A strange melody

Sammuel slowly emerged from the darkness of the dungeon, his arms heavy with fatigue, but his inventory filled with magical stones he had collected from goblins and a few stones he had placed in a bag to avoid drawing attention. The setting sun gilded the winding streets of the city, bathing the guild in a soft, warm light. With some apprehension, he passed through the guild door and headed directly to the counter to sell his loot.

"What can I do for you today?" asked the receptionist, with a welcoming smile.

"I'd like to sell these magical stones," he replied, placing his shimmering collection on the counter, while discreetly adding stones he had stored in his inventory in reasonable quantities.

The receptionist carefully inspected each stone, weighing and sorting them before evaluating them. "Impressive! That will be 124,000 valis."

Sammuel nodded with satisfaction, accepting the sum. With money in his pocket, he left the guild and headed straight to Hephaestus's forge. The forge's light streamed out of the open windows, casting patterns of heat and shadow on the surrounding walls.

Upon arrival, he was greeted by a busy blacksmith who motioned him to an empty forge nearby. He took a moment to set up, each movement meticulous and precise. The rhythmic clinking of the hammer on metal resonated like a calculated symphony. Every motion was nearly perfect as he mechanically followed the steps of forging.

While working, he noticed an interface only he could see, showing his forging level increasing satisfactorily. After several hours of hard work, five sparkling daggers and a piece of light armor lay before him, each showcasing his skill.

Suddenly, Sammuel felt a presence approaching. Looking up, he saw Hephaestus, accompanied by a man with a lively and enigmatic appearance. As they approached, he recognized the god Hermes, ready to start a conversation with a friendly smile.

Hephaestus scrutinized him for a moment before making a remark. "You forge too mechanically, almost like a golem, Sammuel. Precise indeed, but still so empty."

Sammuel, without lifting his eyes from his work, replied in a blasé tone, "For now, I can't do otherwise." He glanced at the interface in front of him and thought, **My forging level is rising well, but I need more resources.**

Hephaestus nodded, hoping he would change his attitude toward forging, but impressed by his results. "The finesse of these daggers is worth at least 17,000 valis each, and the piece of light armor could well be worth 45,000 valis."

At these words, Sammuel could not hide his astonishment. The amounts mentioned exceeded all his expectations.

Hephaestus let out a smile seeing his stunned expression. "It's true that the blacksmith's trade is one of the most profitable. I'll speak to Hestia about the sale; she will take care of everything instead of lazing around in my workshop. After all, it's important that she works too for the good of your familia."

Curious, Hermes gave an inquisitive look. "Hestia has children, since when?"

"Since yesterday," replied Hephaestus, a gleam in her eyes. "Sammuel is her first child."

Hermes then examined Sammuel with renewed interest. "Really? Well, I guess it hasn't been easy with Hestia. But tell me, how is she as a patron goddess?"

Sammuel, responding in a controlled manner, said, "She is a devoted and benevolent goddess. I am honored to be part of her familia."

Hermes, dissatisfied with this brief response, tried another approach. "Those are beautiful pieces you've forged, you are a talented blacksmith and I suppose a promising young adventurer."

But Sammuel, grabbing his hammer, struck the metal meaningfully. "I am only level 1, nothing significant for now, forgive me, Hermes, but work awaits me. I still have a lot to do so that Hestia and I can have some savings."

Taking up his hammer again, Sammuel struck the metal once more, the sound resonating like an affirmation of his determination. Hermes, his smile slightly frozen, understood he would get no more from this exchange and took his leave after a final polite farewell. Hephaestus, content to nod with a smile, left as well.

Sammuel refocused and thought, **Promising adventurer, my ass. Getting involved with that guy would surely complicate my life.** Continuing to hammer the iron, after finishing his last sword, Sammuel felt a dull fatigue wash over him. Licking his dry lips, he put away his tools and contemplated his work for a moment with pride. Each forged piece testified to his dedication and skill. He quickly cleaned his workstation and headed for the exit of the forge, nodding thanks to the blacksmiths around him, who were still engrossed in their work.

Night had already spread its dark veils over the city as Sammuel took the path to the house he shared with Hestia. The streets, though empty of crowds, were filled with the murmurs of the evening and the distant rustling of nocturnal creatures.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sweet aroma of cooking and Hestia's kind smile, who was waiting for him with a cup of hot tea.

