The city of Orario never slept. At any hour of the day, the streets boiled with life: adventurers, merchants, swindlers, beggars... all circling the great pillar that dominated the center: the Babel Tower. Beneath that sacred structure hid an entrance to hell dressed as glory. The dungeon.
A place where heroes were born... and the disposable died.
In the shadows of an alley, a boy watched. He wore old, dirty, torn clothes. Blond hair smudged with soot, and green eyes sharp as blades. His thin body was little more than skin and bone, and yet there was a contained energy in him… something that neither hunger nor abandonment had managed to snuff out.
The dungeon's entrance hummed with a constant murmur, as if it were breathing. Lines of adventurers formed under the strict watch of members of the Ganesha Family, their eyes wide open. No civilian was to sneak in. No idiot was to die because of carelessness.
And yet, there he was.
Leo, a ten-year-old boy whose green eyes had long since lost their sparkle, held a scrap of old armor as a makeshift shield. He could barely keep his footing, but his eyes were more alive than ever.
"Focus… if you trip, you're dead," he thought as he crouched between supply crates. "Ganesha guards are constant… two patrols, breaks every twenty minutes… groups go in every three… that will be the moment." He wiped dust from his hands.
He had watched group behavior for weeks. He knew how they walked, how they spoke to each other, and even how some argued over loot before entering.
He waited until he saw a group of young adventurers with worn armor and arrogant expressions. People who trusted their status more than their skill. The perfect target.
When the group of four—poorly equipped but armed—passed nearby and moved toward the entrance, Leo walked just behind them, head down, his dirty face hiding his features. He clutched the piece of old armor like part of his gear.
A Ganesha guard turned to the group and raised his voice:
—Are you all on the same team? Five people? —The guard asked without looking up from his tablet.
—Y-Yes! —one replied absentmindedly, not looking back.
Another of the group, annoyed by the interruption, nodded with a grunt.
—Yes, five. Can't you count?
Because of their arrogance and haste to get into the dungeon as soon as possible, the four members didn't notice that an orphan. A forgotten one. A shadow at the city's edge had slipped in with them.
—Tch, go ahead —the guard grunted, paying no further attention.
Leo said nothing. He just lowered his head and clenched his teeth… Leo had gotten in.
When he stepped across the threshold into the dungeon, Leo felt the air change. The heat of Orario was replaced by a damp chill. Natural light vanished behind him. In its place, a bluish bioluminescence sprang from the walls and ceilings. The stone walls glowed. The floor creaked under every step. The silence was strange… but present. Throbbing. As if the whole place breathed. The dungeon was not a simple tunnel, but something — a kind of living thing.
Uneven stones formed wide corridors, some crossed by fissures that pulsed with magic light. The walls bent at impossible angles.
A constant murmur —a mixture of wind, breath, and something else… organic— enveloped everything. From time to time, echoes of human voices could be heard… and other noises: squeaks, growls, the clash of swords, nervous laughter, and distant screams.
Leo swallowed and took small steps, measuring each one as if crossing a tightrope. Though he was afraid, a stronger excitement pushed him forward.
"This… is another world," he thought. "This is where they became strong… the reason they abandoned me…"
His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten more than stolen crusts or shame-tainted food in days. The noise alerted the four men he had slipped in with.
—Who brought trash into this place? —One of them pointed at Leo, looking at the other three with contempt.
—Look how he's dressed, he's trash, he must've slipped in without us noticing —said another as he shoved his way forward and planted himself imposingly in front of Leo.
—We should leave him; he won't last two minutes anyway, he's no use even as bait —the strongest of the four said.
—You're right, he's all bones, he won't even look appetizing to the dungeon's creatures —the last of the four added.
Their words echoed the other orphans' insults from the poor districts of Orario, where he'd lived: "You're worth nothing!", "You're not one of us anymore!", "If you want to die, do it far away!"
The men left Leo behind, abandoning him alone on the first level of the dungeon. As minutes passed and Leo pressed deeper into the labyrinth, some passing adventurers glanced at him with disdain. One even spat near his feet.
—Who lets brats like that in? —
Leo was aware that nobody in this world truly valued his life, that he was just a nuisance to society, and his worth equaled nothing, yet he ignored them. He was good at ignoring. He had done it his whole life.
A few minutes later, the groups he'd entered with had already dispersed. He was completely alone.
He advanced with slow steps, avoiding looking to the sides. He had no map, no magic, no strength. Only a dull knife and his will. Little by little, he moved deeper until he reached a dead-end corridor… without a map to guide him, he hadn't realized he'd taken a wrong turn… a fatal mistake, since this path was a trap for some adventurers.
Leo noticed creaks within the walls as cracks spread open, as if the dungeon drew a deep breath before vomiting its hate. From them came five goblins. Small, green, their yellow eyes glowing in the gloom, they were like rabid insects, teeth bared and tiny rusty daggers in hand.
One squealed at the sight of Leo, the other four echoed it before lunging at him.
Leo froze. For a second, fear outweighed instinct; he didn't scream. When he reacted, he ran without looking back.
—Five. Damn it. They're as tall as me, but heavier. They're armed. I can't fight. Not yet. I'm dead if they surround me… —his mind analyzed quickly while his feet slid over the uneven floor.
He ran through a narrow corridor, zigzagging. Air whistled in his ears; the goblins behind him squealed with hungry rage. One darted forward and almost sliced his heel with a dagger, but Leo leapt and rolled down a narrow slope. His body ached, his bones protested, but he didn't stop.
—They're behind me… they follow without thinking. They're not smart; their steps are clumsy, maybe because they've just "been born." I can use that — Leo thought as he slipped into a side passage. There he found what he was looking for: a drop.
author's note: DUE TO CERTAIN IDEAS AND PLANS, I WILL GIVE A TWIST TO THE STORY. I WILL MAKE CHANGES AND MAINTAIN MORE OF THE AESTHETICS OF THE AESTHETICS OF THE MAIN STORY. THERE WILL BE SOME CHANGES, SO I PREFERRED TO START OVER. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND STAY ACTIVE.