The sun was barely over the horizon when I felt the ripple of familiar magic approaching. Moments later, Alfia strode through the shrine's stone archway, dust on her boots, a sack slung over one shoulder, and a look of grim satisfaction on her face.
"Got your shinies," she said, tossing the sack at me.
It hit me with a grunt-worthy thud. I caught it awkwardly, and the weight nearly dragged me to the floor. Crystals spilled from the open flap—pale blue, crimson, smoky black—the raw cores of monsters harvested from the Dungeon. Beautiful. Lethal. Exactly what we needed.
"You sold the rest?" I asked, hefting one in my hand. It pulsed faintly against my palm, a heartbeat of trapped energy.
Alfia shrugged. "Armor doesn't buy itself."
Without wasting time, I dragged the sack toward the center of the shrine, to the circle of runes we'd carved days ago. With a few whispered words and a showy flourish (because why not impress an audience?), I began the transfer. The crystals flared, discharging their essence into the lines etched on the floor. The runes flared in reply, light racing through the floor like a spider's web catching fire.
Then came the real trick.
"Hold onto something!" I shouted.
The ground shook. A low hum filled the air, rising in pitch until it was more felt than heard. The shrine—no, the entire Dungeon beneath it—peeled itself from the material world. Reality stretched like warm taffy. Colors twisted. Gravity hiccupped.
Then... silence.
I staggered upright and grinned like a lunatic. We were no longer bound to the mortal plane. The Nad-Dungeon now floated safe inside a pocket dimension of my very own. Private, portable, perfect.
Alfia stared around, wide-eyed. The walls, the floors, the ceiling—they all shimmered slightly, not with instability, but with potential.
"Welcome," I said, sweeping my arms wide, "to Nad-Dungeon v2.0."
She blinked. "So... what now?"
"Oh, just a little something I've been dying to try," I said, winking. "Summoning."
Her brow furrowed. "Summoning what?"
"People," I said grandly. "Objects. Maybe a new coffee machine if this goes well."
Alfia gave me that flat, skeptical look she had perfected. "You're insane."
"Certified," I said proudly.
I led her deeper into the Dungeon, where I had prepped a second summoning circle—larger, more elaborate, and about ten times more ridiculous. Runes spiraled outward in dazzling patterns. Floating crystals hovered in precise formation. I may or may not have added background music through minor enchantments—something suitably epic with a lot of drums and chanting.
Alfia raised an eyebrow. "Is... is that a soundtrack?"
I coughed. "Ritual enhancement. Totally serious."
She looked ready to bail. Too late now.
I clapped my hands together. "Time to summon someone special."
Channeling power from the crystals, I fed raw magic into the summoning circle. Glyphs ignited. The room dimmed. The air cracked and sparked. A growing vortex of light formed at the circle's center.
"From a galaxy far, far away," I intoned dramatically, "I summon thee!"
There was a pop. Then a bang. Then—
A teenage boy collapsed into the center of the circle, gasping for air.
He was about sixteen, tall for his age, with shaggy hair and sharp, haunted eyes. His clothing was scorched and tattered like he had come straight from a battlefield. The Force clung to him like smoke.
Alfia stepped back, tense. I stepped forward, grinning.
"Anakin Skywalker," I said, "welcome to the Nad-Dungeon."
He blinked at me, confused, then touched his chest like he expected to find something missing. Memories flashed behind his eyes—memories of a black suit, of rage, of a boy named Luke, of pain, of redemption—
He staggered.
"Hey, take it easy," I said, catching his arm. "You're not Vader anymore. You're... well, teenage-you. Again."
Anakin frowned. "Vader...?" His voice cracked slightly. "Luke...?"
"Yeah, that whole thing? Over. You're in a new world now. Fresh start. No creepy breathing mask required."
Alfia leaned close and whispered, "Is he dangerous?"
I grinned. "Oh, absolutely. But only if you insult his fashion sense."
Anakin glared at me, but I just patted his shoulder.
"Relax, kid. You're gonna love it here. Magic, monsters, food. No sand."
His face twisted in a sudden scowl. "I hate sand."
Alfia blinked. "Why?"
I chuckled. "Long story. Galaxy-level trauma."
Still bewildered, Anakin watched as I reached into my pouch and pulled out a small silver pin—the mark of Falna.
"Kneel," I said. "Time for your new player stats."
Anakin knelt without hesitation, perhaps sensing the ceremony in the air. I placed the pin against his back. Magic flowed.
A small holographic screen formed above him:
Name: Anakin Skywalker
Level: 100
Strength: I00
Endurance: I00
Dexterity: I00
Agility: I00
Magic: I
Skill: "The Force"
Description: Draws upon Mind (magical energy) and Stamina (physical endurance) to manipulate the world through the Force. Capable of Light and Dark aspects depending on the user's emotional state.
Light Side: Healing, telekinesis, foresight.
Dark Side: Lightning, mental domination, rage-enhanced strength. Note: The Force is seamlessly integrated into DanMachi's ruleset. Magic governs energy use; stamina governs physical Force exertion.
Anakin stared at the floating screen, wonder overtaking confusion. For the first time since arriving, he smiled—a small, cautious smile.
I clapped him on the back. "Congrats, you're officially a rookie adventurer!"
Alfia sighed. "We'll have to register him with the Guild."
"Yup," I said cheerfully. "Nothing suspicious about a teenager who can mind-choke monsters."
She gave me a flat look.
"What?" I said, innocent. "It's fine! It's not like they have anti-Force regulations."
Alfia muttered something about "regretting life choices" and motioned for Anakin to follow her.
"Be good!" I called after them. "No lightsabers indoors!"
Anakin hesitated at the threshold. He turned back, uncertainty and hope warring in his expression.
"You'll be okay," I told him. "You're not alone this time."
He nodded, slowly, and disappeared into the sunlight with Alfia at his side.
I dusted off my hands, surveying the empty shrine.
"Not bad," I said to no one in particular. "Not bad at all."
Now... who to summon next?