The memory lasted only a moment, but the pain went on.
Whenever he sank into the fragments of his shattered memories, pain was always the first thing to greet him.
The searing agony of flesh burning amid the flames.
Ash filling the air. Chunks of flesh scattering.
Whenever the scent of blood brushed his nose, he came to the same realization.
I will have nightmares about that day for the rest of my life. I will never forget these memories.
When everything that had lived and breathed burned to ash, and even those ashes were swallowed by the flames again, scattering on the wind without a trace.
Only one thing remained in the end.
A phantom that returned in the dead of night.
*
It was a dragon. A calamity that split the heavens as it descended.
Its scales were harder than steel, and its breath swallowed an entire village in an instant.
Resistance meant nothing. Everything alive was simply consumed by the flames.
As though everything were destined to become ash, an irresistible will of the world erased all that lay before him without a second thought.
His home was gone.
The voices that had called his name. The warmth of the hands that had held his.
The laughter.
Tomorrow.
Everything he had called life turned to ash and scattered.
And in the end, only one thing remained.
Himself, the one thing that had failed to burn.
*
The winter he was ten. He lost everything that day.
His memories after that were hazy.
Some days he cried. Other days he felt nothing at all.
Some days he believed he was already dead.
Then, without warning, an inexplicable certainty took root in his heart.
This world was real. Not a dream or an illusion, but undeniable reality.
And he had already died once before being cast into this world.
*
His name was Kashi.
The dragon's breath had taken his life, his memories, and everything he held dear. In the end, that name was all he had left.
*
That first year could hardly be called a period of "adjustment."
It was not acceptance. It was collapse.
One by one, the standards he had taken for granted as a human being crumbled. What remained was pieced back together into rules for survival.
Kindness did not guarantee survival in this world.
Hesitation offered no opportunities, only death. Emotions did nothing but cloud his judgment.
And so he discarded them, one by one.
He cast aside hesitation. He cast aside pity.
He discarded everything he did not need to survive. But there was one thing he could never throw away.
The one thing he could not bring himself to release, even at the very end.
His humanity.
I am a person. Not a beast.
The moment I abandon even that, I will no longer be myself.
I will become no different from the dragon that burned my home and took everything from me.
That alone was something he could not accept.
No matter how many times he had to swing his sword to survive.
Even if staining his hands with blood became routine.
He did not want to become something like that dragon. And so the boy held on to that one thing until the end.
*
Time changes people. Kashi was no exception.
The first time, he swung his sword to survive. The second, because he was afraid of dying. By the third, he no longer even needed to think.
Before he knew it, taking up a sword had become as natural as breathing.
The hunts grew shorter.
Close the distance. Cut through an opening. End a life.
That was all.
Survival did not require flashy moves. It required a single, decisive strike.
He made no unnecessary movements. Used no more strength than he needed.
He grew used to his opponents' screams and the smell of blood.
The red on his blade no longer frightened him. It was simply proof that he had survived another day.
Sometimes a fallen opponent would look up at him while struggling for one last breath.
Looking into those eyes, he would find himself thinking: That could have been me.
A moment of pity. A fleeting sentiment.
But it never lasted long.
I survived. They did not. That was all.
Nothing could change that difference.
Pitying the dead would not save him, nor would it bring them back to life.
So there was no reason to stay his blade.
He knew better than anyone that the moment fear stopped him, he would be next.
The most dangerous thing in this world was not a monster. It was his own hesitation.
And so his swordsmanship changed as well.
He kept only the techniques he needed to survive, only those that would kill his opponent without fail, and discarded everything else.
At times, he became cruel.
He cut down fleeing beasts from behind, and sometimes brought his sword down again to make certain they were no longer breathing.
He knew it was unspeakably cruel.
Even so, he did not stop.
Because survival required certainty, not compassion.
*
Whenever he sank into his shattered memories, pain was always the first thing to greet him.
The searing agony of burning flesh. Ash drifting through the air. Chunks of flesh scattering on the wind.
Whenever the metallic scent of blood brushed his nose, he came to the same realization.
I will have nightmares about that day for the rest of my life.
I will never forget these memories.
