Danmachi: Caelus' Atlas

The night was shattered by the scream of a siren—a police car. The light bars flashing blue and red as the patrol car made a sudden turn and came to a sharp stop.

"Orion Magnus, stop what you're doing, now!" An authoritarian voice boomed from the PA system of the police car, disturbing the quiet of the neighborhood.

Peaceful, was it?

In the alley, a teenager—around 16—was choking another boy, his hands gripping the other boy's neck as he pushed him against the wall. The violence was unsettling, but it wasn't the strangest part. What stood out was the fact that the sixteen-year-old was overpowering someone bigger than him—an athlete, with bulging arms, broad shoulders, and calves built like a bull. The other boy had a lean build, looking like a swimmer.

The headlights of the police car illuminated the lean boy's face as he faced the vehicle. His blue, downturned monolid eyes glared at the brightness of the light, framed by a mass of curly ginger hair that cascaded around his warm caramel skin, complementing his gentle features and high cheekbones. His mixed heritage was evident in every feature.

"Orion!" the PA system boomed again, its diction suggesting a final warning.

The lean boy drops his hands from the other's neck, shaking them as if to dislodge any lingering bacteria. He doesn't raise his hands—claiming innocence. Instead, he opens his arms slightly, leaning back with a tall forehead, presenting a "you're welcome" gesture. His face remains blank, nonchalant, devoid of any arrogance.

The police car door swung open, revealing a big, burly man who resembled a bear. His thick beard and bulging arms looked as if they were about to burst from his police uniform.

"Boy, when will you learn, huh?" the burly man said, stepping closer.

Suddenly, the athletic-looking guy who had been choked earlier sprang to his feet and swung his arms at the lean boy—his movements quick but unsteady.

He was unsuccessful—without even glancing behind him, the lean boy swatted the guy's face with the back of his hand and executed a swift back kick, sinking into the other's stomach. A groan followed the thud of a body hitting the alley floor.

"Gabriel Smith, our school's star football representative," the lean boy, Orion, drawled, his voice smooth and steady. "I witnessed him harassing a new student—a transferee from Tennessee, if I'm not mistaken." He paused, a hint of mischief in his blue, downturned monolid eyes. "And, of course, I've got evidence." With a casual gesture, he pointed to a backpack propped against the alley wall.

"Christ… another catch," the burly police man paused. "Orion, boy, this is unethical—but you've got my respect, I'll tell ya that." He bumped his fist against the boy's shoulder. "Tell you what, after ya graduate, I'll give you a recommendation for the police academy. We could really use more like you." The man looks at the boy and gives a nod.

Policing? I suppose that wouldn't be that bad, Orion thought, gazing up at the sky as the burly policeman dragged the unconscious jock toward the police car.

"Let's go. I'll bring ya home," the burly policeman quipped at Orion. "And I'll handle Mister Devil over there—time to take him where he belongs." He nodded toward the jock, passed out in the police car.

The teen and the man climbed into the car. This time, there was no screeching of a pitchy siren, no streaks of blue and red lights—just silence.

Until it wasn't "just" silent.

As they crossed the intersection, a truck suddenly appeared, its lights off and barely noticeable, slamming into the side where Orion was sitting.

Fucking luck. Orion thought

But then everything stopped—the pain, the crash, the flashing memories—it all just stopped.

Suddenly, everything in his vision began to blur and break apart, not like dissolving, but something else entirely—like a new phenomenon taking over.

The scenery shifted—what was once the inside of the police car was now a dark, damp place with an earthy scent. Suddenly, a harsh light pierced through the darkness, making his eyes dilate. He quickly shut them, overwhelmed by the sensitivity.

When he opens his eyes, he sees a figure in a black robe, their face hidden within. Glancing around, he notices he's surrounded by colored spheres of light, gently mending the right side of his body, which looks fractured from the impact. He's inside a cave, with torches flickering on the walls. Neither the policeman nor the jock is anywhere to be seen—but sitting on a throne at the far end is a man with white hair and blue eyes. From what he can make out, the man wears a white robe beneath a black, hooded cloak.

And suddenly it all clicked within him.

Interesting… Transmigrated in a fictional world. He chuckles.

The person tending to him tilted their head, curiosity evident in their posture.

"You seem to be recovering well. My name is Fels," they said, their voice carrying an unusual, vibrating quality.

"Or," Orion rasped, his throat thick with blood, slurring his words. He coughed before continuing, "Orion Magnus—at your injured service." He emphasized the word "injured," all delivered with a blank face. While his humor might have been amusing in another situation, with half his body broken, it fell flat.

A minute later he was fully healed.

"Thank you, Fels," Orion said, standing up and brushing off the dust and dirt from his clothes.

"Excuse me, why are you even in the dungeon? You are not an adventurer." Fels asked, curiosity evident despite the cloak obscuring his features.

Er, I thought Ouranos summoned me or something like that? Whatever. Orion thought before responding, "Just training."

"Training?" Fels echoed, looking puzzled.

"Yeah. To impress a god to get into their familia," Orion said, assessing Fels' body language before subtly glancing at Ouranos. "Anyway, lead the way, and I'll be out of your sight—and out of your mind." Changing the subject, he scanned the area for a way out.

Fels didn't delve deeper, knowing Ouranos wasn't interested either. He moved forward, leading the way.

Three steps in, Orion had a thought—an exciting one.

"Wait. Stop." Orion quipped, turning back to face the man with white hair, locking his own blue eyes with the god's blue eyes.

"Let's make a bet," Orion proposed, his tone steady. "You let me join your familia if I reach the sixth floor of the dungeon—alone. I'd take on the authority and responsibility of an enforcer of laws within Orario. If I die, I lose; if I flee, I'll leave the city and never become an adventurer. What do you say, old man?" Orion stated seriously, unsure of what had prompted him to make the bet. But something within him just clicked.

Just as Ouranos was about to speak, Orion interjected. "I'll even help with the Xenos," he said. Good thing I was bored and decided to read and watch Danmachi. Gosh, the concept was solid until it turned into harem and nonsense.

"And how did you know that?" Fels asked, warily. Orion could sense their guard was up.

Fels was genuinely curious; discussing the existence of Xenos was prohibited for anyone aware of it. Orion couldn't have delved deep enough to learn about them, especially since he wasn't even an adventurer.

Then Ouranos stood, his expression blank.

"Let it be, Fels. Everyone has their own secrets," he said, gesturing toward Fels. "Boy, Orion, was it? I will agree to the terms of the bet. Fels will monitor through the owl." He gestured to an owl sitting on his throne.

Ouranos considered, I do not really have anything to lose. Proud yet without arrogance. A vaguely pure yet violent soul. Courageous. Besides, if he truly has what it takes to reach the sixth floor without a falna, then he is worthy of upholding authority and responsibility within Babel.

Orion Magnus stepped forward, extending his hand as Ouranos did the same. They shook hands, sealing a deal between a mortal and a God.