Is It Wrong to Dream of Heroes in a Familia of Legends?

First Steps into the Abyss

The entrance to the Dungeon loomed before Bell Cranel, massive and foreboding, carved deep into the stone beneath Babel Tower. He had seen it from afar many times since arriving in Orario, but now, standing before it with his heart pounding in his chest, it felt real in a way it hadn't before.

The noise of adventurers bustling in and out of the gateway filled the air—seasoned veterans decked in armor, exchanging banter or boasting of their spoils. Bell stood frozen at the entrance, gripping the hilt of his dagger, eyes wide as he gazed into the dim passageway that seemed to stretch endlessly down into darkness.

"This is it..." Bell muttered to himself, swallowing hard. His hand trembled, though he tried to steady it.

He wasn't ready for this—he knew that. But the drive to prove himself, to grow stronger, to make his mark as an adventurer like those around him, pulled him forward. He had joined the Loki Familia only days ago, and though he had yet to go on a proper mission with them, he was determined to show he could pull his weight.

His first solo foray into the Dungeon. It felt like the beginning of something much bigger.

With a deep breath, Bell stepped across the threshold, the cold air of the Dungeon washing over him like a wave. The echo of the bustling streets above faded away, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed in from all sides.

The first few floors were eerily silent, save for the soft sound of Bell's footsteps. His heart raced as he moved through the labyrinthine corridors, trying to steady his breathing. Every creak, every distant sound, set him on edge. The Dungeon seemed to shift and pulse around him, as if it were alive and waiting to pounce.

The walls were rough stone, twisting in unpredictable patterns. He kept his dagger drawn, fingers tight around the hilt as he moved deeper. His eyes darted to every shadow, every corner, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, he heard it.

A low growl.

Bell's breath hitched as a goblin emerged from the shadows, its red eyes glinting with malice. The small, hunched creature snarled, claws scraping against the ground as it charged. Time seemed to slow as Bell raised his dagger, trying to remember the training he had received from Tiona and Tione.

But in the face of an actual monster, training and instinct felt worlds apart.

The goblin lunged, claws outstretched, and Bell barely managed to sidestep its attack. His heart pounded in his chest as he swung his dagger, the blade cutting across the goblin's side. The creature screeched in pain but immediately turned to attack again.

Bell felt his legs wobble. This is real. It's not just practice—it's life or death.

The goblin lunged again, and Bell swung wildly, his movements fueled by desperation. His dagger found stuck in the creature's throat, and with a final gurgle, the goblin collapsed to the floor.

Panting heavily, Bell stood over the defeated monster, his legs trembling. His hands were slick with sweat, and his heart refused to calm down. He had killed it—but barely.

"That was... so much harder than I thought," he muttered, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "And that was just one goblin..."

But there was no time to rest. Bell's senses remained on high alert as he pressed forward, deeper into the twisting maze of the Dungeon. He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, but soon, he found himself in a larger chamber, the ceiling high above and the air feeling heavier.

More monsters were waiting for him.

A group of kobolds appeared from the shadows, their canine-like faces twisted in snarls as they circled him. Bell's breath caught in his throat. I can't handle all of them at once...