The walk to the Guild was a blur of neon and noise. Orario didn't stop for two broken teenagers. The streets were packed with adventurers celebrating their daily survival with booze and song. Aiden moved through them like a wraith, his shoulder burning under Lyra's weight, the iron sledgehammer dragging in his other hand.
He felt eyes on him. Predatory eyes. In this city, carrying an unconscious girl was an invitation for trouble.
He kept his head down, the hood of his tattered jacket pulled low, radiating a cold aura of don't touch me. The Severance Devil was close to the surface, ready to snap at anyone who came within striking distance.
He reached the Guild Hall. The evening rush had thinned out.
He approached the counter. Misha, the werewolf receptionist, was closing up her station. She looked up, her ears twitching as she smelled the blood and dungeon dust.
"You again," she sighed, then her eyes snapped to the girl on his shoulder. "Mind Down?"
"Yes," Aiden's voice was a croak. He gently lowered Lyra into a chair next to the counter, making sure her head didn't loll back too sharply. "We need to exchange. Fast."
He dumped the sack on the marble.
Misha sorted the stones quickly. "Twelve small. Two Silverback... decent."
Then Aiden placed the War Shadow stone on the tray. It was jagged, black as obsidian, and pulsed with a faint, malevolent vapor.
Misha froze. She picked it up with a gloved hand. The mana density made the air around it cold.
"A War Shadow," she whispered, looking at Aiden with genuine shock. "On Floor 3? It's an anomaly. A rookie killer."
"It tried," Aiden said. "Cash."
"This is... highly irregular for a Level 1 party," Misha murmured, but she weighed it. "High purity. The Core is intact. 5,500 Valis."
She counted the total. 6,400 Valis.
It was a fortune. Enough to live comfortably for two weeks. Or buy real gear.
"Do you need a healer for her?" Misha asked, sliding the money across. "The Dian Cecht Familia has a clinic nearby."
"Can't afford it," Aiden lied—he could, but he needed the money for power, not comfort. "She just needs sleep. Thank you."
He pocketed the heavy bag of coins, scooped Lyra up again, and walked out.
Misha watched him go, noting the blood soaking his side and the way he dragged that sledgehammer. "Eclipse," she muttered, glancing at their party registration name. "They're going to burn out or blow up."
The Soma Familia base was dangerous at night. Aiden knew he was walking into a den of wolves carrying a wounded lamb and a bag of gold.
He took the back entrance, slipping through the shadows of Daedalus Street. He kicked the door to their rented room open, stumbled inside, and immediately engaged the heavy wooden bar lock.
He laid Lyra on the bed. She was pale, her skin clammy. Mind Down was essentially a magical coma; the brain shut down to protect the soul from burning out.
Aiden checked the room. No holes in the walls. No way to peek in.
He sat on the floor, his back against the door, the sledgehammer across his lap. He couldn't sleep. Not with this much money. Not with Lyra defenseless.
He ate a dry biscuit, drinking water from their flask.
Strength I-19.
He clenched his fist. He could feel the power now. It wasn't just adrenaline; his muscle fibers were denser. The Severance Devil was feeding on the violence, refining his body to be a better vessel.
But Lyra... she was fragile. She was a glass cannon in a world of hammers.
Aiden closed his eyes, drifting into a light doze, listening to the breathing of the girl who held his sanity together.
Morning brought sunlight filtering through the cracks in the shutters and the smell of rain.
"Ugh..."
Aiden snapped awake. His hand was on the hammer instantly.
Lyra was sitting up, clutching her head. She looked like she had a severe hangover.
"Water," she rasped.
Aiden was at her side in a second, holding the flask to her lips. She drank greedily, coughing as the water hit her dry throat.
"My head feels like it's being split by an axe," she groaned, flopping back onto the pillow.
"Mind Down," Aiden said softly. "You burned out your mana on that flashbang."
"Did we...?"
"We killed it. War Shadow. Sold the stone for 5,500."
Lyra's eyes widened, though she winced at the light. "Five thousand? We're rich."
"We're not rich," Aiden corrected. "We're funded. Can you walk?"
Lyra tested her limbs. She was shaky, but the paralysis of the Mind Down had faded. "I think so. But no magic today. My channels feel raw."
"No dungeon today," Aiden promised. "Today is shopping."
They left the base before the main cohort of Soma junkies woke up. They headed to the Magic District—a section of Orario filled with the scent of incense and old parchment.
They found a shop called The Witch's Thimble. It was small, cluttered, and run by an elderly human woman with thick glasses.
"I need a focus," Lyra said, leaning on Aiden for support. "Something to reduce mana cost. My... capacity is low."
The woman looked Lyra over. "A beginner. You want a wand? Or a staff?"
