Leon woke to the smell of burning.
He sat up immediately, senses alert. Smoke. Something cooking—or rather, overcooking. He threw on his clothes and rushed upstairs.
In the kitchen, Hestia stood over the stove, frantically waving a towel at a smoking pan. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, and she wore an expression of determined panic.
"It's fine! Everything's fine!" she said quickly when she saw Leon.
Leon looked at the pan. What might have once been eggs was now a blackened, smoking mass. The toast beside it was charred dark brown.
"I made breakfast!" Hestia announced with forced cheerfulness. "Like I promised!"
"I can see that."
"It's... it's a little burnt. But it's edible! Probably!" She scraped the remains onto two plates with a wooden spatula. "Here! Try it!"
Leon sat at the table and looked at his plate. The eggs were definitely burnt, the toast was more carbon than bread, and the whole thing smelled vaguely of disaster.
But Hestia was watching him with anxious, hopeful eyes.
Leon picked up his fork, took a bite of the eggs, and chewed slowly. They were burnt on the outside, somehow still raw in the middle, and tasted like charcoal mixed with disappointment.
"Well?" Hestia asked nervously. "How is it?"
"It's warm," Leon said diplomatically.
"But does it taste good?"
"It tastes like you worked very hard on it."
Hestia's shoulders slumped. "That bad, huh?"
"I've had worse." That wasn't entirely a lie. In his past life, he'd eaten battlefield rations that barely qualified as food. This was at least recognizable as breakfast.
"I wanted to do something nice for you," Hestia said quietly. "You always cook for me. I wanted to return the favor."
Leon took another bite, forcing himself to swallow. "And you did. Thank you, Hestia."
"You don't have to lie to make me feel better."
"I'm not lying." Leon met her eyes. "The taste doesn't matter as much as the intention. You woke up early to cook for me. That means something."
Hestia's eyes got watery. "You're too nice, Leon."
"Eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
She laughed wetly and picked up her fork. They ate together in companionable silence, both pretending the food was better than it was.
After breakfast—and after Leon discreetly fed most of his portion to the small stray cat that sometimes visited the church—Hestia made an announcement.
"I'm going out tonight," she said. "Some of my divine friends invited me to dinner. I'll probably be back late."
"Alright."
"Will you be okay on your own?"
"I'm usually on my own in the Dungeon. I'll be fine."
"Still." Hestia fidgeted with her dress. "If you get hungry, there's money in the jar by the stove. Buy something from a tavern. Don't try to cook here alone."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to come home and find the church burned down."
Leon almost smiled. "Fair point."
---
By midday, Leon stood at the entrance to floor four.
The descent from floor three had been routine—goblins, kobolds, War Shadows. All manageable now. But floor four represented new territory, new challenges.
The stairs down were narrower, the light dimmer. Leon drew his sword and descended carefully.
Floor four's corridors were different. The walls had a reddish tint, the air felt warmer, and the ambient sounds were different—dripping water, distant echoes, something that might have been breathing.
Leon moved forward slowly, all senses alert.
The first monster appeared from a side passage.
It was larger than the creatures on upper floors—about five feet tall, heavily muscled, with gray skin and a brutish face. A dungeon lizard, according to his guidebook. Aggressive, strong, with tough hide that resisted weak attacks.
The lizard spotted Leon and charged, moving faster than its bulk suggested.
Leon sidestepped the initial rush, letting momentum carry the creature past. As it turned, he struck—a precise cut to the back leg, severing the tendon.
The lizard roared and stumbled. Leon moved in quickly, driving his sword through the base of its skull before it could recover.
The creature dissolved, leaving a magic stone larger than any he'd collected before.
Leon picked it up, examining it. Definitely worth more. Floor four monsters paid better, but they were also more dangerous.
He continued forward, encountering more dungeon lizards. Each fight reinforced the same lessons—they were strong but not particularly smart. Fast in straight lines but poor at turning. Tough hide but vulnerable at joints and neck.
After the seventh lizard, something different dropped.
Along with the magic stone, a small piece of material remained—a scale, purple-black and iridescent, about the size of Leon's palm. It felt tough, almost metallic.
A drop item. Rare materials that sometimes manifested when monsters died. Worth significantly more than magic stones because craftsmen used them for equipment.
Leon stored it carefully in a separate pouch. He'd need to research its value before selling.
Over the next few hours, he hunted methodically through floor four. The monsters were tougher, but his skills were adapting. His [Battle Clarity] skill helped him read attack patterns faster. His [Unwavering Foundation] kept him calm even when creatures rushed him unexpectedly.
By mid-afternoon, he'd collected thirty-two magic stones and three more drop items—two scales and what looked like a claw.
Leon decided to end early. Floor four was more exhausting than the upper floors, and he didn't want to push too hard and make a fatal mistake.
He returned to the surface, exchanged his magic stones at the Guild for six thousand four hundred valis, and pocketed the drop items for later appraisal.
The sun was setting, painting Orario's streets in gold and orange. Leon's stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since Hestia's disastrous breakfast, and that had been more charcoal than food.
He needed dinner. Hestia had mentioned the money jar, but cooking alone seemed inefficient. Better to visit a tavern, observe other adventurers, maybe learn something useful.
