Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

A/N: Stupid as it is, I'm taking this as an advantage for my pain tolerance.

After Mat sprawled on the wall's edge for about fifteen minutes, catching his breath and enjoying the panoramic view of Orario. The morning air felt lighter, though the weight of his situation lingered in his mind. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his clothes and scanning the horizon for the stairs leading down.

Descending the massive stone wall, he blended into the bustling streets of Orario, his eyes scanning the shops that were beginning to open. His goal was clear: find a mirror large enough to see his back and check the falna etched there.

He started with a few smaller stores, peeking inside to see their wares. Most places had small handheld mirrors—useful for grooming but far too small for his purpose. One shop had a larger mirror, but it was set up in a public area with too many prying eyes.

"Great," Mat muttered under his breath as he stepped out of yet another store. "Just what I needed. Privacy is apparently a luxury here."

He continued walking, his thoughts turning inward.

The idea of sneaking into the Dungeon without registering crossed his mind again. Adventurers without falna were often dismissed as reckless or suicidal, given the near-impossibility of surviving without divine blessings. But Mat wasn't without falna, was he?

"I could get in and out without anyone knowing," he reasoned to himself. "But for how long? Eventually, someone will notice."

The Guild's watchful eyes would catch wind of an unregistered adventurer eventually, and they wouldn't take kindly to someone bypassing the formalities.

"Whether I like it or not, I'll have to register," he admitted, sighing heavily. "It's just a matter of when, not if."

But the question of his "god" remained. Who—or what—would he claim gave him his falna?

As he strolled through Orario, his feet carried him aimlessly, weaving between the crowds. He wasn't sure where he was going anymore, his mind preoccupied with the mounting complications of his situation.

He thought about the work he was skipping today. "Hestia's probably going to be upset," he mused, grimacing at the thought. But there was no helping it—he needed answers, and this took priority.

Shop after shop, street after street, Mat searched. The frustration grew with each dead end. Most of the larger mirrors he found were either too public or unavailable for use.

"Why is it so hard to find a simple mirror in this city?" he grumbled, kicking a stray pebble down the street.

Eventually, Mat stopped in the middle of the street, his gaze lifting toward the towering spire of Babel. The massive structure loomed over Orario, its grandiose architecture both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

"Of course," he muttered to himself. "If there's one place that's bound to have what I need, it's the tower."

The idea made sense. Babel wasn't just the Dungeon's entrance—it was also home to various facilities and shops catering to adventurers. If anywhere in Orario had a proper mirror, it would be there.

With a resigned sigh, he adjusted his stance, mentally preparing himself for the trek to Babel.

"All right," he said under his breath, determination creeping into his voice. "Let's get this over with."

Setting his sights on the towering structure, he began his walk, weaving through the morning crowds as his thoughts shifted back to the whispers, the falna, and the complications waiting for him ahead.

......,.............

As Mat made his way toward the towering Babel, the streets around him bustled with life. Merchants lined the pathways, calling out to passersby, advertising their wares.

"Fresh potions here! Guaranteed quality!" one shouted, holding up a glowing vial.

"Armor crafted with the finest Orichalcum! Perfect for any adventurer!" another bellowed, gesturing to a set of intricately designed chest plates.

Mat slowed his pace, glancing at some of the stalls out of curiosity. A beautifully crafted sword caught his eye for a moment, its blade gleaming under the morning sun. He lingered, imagining himself wielding it, but quickly shook the thought away.

"Not now," he muttered to himself, moving on.

As he approached the base of Babel, the number of vendors began to dwindle. Their lively voices faded, replaced by the relative calm of the massive tower's shadow. By the time he stood at its entrance, no merchants remained in sight, leaving the grand structure unimpeded by the usual market noise.

Mat paused at the entrance, craning his neck to take in the sheer scale of Babel. The intricate designs carved into its walls and the almost ethereal glow of its stonework left him momentarily breathless.

"Even more impressive in person," he whispered, stepping inside.

The interior was just as awe-inspiring. High ceilings stretched far above him, supported by massive columns adorned with carvings that seemed to tell ancient stories. The floor gleamed under his feet, reflecting the light pouring in from the windows.

