The cobblestones slam into your knees before your brain catches up to the fact that you're falling.
Pain shoots up your legs—sharp, immediate an real. Your palms scrape against rough stone as you catch yourself, and the shock of it freezes you in place. This isn't the worn carpet of your room . This is stone .
You push yourself up, and the world tilts.
Medieval buildings loom on every side, . The street teems with people no not people Adventures !?. That's the only word for them. Leather armor, chainmail, weapons strapped to backs . A woman with fox ears pushes past, her tail nearly slapping you in the face. You stumble backward, and someone swears at you in a language you shouldn't understand but somehow do.
Your chest constricts. Can't breathe. Can't think.
This isn't real. This can't be real.
You pinch your forearm hard enough to leave marks. The pain is immediate and unhelpful. You're still here. Still surrounded by unimaginable people in an impossible place.
"Watch it!"
A cart loaded with swords and spears rumbles past, missing you by inches. The driver—a dwarf, an actual dwarf with a braided beard—shoots you a dirty look before continuing down the street. The wheels clatter over stone, and you can smell horses and sweat and something cooking that makes your stomach twist with hunger despite the panic clawing up your throat.
Okay. Okay. Think.
Your best friend's voice echoes in your memory, enthusiastic and far too detailed about some anime you'd barely paid attention to. Dungeons . Gods living among humans. Something about—what was it called? Orario?
You look up, and your breath catches.
The tower dominates everything. It rises from the center of the city like a monument to hubris, white stone stretching up and up until it disappears into clouds. Even from here, blocks away, you can feel it. A pressure in the air. A weight that makes your skin tingle.
The Dungeon.
The word surfaces from your memory unbidden, and with it comes a flood of half-remembered details. Your friend had been so excited, gesturing wildly while you'd scrolled through your phone. Gods giving blessings. Adventurers diving into the depths. Monsters and magic stones and—
"You're going to get trampled standing there like that."
The voice is young, feminine, and amused. You spin around and nearly fall again.
The girl—woman?—watching you barely reaches your shoulder. Cat ears twitch atop her head . Her tail swishes behind her as she looks you up and down with sharp amber eyes. She's wearing light armor that's seen better days, scratched and dented in a way that suggests actual use. A short sword hangs at her hip.
She's waiting for you to say something. Your mouth is dry.
"I—" Your voice cracks. You clear your throat and try again. "Sorry. I'm just—"
"Lost?" She tilts her head, and the gesture is so feline it makes your brain hurt. "Let me guess. First day in Orario ?"
How does she know that?
The question must show on your face because she laughs—short and sharp.
"You're wearing that." She gestures at your clothes.
You look down. Jeans. Sneakers. A hoodie with your university logo. Normal clothes. Clothes that everyone else on this street isn't wearing. Around you, it's all leather and linen and armor. You stand out like a neon sign.
"Oh." Heat crawls up your neck. "Right."
"Plus you've got that look." She crosses her arms. "Like someone hit you over the head and dumped you in the middle of the city. Seen it before. Couple times, actually."
Couple times?
"There are others?" The question bursts out before you can stop it. "Other people who just... appeared here?"
Something flickers across her face— sympathy?—but it's gone before you can place it.
"Maybe." She shrugs. "Not my business either way. But if you want to survive more than a day, you need three things: food, shelter, and a Familia. Probably in that order."
Familia. That word again. Your friend had explained it, you think. Something about gods, blessings and—
"The gods give you power, right?" The words come out hesitant. "Some kind of... status?"
"Look at that, you do know something." Her tail swishes faster, and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "Yeah. Join a Familia, get a blessing from their god, and you get a status. Makes you stronger, better at whatever you're good at. Without one, you're just..." She waves a hand vaguely. "A Normal hunan being. And The Dungeon'll eat you alive."
The Dungeon.
You look back at the massive tower, and your stomach drops. Your friend had talked about that. Monsters. Adventurers dying in the depths.
"I don't want to go into the Dungeon," you say.
"Then you picked the wrong city." She starts to turn away, then pauses. "Guild headquarters is down the main street, big building with the green banner. They'll explain everything else. And—" She glances back at you, and there's something almost like concern in her eyes. "Don't join the first Familia that offers. Some gods see people like you as entertainment. Easy to manipulate. And Easy to break."
Cold slides down your spine. "Wait, what do you—"
But she's already gone, disappearing into the crowd with an abnormal ease .
You don't belong here.
The thought settles in your chest like a stone. You don't belong here, you don't know how you got here, and you have no idea how to get home. Your phone—you pat your pockets frantically—your phone is gone. Your wallet is gone. Everything except the clothes on your back and—
Your messenger bag. Still slung across your shoulder. You open it with shaking hands and find exactly what you'd packed this morning: a water bottle, your tablet (dead, no charger), a notebook, pens, and a protein bar that's probably going to be your dinner.
This is really happening.
