Narrator's POV
What is the value of a life?
Life begins fragile, like a trembling spark in the middle of darkness. It makes its way through the void with its first breath, unaware that every heartbeat already brings it closer to its end. To live is a desperate act: to laugh even when it hurts, to cry until you break, to fall into hopelessness and yet still get back up. The days are consumed like embers, fleeting and relentless, and in that brevity lies their price. We value life because we know it is borrowed, because time slips cruelly through our fingers and no one can hold it back.
But there, where life is born, death is already lurking. Not as an enemy, but as an inseparable reflection, like a shadow clinging to the flame. They are two threads woven on the same loom: inseparable, inevitable. The rose that opens under the light also carries the withered scent of its end in its petals ; the star that burns in the night shines with fury only because it will one day fall. Everything that breathes is already condemned, and that condemnation is what makes every moment so unbearable and so beautiful at the same time.
Death is not a punishment; it is the border that carves the contours of what is alive. It is the silence that makes every laugh sacred, the wound that makes every caress unforgettable, the certainty that gives weight to every tear. Without it, eternity would be a frozen wasteland where nothing matters. Because the eternal, sooner or later, rots into indifference. Only what is extinguished dazzles. Only what dies leaves a mark.
And yet... what happens to a life that never goes out? What value would a fire have that, no matter how many times you crush it, always reignites, each time more voraciously, as if feeding on its own condemnation?. Would it be invaluable for resisting all darkness, or miserable for being unable to find rest?. An eternal flame runs the risk of becoming its own prison: burning endlessly until it becomes ash without luster, heat without intensity, light without wonder.
The idea seduces us because it challenges nothingness, because it promises to cheat oblivion. But the eternal is also an abyss: what's the point of burning if there will never be a night to consume you?. What value does an existence that cannot be broken hold?.
Perhaps the secret is not in how long the flame lasts, but in how it burns. A brief life can ignite the darkness with more force than a thousand years of gloom. And perhaps the only thing that would save an eternal life would be to reinvent itself in each rebirth, burning in different ways so as not to become its own fiery corpse.
Gabriel's POV
Death, death, and more death... I feel tired, truly tired.
I've killed myself 44 times, and it hurt, it hurt a lot. I'm no expert in the fine art of killing oneself; those 44 times I took a long time to die, I agonized, I suffered, I regretted it, and I rethought the reason for it all.
I never liked my life; in fact, I'd say I hated it. While many, the ones I envied, were loved by the world, I was someone the world hated. But even though my life was a mess, I still considered it sacred, because that shitty life was my life.
And as if my own problems weren't enough, I have to deal with the ones that useless guy left me. Every time I reappear, my long-shattered opinion of my predecessor breaks a little more: alcohol, women, illegal gambling, drugs... Seriously, that guy was a disaster. The last one was the final straw; for the first time in my life, I was high, and my god, it's not fun.
Fun fact, from what I heard from the addicts I reappeared with, on the 21st floor of the dungeon grows a plant that's basically marijuana, although apparently the effects are much stronger. I find it incredible that even the dungeon provides drugs; it's called the dungeon city for a reason.
I've appeared 22 times in the red-light district; now I understand Aisha and Lena when they said that half the red-light district knows about my now-new beauty mark. It was uncomfortable; all the Amazons are shameless.
I'm grateful once again to have a skill that allows me to go back in time. I don't know how I would have lived with all the consequences of this lifestyle.
Aside from the possible trauma of dying and my complaints about where I show up. Related to this last point, at this moment I'm in the central park, sitting on a bench. I see countless adventurers moving before my eyes, getting ready to dive into the dungeon, talking with others, making strategies, I guess. But hey, that's not my business.
My appearance and my so-great FAME are apparently worthy of many looks, of all kinds. The worst looks are from the elves; they look at me with so much disgust as if I were the worst scum in the world. I remember they were a quite "correct" race, so to speak, but hey, it's not necessary for them to look at me like that, damn judgmental elves. In contrast to the elves, a group of Amazons winked at me and waved from afar. One made a gesture that was quite... obscene with her hand, moving it up and down, no comment... I'm pretty sure I woke up in the bed of some of them in these 44 deaths, although surely my predecessor was in the bed of all of them more than once.
