Who do you think you are

"Wake up, Sammuel... Wake up..."

A distant and gentle voice whispered in his ear, penetrating the darkness of his groggy mind. Sammuel slowly opened his eyes, floating in a strange space, beyond time and space, between dimensions. His body seemed ethereal, unable to respond or move. Around him, everything was nothingness, an infinite void punctuated with a few distant stars.

"Wake up, the time has come."

In front of him floated a strange creature, seeming half-human, half-celestial, with an appearance both sinister and fascinating. The creature had an enigmatic smile, piercing eyes, and wore a top hat as well as an elegant, outdated costume.

"Ah, finally you are awake," said the creature in a honeyed voice. "I must say you still seem a bit lost. Do not worry, all of this is perfectly normal."

He squinted, displaying a look of fake benevolence. "How do you feel, Sammuel? Can you see me, hear me?"

Every word seemed to weigh a ton in Sammuel's mind, leaving him helpless to form a response. He tried to move, but his body remained desperately immobile, suspended in this strange void.

"I am sure you have many questions," continued the creature with deceptive affability. "Why are you here? Who am I? Where will you go now? So many mysteries, isn't it?"

As he spoke, a wheel suddenly appeared behind him, immense and spinning frenetically. It was adorned with incomprehensible symbols and eccentric illustrations. The creature turned its head toward the wheel, a widening smile on its creepy face.

"Ah, you are wondering what this wheel does?" he said, emphasizing each word with a note of sarcasm in his gravelly voice. "Nothing important, really. It is simply a kind of afterlife GPS that will determine your destiny."

He made a theatrical gesture toward the wheel, which continued to spin relentlessly. "Come on, do not be shy. Tell me how you feel about this... But... No, that's right, you cannot speak."

The creature burst into laughter, a sound both distorted and terribly sinister. "No matter, the wheel knows what to do. It has already decided everything for you. Listen to its song, Sammuel. Listen and prepare yourself."

The creature tilted its head slightly, a smirk drawing on its thin lips. Its eyes shone with icy malice, an almost palpable insolence emanating from its aura. "I know everything about you, Sammuel," it said in a low, drawling voice, tinged with condescension. "You are selfish, a scum, an opportunist who cleverly exploited life's cracks to get the most out of it. And yet, by a whim of fate, here you are, in front of this wheel."

Each word of the creature seemed to pour slowly, seeping into Sammuel's confused and muddled mind like a fine acid rain. "I know you do not want to be here," it continued, its lips stretching a bit more into a cruel smile, "and that you ardently wish to continue the generous and selfish life you led. But let me tell you one thing: it no longer matters. Because the choice is no longer yours, Sammuel."

At that moment, the creature raised a slender hand, decorated with almost translucent nails, and made a dramatic gesture to the wheel behind it. "You have been chosen by a higher being," it said with almost theatrical emphasis. "Not for who you are, but in spite of who you are. Your mother, a mortal of rare and formidable calibre, has endlessly prayed for you since your birth. She hoped with all her might that you would become a different person, someone of value, worthy of meaning."

The creature's words echoed in the infinite void, resonating with a sinister gravity. "The gifts you gave her, even if generous, mattered little to her. The money you sent her, in your true kindness, was often redistributed by her to those in need, because the well-being of others mattered more to her than material comfort. She, a pearl among the filth of your world, never stopped hoping."

The creature's eyes shone with a strange light, almost hypnotic. "Her prayers finally reached the higher being, and in response, it was decreed that trials would be yours. The wheel, you see, knows exactly what to do."

At that very moment, the wheel abruptly stopped, its symbols flashing with a vibrant glow. Two symbols appeared clearly in the center: an emblem representing Danmachi, a world of mythical adventures, and another symbolizing a Paladin from the world of World of Warcraft, a champion of light.

The creature observed the symbols for a moment, a spark of interest in its eyes. Then, it burst into laughter, a sound both melodious and terribly sinister, echoing in the void.

