The end was not a glorious battle, nor a peaceful fading into twilight. It was the screech of tires on wet asphalt, a flash of blinding light, and then… nothing. An utterly mundane and powerless end for a man who had spent his life engrossed in tales of heroes and titans.
When consciousness returned, it was not to a hospital bed, but to a cold, silent void. A voice, ancient and resonant, echoed not in his ears but in the core of his soul.
"You yearned for strength, for a will to impose upon a world that left you adrift. A pointless wish in your old life, but a currency in the next. Take this form. Take this name. See what you make of it."
Agony, cold and sharp as glacial ice, wracked his being. He felt his body dissolve and reform, stretched and compressed into a new mold. His bones hardened into something more than human, his muscles swelled with a power that felt both alien and intimately familiar. When he could finally draw a breath, the air that filled his lungs was frigid, tasting of frost and ozone.
He opened his eyes. He was standing in a grimy alley, the scent of strange foods and unwashed bodies thick in the air. Looking down, he saw not his familiar hands, but powerful gauntlets of obsidian-black armor. He was encased from head to toe in an imposing suit, a heavy coat with a furred collar draped over his shoulders. A mask, utterly devoid of features save for two dark, hollow eye-slits, concealed his face. He felt a name bubble up from his newfound memories, a title of command and absolute strength.
Capitano.
A Cryo Vision, pulsing with faint blue light, was embedded on his belt. He could feel its power humming within him, a blizzard held in check, waiting for his command. This was his new reality. He had been reborn in the world of Danmachi, a world he knew only from fiction, with the form and might of the First Fatui Harbinger.
Orario was a chaotic, beautiful beast. The Babel tower pierced the heavens, a constant reminder of the sprawling Dungeon that lay beneath. For weeks, Capitano was a ghost, a rumor. He learned the language by listening, the customs by observing. He needed no money for food or shelter; the cold that was his very essence sustained him, and sleep felt like a distant, unnecessary memory.
He learned of Gods and their Familias, of the Falna that granted mortals power, and of the adventurers who delved into the depths for fame and fortune. He was an anomaly, a being of immense power with no God to his name. He tested his strength in the Dungeon's upper floors, entering without a Guild registration. Monsters that would challenge novice parties shattered like glass against his frost-infused fists. He needed no weapon; his body was the ultimate weapon.
His presence did not go unnoticed. Whispers grew of a silent, masked giant in black armor who moved with the chilling grace of a winter storm. "The Black Captain," some called him. "Winter's Ghost," said others. The Guild was in an uproar, unable to identify this powerful, unaffiliated individual. The Loki and Freya Familias sent scouts to observe him, but none dared to approach. There was an aura about him, a palpable pressure of absolute authority and crushing power, that warned them away.
It was on the 10th floor that his path finally crossed with the one he was perhaps destined to meet. He was observing the frantic flow of battle, the dance of adventurers against the dungeon's denizens, when he saw him. A boy with white hair and red eyes, moving with a desperate, frantic energy. Bell Cranel.
Bell was in over his head. A pack of War Shadows, far more than a solo adventurer of his level should handle, had cornered him. His knife was a blur, but he was being overwhelmed, his movements growing sluggish. A supporter, a small pallum girl with a large backpack, was desperately trying to create a diversion with smoke bombs.
Just as a War Shadow's clawed hand was about to descend upon Bell's exposed back, a shadow fell over the scene. The temperature in the cavern plummeted. Frost spiderwebbed across the stone floor from where the newcomer stood.
Capitano had not moved quickly. He had simply been there. He raised a gauntleted hand, and a wall of jagged ice erupted from the ground, blocking the attack. The monsters hissed, turning their attention to this new, imposing threat.
Bell and Lili stared, mouths agape. The black-armored giant was a figure of terrifying power.
"Stand back," Capitano's voice was a low, resonant baritone, amplified by his mask and carrying the chilling authority of a general on the battlefield.
He didn't draw a sword or chant a spell. He simply walked forward. The War Shadows lunged. The first one was met with a fist that crackled with Cryo energy. The impact wasn't just a crunch of bone; it was a sound like a glacier calving, and the monster was thrown back, encased in a tomb of ice before it even hit the wall. The others hesitated, a primal fear seizing them. Capitano flowed between them, his movements economical and brutally efficient. An elbow strike that flash-froze a monster's torso. A sweeping kick that left a trail of frozen mist.
In less than a minute, the entire pack was reduced to inert, icy statues. He stood in the center of the carnage, not a single scratch on his armor, his breath misting in the frigid air he himself had created.