"A staff is too big," Lyra said. "I need one hand free for a dagger."
"A battle mage," the woman nodded approvingly. "I have something."
She rummaged through a bin of staves and pulled out a short rod, about the length of a forearm. It was made of pale, twisted ash wood, capped with a small, clear crystal.
"Ash wood. Good for mental magic. The crystal is low-grade, but it will stabilize your flow. Reduces consumption by about 10%. Increases range slightly."
"How much?" Aiden asked.
"2,800 Valis."
It was steep. Almost half their windfall.
"We'll take it," Aiden said without hesitation.
Lyra took the rod. It felt warm in her hand. She clipped it to her belt, opposite the red dagger.
"And armor," Aiden said, turning to the display racks.
They couldn't afford plate or high-quality leather. They settled for "Light Breastplates"—essentially hardened leather vests reinforced with metal rivets. 1,500 Valis each.
They walked out of the shop transformed. No longer refugees in hoodies. They wore matching dark leather armor over their clothes. Lyra had a wand and a magic dagger. Aiden had his iron-banded sledgehammer.
They looked like adventurers.
"2,170 Valis left," Aiden calculated. "We paid rent for the week already. This is our safety net."
"Aiden," Lyra stopped in the middle of the street. She looked at a reflection in a shop window. "We look... dangerous."
"We have to be," Aiden said. "Because I have a feeling Soma knows."
"Knows what?"
"That we aren't drinking the wine."
As if summoned by his paranoia, a figure stepped out from the crowd as they approached Daedalus Street.
It wasn't a junkie. It was Zanis Lustra.
The Captain of the Soma Familia. Level 2.
He was tall, handsome in a slimy way, with long hair and a perpetual sneer. In the canon, he was a villain who imprisoned Lili. Here, he was the jailer of the entire Familia.
He blocked their path. Two large guards stood behind him.
"Aiden. Lyra," Zanis smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Chandra tells me you brought in a War Shadow stone. Impressive for rookies."
Aiden shifted his weight. The sledgehammer was on his shoulder. "We got lucky."
"Luck is a skill," Zanis stepped closer. The pressure of a Level 2 was palpable. It felt like standing next to a furnace. "But luck doesn't pay the Familia tax. You paid Chandra his cut, yes. But the Soma Familia operates on... community."
"We paid our debts," Lyra said, her voice steady despite her headache.
"Debts are financial," Zanis's eyes flickered to the red dagger on Lyra's hip. "Loyalty is different. Soma-sama is asking about you. He wonders why his two newest children haven't come for their daily cup."
Aiden's heart hammered. They had been noticed.
"We're fasting," Aiden said. "Asceticism. To sharpen the mind."
Zanis laughed. "Asceticism? In this dump? No. You're resisting. Which is fine. Resistance makes the eventual break sweeter."
He leaned in, whispering so only Aiden could hear.
"I have a job for you. Since you like killing anomalies."
"We're resting," Aiden said stiffly.
"You're Soma Familia," Zanis's voice dropped an octave, losing all warmth. "You do what I say, or I throw you into the lockup and force-feed you the wine until you drool. Do you understand?"
Aiden gripped the hammer handle until the leather creaked. The Severance Devil hissed. Sever his head.
But he couldn't. Not here. Not against a Level 2 with guards. They would die.
"What's the job?" Aiden asked.
"Floor 5," Zanis straightened up, smiling again. "There's a infestation of 'Frog Shooters' blocking one of our harvesting routes. Clear it out. Bring me ten skins. Do that, and I'll forget you skipped wine hour."
"Ten skins," Aiden repeated.
"By tomorrow night," Zanis patted Aiden's cheek—a condescending, possessive gesture. "Don't disappoint me, Eclipse."
Zanis and his guards walked away, laughing.
Aiden stood frozen, the spot where Zanis touched him burning with shame and rage.
"He knows," Lyra whispered. "He's trying to get us killed. Frog Shooters... they have acid. And long-range tongues."
"He wants us to break," Aiden wiped his cheek. "Or die."
He looked at Lyra. She was pale, still recovering, but her hand was clutching her new wand tight.
"Floor 5," Aiden said, his voice cold as the grave. "Fine. We'll clear the frogs. And we'll get stronger."
"And Zanis?"
"Zanis," Aiden looked at the retreating back of the Captain, "is going on the list."
[New Quest: The Captain's Hazing]
[Objective: Collect 10 Frog Shooter Skins (Floor 5).]
[Reward: Temporary Autonomy.]
[Failure Consequence: Forced Imprisonment.]
Aiden turned to Lyra.
"We need Antidotes," he said. "And we need to learn how to dodge acid."