"Ah, what a fascinating choice we have here," it said, its voice brimming with malice and sadistic pleasure. "Prepare yourself, Sammuel. Whether you like it or not, the adventure awaiting you has already begun. Let the light and the quest guide you."

And as its laughter still echoed, the creature made a final gesture to the wheel, which began to shine with an intense glow, enveloping Sammuel in a whirlwind of light and darkness. A feeling of dizziness overtook him as worlds mixed, and his destiny traced before him, ready to be discovered.

———————

Barely had the sparkling light disappeared when Sammuel felt solid ground beneath his feet. He opened his eyes and found himself at the entrance of a vast city surrounded by high walls and majestic edifices. Colorful banners fluttered in the wind, and a multitude of people were busy with their various activities. The city of Orario stood before him, immense and impressive.

Gritting his teeth, he shot a dark look around. **"Really? A game?"** he thought as he discovered the familiar interface of World of Warcraft floating before his eyes. He felt a wave of anger rising within him, boiling just beneath the surface. **"I am not a puppet. This is not supposed to be my life."**

His fists clenched, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. The reality of his situation crashed upon him; how could he, who had always controlled his destiny, be so cast into a fictional world? Rage pulsed through his veins, fueled by a sense of injustice and manipulation.

He took a deep breath, desperately seeking a point of release amid this inner storm. His thoughts swirled in furious chaos, each complaint, each curse towards the creature that had trapped him in this masquerade clashing with one another.

Yet, a survival instinct stronger than pure anger slowly began to emerge through this emotional tumult. **"Breathe... Just, breathe,"** he forced himself to repeat mentally, like a mantra.

In a painful effort of will, he closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm in his mind. Fresh air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. Again and again. His anger did not disappear, far from it, but somewhere amidst this chaos, he found a glimmer of resolution.

Frustration and fury constantly mingled, fighting to dominate his mind, but another feeling gradually emerged – a hard and implacable pragmatism. He realized that yielding to rage would not change his situation. He had to keep a cool head and use every knowledge and skill he had accumulated.

He opened his eyes, their abrupt anger shifting into icy determination. "Might as well take advantage of what I know," he murmured resignedly, his features hardening into a resolute expression. He knew he could not do anything about it for now, but he had no intention of letting this world dominate him. This place might well be a prison, but he would make the most of it, by force if necessary.

Gathering his thoughts and mentally preparing to face this new world, Sammuel decided to start with the most obvious: blending in and gathering information. He carefully observed the comings and goings of the city's inhabitants, spotting what seemed to be a booth at the entrance. He had to integrate, somehow.

He took a deep breath and approached the booth, joining the queue with exasperation. After a thirty-minute wait, he finally reached the booth to pay the entrance fee. Once inside, he walked the streets, talking to merchants to get his bearings and trying to learn more about this strange place.

At a stall of juicy apples and exotic fruits, he handed five valis to a merchant whose sun-weathered face seemed imbued with wisdom. "I am new here," he said softly, trying to mask his irritation. "I would like to know what interesting things are happening in town today."

The merchant, an old man with a warm smile and twinkling eyes, leaned closer to him. "Ah, young man, you arrive in this town at an opportune moment. In an hour, the Hephaistos Familia is holding a recruitment session. It is a rare opportunity for those with blacksmithing talents. Later in the afternoon, there will be a recruitment session for the Freya Familia. These two events always attract a lot of people."

Sammuel nodded, carefully hiding his satisfaction. "Thank you for the information." **Blending into a powerful Familia shouldn't be a problem,** he thought confidently, convinced of his future abilities.

Now armed with the necessary information, his steps soon led him to the industrial district of Orario, where he knew trials to join the Familias were held. Arriving at the forge of the Hephaistos Familia, he saw a small crowd had already gathered.

There were five of them trying their luck. A corpulent man named Bors, a determined-looking young woman called Lyris, a bearded dwarf named Garin, an elegant elf named Elyndra, and himself. A member of the Hephaistos Familia named Hokan began to explain the trial: they had to forge a simple but perfectly balanced dagger. A simple task for someone with his new capabilities.