Near the entrance, a series of counters were set up, manned by guild receptionists. Each station was clearly labeled: Registration, Magic Stone Exchange, Equipment Trade, and more.

Mat couldn't help but gawk at the organized hustle of the place. Adventurers, albeit fewer than expected at this hour, moved with purpose, either approaching the counters or leaving with coin pouches heavier than when they arrived.

Drawn by the sight, Mat instinctively made his way toward the reception area. It wasn't until he stood before one of the counters that he realized he hadn't thought this through.

The receptionist, a young woman with neatly tied hair and a welcoming smile, looked up from her desk.

"Good morning," she greeted. "Are you here to register as an adventurer?"

Mat blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, no. Not here for that."

The receptionist tilted her head slightly, her pen hovering over her clipboard. "I see. Then how can I help you?"

"I was wondering… where's the elevator to the upper floors?" he asked, scratching the back of his head nervously.

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about his request, but she maintained her professional demeanor. "The elevators are just beyond the central hall," she explained, pointing to a corridor on the far side of the room. "Head straight through there, and you'll find them."

Mat nodded quickly, offering her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but notice her gaze linger on him for a moment.

After Mat disappeared into the corridor, another receptionist approached the woman at the counter.

"Who was that?" the friend asked, curious.

The woman at the counter shrugged, her brow furrowed slightly. "Not sure. He didn't register, but…"

"But what?"

"He already has falna," she said, her tone uncertain.

Her friend raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's rare. Most adventurers who have falna already come here to register as soon as possible. It's not like you can keep that under wraps forever."

"I know," the first receptionist replied, glancing down the corridor Mat had taken. "Maybe he's just preparing himself. It's not unheard of, I guess."

The other woman sighed, brushing off the observation. "Well, maybe. Anyway, what about your shift? Still boring as ever?"

The first receptionist chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "You know how it is. Paperwork, answering the same questions, dealing with adventurers who think they're invincible."

Her friend laughed. "Sounds about right. Let's grab lunch after this shift."

"Sure," the receptionist agreed, though her thoughts briefly drifted back to Mat and his strange request.

Meanwhile, Mat followed the receptionist's directions, weaving through the quiet hallways. He noticed how empty the corridors felt compared to the bustling streets outside. Most adventurers were likely already deep within the Dungeon, leaving Babel's upper levels eerily calm.

As he reached the elevators, he exhaled, muttering under his breath. "Almost there. Let's see if this place has what I need."

Mat stepped into the elevator, marveling at its design. The smooth, polished metal walls and the faint hum of magic-infused machinery intrigued him.

"How does this even work?" he muttered, running his hand along the cool surface. His mind wandered, speculating on the magical energy source that could power such a device. "Must be some kind of mana-powered mechanism... or maybe enchanted artifacts?"

As his curiosity swirled, he looked at the panel of buttons. Each one was marked with simple numerals representing the floors. His finger hovered over the first button, and with a click, the elevator began to move.

The gentle vibration of the elevator as it ascended reminded him eerily of modern elevators back on Earth. The sensation stirred a mix of nostalgia and unease.

"This feels so... familiar," he thought. "Like something out of home, yet completely alien."

While the elevator worked its way up, Mat's thoughts shifted to the purpose of his trip. His mind replayed the dangers of his situation.

"Gotta stay cautious," he muttered to himself. "Hermes and Freya... those two can sniff out details even if they're irrelevant. They love gathering information for their own ends."

He grimaced at the thought of Freya's intense obsession with power and beauty or Hermes' knack for uncovering secrets for his schemes.

"Then there's the Ishtar Familia," he continued to brood. "Not as informed, but definitely conniving. And Dionysus... Dionysus Familia."

The name stuck in his mind, sparking an uneasy connection. A flash of memory, vague but unsettling, came to him. Why had 'Mat'—the one before him—been running from them?

"I don't have proof," he reminded himself, shaking his head. "But the pieces are too suspicious to ignore."

His paranoia was cut short by the soft chime of the elevator. The doors slid open smoothly, and the faint buzz of activity on the floor beyond brought him back to the present.

Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

Mat walked through the floor, his gaze shifting between the various stalls and counters. He approached a shopkeeper with an open smile, trying not to seem out of place.

