I was dreaming about him again.
My father stood at the edge of the world, sunlight behind his back so bright I couldn't see his face clearly. He wore his old adventurer's coat—the one lined with reinforced leather and scorched at the hem from battles he never talked about. His sword rested against his shoulder like it always did when he was pretending not to worry.
I was ten years old in the dream. Too small. Too weak.
"Kael," he said gently, crouching down so we were eye to eye. His gauntlet felt heavy when he placed his hand on my head. "I won't be gone long."
That was the lie adults always told when they were about to disappear.
"Will you bring me something from the Labyrinth?" I asked, trying to sound brave.
He laughed. A real laugh. Warm. "Of course. Something amazing."
Then he stood, turned, and walked toward the massive shadow rising behind him—the Labyrinth. A towering structure of black stone and shifting geometry, its entrance swallowing light itself. He never looked back.
I tried to follow him.
My legs wouldn't move.
I opened my mouth to scream—
—and woke up.
My breath came out sharp and uneven as I stared at the cracked ceiling of my apartment. The same dream. Same ending. Every time. Ten years later, and my mind still refused to give me anything new.
"…Damn it."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my face with both hands. My throat was dry, so I reached for the half-filled bottle of water on the floor beside my bed and drank deeply. The water tasted faintly metallic—cheap filtration, just like everything else in this building.
After a moment, I stood and walked to the mirror mounted crookedly on the wall.
Kael Ardent stared back at me.
Twenty years old. Black hair that refused to stay down no matter how many times I cut it. Eyes too tired for someone my age. A body lean from constant training, but lacking the sharp presence real adventurers had—the kind that came from power.
I turned my wrist and summoned my status.
Name: Kael Ardent
Level: 1
Status: Active
Familia: —
Blessing: None
Unchanged.
I clenched my fist until my nails dug into my palm and dismissed the display.
Ten years.
Ten years since my father entered the Labyrinth and never returned. No body. No confirmation. Just silence. Adventurers died every day, they said. Accept it, they said.
But I couldn't.
I stepped into the living room and flicked on the old television. The screen flickered before settling on a live broadcast. A familiar logo filled the corner: GLOBAL LABYRINTH WATCH.
The anchor's voice was sharp with barely concealed excitement.
"—breaking news this morning as the Astra Dominus Familia, blessed by their patron god in a rare War of God, prepares to challenge the 30th floor of the Labyrinth!"
The camera cut to a group of adventurers clad in polished armor, each radiating an unmistakable pressure. Their status displays shimmered faintly even through the screen—high levels, stacked skills, divine blessings.
At their center stood their god.
Astraeus, God of Conquest and Stars. Male. Tall. Calm. His silver hair reflected the studio lights as if they belonged to him. He raised one hand, and the adventurers behind him knelt.
"I grant you my blessing," he said. "Rise—and claim victory for humanity."
Their statuses surged. Levels climbed.
Just like that.
I turned the TV off.
The silence felt heavier than the broadcast.
"Must be nice," I muttered.
I cooked a simple breakfast—eggs and stale bread—and ate alone at the small table by the window. Outside, the massive silhouette of the Labyrinth dominated the skyline, its surface shifting subtly like it was breathing.
At its base, the timer glowed.
Current Progress: 30F
Time Remaining: 412 Days
If humanity failed to clear the floor before the timer hit zero, annihilation was guaranteed. No one knew what that meant exactly. Only that the gods agreed it would happen.
After washing my plate, I grabbed my coat and stepped outside.
The gate wasn't far—just a few blocks from my apartment. Every city had one now. Reinforced entrances leading directly into the Labyrinth's first floor. Soldiers guarded them, adventurers gathered near them, and hopeful fools stared at them.
If you asked me why I became an adventurer, the answer was simple.
My father.
Ten years ago, he was known as the strongest adventurer of his era. A core member of the Solaris Familia, blessed by Heliora, Goddess of Dawn. She was radiant, kind, and impossibly powerful. When she accepted my father, she accepted me too—marking me as her child.
Then everything ended.
During a large-scale expedition, Heliora was killed.
Gods couldn't die—not truly. When slain, they were forcibly returned to heaven, stripped of their authority in the mortal world. But for a familia, the effect was absolute.
The Solaris Familia collapsed overnight.
And so did my future.
Without a goddess, my status froze. No level-ups. No blessings. No growth. While others climbed higher, I remained at Level 1—forever bound to the weakest floor of the Labyrinth.
Humanity's weakest adventurer.
I reached the familiar dark alley just before the gate—a narrow path I always took to avoid the crowds.
That's when I noticed her.
A girl stood at the far end of the alley, half-hidden by shadow. She wore a hooded cloak far too clean for this place, and her presence felt… strange. Not overwhelming like a high-level adventurer. Not divine like a god.
Something quieter. Something watching.
I slowed my steps.
She lifted her head, and pale silver eyes met mine.
"Kael Ardent," she said softly.
My hand moved instinctively to my belt. "Who are you?"
She smiled. And in that moment, I felt it.
The faintest pressure. A whisper of divinity.
"I've been looking for you," she said. "Because if you truly wish to become an adventurer… then perhaps it's time you finally began."
The alley felt suddenly too small.
And for the first time in ten years, my fate moved.
And this is the story of how I became the strongest adventurer.