"You're finally here," she said with a smile, placing the steaming cup on the table. "How was your day?"

"Tiring, but productive," Sammuel replied, sitting down and savoring the tea that warmed his hands. "I made good progress, and the dungeon is not a problem for now."

Hestia nodded. "I expected no less from you. Rest now, you've earned it."

Meanwhile, at the guild, Ouranos, silent and imposing in his subterranean domain, felt a strange resonance. The whisper of the stones seemed to echo unusually, like a funeral hymn coming from the depths of the dungeon. Suspecting a disturbance, he called upon Fels, a trusted scout, to investigate.

Fels, a figure cloaked in black with a hood concealing his face, quickly arrived in Ouranos's audience chamber, bowing respectfully before the ancient god.

"Vibrations from the dungeon are being felt although they are subtle enough to deceive the lower gods.." Ouranos asked, his deep voice resonating in the vast hall.

Fels nodded, his face serious. "I am ready to investigate at your command."

"Do it," ordered Ouranos. "And take all precautions. We must be ready for any possible reactions from the dungeon."

With that, Fels set off, the weight of his mission etching an unshakable determination into his features. Ouranos, aware of the moment's importance, returned to his meditations, leaving Fels to bring the answers he sought.

Back at Hestia's place, Sammuel finished his tea and felt his eyelids grow heavy. He climbed to his small room under the eaves and collapsed on his bed.

During the night, as darkness enveloped the city in its calm, Sammuel was plunged into a strange and enchanting dream. A soft and familiar music, akin to an ethereal chant, resonated in his mind. The notes intertwined and rose, creating a melody that reminded him of something ancient and lost. He saw a dense forest in his dream and advanced towards it, hoping to discover the origin of the melody. But as he approached this familiar forest, the dream abruptly faded, and he woke up, his heart pounding.

The next day, after this unsettling dream, Sammuel realized he had woken up late. After preparing himself and eating, he saw the sun and realized it was already early afternoon.

He nevertheless decided to head to the stand where Hestia was selling the items he had forged before returning to the dungeon. He heard raised voices. He quickened his pace and discovered Hestia in a heated argument with a tall, red-haired woman with closed eyes, who seemed to be Loki. She was accompanied by two young women, a human and an elf.

"Ah, look at this, the little cow has opened her junk shop! Are you planning to sell your milk too, Hestia?" Loki sneered, a malicious smile on her lips.

Hestia, red with anger, retorted vehemently, "Maybe you'll open it when your breasts are bigger than the tip of this dagger!" she said, brandishing a dagger provocatively.

Loki burst out laughing and placed a hand on her hips. "Oh, but at least I don't need support with every step. Maybe you should think about cloning yourself, so we have enough miniature cows to supply Orario with milk!"

"Tss, you should be the one to get cloned, Loki! Maybe with enough versions of you, you'll be able to fill that ridiculous corset! Unless you plan to stay flat as a board?" Hestia countered.

The quarrel intensified as insults flew back and forth. Sammuel, dressed in his cape and ready for the dungeon, intervened to put an end to the dispute. He gave Hestia a conspiratorial wink before speaking in a calm but firm voice:

"How are the sales going, Hestia?"

Loki, turning to Sammuel, said humorously, "It's rather rude to interrupt two goddesses in the middle of an important conversation, don't you think?"

Sammuel remained undeterred and replied sarcastically, "Talking about your breasts for five minutes non-stop, important conversations indeed. I see the gods have busy schedules to allow for such things…"

Loki let out a mischievous laugh, while Hestia blushed even more, visibly embarrassed.

Sammuel asked again, "Well, enough joking, Hestia, what are the sales results?"

Hestia, both ashamed and proud, showed what had been sold so far: two pieces of armor, five daggers, and two long swords. Sammuel, pleasantly surprised, congratulated her. "Not bad at all, Hestia. I'm heading to the dungeon now; I'll be back tonight."

Loki, intrigued, asked Hestia if this young man was indeed her child, attempting to assess Sammuel but without success. Hestia nodded and proudly displayed the items forged by Sammuel. Examining a dagger, Loki noticed the exceptional quality of the weapon and questioned Sammuel insistently.

"You are a blacksmith and an adventurer, is that right? Why did you join this dwarf and not a smithing god?"

Without responding directly, Sammuel announced, "I'll leave it to Hestia to answer in my place."

