Danmachi: The Quiet Reincarnate

Author: I owe the pleasure for Kurupt joining Genin, on my patreon.

Even though we didn't reach the goal, I will upload the 3 chapters as promised, but if this reaches 150 powers, i will upload 2 bonus chapter.

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Cael continued his ascent through the winding passages of the second floor.

The Dungeon's oppressive weight gradually lessened, replaced by a subtle shift in air pressure and a faint, distant murmur of the world above. His body, recently reforged by the agonizing Crimson Rebirth, moved with a new, fluid grace. The raw power thrummed beneath his skin, a potent reminder of the ordeal, yet his stride was light, almost effortless.

He passed a few more straggling monsters—a lone Kobold, a darting Dungeon Lizard.

His iron sword, still his only weapon, moved with the precision of a seasoned blade, dispatching them swiftly. The minor scrapes he sustained were fleeting, just enough to keep his Bladebond humming, the steel feeling perfectly alive in his grip. He collected the magic stones, their faint glow adding to the growing weight in his pouch.

Other adventurers, making their own weary climb, cast curious glances his way.

They saw the faint signs of battle on his worn leather armor—scuffs, a few fresh tears—but his face was calm, his movements unburdened. A pair of female adventurers, leaning against a damp wall, watched him pass.

One, a lithe archer, nudged her companion. "He's still going," she whispered, a hint of admiration in her voice. "Looks like he just walked out of a monster's maw, but he moves like he's on a stroll."

Her companion, a burly fighter, grunted. "Never seen him before. Too quiet for a rookie, too clean for a veteran."

Cael, as always, gave no sign of hearing their hushed observations, his focus unwavering.

He emerged from the Dungeon's maw onto the bustling Gild Street.

The late afternoon sun, though muted, felt bright after the Dungeon's dimness. The city's vibrant clamor, a symphony of merchants, adventurers, and citizens, replaced the Dungeon's silence. Cael took a deep, steadying breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs.

His simple leather armor was scuffed and torn, particularly across his chest and side where the irregular had struck.

These were no longer open wounds; the Crimson Rebirth had stitched the deep cuts into smaller, faded lines, leaving behind only the ghost of what they had been. Bruises, however, still mottled his skin beneath the armor, and minor cuts, though closed, remained visible.

Yet, his posture was remarkably straight, his movements fluid.

His face, usually stoic, held a subtle refinement now, a sharpness in his features that spoke of trials endured, but also a surprising, almost innocent kindness in his clear blue eyes.

It was the face of a fourteen-year-old, matured by unimaginable pain, yet retaining a youthful charm. Several passing female adventurers, their eyes drawn by his unusual aura, lingered on his composed expression, a quiet curiosity in their gazes.

He headed directly for the Adventurers Guild, a familiar hub of activity.

He moved through the throng, his presence drawing quiet, assessing glances. He approached the counter, where Misha Flott, the pink-haired receptionist, was assisting another adventurer.

She looked up as he approached, her bright smile faltering slightly as her eyes took in his appearance.

Her brow furrowed with immediate concern. "Hey, newbie! You're back! But… oh, Cael, you look like you've been through a meat grinder! Are you alright?" Her voice was laced with genuine worry.

Cael offered a small, reassuring smile, a gentle curve of his lips that softened his sharp features. "I'm fine, Misha. Just a bit of a rough day." His voice was calm, almost soothing. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Misha still looked unconvinced, her eyes scanning his tattered gear.

"A 'rough day'?" she echoed, a hint of exasperation. "Your armor looks like it went ten rounds with a Minotaur! What happened down there?"

"An irregular," Cael stated simply, his smile fading slightly as he recalled the fight, replaced by a distant, thoughtful look. "On the third floor."

Misha's eyes widened, her jaw dropping.

The usual Guild chatter seemed to fade around them. "An… an irregular? On the third floor? Cael, that's… that's impossible! No Level 1 has ever—" She cut herself off, remembering his earlier quiet confidence. She shook her head, still in disbelief. "Well, you certainly picked a way to make a name for yourself."

Cael placed his heavy pouch of magic stones onto the counter. "I'd like to exchange these, please."

Misha, still reeling, nodded slowly and began processing the crystals.

Her eyes widened further as she noticed the sheer volume of stones, and then, her breath hitched as she pulled out the enormous, violet-pulsing crystal from the Apex Kobold. Its raw power shimmered, casting an eerie glow on her face.

"This… this is the irregular's stone," she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with a mixture of awe and fear. "It's… it's massive. The value…"

She meticulously weighed and calculated, her fingers moving with practiced speed despite her shock. The numbers on her ledger climbed, then soared.

Finally, she looked up at Cael, her expression a blend of disbelief, profound respect, and a touch of something akin to fear.

"Your total Valis… is 310,000," she announced, her voice still shaky. "Cael… this is absolutely unprecedented. For a first delve, solo… it's unheard of."

Cael simply nodded, accepting the large bag of Valis she pushed across the counter.

He ignored the stares and hushed whispers that were now spreading like wildfire through the Guild Hall, their eyes fixed on him, on the Valis, on the impossible feat.

"Do you have any low healing potions?" Cael asked, his voice calm, pulling her attention back. "For bruises."

Misha blinked, still dazed by the sheer amount of Valis. "Oh! Yes, of course."

She quickly retrieved a small, amber vial from a nearby shelf. "Here. This is a low-grade potion, 500 Valis. It'll help with those surface cuts and bruises."

She watched him, still trying to reconcile the quiet, polite boy with the adventurer who had just pulled off an impossible feat.

Cael paid for the potion, his fingers brushing hers briefly.

He gave her another small, kind smile, a flash of genuine warmth that momentarily disarmed her. "Thank you, Misha."

He turned and exited the Guild, the heavy weight of the Valis in his pouch a tangible representation of his day's work.

He walked through the lively streets of Orario, the city's evening bustle a stark contrast to the Dungeon's deathly quiet. He felt no immediate need for new equipment; his current iron sword, bonded to his very being, felt more powerful than any standard blade.

He had a singular destination now.

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