Dawn settled softly over Orario as the sun's first rays brushed against the towering white spire of Babel. The city stirred beneath its glow—merchants setting up stalls, adventurers preparing for expeditions, gods wandering among mortals with casual divinity. And in the middle of this vast living world, a single boy stepped out of a humble inn, unaware that fate had already marked him.
Bell Cranel tightened the strap of his small pouch. His white hair glimmered faintly in the morning light as he gazed toward the Dungeon in the distance. The stories of heroes told by his grandfather echoed softly in his mind, vivid and warm. Tales of courage, legends carved from fearlessness... tales Bell desperately wished to join.
Today would be the same as the days before—that's what he expected. A hopeful walk toward the Dungeon, a naïve attempt at adventure, and the same painful realization:
He still had no Familia.
He still had no god to bless him.
Still, Bell stepped forward, forcing a determined breath.
"I'll become a hero," he whispered. "Someday... someone will see me."
But time in Orario froze.
Bell did not notice it at first—the fountain's water paused midair, adventurers halted in mid-step, bird
frozen with wings still open. A quiet shiver rippled across the plaza, subtle yet vast, as if the world itself had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale.
Bell blinked, confused. "H-Hello...? Is something wrong?"
Then he saw it.
A thin golden crack shimmered in the air behind him—delicate as a tear in silk, glowing like molten
sunlight. It pulsed once, twice, then widened with a soft, melodic hum. The sound resonated throughBell's chest, stirring something deep inside him... longing, fear, destiny.
Before he could react, the crack expanded into a swirling platform of radiant gold beneath his feet. Bell stumbled as his body lifted effortlessly into the air. His instincts screamed, yet no sound escaped him.
Everything around him—Orario, the plaza, the frozen world—blurred into a haze of light.
"Wh-What is this?!"
A voice, distant and ancient, whispered through the golden void:
"Chosen child... step forward."
Bell's heart pounded. "Chosen? Me? I don't—"
The world shattered.
Bell plunged downward, weightless, falling through layers of darkness and light. A chill ran through him as warmth evaporated into biting cold. Echoes of distant roars, faint celestial chimes, and something like a heartbeat filled the void.
Then—
He struck stone.
Bell gasped sharply as his fingers scraped against damp, cold floor. The air smelled of earth and
ancient sorrow. He lifted his head, eyes widening as pale blue flames flickered along a narrow corridor carved from black stone.
This wasn't Orario.
This wasn't the Dungeon.
"Where... where am I?" Bell whispered.
Inscriptions glowed faintly across the walls—runes he didn't recognize yet felt strangely alive, watching him. Shadows pooled unnaturally, bending around his movements. A low, distant rumble vibrated through the floor, sending shivers along his spine.
Something was here.
Something old.
Time had stopped in Orario, just as the rules of the world demanded. Magic did not cross between
systems. But Bell had crossed—through the Golden Crack, onto the Platform, and now into a place that no mortal from Orario was meant to see:
The Stranded Graveyard.
Bell rose slowly, breathing shallowly, trying to steady himself. His mind raced. "Okay... okay... don't
panic. Heroes don't panic."
But even heroes felt fear.
A distant roar boomed from the depths of the cavern—massive, primal, echoing through the stone.
Bell flinched. "No... no, please, not a monster—"
He staggered backward as chains rattled somewhere beyond the corridor. Blue flames flickered
violently. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Bell had no blade. No Falna. No strength.
Yet something within him—the fragile courage of a boy chasing dreams—refused to break.
"Grandpa... give me courage," he whispered.
A soft glow rippled along the floor, drawing his gaze forward. The corridor opened into a vast chamber
where a massive stone doorway stood, adorned with carvings of kneeling figures and colossal armored giants. Between them, a thin golden seam pulsed gently.
The same golden color that tore him from Orario.
Bell approached slowly. Each step echoed like a heartbeat. When his fingertips brushed the glowing
seam, warmth surged into his body—followed by flashes of visions he could not comprehend: broken landscapes, towering beings, endless battlefields bathed in twilight.
He reeled backward, breath trembling.
"What is happening to me...?"
The seam exploded outward with a burst of wind. The doors rumbled open, revealing a descending
path lined with spectral flames.
A whisper drifted through the air:
"Rise... Tarnished."
Bell froze.
"T-Tarnished? I don't know what that means... but why does it feel like it's calling me?"
Before panic could overtake him, the ground trembled again. Heavy footsteps echoed from the
shadows beyond the doorway. Bell's pulse spiked. A shape emerged—towering, monstrous, dragging chains across the stone.
Red eyes glowed beneath a horned helm.
Bell stumbled backward.
"No... I can't fight that! I-I don't even have a weapon!"
In desperation, he darted toward a broken sword half-buried in the dirt. He seized the hilt, lifting the
cracked, dull blade just as the creature roared—shaking the chamber.
Bell raised the ruined weapon, breath quivering.
"I won't die here," he whispered. "Not before I find a Familia... not before I become a hero."
And as the monstrous figure advanced, Bell stood trembling yet unyielding.
Because even without Falna—A hero's heart still beat fiercely within him.
End of Chapter 1.