Debating

I woke up with a yawn and a stretch.

"Morning, me!" I smiled at my own self-mockery.

It wasn't even morning as far as I could see, more like late at night given the shade of darkness peaking through the many entrances on Babel's bottom floor.

Those were unsurprisingly tall, rectangular openings standing at 3-4 meters in height.

I slowly stood up and took a look outside. Even though my vantage point wasn't high, the expansive plaza outside allowed me to have quite a good look at the city.

Even at night, Orario was illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns and torches against the backdrop of the night sky. From my low perspective, I couldn't see everything, but what lay before me was still quite a mesmerizing sight.

In the distance, the outline of tallish buildings and spires rose against the starry sky, their silhouettes etched with faint traces of light from windows and streetlamps. The city streets below were alive with activity, and if my senses were a bit stronger, I might have heard the sounds of laughter, chatter, and music drifting up to where I stood.

From this angle, I could almost see the marketplaces and winding alleyways that crisscrossed the city, disappearing into the darkness beyond. The occasional flash of movement caught my eye as adventurers and city dwellers alike made their way through the streets, their figures illuminated briefly by the flickering light.

Despite the darkness of the night, there was a warmth and vibrancy to Orario that was palpable even from afar. It was a city of contrasts, where the ancient and the modern coexist in harmony, and where the promise of adventure and discovery awaited around every corner.

"A beautiful lie, this city, but it contains some inklings of truth..."

Yet, I didn't feel any temptation whatsoever.

After all, what could Orario even offer to someone like me?

Entertainment, leisure, or sexual desire were mere trifles, unworthy of even a passing thought, even before I had transmigrated.

I had no need for a familia, as my soul was working just fine by itself.

I had no need for gear, as my body would eventually become more resilient than Durandal-enhanced weapons, or so I hoped.

I wouldn't need companions for exploring the upper or even the middle floors of the Dungeon, and with what I needed to do to activate Fenrir's Hunger, it was better to work alone.

Food, water, and other physiological needs didn't seem to be an immediate problem, given that I had yet to feel the slightest bit of thirst. The only sensation I felt was a small, gnawing feeling in the depths of my stomach, which seemed to become stronger bit by bit. This almost certainly had something to do with Fenrir's Hunger, but I would have to wait to find out for sure.

.

I took a deep breath, allowing my thoughts to settle for a minute, simply enjoying the feeling of the night's breeze on my skin. Then, I continued my train of thought.

.

There were a few counterarguments to be made as well.

My clothes had already been a bit torn here and there after my fight with the goblin, and reason dictated that they would turn into rags completely after a few fights. I would fight naked if I had to, but I was no exhibitionist, so I would rather avoid that situation.

This was only a mild problem though, compared to the complete lack of knowledge I could access without exiting the Dungeon. I could eavesdrop on the adventures around me whenever I came to the surface, but this approach would only allow me to maybe understand when I was within the timeline.

Information on magic, skills, gods, and dungeon monsters might as well not exist for the current me. I could only work with the bits and pieces I remembered from an anime I watched years ago.

"All of these problems would be solved by simply visiting a library...but I feel like stepping outside the Tower with my current strength would tempt Murphy far too much" I muttered as I turned away from the glimmering city and raised my gaze upwards.

The ceiling of the first floor perched a hundred meters above, exuded a subtle coldness now, during the night. Upon the marble canvas, a masterful painting mimicked the expanse of the sky, its clouds swirling with intricate detail.

Now it was basked in the dim glow of a handful of enchanted blue torches just like the surrounding walls. It was not exactly breathtaking anymore, but it had a certain charm.

I didn't care about it at all.

Instead, my mind was focused on something standing much, much higher. A being perched upon the Tower's top floor, overlooking this whole city with detachment. Its eyes scrying up and down, left and right, looking for new toys interesting enough to possess.

"Freya..."

I remembered her, that tangled web of obsession, manipulation, and narcissism, calling herself a deity. I didn't even know if she had already become the one with the strongest familia in the city, but I wasn't willing to risk my life or my freedom to find out.

I wasn't arrogant enough to think I had something like plot armor, protecting me and turning my stupid decisions into peerless results. I knew that Freya started out as mostly harmless in the series, even investing resources into Bell, which in turn allowed him to grow in strength much faster than he would otherwise...but who the fuck could say for sure the same would happen to me?

She was attracted by the strength and purity of Bell's soul, desiring his love and adoration.

I was not arrogant enough to presume the same would happen to me.

If Bell's soul was pure white, filled with kindness, mine would have been a dark grey at best. I knew that for enough benefits, I would sacrifice any number of innocent people, or gods respectively.

And despite not being sure of the feasibility of such a plan, my soul churned with the desire to devour the power of a god.

If Freya happened to see my otherworldly soul, when I went shopping through the city, who could claim that she wouldn't simply send her Level 7 Bulldog to fucking obliterate or capture me?

Once captured, who could claim I wouldn't be mindfucked into oblivion, turning into an obsessed thrall, like an uncountable number of men before me?

I wasn't afraid of death, after all, I had already died once before, but if and when I kicked the bucket again, I didn't want it to be because I was too prideful to hide when necessary.

I shifted my gaze once more, this time towards the dungeon's hole, serving as its entrance.

The hall which bustled with adventurers during the day, now lay deserted in the quiet of night. With the absence of chatter and movement, it took on a somber and eerie ambiance, with shadows dancing along the walls and echoing footsteps sounding louder in the stillness.

The air felt heavier, somehow.

I reached the edge of the hole and looked downwards.

In the dark, deep abyss, only the faint glow of a few torches could be seen, reflecting off the marble stairs spiraling towards the depths below.

"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster...yet better to be a monster than a pathetic weakling" I spoke in the empty hall, attempting to dig my nails in the skin of my palms yet falling short.

I brought my foot forward, and the sound of my step echoed through the hall. It was time for my second descent into the depths. I resolved myself that the next time I saw the surface, my strength wouldn't be the same.

This would become my life for the time being.

A cycle of fighting, improvement and rest, repeated for as long as it took to amass enough strength to exit the Tower without fear.

"And when I finally attain it...I will test just how Endless my Hunger is..."