The sun is lower now, painting the white buildings in shades of orange and gold. Adventurers stream past you, heading toward taverns and inns, their workday done. Some are laughing. Some are counting coins. One man limps by with a bandage wrapped around his head, supported by two companions.
They all know what they're doing.
You're an outsider in jeans and sneakers, with no money, no connections, and no way home.
Okay. Priority one: information.
The Guild headquarters isn't hard to find. You follow the flow of adventurers down the main thoroughfare, past shops selling armor and weapons and things you can't identify. The building looms ahead—three stories of white stone with green banners hanging from the upper windows. A steady stream of people flows in and out of the main entrance.
You take a breath and step inside.
The noise hits you first. Dozens of conversations happening at once, layered over the rustle of paper and the scrape of boots on tile. Service counters line both walls, each one staffed by receptionists handling adventurers with varying degrees of patience. Notice boards cover the back wall, pinned with papers you can't read from here. The entire space smells like sweat and ink .
Where do I even start?
"Next!" A woman at the nearest counter waves you forward.
You make your way over, squeezing between two large men in plate armor who don't seem to notice you . The receptionist is young, probably not much older than you, with brown hair pulled into a professional bun. Her smile is practiced but not unkind.
"How can I help you today?"
"I need—" You stop. Start again. "I'm new.I don't know where I am or how I got here, and I need to figure out how to survive until I can get home."
The smile doesn't waver, but something shifts in her eyes. Recognition.
"I see." She glances around, then lowers her voice. "You're not the first person to arrive in Orario this way. And probably not the last." She pulls out a pamphlet from beneath the counter and sets it in front of you. "This covers the basics of how the city works. But let me give you the short version."
She leans forward slightly, and you find yourself mirroring the gesture.
"Orario exists because of the Dungeon. Adventurers explore it, fight monsters, collect magic stones and drop items to sell. To become an adventurer, you need to join a Familia—that's a group led by a god or goddess who's descended to live among mortals. They give you their blessing, which grants you something called a status. It's a measure of your abilities, and it grows as you gain experience."
Your head is spinning. "So I need a god to... what, adopt me?"
"In a manner of speaking." Her expression turns more serious. "But not all gods are trustworthy. Some treat their Familia members well. Others..." She trails off, then shakes her head. "Just be careful who you accept a blessing from. We maintain records on most active Familias. If you're uncertain about one, come back here. We'll tell you what we know."
"And if I don't want to join a Familia?" The question comes out smaller than you intended. "If I just want to go home?"
Her face softens. "I don't know if that's possible. But I do know you'll need resources to find out. Food, shelter, money—those things require work, and work in Orario usually means the Dungeon. Which means you need a Familia."
It's a trap. A circular trap with no exit.
Unless.
"What about other jobs?" You grip the edge of the counter. "Shops, taverns, anything that doesn't involve fighting monsters?"
"Those exist," she admits. "But they usually require skills or references, and they pay barely enough to survive. Most people who come to Orario come for the Dungeon. It's dangerous, but the rewards..." She shrugs. "They're worth it. For some people."
Not for you. You don't want rewards. You want to wake up in your own bed and realize this was all a stress dream brought on by too much coffee and not enough sleep.
But your knees still ache from hitting the cobblestones. Your stomach is still empty. The noise of the Guild headquarters is still echoing in your ears.
This is real.
"Thank you," you manage to say . "For the information."
"Take the pamphlet." She pushes it toward you. "And if you need help, come back. We do more than just register adventurers. We try to keep people alive."
You take the pamphlet and leave before she can see your hands shaking.
Outside, the sun has nearly set. The streets are less crowded now, the adventurers having retreated to inns and taverns. Lanterns flicker to life along the thoroughfare, casting warm light on white stone. It would be beautiful if you weren't so terrified.
Food. Shelter. Familia.
Three impossible tasks before you can even begin to think about getting home.
You find a bench near a fountain and sit down before your legs give out. The pamphlet crinkles in your hands as you open it, but the words blur together. Your brain is too overwhelmed to process anything else.
Your friend tried to tell you about this world.
The thought is bitter. If you'd paid attention—if you'd watched even one episode or read one chapter—maybe you'd know what to do. Maybe you'd recognize something useful. But you'd been too distracted, too convinced that fantasy stories were a waste of time.
Now you're living in one, and you have no idea how the story goes.
A burst of laughter draws your attention. Three adventurers exit a nearby tavern, arms slung around each other's shoulders, singing off-key. They're young, maybe your age, and they look happy.
You've never felt less at home in your life.
Tonight, you tell yourself. Tonight I'll figure out the Familia thing. Until then, I just need to survive.
You have a protein bar and a water bottle. That's dinner.
This is insane.
But insane or not, it's happening. And standing around feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything.
You close the pamphlet and stand up. Your legs are steadier now, even if your resolve isn't. Somewhere in this city is a god who might be willing to take in a confused nobody with no skills and no experience. You just have to find them.
And survive long enough to make it home.
One step at a time.
You start walking, following the lantern light deeper into Orario, and try very hard not to think about how lost you really are.