That day when everything burned away.
That winter when I lost everything.
Even so, I survived.
Even so, I am still alive.
*
One day, an enormous wall came into view. A towering city wall, reached at the end of a year's journey on foot.
The Labyrinth City, Orario. A city I had seen countless times in the memories of my previous life.
It was where the story of the original protagonist, Bell Cranel, began.
Ever since regaining the memories of my previous life, I had been investigating this world.
Information mattered, whatever you were doing. All the more so when you were trying to survive.
I hunted monsters, traveled from village to village, and listened to what people had to say.
The clues I gathered all pointed to one conclusion.
Elves, animal people, demi-humans.
A world where nonhuman races lived as a matter of course, and the impossible power called magic was an everyday occurrence.
On the surface, it looked like any ordinary fantasy world. But there was one crucial difference.
The Gods who had descended from Heaven, the Familias they led, and the Falna that allowed Adventurers to grow stronger.
The moment I confirmed their existence, every doubt vanished. This was not a place that merely resembled a world I knew.
This was the world of Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?
To be honest, I did not know everything about DanMachi. My memories of my previous life were already old, and much of them had grown hazy with time.
My life had hardly left me the leisure to recall every detail of the setting, either. Besides, who memorizes an entire story expecting to be reincarnated into its world?
I stifled a quiet sigh. Then I slowly stepped forward.
Through the gate, into the Labyrinth City of Orario.
Right now, there was only one thing I needed to do.
Find a Familia.
The moment I passed through the gate, the air changed.
The smells of people going about their lives. Laughter and chatter. The clang of metal ringing out from a smithy.
And a faint tension woven through all that noise.
It was the breath of a living city. The streets looked more ordinary than I had expected.
Adventurers wearing swords. Warriors clad in armor.
Merchants selling them weapons, repairing their armor, and serving them drinks.
On the surface, it was a lively city like any other.
But I knew better.
This was Orario, the Labyrinth City. A city where everything revolved around the Dungeon.
Beneath these seemingly ordinary streets, death waited with its jaws open, ready to strike at any moment.
I kept walking.
Familia.
That was the only word in my head right now.
Honestly, I had little hope. No matter how I looked at it, I could not imagine a god readily taking in a twelve-year-old kid.
Especially a drifter without proper equipment, experience, or a letter of recommendation.
Well, I would not know until I went around and tried.
At the very least, I did not want to end up somewhere shady. If possible, I wanted to join a Familia with a decent god.
Whether that was actually possible was another question.
"Damn it..."
To cut to the chase, half a day of searching got me nowhere.
Rejection, rejection, and more rejection.
Most of the reasons were simple.
"You look too weak."
There were plenty of others, too.
"Bring an entrance fee."
"You've got no talent."
"I'll take you if you dress like a girl."
When I heard that last one, I genuinely wanted to kick them in the face.
In the end, I slumped onto a bench in a corner of a park. My expression could not have been any more sour.
I was practically choking on my frustration, but that would not solve anything.
Orario was vast, and there were plenty of Familias. Yet not one of those countless gods had been willing to take in a greenhorn like me.
I sighed and tipped my head back.
Just then, names I had heard again and again during my search crossed my mind.
Hera.
Zeus.
The two great powers of present-day Orario. Its strongest Familias.
Going by the original story... had they fallen about fifteen years later?
I could not remember exactly.
It was not as though I had ever pored over every detail of the original. Most of what I knew came from skimming bits of lore.
But one thing was certain.
That era had not arrived yet.
"...What a damn headache."
I muttered under my breath.
A point in time before the original story.
Which meant there was a good chance most of what I knew would be of little use.
I could not even remember much beyond a handful of major events.
Who was alive. Who would die. What would happen.
I knew almost nothing.
My head was already starting to throb.
Slouched against the back of the bench, I let out a low groan.
That was when it happened.
Someone appeared at the edge of my vision.
Red hair. An eyepatch covering one eye. A woman who looked a head taller than me—no, more like two.
She looked down at me for a moment, then gave a little smirk.
For some reason, I had a good feeling about her.
And that was how I became a follower of a goddess I had never expected.
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