Leon asked a passing merchant for a recommendation.
"The Hostess of Fertility," the merchant said. "Best food in this district. Run by a former adventurer. Bit pricey, but worth it."
Leon headed in the indicated direction.
---
The Hostess of Fertility was impossible to miss.
A two-story building with warm light spilling from its windows and the sound of laughter echoing into the street. The sign above the door showed a smiling woman holding a tray.
Leon entered.
The interior was crowded and loud. Adventurers filled every table, drinking, eating, talking, celebrating. Waitresses moved through the chaos with practiced efficiency, balancing trays and dodging grabbing hands.
A cat-person woman with gray hair approached him immediately. "Table for one?"
"Yes."
"This way."
She led him to a small table near the back, away from the main crowd. "Menu's on the board. Someone will take your order shortly."
Leon studied the board. The prices were higher than he'd expected, but not unreasonable. He ordered the daily special—roasted meat with vegetables and bread—and settled in to observe.
The crowd was interesting. Most were mid-level adventurers, based on their equipment and bearing. They talked about dungeon runs, monster encounters, loot distribution. Some celebrated successful dives, others commiserated over near-death experiences.
One large group dominated the center of the room—a dozen people, all wearing matching gear with a clover symbol. They were loud, boisterous, celebrating something significant.
"That's Loki Familia," a waitress said, setting down Leon's food. She was an elf with blonde hair and a professional smile. "They just got back from a deep expedition. Found some rare treasure on floor forty-seven."
"Floor forty-seven?"
"The deep floors. Only high-level adventurers go that far." She gestured at the group. "Loki Familia is one of Orario's strongest. Their captain is Level 6."
Leon looked at the celebrating group with new understanding. These were the peaks he was aiming for—adventurers who could descend to depths he couldn't even imagine yet.
"Enjoy your meal," the waitress said and moved on.
Leon ate slowly, listening to the conversations around him.
"—lost three members on floor eighteen—"
"—the boss monster respawned early—"
"—made two million valis on that dive—"
Every conversation was a lesson. The dangers of the middle floors, the rewards of successful expeditions, the reality that death was always present.
The food was excellent—far better than anything Leon could cook with the church's limited supplies. The meat was tender, the vegetables seasoned perfectly, the bread fresh and warm.
As he ate, Leon reflected on his progress. Four days as an adventurer. He'd reached floor four, established a routine, earned enough coin to buy equipment. Not bad for a beginner.
But he was still at the very bottom of Orario's hierarchy. The adventurers celebrating around him were so far beyond his current level that comparing them was meaningless.
That would change. With time, effort, and discipline, he would climb.
The question was how fast.
Leon finished his meal, paid the waitress, and left the tavern. The night air was cool, the streets quieter now. He walked back to the church, his mind already planning tomorrow's dive.
---
The church was dark when he arrived.
Hestia was still out with her divine friends. Leon lit a lamp, set his equipment aside, and sat at the small workbench in the corner.
He pulled out his bow and examined it critically. The bow had served him well, but it was just a hunting bow—made for animals, not dungeon monsters. The draw weight was too light, the arrows too weak. Against floor four monsters, it was barely effective.
He needed a better bow. Something with more power, made from dungeon materials that could punch through tough hides.
Leon had crafted his own bows before, in his village. He understood the principles—tension, flexibility, weight distribution. But crafting a proper dungeon bow required better materials than wood.
Tomorrow, he'd take the drop items to a craftsman and see what could be made. Or perhaps he'd gather the materials himself and craft it personally. His [Enlightened Spirit] skill enhanced learning—he could probably pick up basic bowcraft quickly if he studied under someone experienced.
The front door opened. Hestia stumbled in, slightly drunk and very happy.
"Leon! You're still awake!"
"How was dinner?"
"Amazing! We had so much food, and wine, and Hephaestus told the funniest story about—" She stopped, swaying slightly. "Wait, did you eat? Please tell me you ate."
"I went to the Hostess of Fertility."
"Oh good! That place is great!" Hestia plopped down beside him at the workbench. "What are you doing?"
"Planning tomorrow's work. I need a better bow."
"You're going to make one?"
"Maybe. Or commission one. I haven't decided yet."
Hestia leaned against his shoulder, her small form warm and comfortable. "You're always planning, always thinking ahead. Don't you ever just relax?"
"This is relaxing."
She laughed softly. "You're weird, Leon. But I like that about you." She yawned. "I should sleep. I had too much wine."
"Go to bed, Hestia."
"Will you be up much longer?"
"Not long."
"Okay. Good night, Leon."
"Good night."
She stumbled toward her room, humming tunelessly.
Leon returned to his planning. Better bow, maybe better arrows, continued diving to floor four until he mastered it completely. Then floor five.
The path was clear. The foundation was solid. Growth would come with time and effort.
He performed his evening meditation, cleared his mind of the day's thoughts, then retired to his basement room.
As he lay down, Leon thought about the small warmth of this new life. A goddess who tried to cook for him despite having no skill. A home that was old and dusty but peaceful. A routine that involved risk but also purpose.
Different from his past life. But not worse.
Just different.
Leon closed his eyes and slept, content with his progress and ready for tomorrow's challenges.