Chapter: In the twilight of the Night
Made By: Eternal_Jokr
A/N:This fanfic is free for criticisms and opinions, say what you think in the comments section and leave your support.
Thank you
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The rain in Orario, the labyrinth City, fell heavy, turning the stone alleys into small muddy rivers and drowning the glow of the quartz stones that used to illuminate the city at night.
The cold wind cut through the corners, chasing away any adventurer or ordinary citizen to the warmth of the taverns.
Hestia dragged her feet along the wet sidewalk, her simple sandals soaked. Her shoulders were slumped, covered by a cheap canvas coat that no longer blocked the rain very efficiently.
She had just left her exhausting shift at the Jyaga Maru Kun stall. Her delicate and pale hands smelled of oil and fried potatoes.
Another day had passed, and once again she felt the loneliness of being a goddess with no one. She didn't have a headquarters of her own, she had no funds and her only asset was an abandoned little church in the poorest residential district.
She hadn't even had the chance to try to recruit someone for real; the fear of rejection and the lack of resources made her walk in circles.
"A Goddess without children... a useless Goddess" she grumbled, a warm tear streaming down her face and mixing with the rain water. She pressed her arms against her body, shrinking when thunder echoed loudly in the heavens.
Hestia turned the corner of a dead-end alley, a dark shortcut that led to her church, when she stopped abruptly.
Sitting against the cold stone wall, totally exposed to the storm, was a young man.
He wore only black pants torn at the knees and a gray linen shirt so worn out that it was glued to his body by the water. He didn't shrink against the cold.
His white hair was stuck to his forehead, bright against the faint light of the surrounding lights. Beside him, leaning against the wall, was a sword of crude iron, rustic, heavy and blunt, which looked more like a piece of scrap metal than an adventurer's weapon.
Hestia blinked. She couldn't see the glow or the color of his soul, but she had something different:
The intuition of a divinity who knew helplessness. She saw the subtle tremor in the boy's shoulders, the way he held his own body and the raw tiredness of someone who seemed to have been abandoned by fate itself.
Forgetting her own tiredness, Hestia took two quick steps forward, stopping right in front of him and cutting off part of the rain with her coat.
"Hey..." Hestia's voice sounded low, but clear amidst the sound of the drops hitting the ground. "What are you doing here alone? You will end up catching a disease if you stay in this state."
The boy didn't move immediately. Slowly, he raised his head.
When his face revealed itself under the dim light of a distant lamp, Hestia froze for an instant. He had cosmic purple eyes. They were the same color as a midnight lightning storm, but they were completely empty.
There was no glow, there was no greed, there was no fear, there was nothing. It was the look of a silent abyss, someone who seemed to carry an isolation as old as the world itself.
"I am waiting for the rain to pass" he replied, his voice hoarse and devoid of any melody.
"And I have nowhere to go. I just arrived at this place."
Hestia arched her eyebrows, stepping a bit closer.
"You just arrived in Orario? Have you already tried speaking with any of the families? The Loki Familia or the Freya Familia? Or some others, they always stay in the central plaza hunting for rookies..."
The boy gave a bitter, humorless smile, his purple eyes fixed on her.
"No. I didn't knock on the door of any Familia. And none of them would want me anyway, so I am saving myself from such effort."
He pointed to his own chest with his calloused fingers.
"My body rejects mysticism. I don't have magic. I cannot use magical items. Grimoires would turn to ashes if I touched them. I feel... I am the opposite of everything the gods created."
He lets out a puff of air before continuing in a monotonous tone
"The Falna would be like trying to set fire to water. It would be wasted on me".
He prepared to pull his legs in and sink his head back between his knees, expecting the silence or the withdrawal that his own strange nature used to cause.
Instead, he heard the sound of metal hitting the ground.
Hestia had dropped her bag with the few earnings of the day in the mud.
She took one more step, shortening the formal distance between a divinity and a mortal, and knelt directly in the rain water, coming face to face with him. Her big blue eyes gleamed with a fierce and purely stubborn determination.
"I don't care about what the other gods say about what is "right" or "wrong" Hestia exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with indignation and her hands closed into fists.
"They are all arrogant people who only care about pretty spells, silk cloaks and perfect status! They don't understand anything about what really matters!"
She was panting with indignation, her chest hurt for some reason.
Dante blinked, the purple and empty immensity of his eyes capturing the reflection of that short and soaked goddess.
"...And what matters?" The boy asked with slight curiosity allowing itself to show in his voice
"The will to find your place!" Hestia extended her hands, small and calloused from the work at the potato stall, and held his wet shoulders.
The moment she touched him, she felt a slight metaphysical resistance, a feeling that his very nature tried to expel her divine presence by pure anti-magic instinct, but she held on tighter, refusing to let go.
