1 Chapter 1: In the Beginning

Endless.

A never ending void.

To a world where everything exist, the concept of nothing still bothers the mind of many. The idea of what is nothing, what is empty, and a world where there exist not even a spec of dust nor a trace of cosmic presence— to be proven to be a real phenomenon— drives even the most sanest philosophers to absolute insanity.

Many studies tells that it is the absence of matter, where some says that it is the state of absolute zero.

Who knows how close they're to the truth than they already is, or how farfetched have they not yet come.

It is a fact, however— a consensus agreed upon by the mass, that nothing is nothing and therefore must not bear any semblance of quantity but zero. Even the most basic man can agree to that fact.

A void of emptiness— nay, just empty...

Yet why does it still retain it's body here, one creature of the void wonders.

Floating aimlessly, in a place where the brain cannot comprehend, it's body remained untouched. Beaten to a pulp, steel dug into gooey flesh, a substance of void covered in what is left of a knightly armor, as it layed there motionlessly.

Though unsalvageable, some bits of human skin are still seen on it, part flesh of man to which speaks of what it is.

Yet it was a laughable of an excuse of one, however, as though human flesh exists to some part of the body of 'it', it is no longer seen as one, for it is mysteriously covered in a pile of unknown black goo that for some reason clung to the body as if it was it's own. Such form was undeterminable, unrecognizable, and more so, unknown.

It was as black as an ink, yet clung as solid as clay.

Plates of broken metal covered the parts where it can be called it's 'body', more of the 'black goo' leaking upon the webs of cracks that filled the entirety of it's metal sheets. It was a mess, how grimm has it's body become, a miracle even when only the red cape that dangled behind it remained on a 'good' condition.

It was a mess.

The creature is in a whole mess, like a wrecked weapon of the battlefield left to rust in the burning soil of war.

Oh, how unfortunate it's predicament has become. Yet it was peaceful despite so.

Pale dot-like eyes flickered white, vanishing as quickly as it appeared in the middle of this empty world.

"Peace, at last." The creature 'spoke', it's voice jittering like a crackling of full static noise.

Despite the lonely nature the creature has been put into, where the passing time of nothing but self-talk can drive any man insane, the creature just gave a satisfactory hum, as if waiting for this moment for a very long time.

"All war. All bloodshed. All misery..."

It tried to wiggle it's body through, trying to lift even a finger when it can't even dare to lift it's chest anymore. A painfully obvious state it was forced to accept.

"...Now Gone."

Another short glimmer of it's eyes bloomed, small sparks flickering weakly within the spirals of it's eyes before dulling once more into it's abyssal face.

Though unable to move, it's sight suddenly began to water, a single shed of tear floating alongside it's face within the confinement of the endless nothingness it was in. A small twitch shaking within it's fingers.

"I am... Sorry my dear." It spoke again, this time it's voice a bit shaky. "It's... All... For you."

It was no more.

It's life is no more.

The times of joy, the times of sorrow, the times of love, the times of hatred; all gone in a blink of an eye. It still remember what had led it to be in this spot, what had led it to be in this place— in this... Nothingness.

It recalled of a battle, a battle it fought with other individuals of power, a battle it ultimately lost, and a battle that led to one 'something' that shouldn't yet exist being reborn. It was already a mush from his memories, for it had been so long since he can recall the event. All he can conclude is that it took a sacrifice.

A sacrifice to save what it loved, a sacrifice made to preserve what is left for it.

"What a... Shame."

Recollecting as much memories as possible as it could, and as much as it savored the peace the void gave it, it was not for long. There, within his untouched body floating in nothing but emptiness, parts of it's body began to break apart.

It started within the fingers, then to the feet and spreading thorough. The process was slow, however, within the passing of 'time' within the place, all that had yet to completely disintegrate were it's mere tubby thumbs.

Perhaps this is the consequences of being in a place of nothingness. Whatever that exist should not exist, and therefore, that 'something' must be eliminated, erased from the face of this nothingness.

Maybe it can still live onto the next cycle of life. Maybe it can now live the normal life the blob of a creature it is had been always dreaming about since many millennium ago. Perhaps it can now have a normal family, a family to call it's own.

[Not Yet.]

Something from within called, and it was the creature to notice it first. Not that there's anyone else than it here to actually also respond, and such, the creature felt a little dumb.

[Not Yet.]