With a smug air, Hestia retorted to Loki, "This information is forbidden to those with a negative chest size," reigniting the verbal hostilities between the two goddesses.

Loki was about to respond with a new cutting remark, but Riveria, wishing to calm the spirits, politely introduced herself and Ais.

"How long have you been an adventurer, Sammuel?" she asked curiously.

"Since yesterday," he replied stoically, casting a quick glance at Ais, who paid no attention to him, preferring to play with the hilt of her sword.

Sammuel decided to end the discussion. He turned to Hestia and gave her a gentle but firm smile.

"I need to head to the dungeon, Hestia. See you tonight. Take care, okay?"

He briefly greeted Riveria and Ais before turning to Loki with measured politeness. "I wish you all a good day."

Without waiting for a response, he waved and walked away from the stand, his cape billowing slightly behind him.

Loki watched him leave and said, "He seems to be in a hurry. What are you hiding, little dwarf?" she asked Hestia with feigned nonchalance.

Hestia, still red with anger and embarrassment, replied in a strong, firm voice, "I'm not hiding anything, Loki. And I'll ask you to wear a mask in the future so as not to scare away potential customers."

Sammuel slowly made his way to the dungeon, his thoughts still focused on the recent quarrel and the items Hestia was selling. The bustling streets gave way to an unsettling calm as he delved deeper into the shadows of the dungeon walls. His mind, previously occupied with exchanged insults and the pressure to prove his worth, fully concentrated on his surroundings.

Before entering, he murmured a prayer, a habit that granted him a Blessing of Might. His armor shimmered with a soft light, and he felt a comforting warmth envelop his body. His increased strength and endurance prepared him to face the unknown.

With his first steps into the dungeon, the atmosphere changed. Red eyes gleamed a few meters away; goblins and kobolds awaited him. He drew his longsword and prepared for battle. Each movement was precise and fluid. His sword sliced through the air, and with each strike, a sacred glow illuminated the darkness, cutting down his enemies with ruthless efficiency.

Throughout the battles, he noticed undeniable progress in his skills. With each monster slain, a notification lit up on his magical interface, indicating the rise of his skill levels. Despite this satisfaction, a shadow of weariness lingered in his thoughts.

He continued to descend into the depths until he reached the third level of the dungeon. There, a group of twenty Dungeon Lizards blocked his path. Feeling a surge of adrenaline, he gripped his sword with both hands, ready to engage in combat.

The Dungeon Lizards leaped toward him, their sharp teeth and claws ready to tear. Sammuel waited for the precise moment, then, with a fluid motion, swept his sword in a wide arc, cutting down the first Lizards. The golden light of his sword burned them, reducing them to ashes.

A Lizard tried to attack from the side. He dodged with a light step and counterattacked, driving his sword into the creature. The sacred light enveloped his blade, increasing its destructive power. With a precise backhand, he decapitated another Lizard that got too close.

The creatures kept coming, but every attempt to retaliate was annihilated by the precision of his attacks. A Lizard lunged at him, but he split it in two with a vertical strike. Another approached from behind, but he slashed it cleanly with a single fluid motion of his sword, the sacred light illuminating the scene.

Without pause, he chained a series of rapid strikes, each blow finding its target with unwavering accuracy. His movements were fluid and powerful, exploiting the reach and strength of his two-handed sword.

The Dungeon Lizards fell one by one, unable to resist his mastery of the sword. He parried a claw from his right and instantly countered, impaling the Lizard with such force that he pinned it to the ground. He withdrew his sword from the lifeless body and faced the remaining monsters, his gaze fixed, his mind clear.

Using a circular motion, he repelled several enemies at once, his blade tracing luminous arcs in the air. A group of Lizards attempted a coordinated attack, but he dispersed them with a horizontal sweep of his sword, breaking their formation and leaving them at his mercy.

With calm and unwavering determination, he continued his assault, each strike a dance of death illuminated by sacred light. Finally, he leaped into the air and brought his sword down on the last Lizard, cutting it in two with relentless force.

In the midst of the battle, he noticed two familiar figures: Riveria and Ais, hiding behind a rocky pillar. Their presence surprised him. **Why are they here?** he wondered.

Riveria and Ais had watched the scene with fascination and curiosity, observing every precise movement of Sammuel. Riveria murmured to Ais, "He has remarkable skills for a level 1. There's something special about him."

