Is It Wrong To Crave Love (In A Dungeon) Chapter 5 - Understanding

Once again, I died.

In my dreams, I always died by drowning. The memory of the water kept coming back to me. I would feel in them, as though my nostrils were clogged, as though mucus and foam, thick, unforgiving, vicious catarrh had been supplanted into my lungs and replaced my larynx. I would be deprived of the mercy of air and the salvation of death.

When I woke, it would be to my goddess, Hestia, on my chest, mumbling different things under her breath. Yesterday, it was the price of potato puffs. The day before, it was whining about Hephaestus. Today, as I’d learned, the mumbles that came from her half-conscious breath were my name, soft, quiet, and keen.

“Zee…”

Zee, she called me, with a level of affection I’d not known another living being could utter from their lips.

She cuddled close to me, tightly to me, on the couch, in the dim lighting that came before dawn, her chest pressed so firmly against mine that our heart beats could have synchronized as pendulums attached to a pole. They would have beat to the exact second, to the exact millisecond, as if commanded by divine edict, as if coordinated by an atomic clock, as if resonating in sync with the cosmically governed oscillations of an electron atom.

It had only been seven days thus far, since I entered her Familia. Seven days, and each morning became a battle, a herculean struggle. I warred not against principalities and powers, not against the enemies of the spirit, but against the temptations of the flesh. Every morning I awoke with Hestia on my chest was a morning wherein I discovered new, deeper, unfathomable depths to a willpower I was uninformed I possessed.

I would pray to god to grant me the strength needed, but Hestia was my goddess now, and she would not take kindly to such prayer. As I stared at her long, locks of black hair, drank in a scent that was comparable to nothing I had ever known, and gazed upon her sleeping form, even the act of wresting my gaze away from her face felt like committing a cardinal sin.

My goddess.

I banished every sexual thought that came to my mind, not because I was a saint, but because I could not afford to be a sinner. I could not afford to lose this. If I lost this, if in my greed and lust I went beyond my station, there would be no act of flagellation great enough to cleanse the revulsion that would be begat from myself to myself.

My hands slowly wrapped around my goddess’ slender waist, holding them close and tight. I sniffed her hair, breathing deep every iota, every trace I could, inhaling and closing my eyes, as I hugged her close and tightly.

“My goddess…” I whispered.

I used to pray for times like these.

I was raised to be religious. All the orphans in St Kizito’s were, by necessity and by design. We were told that children without parents were beloved by the Lord, that it mattered not if men did not love us, because our father in heaven loved us, and that he would shower us with that love as long as we believed and prayed and worshipped.

I used to close my eyes, get on my knees, and ask the Lord to please allow my guardian angel, the one whom I was told watched over all his children, to grant me the mercy of knowing the warmth of a loving embrace.

God, I would whisper, with clasped hands and tightened eyes. Can I hold your angel? Please, only once, will you allow it? Will you allow them to hold me, God?

I had to whisper, so as not to wake the other children. I had to whisper, because I was afraid speaking too loudly would be presumptuous of me, because it may anger the divine, and because it may cause my request to be refused. As days passed, and I whispered prayers, quieter and quieter, they became uttered only in my heart, and only in my mind.

Now, I needed no prayers and I needed no supplications to feel the warmth of a being beyond the station of angels. Now I had no need for guardian angels, imagined or otherwise. What need, indeed, was there for an angel?

I had a goddess.

MY goddess.

MY! GODDESS!

Hahahaha!

My hands trembled around her waist. They shook, as did my breath, and came uneven, uneasy, and harsh.

She was Hestia.

She was my goddess.

My one and only goddess.

“My goddess.”

“Hmm… Zee…?”

“It’s morning.”

She cuddled closer. Shivers ran through my spine. Her waist moved closer. Nuclear armaments went off in my stomach. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Fat Men and Little Boys danced together with Dante and the Devil in my belly.

“Five more minutes…”

I lightly brushed a bit of hair away from her head.

“We agreed to enter the Dungeon today.”

“Not yet… more lessons… Takemikazuchi…”

“Takemikazuchi-sama says he won’t teach me any more,” I said. “He would not tell me why, or what it was I did. He said you knew something about it.”

My goddess went stiff in my arms.

“Is this regarding the skill you cannot tell me about?”

She nodded into my chest.

“I understand. I won’t question it.”