"W..hy?"

[Not Yet.]

It kept repeating the same words, their voice a bit soft and calming but also a bit childish at the same time, to whoever this is might be— the creature pondered in thought. Has lady life here to take itself? Has it's time to live already expired?

[Such a saddening tale, your life is.]

"What... Do... You want?"

At this moment, it could barely see whom it was. The voice appeared in a dim flickering light that it could only see at the corner of it's eyes. Yet something deep within, upon the most primal of instinct it had left, made it think that it's coming from everywhere at the same time.

[To give you another chance.]

The voice was as gentle to their tone, their soft voice reverberating within the creature's body like an echo of the past. And was as soft as a mother singing her infant child in the cradle of her arms.

It was a vivid experience overall, so much that it nearly made the creature forgot of it's response.

Another chance, they say? A chance for a new life perhaps, a new era of nothing but salvation.

Could the creature finally live the life it had been dreaming then? Another chance to atone it's sins? Such a great offer.

Maybe it can finally live peacefully within a hill and work there as an unsuspecting farmer void of the life of bloodshed it had left behind. Or perhaps on the near sea where it can fish and live as a fisherman void of brutal violence against it's own kind.

Maybe...

Just a little bit, perhaps he could reconsider.

Just this once.

Just this once.

[Well?]

It glared.

With all might it can muster, the creature trashed around, giving a final answer to the question asked.

"———————!"

...

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..

Long ago, when humans and non-human people lived in terror and fear, there exist monsters of power, all praying to the weak. Those who were unfortunate perished in battle, and those who were numbered a few made legends upon their name.

Many were killed, slaughtered beyond recognition, and many more lost all those that they have— fortunes, homes, possessions, as well as loved ones. No more of their own, all lost into ashes in the wind.

Kings and Queens had set aside differences, all joined forces; kingdoms rose, and many were destroyed. Yet all of those things, were not yet enough.

For years uncountable to normal humans after, divine intervention arose. Gods descended to the mortal realm, giving those they deem worthy power beyond doubt.

Monsters were subdued, many were given help, and myths of might were written on books. All as then came exist the city of hopes, the city of glory.

The Dungeon City Orario.

Bam!

A thunderous slam echoed across the shady alleyways of the street, where brick-decorated shops fades away into sights of cheap cobblestone inns. There, wasted on the outside walls of a bar, a man with black hair grunted awake, clutching and rubbing his temples as he grumbly shook his head. Despite this, however, he quickly donned his helmet, a bucket-like headgear with only a slit on it's visor to look into.

That turned out to be a bad move however, as the sent of alcohol still reeks the inside of his helmet, a pungent smell that only made him more dizzy than he should've been.

A bit wobbly, he tried to stand up, yet was only met with a scrutinizing headache, one enought to shake him from his spot.

"Mother Mary of all, what in hell!" The man cursed, kicking the cobblestone wall that was the walls of the bar, hissing in pain right after. "You— fuck! My feet!"

Though some of the passerby looked at him oddly, he payed no mind as he hissed more of the pain in his foot. It was a good thing and yet also a bad thing that his boots was made of metal and leather, good thing as else he would've killed 5 of his toes, and bad thing cuz it's part metal, it colided with the metal as much as or a little less it was to the brick.

"No longer am I going here, you drunktards!" The man screamed again. "I'm giving a bad review on your behalf of this!"

"Screw you! Go ahead and do whatever you want, Bobby!" The voice came from the other end and inside of the bar.

"My name is not Bobby, you dickhead!"

Grunting in defeat and at the insult given at the bar, the man was forced to accept this 'banter' in a salty retreat. No-one batted an eye upon a couple of seconds of the ruckus, passerbys leaving just as they saw it— a normal occurrence within this place more common in the slums.

The man, as if nothing happened minutes after, walked across the streets, adjusting his suit and dusting away any signs of the leftover booze that stained some of his equipments. Maybe his clothes even.

Standing at roughly a generous height, the man casually walked in his full plated armor, donning his comically large pauldrons in the shape of two triangles coupled with a long red cape. At a distance, one would've mistaken him for a real knight on patrol for his duty, had it only not been for the fact that his gear is stained in rust and reeks so strong the smell of alcohol.

He looks like a retired old alcoholic.

"Damnit, I'm never drinking at a bar ever again." He cursed under his breath, clutching the side of his helmet.

