"…For now, we'll just make do with this place."
"Frugality is a virtue!"
"And as for money—once we recruit members and start exploring the Dungeon, we'll earn it soon enough."
"So in other words," Leila summarized, not giving Haimer any chance to argue, "not only do you currently have zero Familia members—your start-up funds are also zero."
"…"
Haimer's smile froze on his face.
"One god. No members. No money. No fame. And even your base is barely standing."
The reality of Haimer Familia was laid out with surgical precision.
Leila looked at him, and a polite yet distant smile appeared on her delicate face—like a noble lady turning down an admirer who was simply not in her league.
"Lord Haimer, thank you very much for your introduction."
"Your personal qualities are truly, truly outstanding!"
She paused pointedly on "personal qualities," her gaze briefly sweeping over Haimer's handsome features.
"But…"
As expected, that word arrived—inevitable and merciless.
"A Familia's strength is not determined by its god alone."
"The Familia's scale, the average level of its members, its standing within the Guild, and… its financial situation are all factors we elves must consider when choosing where we belong."
"My family holds some reputation in my homeland. They expect me to join a Familia rated at least D—one with stable logistical support, and no fewer than two veteran adventurers of Level 3 or higher to guide newcomers."
"So this isn't merely my personal preference. I truly have no way to explain it to my parents. I believe you understand what I mean."
"They would think I had… entrusted myself to the wrong place."
"And if I joined you, our base would be in this… building?"
"If I were injured, would the Familia have enough money to buy expensive potions? If I needed to upgrade my equipment, do we have our own smith—or connections to the masters of Hephaistos Familia?"
After speaking, Leila took a step back and performed an impeccable elven bow—flawless in every detail.
"So, thank you for taking the time to meet me today. But I must refuse your invitation. I also wish you success in finding suitable members soon."
"Good luck, my god."
With that, she turned and left—light-footed, without a trace of hesitation, as if she had merely asked a vendor for a price and then moved on the moment she found herself uninterested.
Haimer's hand remained raised, stiff in midair. His smile hadn't even fully faded, leaving him looking faintly ridiculous.
Entrusting herself to the wrong place…
Accurate—and vicious.
"Damn it!"
Haimer slumped back onto the stool, raking a hand through his hair.
This was already his third time working up the nerve to "go on the offensive." The first two targets—a burly dwarf and a beastman boy—hadn't even let him finish three sentences before treating him like air and walking past.
At least this elf girl had been willing to talk for a bit—though every line had been a critical hit.
So yes. In this ruthlessly realistic world, looks alone were useless.
He stared at the crowded street. In the distance, Babel Tower rose into the clouds—the only passage connecting the surface to the Dungeon below.
Countless adventurers formed parties of all sizes, striding toward it with high spirits, or returning from it laden with spoils.
They belonged to all kinds of Familias: mighty ones like Loki Familia and Freya Familia, or smaller up-and-coming groups still grinding their way upward.
And Haimer—a god with no followers—looked painfully out of place.
This really is a hell-mode start…
Being reborn as a god sounded amazing.
But the reality was that, for the sake of entertainment in the Lower World, the gods had to obey its rules—sealing away most of their power and authority, leaving only immortality, divine presence, and the ability to grant mortals Blessings.
In every other way, they were like mortals.
They got hungry. They got tired.
A god without a Familia was like a floating weed without roots—unable to do anything at all.
No matter how vast his divine power was, with it sealed, it might as well not exist.
Want to fight monsters and "grind the Dungeon" himself?
Sorry—gods cannot enter the Dungeon.
So recruiting Familia members was the only path for a god to establish themselves in the Lower World.
And if a god wanted to recruit members, they needed something to attract people.
Connections. Wealth. Capability.
But Haimer's divine name was simply not famous in this world.
He may have been a transmigrator, but he was not an unknown god. In the distant Heaven—where even time itself felt blurred—his divinity carried titles that made other gods wary:
Lord of Arms, War Calamity, Master of Iron and Blood, Gravedigger of Civilization, Midwife of Civilization, Source of Chaos, Ender of All Things, The Last King.
His origin did not come from a single myth, but from countless concepts—
From the first ape that learned to chip a stone into a point, using it to pierce prey… or a fellow creature's skull.
From the first bronze sword forged in fire, ringing with a crisp, metallic song.
His divinity was born in flying sparks and flowing blood.
As long as intelligent life fought over profit, as long as any creature raised a blade against another, his divine fire would never go out, and his throne would remain suspended above mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Thus, Haimer embodied everything between members of the same species: the probing sprouts of war, the moment conflict spread into a consuming blaze, and the long process that ended in ruin and finality—along with every element that pushed that process forward.
Sounds terrifying, right?
Like a final boss setting.
So what?
In Orario—
No one recognized him.
Haimer still vividly remembered the scene when he enthusiastically went to the Adventurers' Guild to register as a god.
He'd recited that long list of titles.
And Eina—the half-elf clerk—had gone from a professional smile, to utter confusion, to an expression that screamed:
Are you messing with me?
Haimer could still see it clearly.
"Sigh…"
"So bitter…"
He bent down, picked up his despised recruitment sign, and prepared to close up shop.
Another day of nothing.
Gods wouldn't die, but the hollow, gnawing hunger—so sharp it made his chest feel sunken—was absolutely real.
Maybe…
Maybe he really should give up on "starting a Familia from scratch."
Hephaistos Familia recruited forging apprentices year-round. With his divinity, maybe he could become a high-level smith there.
Or he could help grind medicine for Miach Familia. Miach was a kind god—he probably wouldn't mind one more mouth to feed.
It would be humiliating, a disgrace by divine standards…
But it was still better than slinking back to Heaven in shame, or continuing to starve on Orario's streets.
Just as Haimer sank into self-pity—wondering if he should simply find a way to slip out of the city—
Lines of pale-blue text suddenly appeared before his eyes, glowing softly—visible to him alone.
[Ding. Detected: Host survival time in the Lower World has reached one month…]
[Familia Recruitment System activation conditions met!]
[Starting… 1%… 20%… 70%… 100%!]
[Activation complete! The Transdimensional Familia Recruitment System is at your service!]
A series of prompt tones rang out inside his head. Haimer went blank, and the recruitment sign slipped from his hands with a clack.
A system…?
The transmigrator's classic cheat—late by a full month—had finally arrived.
A Transdimensional Familia Recruitment System?
So he could recruit across worlds?
And if he went to other worlds… could he unseal his divine power?
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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