She sat up. Sat, on my chest, looking into my eyes. “Aren’t you a little curious?”

“If my goddess believes it is better for me not to know the full details of that skill, I trust her judgement,” I said. “She is, after all, my wise goddess.”

She pinched my cheeks. “Zee.”

“Yes, my goddess?”

“Look at me.”

“I am, my goddess.”

“What do you see?”

“I see my goddess.”

“What else?”

What else…?

I did not understand. My goddess was looking at me with eyes I could not discern. Her eyes spoke of something blasphemous to even consider. No, surely not. It could not be that. Even thinking it was madness. Having her divine love was already a dream come true; to even think I could covet more?

No.

I could not.

I dared not.

I could not ruin this.

I could not.

“I see only my goddess.”

My goddess, Hestia, pouted. 

The cuteness of her pout was beyond that of newborn capybaras and cuddly stuffed animals. It was a weapon well formed to fell empires and overthrow kingdoms. Was such a face, such an expression, the sort of thing men fought and died for? I could see it. If Helen of Sparta held even a fraction of the allure as my goddess did in a single expression, I could understand why all her suitors, past and rejected, would swear that oath to defend her marriage.

“My goddess, such an expression is too great for my heart to bear.”

“Hmph! You’re not getting off that easily, mister!”

She dragged my cheeks about, pinching and prodding, and a laugh came free from my lips.

Truly, my goddess is the best goddess.

=====)+(=====

How can someone be both competent and incompetent at the same time?

Eina scratched her head as she looked over her personal development journal of the adventurer she had taken. Moses. She bit the edge of her pen in her mouth as she stared at the information recorded.

Moses, despite being a fresh adventurer, already possesses detailed knowledge of all monsters on the first seven floors of the Dungeon.

He knows the habits, habitats, and ‘spawn points’ of Goblins. He understands their behaviors, mannerisms, and details about their preferred ecosystems within the Dungeon that are unrecorded. He is aware of Kobolds and their enhanced sense of smell, and has mentioned unorthodox means of evading and hiding from them. He provided a weakness previously unrecorded of Frog Shooters, and has an in-depth understanding of the attack methods of War Shadows, the ‘newbie killers’ which he terms as ‘Predator-Style Hunters.’

However, despite the breadth of his knowledge, most of his information regarding these monsters is focused on avoiding, evading, or fleeing from them, rather than hunting them. He was completely unaware of the existence of drop items and magic stones. He has never heard of Adamantite, has little understanding of methods and commonly used tactics to make life hunting in the Dungeon easier.

Moses was, without a doubt, the oddest Adventurer that Eina had ever met. If she didn’t know any better, she would think he had lived in the Dungeon for a time, but such a proposition was just too crazy to believe.

Given the depths of the knowledge he already possesses, he is not likely to face any significant peril for at least the first seven floors. That will change from the Eighth Floor onwards. However, as a fledgling adventurer, he has no business being on a floor that low to begin with…

“I’m ready to depart for the Dungeon, Miss Eina.”

Eina perked up as she heard a familiar voice and lifted her head. The target of her scrutiny appeared before her.

“Mr… Vanderzee?” 

His usually unruly blue hair was tied upwards and kept in place with a black band. He was garbed in a long, loose-fitting black kimono-shirt with flame-like lotus petals, and a fiery edge at the bottom. He wore what she had heard were called geta sandals, of all things, with thick white padded socks. Slung across his shoulder was a thick staff that looked like it was made of pure, solid steel and had flaming frills tied on both ends. It was clearly a gift, because she was aware no newbie adventurer, especially one who had signed on to a fresh Familia goddess, would be able to afford a staff of such exquisite quality.

Anyone who saw him would undoubtedly mistake him as someone from the Far East, were it not for his blue hair, freckles, and facial features, which indicated otherwise.

“You… your attire…”

“I didn’t have any money to afford any other gear or clothes, really,” Moses admitted, awkwardly. “My goddess asked Lord Takemikazuchi, and he decided to provide these as a gift. He said they were some of the things none of his other children wanted to wear, so he didn’t mind giving them to me.”

She could see why. The flaming cloak alone was certainly… a choice. She glanced at the staff. He isn’t using a dagger, at least. A lot of newbie adventurers, being too broke and poor to afford a weapon, used the typical Guild-provided free dagger to start with. It was a weapon that was never meant to be used primarily, but more so to defend oneself in a pinch. It was of incredibly cheap quality and admittedly poor make.