Soon enough, the man reached the busy streets of Orario, where shops sells their best and money thrives as much as those that bought and sold products like a pack of ants. Though in a tight environment, his eyes cannot mistake the mesmerizing view that is the large tower, one of intricate and such marvelous architecture, that reached the sky so high it pierced the heavens.

The wind carried on, dancing around with it's cold soothing breeze. As people walked around, the man stopped.

Maybe.

Maybe just this once, his luck wouldn't run out as much as it did like way back.

Yes. Maybe.

"Ah, why good morning to me as well as to you, Dungeon City Orario!!" The man yelled, spreading his arms as he looked directly at the infamous Tower of Babel.

Birds flew away in distraught, some of the animal people covering their sensitive ears, as his voice rippled through air in distortion.

What a loud mouth the man had.

"Shut the fuck up, Bouka!"

...

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...

The Dungeon City Orario, a city most known for of the skyscraper it homes that pierced the very body of the heavens— a tower known to be of property of divine beings called as the Gods. Yet while the Gods roams the land, underneath is the infamous Dungeon to which is explored and cleared of any contents time to time— either for power or for money— by bands of mercenaries called Adventurers. A mystery it is, no-one knows how did the Dungeon came to be, and even little knew for what purpose did the Gods descent into the living world.

Perhaps the divine saw greatness of the mortal realm and decided to help it's inhabitants, or perhaps they might be growing tired of the slow advancement of mortal kind and they want to quicken the process. Or maybe they just grew bored of their perfect lives up there in heaven and decided that living within the world below is more thrilling.

As far as Bouka knew, all possiblities exist. As such, all of them might be correct, or he's just dumb for thinking of such nonsense.

Whack!

"Ack!" A small hand smacked the man in the head and winced back. "Seriously, Bouka. You should take this more seriously!"

"I am taking this seriously, Misha."

The said man in armor sat on the lavishly good sofa of the many boots of the Guild, looking at the frustrated little fellow across from his seat. It was a girl of formal clothes, her hair as pink as her pink pained eyes— still recoiling from her previous act. She was of small stature, a handful smaller than Bouka is, yet her fierce nature were as persistent as his stupidity it seemed as she proceeded to yell at him non-stop.

"Like hell you do!" She hissed as she brought forth papers from below the desk that separated the both of them. "Last time I know, you went to the 4th floor of the Dungeon when I told you to just stay at the 1st!"

The man in question fell silent, having considered what she had said.

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts! Now you got into a fight last night in a bar and you're ought to pay an amount of ten-thousand valis for the damage you caused!" As if in a frantic, she gripped her pink locks, laying her head on the table in defeat. "I give up. It's very hard becoming your financial advisor at this point."

Maybe she was right, he did had a fight on that cheap bar where he woke up this morning.

"The details are still blurry, but I do remember kicking ass last night on that cheap ass bar."

"No." Misha looked at him, her eyes tired and all full of doubt. "You got thrown across the room and ragdolled for ten minutes straight."

"How the hell do you know that?!"

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, Misha blew away all her frustrations in the air and brought out more papers on the table. She was obviously tired, perhaps he had caused her enough trouble to make her actl like this.

She practically looked like she can't take even the slightest of joke anymore or else she'll just blow up like firecrackers.

"Be honest, Bouka. Do you really need to cause that much trouble everytime you come to a new place?" The young lady asked, concerned at the armored man still reeking the odor of alcohol.

"Pwah! Come on. It's not that bad." The man denied, swatting away the lady's words like flies on the air. "Not like I can't stop it as well. They started it!"

"Haaa~..." More and more, Misha sunk down on the table infront of her. "You 'could've' stopped it by just leaving the place. Can't you do that? Who on their right mind would try to give fuel to an ember about to go out?"

Bouka fell silent, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away in shame. She was right after all, and he can do nothing to defend himself.

"Now how are you going to pay this one with money? You barely have anything to eat and you're forbidden on going somewhere past the 2nd floor of the Dungeon." The pink haired mumbled to herself as she read through papers after papers stacked on her hands.

"Well, you can still allow me to go past those floors." Bouka slammed his fist on his palm, a magical and imaginary light bulb suddenly appearing ontop of him. "The more floors I descend, the more I'll earn money—"

Bam!

"Absolutely not!"