"I don't care if you don't have magic. I don't care if you don't fit into their world. I am Hestia! A Goddess who just arrived from the heavens and who also has no one in this city. I don't have a palace, I don't have riches..."
She swallowed hard, bringing her face closer to his. The rain trickled down the tip of Hestia's nose, but her gaze was pure warmth of a fireplace of a cozy home, piercing the emptiness of those purple eyes.
"You said you didn't go to any Familia. So... let me be your first and only. If you are willing to accept my blood and blessing, I promise that I will be your home. We don't need their miracles. What do you say?" Hestia spoke with a stubborn conviction in her sapphire-blue eyes.
Dante looked at her hands on his shoulders.
The warmth emanating from that goddess felt like the first sign of real warmth he had encountered in years. For the first time in that world, the abyss inside his purple eyes seemed to find an edge, a limit where loneliness ended.
Slowly, he extended his right hand covered in bandages, gripped the hilt of his heavy black iron sword, and stood up. He was much taller than her, making the goddess have to tilt her head back in the rain, but his posture now had a renewed respect.
"My name is Dante, Dante Ashborn" he said, and the purple depths of his eyes seemed to glow in the twilight of the night. "And I don't need miracles, Goddess Hestia. I only need a place I can return to."
Hestia opened a giant smile, her eyes one of pure joy. She jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his wet neck, completely ignoring the iron sword and the cold of the rain.
"Then it's decided, Dante! Let's go home. I'll prepare the best stew I can!"
On that dark and rainy night in Orario, in the alleys forgotten by the elite, the world's chessboard began to break. The man who would negate the divine and the goddess who ruled the hearth fire had met.
------------xXx------------
The small abandoned church in the poorest residential district of Orario was cold, but to Dante, the sound of the rain beating against the broken stained glass windows was the first sound of peace he had heard in a long time.
Hestia ran to light the small fireplace in the center of the basement. She blew on the embers hard until a timid and orange flame came to life, illuminating the bare stone walls.
"Lie down here, Dante" The goddess called, patting an old wooden bed. "Take off that wet shirt before you freeze. I'll get a towel"
Dante walked in silence. He unbuckled the leather straps that held the heavy sword to his back and leaned it against the wall. The block of crude iron released a dull thud that made the stone floor vibrate.
He took off the soaked linen shirt, revealing a dense, muscular physique marked by small scars of someone who had already fought for their own survival long before arriving there.
He sat on the floor, his deep purple eyes fixed on the flames of the fireplace. The moment he approached the fire, the flame flickered slightly, leaning away from him, as if the flame were confused by his presence.
Hestia came running back with a rough towel. She threw the towel on his head and sat beside him, watching him.
"Well, I promised a stew right, better start preparing" The goddess gave a jump and grabbed a cauldron to make the food
It took some time, until she brought two bowls of thin potato stew ( it is made with potato cubes cooked in a seasoned broth of tomato, garlic, onion and herbs) and sitting beside him.
A moment of silence rolled between them, with only the sound of the spoon hitting the food bowl
"You know..." Hestia began, poking her own food with a wooden spoon. "When I touched you out there, my heart skipped a beat. I didn't know what it was, but now that we are here... I can feel it. Your body actually isn't weak, Dante. It is just... different".
Dante swallowed the last spoonful and looked at her, his face expressionless.
"Different means dangerous to the gods, Hestia. I do not belong to this world of miracles" His voice echoed with certainty
"Then we are going to create our own world" she replied with a radiant smile, patting her chest, making them bounce in a delightful movement for the eyes.
"Enough talk. Lie down on your stomach, it's time we do the ritual. It's the moment to make you officially the first member of my Familia".
Dante lay on his stomach on the worn couch. Hestia sat horizontally over his back, pulling a small silver needle from her pocket. She pricked the tip of her own index finger, letting a drop of her divine blood trickle down.
"Stay calm, I'll give my blessing to your soul and..." Before finishing speaking her voice died in her throat
The second Hestia's blood touched the skin of Dante's back, the basement changed atmosphere.
The flame of the fireplace went out instantly, plunging the room into darkness. Hestia's divine blood, which should shine in a sacred gold when manifesting the Falna, became black as pitch.
"Ah...!" Hestia let out a gasp of shock. She felt a brutal magnetic force pull her divinity.
The Arcanum inside her, the pure energy of the heavens retreated terrified. Dante's back began to emanate a black and frigid smoke that froze the edges of the room.
Dante clenched his teeth.
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sides of the bed. He didn't feel "warmth" from the divine blessing, he felt the weight of the absolute void tearing through his cells. His veins popped on his neck, glowing in a sickly purple beneath the skin.