"Excuse me," he asked, gesturing vaguely around, "do you happen to have a full-length mirror or something like that here?"

The shopkeeper, a stout man with soot-stained hands, looked up from his workbench. "A mirror? What do you think this is, a beauty parlor?!"

Mat blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... no, I just—"

"Lemme guess," the man interrupted, waving a wrench at him, "you're one of those pretty boys who spends more time staring at his reflection than fighting monsters, huh?"

"I'm not—" Mat started, but the shopkeeper burst into laughter, slapping his knee. "Relax, kid. Mirrors aren't exactly common here. Go ask at the fancy shops upstairs."

Mat sighed, thanking him before moving on.

After a few more inquiries and awkward encounters, Mat pieced together the truth about this floor.

"This place really is for newbies," he muttered, eyeing the makeshift setups around him. Blacksmiths and crafters displayed their goods on rickety tables or simple cloth spreads, trying to catch the attention of passing adventurers.

He paused at one stall where a young blacksmith was arguing with an adventurer.

"This sword is garbage!" the adventurer barked, holding up a blade with a chipped edge.

The blacksmith, a wiry teenager with fiery hair, shot back, "It's not garbage! You just don't know how to use it properly!"

"Use it? It broke on the first swing!"

"That's because you didn't maintain it!"

"Maintain it? I just bought it yesterday!"

Mat couldn't help but chuckle quietly, deciding it was best to keep walking before getting dragged into the argument.

As he wandered, Mat caught snippets of bickering adventurers.

"You lost my potion pouch again, didn't you?"

"Again?! It was one time!"

"And now it's two times!"

Nearby, a tired swordsman sat slumped against a wall, groaning. "Why did I agree to party with them? They're going to get me killed..."

From the other side of the floor, a booming voice shouted, "I SAID IT'S WORTH FIVE VALIS, TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT!" followed by a chorus of complaints and laughter.

Mat couldn't hold back a grin. "This place is livelier than I thought."

Despite the amusing distractions, Mat eventually accepted that this floor wasn't what he was looking for. He rubbed the back of his neck, muttering to himself, "I should've guessed. Mirrors probably aren't in high demand among broke adventurers."

As he approached the elevator, he passed by a group of adventurers huddled around a crate.

"Look, I swear I'll pay you back after the next dungeon run!"

"That's what you said last time," another replied, arms crossed.

"And the time before that," added a third with a deadpan tone.

Mat chuckled quietly, stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, he shook his head in amusement. "This city's full of characters," he thought, pressing the button for the next floor.

Mat trudged from one floor to another, his steps slower with every unsuccessful search. The second floor he checked was packed with mid-level merchants showcasing polished equipment and pricey goods. While the quality was far superior to what he saw earlier, privacy was still non-existent.

"Can't exactly strip in the middle of a store," he muttered, avoiding the curious looks of a merchant hawking enchanted gauntlets.

The third floor wasn't much better. It had a more luxurious feel, with carefully curated displays and velvet-robed attendants eager to please wealthy customers. However, the stares he got from both staff and adventurers made him feel out of place.

"Yeah, no," he said under his breath, turning on his heel to leave.

By the time Mat reached the elevator, his shoulders were slumped. He leaned against the wall beside the button panel, letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

"This place has everything," he grumbled, "but not a single proper dressing room where I won't look like a lunatic trying to stare at my own back."

He pulled the small hand mirror he'd bought from his bag and held it up. His reflection stared back at him with an equally unimpressed expression. He tilted his head, inspecting his face, but didn't bother with any self-criticism.

"Well, at least I look like I got some sleep," he muttered, then stuffed the mirror back into his bag with another sigh. "Guess I'll figure it out later at the inn. Not worth the risk here."

Mat stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the next floor, leaning against the wall as it began to ascend.

As the soft hum of the elevator filled the silence, Mat's thoughts wandered. He pictured the upper floors, wondering what else he'd find. "I should probably just focus on exploring," he thought. "At least then, I won't feel like I wasted the entire morning."

He exhaled and stared at the glowing numbers above the door. "Who knows, maybe I'll find something useful—or someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut about weird falna markings."

The elevator dinged, snapping him out of his musings. With a small shake of his head, he straightened up, mentally preparing himself for whatever awaited on the next floor.