Like a bomb suddenly lit, Misha exploded in both fear and anger, slamming her hands on the table and standing up on her chair.

"You're a God-less adventurer, Bouka. Remember that you are only contracted with the guild partially! Half of your loot is taken by the guild as tax, and you are absolutely not allowed to go on further floor." She looked at him straight in the eyes, or atleast where his eyes were behind his bucket-like headgear, her pink orbs shaking. "Unless you've contracted yourself with a God, you are still prohibited to go on deeper floors."

"Bah! God this God that. What's up with those lazy ass anyways." Bouka crossed his arms. "I can manage myself just fine without them. How come you need more of them than more of yourself?"

"Ugh, time after time, I kept telling you, Bouka." Misha can only just pinch the bridge of her nose as she shook her head. "Their blessings are that great. Once a normal mortal like yourself get their blessings, you actually take a leap of power from what you have before."

"Yeah, sounds like what everyone can do upon due time." The man just stared at her nonchalantly, as if her words made a difference to himself. "What do you know, maybe I can actually pull some ladies in due time."

The pink haired just closed her eyes and sat back down to her seat. "Like that's gonna happen with your broke little ass."

The armored man just laughed at her with booming energy, startling the young lady for a brief moment. He gave her a thumbs up, his eyes flashing up red menacingly behind his helmet than work like a charm like how he intended to use it.

"You never know, maybe this little ass would pull you as my mistress."

Misha frowned, her face contorting to disgust. "Ew, not here old man. I have my standards."

"Well, that hurts my confidence a bit."

"Suck it up." The pink haired pouted, leaning forward with her hands on her cheeks. "Why can't you be like Eina's kid, his name's Church Bell or something. He's cute, gentle, kind, and loves his advisor with passion. Not like you some stinky retired man who reeks alcohol the whole day."

Ignoring the presence of Bouka, Misha began to fantasize and daydream in the middle of her job, imagining herself with a young boy with white hair and red eyes. Such a fantasy were only to her own twisted mind.

"I'm still here, you know."

"Nevertheless!" The pink haired snapped, handing Bouka a piece of paper. "This is my offer for you! If you want to get up from your debts, get yourself in a Familia."

"And if I don't?" Bouka waited. Maybe there's an alternative better than this, were words going on his mind.

"Then you can kiss your daily money goodbye and welcome a tsunami of debt." Misha eyed him, her stature now shifting to a more 'formal staff' like demeanor. "Now, let's get back to business."

As such, business is up.

"This is gonna be a long day..."

...

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...

Outside of the window of the Guild, a batch of peers came to pass by. One made of a group of men and women of different races. If it were to an unsuspecting eyes, they would've dismissed the group, yet it was evident that all eyes were drawn upon them. Of them and of the flag they carried with symbol of a jester.

Many of them were of high stature it seems, as many wore clothes befitting only to nobility and of riches. Some even donned in sets of armor profoundly known to be crafted by skilled blacksmiths and recognizable to all. Such people must have enough money to afford such.

The group were of mixed people, some being that of the Amazonian tribe, some being of the Pallum race, some of the Elven people, few of the Animal breed, and many of humankind. As diverse as the group it was, all of it were led by a small woman with closed eyes and red hair.

"Another successful hunt, is it not? Wahahaha!" The small woman boastfully laughed as she marched with the others infront.

They walked with pride, like an unstoppable force that will not crumble to the ground.

"..."

Just then, one of them, a girl with golden hair suddenly stopped from their march, eyeing the window which led to the guild with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm? Something that caught your eyes?" An Amazoness girl with tanned skin and small breast asked, noticing that blonde girl had stopped.

"..."

"Urgh, come on." The tanned girl groaned, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "What is it this time? Cuz if it's gonna be that one 'its my mother' type of crap again, I'm leaving you."

The girl stared at the guild for another moment, this time, they're separated from their little group. All as the girl kept staring at the same window that shows nothing of the inside.

"..." The blonde sighed after for a while. "... It's nothing, let's go."

"Okaaay~!"

Weird, the blonde thought.

Perhaps she had just mistaken it for something, that's not a problem at all.

...

------------->

...

The sun had begun to set, and their shift is nearing to it's end.

The pink haired guild woman tiredly slumped herself infront of her desk and onto her seat.

It was a long day, a really painfully long day.