If she had seen him armed with nothing but a dagger, her worry would have doubled.

“Do you know how to use that, Mr. Vanderzee?” Eina pointed at the staff.

“I do,” he nodded.

“The earlier floors of the Dungeon—”

“Contain many cramped, tight, and narrow spaces. I’m aware,” He gently stroked the staff. “My lessons covered ways of using the staff properly in such environments.”

If it were any other person, Eina would have had her doubts, but it was no exaggeration to claim that Moses knew the Upper Floors better than even she did. There were probably not as many Adventurers with knowledge of the first seven floors of the Dungeon that could compare to his.

How he got such knowledge was something he refused to answer, however, claiming staunchly that his goddess forbade him from mentioning it, for one reason or another.

“Do you have a moment, Mr. Vanderzee? There’s something we need to discuss in the private booth.”

“Of course.”

They made their way towards a private section, filled with a small table with complementary snacks, and Eina sat opposite him. It was odd how his geta sandals did not make any noise at all, and made her momentarily wonder how much he had practiced walking with them.

“Is something wrong, Miss Eina?”

Eina cleared her throat. “There’s something I should inform you of, regarding the dangers of entering the Dungeon currently. The danger you’ll face is likely not only going to be from monsters.”

Moses looked at her. His eyes were stormy, like the sea, the clouds.

“You’re telling me I may need to fight other adventurers.”

Eina slowly nodded. “A recent bounty has been put up for a monster on the upper floors, and the result is that there has been a mass exodus of adventurers to those floors. Parties of adventurers typically avoid each other for a reason, and that many adventurers in a space…”

Eina rubbed the bridge of her brow. The ‘Upper Floor Ghost’ debacle had blown up far more than anyone expected.

“It has barely been a week, but already, there have been several reports of infighting and six deaths on record. The Guild has made a statement that anyone accused of doing such a thing will not receive any rewards whatsoever, but even then… it cannot dissuade everyone.”

Eina hesitated, pondering whether to say it, but, remembering Moses was only a year younger than her, she continued. “There have also been… less… savory and more disgusting reports and accusations. Which is why I’m worried for you.”

Eina wasn’t hopelessly naïve or optimistic. In truth, if Moses were somewhat younger, she would have contemplated sparing him those specific cruel realities of the Dungeon, of Orario, of the Babel Tower itself, worried that it would completely scare him off.

She still remembered the haunted look in the eyes of an adventurer from the Soma Familia, the sole survivor of a party that had been unfortunate enough to run into the Ishtar Familia on their incredibly rare forays into the Dungeon.

He had broken down weeping after recounting how his party met the one with the title of Androctonus, Phryne Jamil. The ‘Man-Slayer’ she was called, and it was not because she murdered men, but because she made the men who fell into her hands wish she had. He had told her how his friends, men, with strong, unbreakable wills, had opted to end their lives rather than let themselves be ‘caught’ by her. He narrated how the ones who hadn’t been caught had been caught, and narrated the grotesque scene that he witnessed afterwards, with such detail that Eina had almost thrown up.

That was only one case, but Eina was aware that there were far more cases that went underreported. The Guild knew full well how not everyone in the Pleasure Quarter wanted to be there; it was aware of its shadier activities, the slavery, abduction, and trafficking of people. They considered it a necessary evil, as adventurers had vices and desires that needed an outlet to let out, and so they turned away and turned a blind eye.

However, many did not believe those ‘vices’ could be sated in the Pleasure Quarter, and sought ‘outlets’ in the Dungeon itself. Again, it was another reason why parties avoided each other in the Dungeon, and had an unspoken rule not to interact with each other in the Dungeon, but given the Upper Floor Ghost debacle, it could not be avoided.

“You’re saying people are raped in the dungeon.” 

Eina straightened her back. She was suddenly more alert and unusually flustered. No euphemisms, no sugarcoating it, no dancing around the topic, he said it frankly and bluntly with candidness that threw her for a loop.

“Yes.”

Moses' hands came together, as if contemplating something. “The Falna can strengthen both men and women, so men and women are equal in that regard, in that they can equally be victims…”

He muttered.