With feigned concentration, Sammuel set to work. His movements were assured, precise, and fluid. The members of the Hephaistos Familia, including Hokan and two others named Aeryl and Regin, watched, silently commenting on each participant's performance.

"Look at Garin, his technique is robust but a bit too brutal," murmured Aeryl to Regin.

"Yes, and Lyris seems hesitant, but she has potential," responded Regin.

When it came time to comment on Sammuel, Hokan couldn't contain his admiration. "This guy, Sammuel, seems to have a natural talent. His gestures are precise and mastered, it's impressive."

Aeryl nodded, watching Sammuel closely. "He definitely has a gift."

Once their works were completed, each participant was individually summoned by the goddess Hephaistos to hear her decision.

Bors went in first, coming out shortly after with a dejected look. "I guess brute strength isn't enough," he murmured as he passed by.

Lyris and Elyndra followed, each with their own verdict, the first being accepted, the second thanked for her efforts.

When it was Sammuel's turn, he entered a small room where Hephaistos awaited him. The goddess had an intense and incisive gaze.

"Approach, Sammuel," she said in a soft but firm voice.

Sammuel stepped forward, his face displaying controlled confidence. "Ma'am," he greeted politely.

Hephaistos narrowed her eyes. "You have talent, that's undeniable," she began, her gaze piercing into his. "But something essential is missing, something I can never accept within my Familia."

Sammuel frowned, feigning incomprehension. "But... I passed the trial, didn't I?"

Hephaistos gently shook her head. "It's not a matter of passing or failing, Sammuel. It's a matter of passion and sincere will. Seeing such talent with such an absence of passion is an insult to what I embody."

She took him aside, away from the eyes of the other candidates and her Familia members. "I know why you're here, and I recognize your skills. But they are empty, without soul. You are not made for my Familia. You have no will to forge, not a shred of passion."

Sammuel's expression changed, the false passionate air evaporating to reveal contained anger. Hephaistos, in a softer tone, continued:

"You are welcome to forge here, sell your products, but you will not join my Familia."

The words flowed, but in Sammuel's mind, only one thing resonated: rejection. He clenched his fists, trying to contain his rage, and said nothing. Turning away, he would listen as Hephaistos explained the workings of the forge.

But he didn't hear a word of it, heading towards the exit with a steely resolve. "Very well, if that's how it must be," he thought, vowing to show that goddess just how wrong she was to underestimate him.

Remembering the merchant's words, he knew his next step would be the recruitment session for the Freya Familia. Another opportunity to prove his worth.

Sammuel left the Hephaistos Familia forge, his steps echoing against the cobblestones of Orario. He traversed the bustling streets, this time with firm determination and a mission in mind. As he approached the district where the Freya Familia recruitment was to take place, he noticed the growing excitement around him. Groups of hopefuls, anxious and excited, converged in the same direction.

He lined up among the candidates and waited patiently, climbing the steps of hope one by one. The sun began to set, enveloping the city in a soft golden glow. However, his mind was focused on one thing: standing out and being chosen.

Finally, he arrived at the Freya Familia's training ground. A vast open space, bordered by stands where Familia members silently observed the newcomers. Heart pounding, Sammuel positioned himself among other candidates, watching every movement around him.

The sun shone high in the sky, but its brightness was diminished by the palpable anticipation of the upcoming trial. Freya stood on a slightly elevated platform, her piercing eyes scanning the crowd. She was surrounded by her loyal guards: Allen Fromel, Hogni Ragnar, and Othar.

The murmurs and whispers intensified as everyone hoped to catch the goddess's attention. After a few seconds of silence, she finally pointed at a young man in the crowd.

"You," she simply said, pointing at a boy named Rask, ignoring the other candidates.

A wave of dissatisfaction swept through the crowd. Several rejected candidates tried to plead their case, awkwardly stepping towards the goddess. Two of Freya's guards, Allen and Hogni, intervened quickly, correcting the impudence with brutal efficiency.

"Return from where you came, you bunch of trash," growled Allen, throwing one of the candidates to the ground.

