akira could feel his heart racing slightly.
So this is it... I'm really going into the Dungeon.
"Alright, you're officially registered now," Tsubaki said, stretching. "Next stop: my forge."
"Eh? Aren't we going to the Dungeon?"
"Oi, you bonehead. You don't even have a weapon. Planning to die out there?"
"Uhh..."
Akira paused, suddenly realizing how ridiculous that sounded.
He was in Orario now. Dungeon central.
Even though he'd inherited around ten percent of the raw power from Tarakudo, the King of All Shadowkhan, and carried over the battle instincts of Enkidu, it didn't mean he could stroll into the Dungeon unarmed.
His sealed powers had limited his output, but not his skillset. Experience and combat awareness were still with him—and that was part of what made him dangerous.
Still, a weapon wouldn't hurt.
Following Tsubaki, they made their way down a series of winding roads until they reached a quieter part of the city.
The buildings around here stood independently, shaped like traditional Japanese homes, each with an inner courtyard and wooden gates.
When Tsubaki shoved open the door—
A wave of raw iron scent hit Akira's nose, along with the sight of mountains of mysterious ores and minerals piled high around the forge.
They walked past the workspace and into the backyard, where an old warehouse loomed in silence.
With a loud creak, Tsubaki forced the doors open—only to send clouds of dust swirling into the air.
"Gah! Cough, cough! It's like a sandstorm in here!"
"Uh... Tsubaki-san, how long has it been since you last opened this place?"
"This warehouse is where I store all my old prototypes. The ones that didn't meet my standards. So feel free—take whatever you want."
Akira glanced around, stunned.
The place was packed with weapons of every kind. Swords, halberds, scythes, warhammers—all casually stacked like junk.
These are her rejects...?
But considering Tsubaki was the head smith of Hephaestus Familia, even her lowest-tier weapons were leagues above what most people could ever hope to forge.
They probably weren't rare or legendary by market standards—but they definitely weren't cheap.
"I can really... pick anything?"
Gulp.
Akira looked at her, clearly skeptical.
"Yes. Pick whatever you want. Take as many as you like. They're just collecting dust in here anyway."
This... This is amazing...
So this was how Hephaestus Familia operated? No wonder so many people admired them.
Akira eagerly stepped into the warehouse, picking up weapons one after another.
Longswords, curved blades, heavy sabers, spears—he tested each one for grip and balance. If it felt right, he tossed it into a growing pile.
Tsubaki stood by, dumbfounded.
Wait... is he seriously taking this many?
She didn't really mind, of course. All of them were failed or rejected weapons. She wouldn't even bat an eye if he emptied the whole warehouse.
But the types he was choosing... Could he even use all of these?
Thirty minutes later, Akira stood before a collection of twenty-four weapons.
Tsubaki stared at the pile with her mouth slightly open.
And then...
A soft ripple spread beneath Akira's feet. Shadows expanded outward, sliding like liquid across the ground and swallowing every last weapon into their depths.
"Vuun—"
The weapons vanished—one by one—into the darkness.
Tsubaki's eyes widened in shock.
"Wh-What... What the heck was that?!"
"That's one of my abilities," Akira said calmly. "I can store weapons inside shadows and summon them whenever I need them."
"...That's a skill?"
She was completely dumbfounded.
A rookie. Someone who just received his falna.
Already had a rare ability like that?
No wonder Hephaestus herself had taken such a personal interest in him. This guy wasn't just strong—he was gifted.
"You're not bringing a shield or armor?"
She noticed he was still in light casual wear—completely unprotected.
In the Dungeon, solid equipment often made the difference between life and death. Armor could be the final line against a fatal blow.
"I'm not really a fan of armor," Akira shrugged. "It restricts my movement."
"Well, your call," she muttered. "Just don't come crying to me if you get shredded out there."
"Got it~"
No point arguing. He understood the risks.
"Alright then. Weapons secured. Time to hit the Dungeon."
"Yes! Finally...!"
Seeing how fired up he was, Tsubaki let out a soft laugh.
She used to be the same. Eyes filled with wonder, heart pounding with excitement. Her first steps into the Dungeon were burned into her memory.
Hard to believe how many years had passed since then.
They left the forge, walked through the city streets, and soon arrived once again at Babel Tower. They moved through the familiar hallway that led to the Dungeon's entrance.
Beyond the massive gate, a spiral staircase descended into darkness.
Around them, several adventurers were returning from their own expeditions.
Some looked battered and bloodied. Others beamed with joy, proudly holding bags of loot. A few more... had empty, hollow eyes, carrying nothing but exhaustion and trauma.
It was true that the Dungeon offered fortune and fame to those who braved its depths.
But it never guaranteed survival.
Some made it big.
Some came back empty-handed.
Some never came back at all.
And a rare few... climbed all the way to the top.
This wasn't just another anime fantasy world.
This was reality.
Orario—the city dubbed "the place of fateful encounters"—was, in truth, a man-eating labyrinth disguised as a dream.
And nearly every adventurer... had already learned that the hard way.
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