The dagger jerked free from the last goblin's sternum, its tip coated in viscous blue fluid that dripped onto the moss below.
LeoNova wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, smearing blood across his forehead, the metallic tang sharp in his nostrils.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the lingering aches in his knuckles dissolve into nothingness.
The fight should've left him trembling, gasping for air, but instead, his lungs burned with exhilaration, his muscles coiled tight like springs. He shouldn't be this strong, this fast.
Something else gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Each kill had sent a surge of heat through him, sharpening his reflexes mid-battle.
The adrenaline still hummed in his veins, but beneath it, something deeper. A subtle shift in his muscles, like they'd been rewoven tighter.
His ribs no longer ached where the club had struck him, but more than that, his limbs felt denser, as if the bones themselves had been reinforced. He rolled his wrist, testing the motion.
His tendons moved smoother than before, like oiled machinery.
LeoNova Reinhardt. The name he'd chosen felt different now, more 'real'. There was weight to it, a rhythm that matched the pulse behind his ribs.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. Fine. If this was his life now, he wouldn't waste time mourning what he'd lost. Not when his new body was clearly built for something else entirely.
His boots sank into the riverbank's silt as he crouched, the cold-water biting into the gouges and smears of goblin blood coating his arms.
He scrubbed his hands and face raw, until the water ran clear, swirls vanishing downstream.
The reflection staring back at him was unsettlingly handsome. Too sharp.
The dagger's hilt was slick in his grip now, washed clean of everything but the memory of use.
Rustling leaves upstream snapped his head around, just a bird this time.
He exhaled through his nose; the forest was too quiet now. Every rustled leaf made his shoulders tense.
He stood, hesitating, before deciding to follow the flow of the river.
The riverbank's clay clung to his boots as he trudged forward, scanning the canopy for movement.
The water's path was erratic, widening into shallow pools choked with river reeds, before narrowing again between mossy boulders.
LeoNova kept one palm resting on his dagger as he walked parallel to the current, boots skimming the waterline where sand gave way to pebbles.
He had been walking for about ten minutes, nervously observing his surroundings when the forest thinned abruptly.
One moment tangled roots and undergrowth, the next, a rutted dirt road apeared ahead, cutting through the trees like a scar.
The river's flow rushed under an old wooden bridge that connected both sides of the earthen path.
LeoNova exhaled sharply, at least this was a sign of civilization.
He stopped by the roadside, contemplating his next direction when his posture abruptly stiffened.
His knuckles whitened around the dagger's hilt at the sound of creaking wood and jangling harnesses echoing in the distance.
Around the bend, a merchant's wagon rolled into view. The driver, a barrel-chested man with a salt-and-pepper beard, barely glanced at the bloodstained child ahead, stepping onto the road.
LeoNova exhaled slowly, his tense nerves relaxing only slightly.
After crossing the old bridge, the draft mule recoiled, catching the lingering scent of monster blood on LeoNova's clothes. It brayed and shied sideways.
"Easy there!" The merchant yanked the reins, squinting past dust motes. His frown deepening as he took in LeoNova's torn clothes.
"You lost, boy?" The man's voice carried the rough timbre of someone used to shouting over wagon wheels.
LeoNova hesitated, then flashed a smile. "Just heading to Orario."
The merchant gave a slow nod, a jesture which confirmed his suspicions. He was indeed in the world of DanMachi.
"I could use a ride, if you're headed there," he said probingly.
The merchant's eyes flicked to the bloody rags clinging to the boy's frame, then hardened. "Going to the city isn't free," he grunted, hunching forward in his seat. The mule snorted again, its ears flapping.
LeoNova sighed, then shrugged. "I've got nothing but these." He held up three violet-veined magic stones. The merchant's knuckles whitened around the reins.
"Those aren't currency," the man muttered, though his gaze lingered for a bit too long.
LeoNova flexed his fingers, letting the stones click together, the merchant flinched. "They're at least worth something," he pressed, rolling one between his fingers. "Or you wouldn't be staring."
The wagon's axle creaked as the merchant leaned down. A pause, then a grudging shrug. "Three magic stones gets you a ride in the back with the turnips."
LeoNova vaulted onto the wagon bed without waiting for his permission.
The merchant muttered something about "ungrateful brats" under his breath, flicking the reins before LeoNova had even settled between sacks of millet and crates of pottery.
The wagon lurched forward with a creak of unoiled axles, jostling him against rough hemp fibers that smelled of dust and mildew. He tilted his head back, watching the forest canopy blur into streaks of green as they picked up speed on the rutted road.
Orario. The name coiled in his gut like a living thing. A city built atop the Dungeon, its tower, Babel, visible even from miles away, or so the merchant claimed between complaints about bandits and spoiled shipments, LeoNova barely registered the man's voice.
The journey was rather uneventful, after what felt like an hour of traveling on the bumpy trail, they had finally exited the forest, it's trees giving way to a vast landscape of plains and uneven slopes.
His fingers curled around the wagon's splintered edge as the road crested a hill, and there it was.
Walls taller than redwoods, gates wrought from something that glinted dully under the sun. The massive Tower of Babel stood proudly in the center of the city, the sheer scale of it prickled his skin with something between awe and unease.
"The Labyrinth City of Orario", He muttered under his breath.
The merchant barked a laugh. "First-timer's eyes, eh?" He spat over the side. "Don't gawk too long, the city might eat you alive," he chuckled.
The city was still roughly two miles away. Though at their current pace it wouldn't be too long before they would reach the city's gates.
LeoNova's eyes sharpened, his pulse quickening slightly. This was the start of his new life in this world, his journey had only just begun.
The wagon, being hauled by the old mule, trudged forward, heading straight for the massive city of Orario in the horizon.
The western gate loomed like the maw of some colossal beast, swallowing caravans whole beneath its shadow.
They joined a line of carriages up ahead, awaiting their turn to enter the city.
After going through a bit of formalities with the guards at the gate, the wagon moved forward once more.
Its wheels struck the cobblestone with a hollow clatter as they passed under the archway, and suddenly the world exploded into sounds, shouting merchants, clanging smiths, the sizzle of meat skewers turning over open flames.
"Are you getting off or what?" The merchant snapped his fingers. " Brat. Hand over those magic stones," he barked impatiently.
LeoNova dropped the three dull crystals into the man's greasy palm without hesitation. The Merchant's eyes darted between them, calculating, before he tucked them into a hidden pouch beneath his tunic.
"Still think they're worthless?" LeoNova smirked, amused by his greedy antics.
The merchant's face darkened. "Just get off my wagon." He jerked his thumb toward the bustling street. "Unless you've got more of those worthless stones to pay for another ride?"
LeoNova snorted, swinging his legs over the splintered wooden edge. His boots hit the cobblestones.
The merchant wasted no time, snapping the reins sharply enough to make the draft mule lurch forward.