Freya, without a second look at the commotion, left the stage, followed closely by Othar. The disappointed murmurs and indignant cries of the rejected candidates echoed in the air. Sammuel, for his part, stood there, almost incredulous at what he had just experienced.

**"That's it? Is that really all I'm worth?"** he thought, bitterness spreading in his mind. **"Is my soul so insignificant in her eyes?"**

The guards, having dispersed the other candidates, turned towards him with already weary expressions. Still in shock, Sammuel turned away slowly, his steps leading him mechanically to the Manor of Twilight. A part of him could not accept being dismissed so simply, without the slightest chance to prove his worth. Frustration and anger boiled within him, mingling with a profound sense of insignificance.

As he walked, he fixed the ground with dark eyes, his thoughts swirling like an inner storm. He felt some relief as he distanced himself from the clamour, but it did nothing to ease his troubled mind.

Finally, he arrived before the Manor of Twilight, an imposing and mysterious edifice, shrouded in an aura both captivating and intimidating. Its great doors were adorned with intricate carvings, depicting mythical and deeply enigmatic scenes. Sammuel lifted his head, his eyes regaining a glimmer of determination.

**"I'm not ready to give up,"** he told himself, clenching his teeth. **"I must find a way to show my worth, one way or another."**

Despite his renewed resolve, he was quickly blocked by the imposing guards stationed at the manor's entrance. One of the guards, a man with stern features and armor broken in many places, looked him up and down before shaking his head with disdainful indifference.

"No recruitment sessions at the moment," the guard declared in an uncompromising tone. "Come back in four months."

The recent rejection by the goddess Freya resurfaced bitterly, and Sammuel's frustration soared. With no other option, he found himself wandering through Orario, his thoughts more tumultuous than ever. Every corner of the street, every face he passed by, only reinforced his sense of insignificance.

Finally, he found himself in the middle of the main square. The sounds of Orario — the cries of merchants, the laughter of children, the animated conversations — seemed so distant, almost unreal compared to his inner struggle. He sat heavily on a bench, staring into the void. His breathing was erratic, and a part of him sank into despair.

**Two minutes later**, a small figure approached him. Without even looking up, he ignored her attempt to start a conversation. However, a gentle and determined voice finally pierced through the fog of his thoughts.

"Hi, my name is Hestia," she said kindly. "I noticed that you seemed lost. Are you okay?"

Sammuel turned his head slowly and immediately recognized the goddess, knowing she was destined to become the protector of the hero of this world. A part of him was tempted not to get too involved in the events of fate, but another part, intrigued, decided to listen.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice tinged with fatigue and frustration. "And you, what are you doing here?"

Hestia smiled, a mix of warmth and determination in her eyes. "I understand you're searching for your place. And if it can reassure you, I'm also looking to build my Familia. I have no house, no money, nothing really tangible to offer. But I have faith in you. I believe you have everything it takes to become a remarkable person."

She looked him straight in the eyes, her voice gentle but firm.

"They don't see the light I see in you, Sammuel. Grow, your time will come," she said with conviction, repeating almost word for word a phrase his mother had often told him.

Sammuel felt his heart skip a beat. "How... how do you know that?" he asked, his tone a mixture of surprise and emotion.

Hestia squinted slightly, somewhat puzzled. "Pardon? I just said what I felt."

"Repeat it," he insisted.

"They don't see the light I see in you, Sammuel. Grow, your time will come," she repeated, still as convinced.

Sammuel stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter, a laugh full of surprise and emotion. Hestia, perplexed, frowned and began to give him soft little punches on the shoulder.

"What's so funny?" she asked, clearly embarrassed.

He gradually calmed down, a genuine smile spreading across his lips, illuminated by a newfound determination. "I accept your offer, little goddess," he said, laughing softly.

Hestia immediately stopped hitting him and looked at him with an incredulous surprise, before smiling as well, delighted to see that he had decided to join her.

"Welcome to my Familia, Sammuel," she said simply, her eyes shining with sincere joy and hope. "And I am not LITTLE!!"