Misha does not know what the hell is happening on a certain client of her's mind. On one side, she commends Bouka from actually venturing the 4th floor and coming out alive, with a smile nonetheless. However, her mind couldn't help but worry at his own recklessness.

She read through a parchment of paper in her desk, one about the ruckus and wreckage Bouka had done for as long as he had joined the Guild. It wasn't like she hated the guy, but his tendency to cause problem had irked her really bad.

"How is he even going to financially rise up from these debts." She groaned as she brought her paper down.

Bouka is not like everyone else, he was still a bit of a mystery from her. The database told her little about him, and whenever there is an info, it was lost from the previous people whom had been the man's former advisor. All she knew before she took him in was that he was already indebted for 3 years already and has yet to pay the amount.

"Seriously, what an odd guy."

"Still up to no good?"

Surprised by the voice, Misha looked to her right and saw one of the few reasons she have yet to go crazy from Bouka's amount of stupidity. It was an elf with a chestnut hair and green eyes behind the covers of an eyeglass. She wore the same formal attire as hers, consisting of black and white, and was a bit taller than the pink haired young woman.

"Eina!" She jumped into her arms like a child trying to consult her mother. "Waaaaah, I can't do it anymore, Eina! Switch with me, switch with me!"

"Oh, don't give me that." Eina, the elf, chuckled. "He was given for you to manage, is he not? So stop complaining already."

"But—"

"I'll treat you a coffee if you do."

Instantly, snapping as fast as the jaw of a crocodile, she stood firm with a salute to her forehead. Her stature now ironically more determined than what she was doing seconds ago.

"Aye-aye, captain. For the coffee!"

It was a bit overwhelming for Eina, but she still chuckled a bit seeing her friend's expression. Frankly, it was like watching a child get motivated on doing work.

"In all seriousness, how are you doing on holding him up?" Eina asked, sitting down on her side of the seat whereas Misha did the same.

"He's very insufferable, if you ask me." The pink haired stated truthfully. "I have not seen such a troublemaker as much as him. It was pretty much like he was a walking magnet for problems."

"To be honest, just let it be, it might be that he's doing as much as he could to avoid it. He could've just been caught on accidents he couldn't dodge himself."

"But that's what I'm worried for!" Misha cried, slumping her body to her desk in defeat. "Sooner or later he'll be caught up of whatever shenanigans he's up to that it would just break him, you know?"

"..."

There came a bit of silence between the two, and an atmosphere so awkward one could feel it by just looking at it.

"Do you trust him?" Asked the elf, sighing as she watched the artificial light inside the Guild come into life.

"Yes, I trust him..." Misha grumble back. "It's just that..."

Eina smiled at her friend, patting her in the back.

"He's just so stupid."

...

-------------->

..

Bouka sat on an elevated slab, hugging his knees as he cradled himself into a fetal position. Deep in thoughts, he sighed in defeat, a notion followed by a growling of his stomach.

"10 Valis. 20 Valis. 90 Valis." He pointed on the floor, counting of what little money left he has. "That's roughly 120 Valis. Not even enough to get me bread."

He's done for.

With little money he had, he can barely get sustainance that would help him keep walking. Much so sleep peacefully in a soft bed. This, he knows very much.

"Man, at this point, selling my limbs would be an option good for me."

He once heard that selling limbs in shady markets would give one a handsome loads of pennies. The more vital the part is, the more will it cost. Some people had probably sold their kidney just for a lavish meal in a luxury mansion for one day alone.

Looking back throughout the day, Misha had settled some things with him, but he still wouldn't take 'that' offer that she kept slapping on his face. 'That' offer is simply disgusting even to himself. Offer or not however, he promised to pay whatever amount he had been piling up in his back soon.

By soon, perhaps he meant months from now as he simply do not have the current sum of money to buy food, much more pay for debts.

Bouka gave another sigh, looking at the now starry sky. Sparkling and shining, like gems on the beach side, the stars glistened and shone up above. Maybe it was nostalgia that made him somewhat at home, like that of a sandy dune and a grassy wide green hills—

The image of darkness came to his mind, a bright white hand grabbing his body in blinding light. Empty to something, of world to a world, eyes to the mind.

He grunted.

"Damn Bitch."

He scowled, gripping the coins in his bare unarmored hand with such force it began to draw blood.

Maybe, just this once.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

And then his stomach growled a roar.

"I really need money."