I had planned to kill myself 56 times in a row, but... while I was killing myself over and over, a fleeting thought came to me that made me stop the wave of suicides.
Bell, besides having a super mega OP SSS-rank skill, has the incredible and convenient fire magic "Firebolt," a magic without a chant, super broken, much stronger than many spells that have a long chant. I thought... what if I "borrowed" the Grimoire that Syr (who is actually Freya) gives him?. Since I'm going to go back in time afterward, I would have never really used it, so I wouldn't have consequences with Freya and her crazy family. Bell would get his magic at some point, and I wouldn't use one of the spaces to copy magic from my skill; I would only use one of the slots that already come by default in the Falna. I'm a genius; we all win. The only thing that makes me feel a bit uncomfortable is that I'm going to take advantage of a 14-year-old kid twice, a bit degrading, but it's not like he'll remember anyway.
I don't know if it will be the greatest convenience of my life and probably the only stroke of luck I'll have, but before being in this world, I saw a bit of the timeline on the Danmachi wiki, and from what little I remember, Bell got the grimoire 15 days after the minotaur incident. Taking into account that I started killing myself in the Apollo War Game, which happens after almost 2 months of the minotaur, and taking into account the number of days I went back, either Bell gets the grimoire today or already got it, or he should get it between yesterday or tomorrow, if my calculations are right.
What I can do is go back one or two days just in case and keep an eye on the Hostess of Fertility and Bell Cranel.
Well, it's decided, I'll do that.
POV — Gabriel
Just one day.
That's all I waited. It wasn't much, but it was quite boring. A whole day staked out on the outskirts of the Hostess of Fertility, camouflaged among spice vendors, drunken adventurers, and kids running between adults' legs. Just one day, yes... but with Freya behind those walls, all those Level 4 waitresses, and a former Level 6 adventurer.
Of course, I can go back if something goes wrong. As much as possible, I don't want to die more times than necessary. Just today I don't feel like getting a beating from bar employees for stealing a magic book from a teenager; maybe tomorrow I'll feel like it.
And then it happened.
Bell Cranel came out of the tavern. A pretty young boy, with wavy hair, a color as clean white as his soul, and red eyes. He has a somewhat small and slender physique. No wonder everyone calls him "Rabbit"; he looks just like one, and the aura he gives off does too, curious. He is the hero of this world, the protagonist, reincarnation of the hero Argonaut, the vestige of the Hera and Zeus families, adopted grandson of the latter, future possessor of countless records and a long etcetera of titles... And I'm going to rob this guy.
Bell Cranel at this moment had a radiant face as if he had conquered the sky. And under his arm, awkwardly squeezed against his chest, was the Grimoire.
A bitter laugh came out of me on its own, like a sneeze I couldn't hold back. Finally. I hadn't waited in vain. I hadn't been wrong.
The boy walked fast, hurried, as if he were afraid that someone would change their mind and take the gift away from him. His eyes saw nothing: neither the vendors, nor the carts, nor the people who pushed past him. He was a kid in a state of grace, with his mind fixed on a single destination: the church.
I followed him. One block, two, three. Always at a distance, always a step behind. The noise of Orario was my best mask: vendors' hawking, prostitutes' laughter, blacksmiths' hammering. I was just one more person; he was the only one who shined.
I saw how he adjusted the book against his arm, how he smiled to himself, how he even muttered something under his breath. He was so lost in his own world that he could have had an army following him and wouldn't have noticed.
I approached from the side, faking the carelessness of any passerby who wasn't paying attention. One wrong step and my shoulder collided with his. It was a somewhat violent blow.
—"Uwah!"— Bell tripped, unbalanced, and ended up falling face down on the ground. The Grimoire escaped his arm. It hit against the stones with a dry sound.