Hestia's divine energy was trying to shape the status, but Dante's body was rejecting and converting the divine power in real time.
The sacred letters of the mystical Hieroglyph began to appear on his skin, but instead of glowing lines, they looked like scars burned with a hot iron, black and without glow.
"Dante... hold on tight" Hestia screamed, holding onto his shoulders. Her own hands began to tremble. She realized that she wasn't giving a miracle to him, she was opening the cage of a monster that the world had tried to suppress.
With one last snap that echoed like thunder inside the basement, the black smoke dissipated. The fireplace lit back up on its own, but the flame now had a subtle tone of purple on the edges.
Hestia collapsed to the side, breathing pantingly, sweat dripping down her forehead. She looked at Dante's back. The parchment paper she was going to use to copy the status had turned to ashes in her hand. She had to read directly from his flesh.
______
[Name]: Dante Ashborn
[Level] : LV.1
•Strength: I0 ->B710
•Endurance: I0->A820
•Dexterity: I0->D500
•Agility: I0->C610
•Magic: SSS -1199 [Corrupted Source/Anti-magic]
_____
[MAGIC] : 0/0
> BLACK OUT: The Mind was completely replaced by a corrosive black energy being the antithesis of magic. Being unable to cast miracles-The body acts as a conductor of Anti-magic, being able to be used offensively and defensively
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[SKILLS] :
•[Apeiron Khaos] - The Antitheist Abyss. Total negation of magic slots and 50% reduction in divine heals. Creates a zone of nullity around the user's body where any active spell or magical projection directed at him loses the structure of its formula and disintegrates upon contact with his skin. and converts the stress of combat against mysticism into evolution.
•[Eclipse of the gods] — Anti-divine body, Divine subjugation skill born from the absolute desire to overcome the "Divine" and break the bonds of fate imposed by Heaven.
> Effect: Passive and absolute immunity to any divine interference in the mind or soul.
_____
Hestia covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide, taking unstable steps backward until her back hit against the base of the stone altar. She looked at her own hands, feeling the residue of her Arcanum retreat in fear, and then looked at the young man.
Dante calmly stood up from the floor. The musculature of his back flexed, making the purple letters pulse one last time before disappearing under the skin.
Without haste, he extended his hand and began to gather his thick bandages, wrapping them tightly around his arms and chest with precise knots. His purple pupils seemed even deeper.
The initial attribute numbers alone were already an impossible absurdity, something worthy of a monster from the lowest floors or a legendary hero who trained for decades, but what really terrified her were the concepts written in purple. Anti-magic.
Negation of miracles. Divine subjugation. For a goddess who belonged to the celestial order of the world, Dante's mere existence was a living heresy
A black hole that walked on two legs and that had just bound itself to her soul.
"Dante..." Hestia swallowed hard, her voice trembling and her eyes fixed on his deep purple eyes that revealed themselves under the shadows of the hall.
"What... what exactly are you? Were you born to destroy the Dungeon... or did you come to destroy us?"
Dante finished tying the last bandage on his left arm, adjusting the rough fabric. He didn't waver before the goddess's panic, nor did he take the trouble to create philosophical justifications.
He just walked to the corner, picked up his worn black canvas cloak from the floor, threw it over his broad shoulders and faced the small divinity.
"I am your adventurer, Hestia. That is all you need to know. And while I am here, no monster or god will touch you"
The shock in Hestia's mind began to give way to an overwhelming and warm perception.
She had in her hands the most dangerous and untamable creature in Orario, but that same "Void" had chosen her, a goddess without possessions and without a roof, to be his home.
"I told you, Hestia. I spent my whole life surviving against what the world considers natural."
He walked over to the black iron sword, picking it up with a frightening ease that he didn't have minutes ago.
"Tomorrow I go to the Dungeon. It's time to see what the abyss has to say about your gods."
------------xXx------------
The morning twilight could barely conquer the darkness of the abandoned church's basement, but Dante's silhouette was already awake long before the first ray of sun touched the broken stained glass windows.
'Waking up without the bonds that previously held him is still a strange feeling, strange how being trapped becomes the normal'
The purple eyes, deep and of a cosmic glow, stared at the stone ceiling in absolute and thoughtful silence.
Dante didn't move. The reason for his immobility was clinging to his chest like a small spark of warmth: Hestia.
As the basement only had an old and worn couch and a small bed, he had left the bed for the goddess, with his size he wouldn't fit anyway.
But it seems the black-haired Goddess had other plans, in the middle of the night she sneaked in and climbed on top of him, and thus the two were forced to share the same narrow space.
The goddess of the hearth slept deeply, with her head resting directly on his chest, one of her legs thrown over Dante's muscular thighs and her arms wrapping around his waist as if he were a huge teddy bear. She snored softly, with a subtle thread of saliva in the corner of her lips, completely oblivious and unprotected.
