In his fading memories, a woman's frantic cries for help rang out—followed by shrieks, by desperate wails that clawed at the air. The last thing he saw was fire and choking black smoke swallowing everything in front of him…
…and then, an endless dark.
He didn't know how long passed.
Something warm and damp brushed gently over his cheek, as if a wet towel were wiping away grime. Duncan's eyes snapped open.
The white-haired kid beside the bed let out a startled yelp and fell backward onto the floor with a thud. From the towel clutched in his hands, it was obvious the child had been the one taking care of him.
"You're awake?!" the boy blurted, his face lighting up. He didn't seem offended at being scared half to death—if anything, he looked thrilled.
"Where… am I?" Duncan asked.
He scanned the room in confusion.
Everything was unfamiliar: the décor, the layout, even the smell of the place. The whole house was made of wood, the kind of rustic cabin you'd see in movies or anime. And the child—pale, white-haired, with distinctly foreign features—only deepened the sense of unreality.
Then Duncan caught sight of his hands.
His breath hitched.
Small hands—clearly a child's—were right there in front of him.
His body, his voice… all of it had become younger.
The only thing he could cling to was one small comfort: it still felt like his body. The birthmark on his hand was still there, clear as ever—only now it sat on a hand that looked maybe ten or so years old.
"This is my home," the white-haired boy explained eagerly. "You fainted by the road. I had Grandpa carry you inside."
The kid looked about six or seven, and he was downright proud of having saved someone. Somehow, Duncan couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen this boy somewhere before.
"Did I… transmigrate?" Duncan muttered under his breath, staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else.
His eyes were empty with disbelief.
He wasn't some web-novel orphan with nothing to lose. Duncan had a warm family, parents and elders who cared about him. He'd only just started his first week of college—and now, because he'd tried to save someone, he was here.
Maybe to some people, that sounded like a miracle.
To him, it felt like hell.
"What's wrong with you?" the boy tilted his head. "Did you hit your head or something?"
"…"
This kid had zero tact.
"What's your name?" Duncan asked, forcing himself to stay calm. "And where is this place?"
"I'm Bell—Bell Cranel!" the boy said brightly. "Grandpa says this is Loki Forest."
Bell…? Cranel…?
Duncan's mouth fell open.
His mind went blank, as if someone had taken a hammer to everything he'd believed about the world. Years of common sense shattered in an instant.
If not for the lingering discomfort in his body, he would've thought he was dreaming.
Transmigration was one thing.
But this?
He'd been thrown straight into a two-dimensional world.
"What's your name?" Bell asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity as Duncan slipped back into silence again.
When Duncan didn't answer for a long time, even Bell—patient as he was—started to look a little annoyed. He reached out and nudged Duncan's arm with his palm.
"Huh—sorry!" Duncan jolted. "I was… thinking too hard."
"So you really did—"
"My name is Duncan," Duncan rushed to cut him off before another thoughtless comment could land. Then he hesitated at the edge of the next sentence, swallowing the rest.
"From…?" Bell prompted.
"Forget it," Duncan said quietly. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't know it. It's… a very faraway place."
A hollow weight pressed into his chest.
He'd thought maybe he'd simply ended up somewhere else in the same world. But if this was truly DanMachi's universe, then "going home" wasn't just difficult—it was impossible. Forget fellow countrymen; he might not meet a single person from Earth for the rest of his life.
"I know your name now," Bell continued, unfazed. "What about your family name?"
"'Dun' is my family name," Duncan said, deadpan. "My given name is 'can.'"
"…That's a really weird name," Bell said honestly.
Bell was so guileless it was almost painful.
"You think I wanted it?" Duncan shot back. "My dad's a sports fan. He named me after a player he liked. So I got stuck with it."
Oddly enough, talking with Bell eased the pressure in Duncan's chest a little. He couldn't tell if it was simply because he was speaking to someone—or because of Bell himself.
Duncan hadn't read the novel. His knowledge of DanMachi came from a handful of anime episodes and scattered clips. But he still knew who Bell Cranel was…
…or rather, who he would become in a few years.
As they talked, footsteps sounded from inside the house.
Duncan's body moved before his mind caught up. He pulled Bell behind him and faced the direction of the door, shoulders tense.
Even if he was physically smaller now, he was still bigger than Bell at the moment—and this world wasn't peaceful. Humans and monsters coexisted here. Danger was real.
"It's fine," Bell said calmly. "That's Grandpa. I can tell by the way he walks."
As if to prove him right, the door creaked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped inside.
The man's body was powerful—almost absurdly so for someone whose hair and beard were completely white with age. Even back on Earth, Duncan had rarely seen an elderly man built like this.
And if the anime had told the truth…
Then this "grandpa" was likely the former king of the gods—Zeus himself—now somehow living out in the wilderness, fishing like a retiree.
"Grandpa! You're back from fishing!" Bell chirped, skipping up to him.
"Oho~ Bell, I caught quite a bit," Zeus said with a genial smile, ruffling Bell's hair. "I'll leave the cleaning to you."
"Mm! Got it!" Bell replied, then trotted off.
The moment Bell disappeared, Zeus's smile vanished as if it had never existed.
His face went blank—cold, unreadable—as he looked straight at Duncan.
"Boy," Zeus said flatly, "introduce yourself."
"I'm… Duncan," Duncan answered, swallowing hard under the invisible pressure that suddenly filled the room.
"Your family name?"
"'Dun' is my family name," Duncan repeated. "My given name is 'can.'"
"…What a strange name," Zeus muttered.
You two really are grandfather and grandson, Duncan couldn't help thinking bitterly.
"If that's true, then your name is from the East," Zeus said, eyes narrowing. "So why would you end up in a place like—"
He cut himself off mid-sentence, gaze sharpening.
"No. There's a trace on you. A mark left behind by another god."
Zeus strode over in a few steps and stared at Duncan as if he were dissecting him with his eyes. That ancient, bottomless gaze seemed capable of peering straight through flesh and bone, into the soul itself.
Duncan couldn't speak.
After a moment, Zeus leaned back and spoke softly:
"You're not from this world, are you?"
He pulled a chair over and sat down as if it were the most casual thing in the world.
His tone wasn't as stern as before—but the atmosphere in the room turned heavier, the air strangely thick, as though the space itself had become viscous.
"Relax. Down here, nobody can use divine power—gods included," Zeus said, waving a hand. "Even divine aura has to be used in secret. But whether those old geezers up above are peeking in is another matter."
He gave Duncan a sidelong look.
"To be safe, I even installed 'Windows' for this room. Can't use divinity, but everyone has an unspoken agreement about not letting the ones upstairs watch them like a comedy show."
"…I'm from Earth," Duncan admitted after a brief struggle. "I don't know how it happened. One moment I was there… and then I was here."
After thinking it through, he decided there was no point trying to hide anything from a chief god like this.
"Earth?" Zeus frowned. "Transmigration…? That word sounds familiar."
Then his gaze snapped back to Duncan.
"When you saw me, your eyes changed. You knew who I was. You're not from this world, yet you recognize me—how?"
"Shouldn't you know?" Duncan blurted, confused. "You're the king of the gods…"
If even Zeus didn't know, then who in this world possibly could?
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