I was already crouched down. My fingers wrapped around the book in a secure, quick motion, as if it had belonged to me forever.
—"I-I'm sorry! I-I'm so sorry!"— Bell stammered, red as an apple, putting a hand on his shoulder as he tried to get up. Not a hint of suspicion in his voice. Just apologies, apologies, and more apologies, as if he had been the one to blame for everything.
I straightened up without looking at him, put the book under my jacket, and turned away. Two steps, five, ten. The crowd swallowed me.
When the white rabbit managed to get to his feet, his treasure would no longer be his.
POV — Bell
—"U-Ugh..."— I rubbed my knee; the burning sensation went up to my hip.
How clumsy! Always the same! How did I not see that person? How could I be so careless?.
—"I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"— I repeated, bowing my head to the stranger who was already disappearing into the crowd. I bowed too much, as if apologizing a hundred times could erase the shame that burned my ears.
I got up, still hunched over, and hurried my step again. I couldn't waste time. I had to get to the church. I wanted to read the book that Syr-san had given me.
My heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. Every step was an echo of pure happiness. Syr-san had trusted me.
I entered the church almost running, went down the stairs to the empty basement, and dropped to my knees in front of the altar. With a nervous smile, I reached out my arms to take out the book.
Nothing.
My hands felt the air, then the bag, then again under my arm. Empty.
The air turned cold in my lungs.
—"Huh...?"— I blinked, searching again, my fingers trembling. "W-Where is it...?".
Nothing. It wasn't there.
The book had disappeared.
I felt the world collapse on me. The heart that a second ago was bursting with joy now shrank until it hurt. My knees trembled, and I let myself fall sitting on the cold floor.
—"N-no... no..."— I bit my lip until I tasted metal. The book that Syr-san lent me....
Tears burned in my eyes. I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold them back, but I couldn't.
—"I'm... an idiot..."— I murmured, my voice broken—"... a complete idiot...".
How was I going to look at her now? How was I going to face Syr-san after losing what she entrusted to me?.
The memory of her sweet smile mixed with a new terror: what if she hated me?. What if she thought I didn't deserve anything?.
I clutched my chest. The happiness from before was now just a cruel memory.
And there, alone in the gloom of the church, all that was left was guilt, shame... and the certainty that I had failed.
Gabriel's POV
I have two conflicting emotions. On one hand, I DID IT, I HAVE THE GRIMOIRE and consequently another magic. On the other hand, I hurt and robbed a child... I feel a bit bad, I know no one will know about this but, I can't shake the guilt. I'm the witness of my own sins, truly problematic.
—"Bell Cranel, I swear I'll make it up to you in the future"— and with that small promise made out of guilt, I headed straight for the Soma Family headquarters.
. . . . . .
I'm sitting on this miserable bed with the Grimoire in my hands, unable to hold back the urge any longer. I opened it.
—"Let's see, 'There are 2 types of magic. The first, the one that some races are born with, and the second, the falna that gods grant as a blessing. The second is a form of self-expression. What interests you? What do you accept? What do you hate? What do you desire? What do you regret? What do you adore? What do you swear? What do you yearn for? The trigger is always within you'".
Narrator's POV
The "world" was tinged with a gray filter. Gabriel saw another Gabriel in front of him. A gray one, in accordance with this grayish world.
—"Well, let's start"— Exclaimed the other Gabriel. His voice, despite being like his appearance, identical to his own, contrasted as it had an echoing effect.
Despite the much more than surreal situation, Gabriel was not nervous, he wasn't afraid, nothing. All this felt normal, as if this is how it should be.
—"What is magic to me?".
—"Power. It's the strength I need to stop being weak. I don't want to revel in my mediocrity ever again... I want to be strong, and magic is a means to be so".
—"What kind of object is magic to me?".
—"It's a bonfire. That carries a crimson flame that seeks to incinerate those who threaten to extinguish it".
—"What do I seek with magic?".