Dante's body, ruled by [Apeiron Khaos], operated at a slightly different temperature, exuding a dense and biological warmth that seemed to attract Hestia's instinct for pure coziness.
He felt her light breath against his bare skin. Feeling the soft body and her large attributes, for any other man the proximity to the Goddess of the Hearth would be a test of integrity, for Dante, it was just the physical reminder of his sole responsibility in Orario.
Slowly, with extreme precision so as not to wake the divinity, he held Hestia's waist with his calloused hands and moved her to the side, adjusting the worn pillow under her head.
Hestia grumbled something incomprehensible about "more fried potatoes" and curled up in the blanket, clinging to the heated space he had left.
Dante stood up. The stone floor under his bare feet was frigid, but his adaptive body didn't even shiver.
Dante's routine did not involve prayers, purification rituals or the preparation of magic elixirs. With no magic slots and unable to receive magic buffs, his morning ritual consisted of testing the resistance of his own structure against gravity and steel.
In the darkest corner of the basement, he began his calibration routine:
Impact Push-ups: Supported only on his bandaged knuckles, Dante lowered his body slowly and exploded upward, taking his hands off the floor and clapping his fists against his chest before landing.
He repeated the process until sweat began to draw the dark and burned marks on his back.
Right after he walked over to the Greatsword.
The massive block of crude black iron, which would require two level 1 men to be lifted from the floor, was hoisted by Dante with only one hand. He began to execute a series of slow strikes in the air, vertical cuts, raw thrusts and angular blocks.
With each movement of the blade, the air in the basement buzzed heavily. The passive Anti-magic in his organism cleansed the impurities in the air. Wherever the sword passed, the musty smell of the basement evaporated, replaced by a clean odor of iron and sweat.
In the background, the noise of the training finally broke the sleep of the sleepy goddess.
Hestia sat up on the couch, scratching her big eyes and blinking against the dim light of the fireplace that Dante had relit before training. Her iconic blue ribbons in her hair were completely messy.
"Hum... Dante..." she yawned, stretching her short arms "Is it morning already? You didn't even wait for me to wake up..."
"You were sleeping well" Dante replied in a direct way, without interrupting the sequence of swings with the iron sword. He executed one last descending cut, stopping the blade millimeters from the stone floor, and sheathed it on his back with a dull thud.
"Breakfast is ready."
Hestia looked at the small table. Dante had boiled water and made coffee in an iron mug and made boiled potatoes that she had brought from the Jyaga Maru Kun stall.
It was a miserable meal by the standards of the gods who lived at the top of Babel, but Hestia's eyes shined. (Asta be Like)
She jumped from the couch and ran to him, pushing him lightly so that he would sit at the small table.
"You train too much, Dante! Your body will end up turning into a stone statue if you keep pulling this iron before the sun rises" she puffed her cheeks, taking a piece of boiled potato and splitting it in half, handing the larger part to him. "But... thank you for the breakfast."
They ate in a silent synchrony. Dante watched the goddess chew with energy, the purple emptiness of his eyes absorbing the human warmth she emanated.
"Today I am going down the dungeon" Dante broke the silence, his hoarse voice echoing in the basement. "I will have to test my body on the 1st floor before taking my skill to the limit. I need the body to stabilize yesterday's physical load"
Hestia stopped the coffee mug near her mouth, her goddess gaze became serious and worried.
She extended her small hand and touched his bandaged wrist. At the instant of the touch, she felt that subtle vibration of the Anti-magic trying to expel her Arcanum, but she firmed her fingers, refusing to retreat.
"I know you are strong, Dante. I see that yesterday" she said, her voice soft and full of deep affection. "But remember that the Dungeon is dangerous. You are... the opposite of all natural order. It will try to create barriers to crush you. Promise me that, if the abyss gets too dark, you come back to the fireplace?"
Dante fixed his deep purple eyes on her blue eyes. There was no fear in them, only the blind determination that had kept him alive until then.
"I'll return, Hestia. No magic from that place will stop me from returning to you"
These words for some reason filled Hestia's chest with a warmth never felt before
Dante stood up, threw the black hooded cloak over his muscular shoulders and adjusted the leather straps of the Greatsword on his back. Walking toward the basement stairs, he stopped for a second before pushing the door into the daylight.
"Shall we?" He says before starting to leave
Hestia opened a radiant smile, the tears of worry vanishing instantly as she ran after him.
"Go all out, Dante! Let's show that dungeon what our Familia is capable of"
With the inverted blessing on his back and his stomach fed by the warmth of the fireplace, Dante crossed the threshold of the church. The first day of Orario had begun, and the descent into the abyss awaited him.
---END---
To be continued....