He turned his masked gaze towards Bell and Lili. Lili flinched, hiding behind Bell. Bell, however, though terrified, stood his ground, his eyes wide with awe.
"Th-thank you," Bell stammered. "You saved us."
Capitano simply nodded. He saw the boy's potential, the brilliant, pure light of his soul that shone like a beacon. He also saw his recklessness. "The Dungeon does not reward overconfidence," he said, his voice devoid of emotion but not of weight. He then turned and began to walk away.
"Wait!" A new voice, high-pitched and frantic, echoed from the tunnel. A small goddess with black hair tied in twintails ran towards them, her face a mask of worry. Hestia.
She skidded to a halt, taking in the scene: her battered but safe Bell, the frozen monsters, and the colossal, intimidating figure in black.
"Bell! Are you okay? What happened?" she cried, before her eyes landed fully on Capitano. She momentarily froze, intimidated by his sheer presence. But the desperation to understand what had happened to her child overrode her fear.
"He… he saved me, Goddess," Bell said, still looking at Capitano's retreating back.
"Please, wait!" Hestia called out. "You saved my child. I… I must thank you properly. What is your name? Which Familia do you belong to?"
Capitano stopped. He turned his head slightly, the featureless mask seeming to study the diminutive goddess. He had no Familia. He had no name but the one given to him in the void. For weeks, he had been an observer, a ghost. But looking at this small, earnest goddess and her devoted adventurer, a flicker of something long-dormant from his old life—a desire for connection, for purpose—stirred within him. Here was not a powerful Familia seeking a weapon, but a small, struggling family that protected its own.
"I am Capitano," he stated simply. "I belong to no one."
Hestia's eyes widened. An adventurer this powerful, unaffiliated? It was unheard of. It was an opportunity. A reckless, insane, but incredible opportunity.
"Then… then join mine!" she blurted out, her cheeks flushing. "The Hestia Familia! We may be small, but we have heart! And… and lots of room for growth!"
Bell and Lili looked at their goddess as if she'd lost her mind. Asking this terrifying monolith to join their tiny, debt-ridden Familia?
Capitano was silent for a long moment. He looked from the fiery, determined goddess to the awestruck boy. He had been given immeasurable power. What was its purpose? To wander aimlessly? Or to protect something? To be a shield for the burgeoning light he saw in Bell Cranel?
"Very well," he said, the two words landing with the finality of a king's decree.
The journey back to the surface was an awkward, silent affair. That evening, in the cramped basement of the abandoned church, Hestia prepared to bestow her Falna.
"Okay, uh… take your top armor off," she said, trying to sound professional. "I need to see your back."
With a series of quiet clicks, Capitano removed his chest plate and coat. His undersuit was a simple black fabric, but the physique it revealed was astounding—a tapestry of dense muscle and old, faded scars that he didn't recognize but felt were his own. He turned his back to her.
Hestia pricked her finger and let a drop of her divine ichor fall. As she placed her hand on his back, she gasped. A normal Falna ceremony felt like inscribing on a blank slate. This felt like trying to map a continent that was already fully formed. The power thrumming under his skin was immense, ancient, and utterly alien to the system of the Falna.
When the hieroglyphs finally settled, she, Bell, and the newly arrived Welf and Lili stared at the status sheet in stunned silence.
Name: Capitano Level: ?
STR: SSS END: SSS DEX: SS AGI: SS MAG: SSS
Magic: [Winter's Decree]: Innate magic allowing for absolute mastery over the Cryo element. Active and passive manifestation.
Skills: [Harbinger's Mantle]: A skill that recognizes a will forged beyond the mortal plane. Grants immense physical and magical parameters independent of Falna. Exerts an aura of extreme pressure and authority. Nullifies mental interference of lower rank.
There was no Level. Just a question mark. His stats were so high they broke the known scale. The Falna hadn't granted him power; it had merely struggled to give a name to the abyss of strength that was already there.
Hestia looked up from the sheet, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and elation. Bell looked at the man who was now his Familia brother with pure, unadulterated awe.
Capitano fastened his armor back on, the clicks echoing in the silent room. He turned, his masked gaze falling upon the small group. They were his familia now. His to protect.
The Hestia Familia was no longer just the home of a promising rookie. It was now the domain of a living legend, an enigma of ice and steel whose very existence would send shockwaves through the foundations of Orario. And from the unreadable mask of The Captain, for the first time, there was a sense of something new. Not happiness, not yet. But belonging.