—"To be special. I don't just want to be strong... I want to be the strongest of all, to embrace greatness and never let go".
—"Is that all?".
—"If possible... I'd like to be someone transcendental, someone that people marvel at when they see me, to be the reason for their admiration, their envy or whatever, I don't care. I want to be unmatched".
—"How arrogant and ambitious".
—"I'm sorry. But that's who I am now".
Gabriel's POV
—"What a great nap... Wait, did I fall asleep?".
I quickly looked at the window; it was dark. It was around one in the afternoon when I read the grimoire... THE GRIMOIRE.
I opened it, and it was empty; that means I HAVE ANOTHER MAGIC.
—"It's time to pay Soma another visit".
And with that, I headed to Soma's room. Something interesting I discovered by listening to other members of this miserable family is that each status update costs 10,000 valis. Damn greedy alcoholics. The only reason I can update my status is because each member gets a free annual update. And since I'm going back in time, I never use that free update, yay!. The only good thing that lazy, alcoholic gigolo did was not to update his status.
—"Hello, Soma-sama"— I greeted the god upon entering. My mouth pronounced the suffix "Sama" with strangeness. Cultural differences from being a Westerner. And this interaction with Soma was exactly the same as the previous ones: uncomfortable and silent. If expressing himself were a crime, this god would be innocent.
Soma gave me my status sheet.
Level: 1
Strength: I0
Durability: I0
Dexterity: I0
Agility: I0
Magic: I0
Magic:
Cinder Ella: Transformation magic that allows the user to transform into anything of their size.
Chant: "Your wound is mine. My wound is mine. The echo is the signal of midnight".
Firebolt: Fast attack magic.
Skills:
I want to be like you: Activates automatically when killed by an enemy. You copy a skill, magic, or development ability from the enemy and make it yours. You cannot copy from an opponent you have already copied. However, you will die. For each Falna level, you can copy 2 magic spells, skills, and development abilities.
Mechanical Clock of the Returned: Activates automatically upon death. You will go back 24 hours in time from the moment of your death. Your memories and stats will be preserved upon return. However, the higher your level, the greater the penalty, whether physical or mental. From the first use of the skill, you are allowed to go back exactly 2 years.
And there it was, the same magic as Bell Cranel, interesting... I have no complaints; it's what I was looking for after all. Although the whole "Dream" thing was a bit weird.
Good. It's time to get the last thing I'm missing, the last piece of the puzzle... Liaris Freese.
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Hey guys, how are you doing? It's been a while. It's terrible that I'm updating once in a blue moon, sorry.
Anyway, some little things about the chapter.
First, I decided to use Japanese suffixes. It's not like it's very important to the story but oh well.
Second, this is the penultimate chapter before Gabriel completely goes back.
Third, I sincerely thought it was coherent and smart for Gabriel to rob Bell; I mean, it's the perfect crime. Originally, I had planned for him to fail a couple of times. Either Ryuu sees him about to rob Bell and gives him a huge beating or Freya intervenes in some way, but I got lazy. I think it would have been better that way. I promise not to be so lazy next time.
Fourth, I have the harem almost confirmed. The ones that will definitely be there, by my guts, are Artemisa, Ryuu, Riveria, and Airmid. That's already 4 women there, a maximum of 6 or 7. That's a lot. If having one partner is problematic, having 6 or 7 is much more so, but hey, a Danmachi fanfic without a harem is like ordering a Happy Meal and not getting a toy.
Fifth, today was a day of ideas; I got a bunch of ideas for the fanfic. I came up with a future friendship that will leave you stunned (Have you noticed that in many fanfics, whether from Danmachi or other anime, the protagonist doesn't have friends? Just partners from his harem and stuff, and it's like, what? How do you not make friends? I plan for the protagonist to have friends). It's someone that I've never seen being friends with the isekai protagonist or Bell in any Danmachi fanfic.
Sixth, there's nothing really relevant in this point. It's just that I don't like odd numbers.
That would be all, bye.
Started writing on 17/09/25
Published on 29/09/25.