Ais nodded slowly, "He's different…"

Sammuel leaned on his sword, catching his breath. He felt the air cool as Riveria and Ais approached.

"That was impressive, Sammuel," Riveria said with a smile. "How are you capable of this at your level?"

Sammuel, wiping the sweat from his brow, shrugged. "Training and determination, I suppose."

Ais, her eyes shining with curiosity, stepped forward. "I'd like to challenge you to a duel…"

Sammuel, seeking to avoid any unnecessary confrontation, calmly replied, "What's your level, Ais?"

Ais replied without hesitation, "Level 3, approaching level 4."

Sammuel narrowed his eyes and retorted, "You have such a level, and what you do is challenge level 1s? If you want to have fun or gauge yourself, go see Ottar. I have nothing to offer and no time to do so. As you can see, I'm busy…"

Riveria, sensing the underlying tension, intervened. "Maybe another time, Ais."

Sammuel nodded, thanking Riveria with a glance. "I must continue."

Ais, a bit disconcerted by Sammuel's response, stepped back slightly, reflecting on his words. Riveria, with a benevolent smile, added, "Good luck, Sammuel. Don't hesitate to visit us at the Twilight Manor."

Sammuel agreed, then resumed his path through the dungeon, his mind focused on his goal of growth and survival.

He turned on his heels and headed towards the lower levels of the dungeon, his mind focused on the grind. As he descended, the number and difficulty of the monsters increased. But each battle strengthened him both physically and mentally.

Arriving at the sixth level, Sammuel faced a swarm of War Shadows. Their shadowy, menacing forms did not frighten him; on the contrary, they bolstered his determination. The War Shadows, these creatures made of shifting shadows, approached him with sinister, fluid movements, their red eyes gleaming with malice.

**Consecration**, he thought, striking the ground with his sword. A wave of light swept through the space, burning the dark creatures. The War Shadows screamed, trying to escape the divine light, but Sammuel gave them no chance. Taking advantage of their disarray, he threw himself into the heart of the melee.

Sammuel moved with deadly speed and efficiency. His sword flashed through the air, tracing luminous arcs with each blow. The War Shadows tried to overwhelm him with their numbers, but he remained relentless. He dodged a strike by lunging forward, driving his sword through the shadow. An explosion of light sanctified the creature, reducing it to ashes.

Suddenly, two War Shadows charged at him simultaneously. Sammuel jumped back, then with a quick and powerful move, sent a shockwave by striking the ground with his sword. The War Shadows were thrown into the air, disoriented. He took this moment to leap, spinning with grace and power. **Crusader Strike**, he thought, and a wave of cutting light sliced the shadows in half.

The remaining War Shadows, seeing their numbers dwindle, redoubled their aggression. Sammuel dodged an attack, then turned to deliver a fatal blow to another creature. The sacred light of his sword burst like a beam of pure energy, tearing through the darkness. A shadow tried to grab him from behind, but he performed a backflip, landing on the creature's back and driving his sword through it. Light exploded, sending fragments of darkness in all directions.

The battle reached its peak when a massive War Shadow emerged from the shadows, much larger and more terrifying than the others. Its claws were like sabers and its eyes burned with pure malice. Sammuel narrowed his eyes, feeling excitement and tension rise within him. He launched forward with superhuman speed, his sword ready to strike.

The giant War Shadow swept the air with its claws, but Sammuel skillfully dodged the attack. He counterattacked with a series of powerful strikes, each blow illuminating the dark cave with blinding light. **Judgment**, he thought, and a column of divine light crashed down on the creature, consuming it from within. The giant War Shadow collapsed, its cries dissipating in the dungeon's echoing corridors.

As the last War Shadows attempted to overwhelm him, Sammuel felt a new power boiling within him. **Holy Wrath**, he thought, and a shockwave of sacred energy spread around him, pulverizing the remaining shadows.

Exhausted but victorious, Sammuel let his sword fall to his side. With each monster slain, a new strength revealed itself within him, an ineffable conviction in his mind. **The light, huh? It feels so good!**.

And so, he continued his advance, alone but invincible, in the heart of the dungeon. Suddenly, he heard music in the distance, as light as a whisper. Something familiar, but he couldn't identify it, interspersed with the winds blowing through the dungeon and striking the walls, making the melody hard to understand. What is that…?