“If the Falna makes men and women equal, then it makes everyone unequal. A person with lower attributes is always at the mercy of those with higher ones. A Level 2 would always be at the mercy of a Level 3, and a Level 3 is always at the mercy of a Level 4. They can’t resist at all.”

Eina grimaced. “That is correct.”

“So might makes right?” he frowned. “Aren’t there laws against that? To prevent abuse of power?”

“Laws?” Eina smiled sadly. “Mr. Vanderzee, who would enforce those laws in the Dungeon?”

He went silent. 

“And outside the Dungeon?”

“Even if it can be proven,” she said, stressing the if. “The best the Guild can do is provide a sanction. Force a large payment as recompense.”

That adventurer she remembered had his party wiped out, all but him, and there was no one to seek justice for him or his friends. The Soma Familia absolutely would not go to war for him. At best, the Guild could only sanction the Ishtar Familia with hefty fines if there was sufficient proof or other eye-witness statements, but who would be stupid enough to come forth as an eye-witness against one of the largest Familias in Orario?

Barring the Loki Familia or the Freya Familia, absolutely no one would dare oppose the Ishtar Familia. 

That was only one example she was aware of. There were wide-eyed, female adventurers who entered the dungeon with a group of experienced male adventurers of the same Familia whom they thought they could trust, and came to regret it. Force, Eina heard morbidly, wasn’t needed. The mere threat of being tied up or left for a monster to find and eat provided sufficient motivation to guarantee ‘compliance.’

Reporting the case to the Guild made no difference, because the Guild couldn’t intervene directly in Familia disputes. They had to report the matter to their Deity, or the Captain of their Familia, and if the deity did not care, and the captain did not care— 

There was nothing they could do but keep on ‘complying.’

Moses pointed to the refreshments offered, and Eina passed him the tray. He took a piece, a biscuit, and ate it slowly.

The air around him had changed. No, physically, he almost appeared… sharper all of a sudden. Eina had to take off her glasses and clean them to make sure her eyes were not deceiving her. They weren’t. His face had grown sharper. His eyes and brows had grown sharper. He was still skinny, still a bit malnourished, but there was a difference somehow.

“Thank you, Miss Eina.”

“Mr. Vanderzee, do you have any questions for me before you depart?”

“Have you heard of Plato?”

“Plato?” Eina frowned, trying to see if the name rang a bell. “Do you mean Pluto? There’s a god by that name, I believe, from the same area of Heaven as Lady Hestia. I’m not certain if they’ve descended or not.”

“How about Euthyphro?”

Youth…? “I can’t say I have. Is that a god or an adventurer?”

“I used to read a lot of books about my goddess, and from there… myths… legends… and people from the culture she…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Miss Eina, is something good because the gods love it, or do the gods love something because it is good?”

Eina frowned. “I don’t quite understand.”

“If something is good because the gods love it, then goodness is based entirely on what the gods feel and want. The gods can declare anything good, cruelty, or injustice, and because they are gods, it would be good.”

Moses frowned.

“But if the gods love things because they are good, it means goodness exists independently of the gods. It means there is a higher authority, a higher standard. Is there such a thing?”

“I…” The idea seemed blasphemous to consider. Something above the gods? “I don’t believe so. The authority of the gods is considered absolute.”

“So morality in this world is defined purely by divine command… I see.”

Moses nodded, smiling. 

“I understand it now.”

Eina found something oddly terrifying about that smile. No, about his statement. Yet, it was not a statement that she could refute. Many considered the gods to be the sole moral authority of what was right or wrong or good or evil. For the gods, however, those things were admittedly entirely up to their whims. If a god, such as Ares, who ran the country of Rakia, decided that war was good, bloodshed and battlelust were the highest and noblest virtues, no one could tell his followers otherwise. If a goddess, such as Ishtar, decided that rape was beautiful, and her people could rape as many as they pleased, no one could tell her Familia she was wrong.

“Thank you, Miss Eina,” Moses rose to his feet. “You’ve been incredibly helpful as my Advisor.”

Despite being unable to refute it, Eina felt as though she had given him the wrong answer. Watching him leave, there was an instinctive, innate feeling that she would look back and point to this moment as the moment she erred greatly as an Advisor.

No, no, you’re overthinking this, Eina.

Even if his moral compass was going to be guided by doing whatever would please his goddess, that was fairly common in Orario. 

How much of a change could it possibly make?