Supporters.
In the grand hierarchy of the Labyrinth City, Orario, they were the invisible gears.
Non-combatants.
Scavengers.
Porters.
Their purpose was simple: follow the wake of destruction left by the adventurers, harvest the magic stones from the dissipating remains of monsters, collect the rare item drops, and ensure the party wasn't slowed down by the very wealth they sought to acquire.
In short, they were beasts of burden with humanoid faces.
...…
The weight was more than just physical; it was a crushing, rhythmic burden that synchronized with every labored step Lili took.
The straps of a massive, bulging backpack bit into her small shoulders like iron bands, the leather worn smooth by years of hauling the spoils of other people's glory.
"What the hell are you doing?! Move your ass!"
Lili didn't flinch.
She didn't even blink.
'Business as usual today' she mused internally, her face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. 'More verbal abuse. Just as every other day'
A few steps ahead, a warrior clad in gleaming plate armor....far too expensive for a man of his meager talent....turned to glare at her.
His face was twisted in a mask of unearned superiority.
To him, Lili wasn't a teammate; she was a piece of equipment that happened to breathe.
"At least carry my stuff properly, you good-for-nothing!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the corridors of the dungeon.
This level of the Labyrinth was well-lit, the walls glowing with a natural, bioluminescent phosphorescence that should have been beautiful.
Instead, it only served to highlight the dirt under Lili's fingernails and the sweat dripping from her nose.
She kept her head down, her petite frame almost entirely eclipsed by the mountain of things on her back.
She knew better than to talk back.
Arrogance in the dungeon often manifested as violence, and adventurers were legally and physically "above" supporters.
Most didn't even grant them the dignity of a second glance.
To the elite, a lagging supporter was a punchline for a joke told over cheap ale at the taverns.
To the cruel, a supporter was a punching bag.
They could take your money, your dignity, your hope...everything.
Yet, as she trudged through the dust, a memory flickered in the back of her mind like a dying candle.
It was a voice from a particular female adventurer with fiery red hair….she had met five years ago.....it was soft, powerful, and devoid of the jagged edges of contempt.
"First, an adventurer cannot reach their full potential without a good supporter," the voice had said.
"Second, it is the effort of supporters that allows the city to breathe. And third… supporters have a hidden strength within. Don't ever forget that, Lili."
They were beautiful words.
They were logical.
They were, in a vacuum, undeniably true.
A party without a porter was a party that had to choose between wealth and survival.
If an adventurer had to carry their own loot, they became slow, unbalanced, and vulnerable. Supporters were the foundation upon which the statues of heroes were built.
"Like hell I'm going to pay a lazy-ass weakling who holds me back!" the armored man spat, snapping Lili back to the present.
The irony was thick enough to choke on.
How many adventurers actually understood that foundation?
How many viewed their porters as anything more than a necessary evil or a convenient scapegoat?
"Listen up! You better do your job if we get surrounded! Useless thing!"
Lili looked up, her hood shifting just enough to reveal a flicker of her eyes.
She knew what he meant.
If things went south, if the monsters swarmed, she was the designated decoy.
She was the one they would leave behind to be torn apart while they made their frantic escape.
She forced her lips into a submissive, thin smile...the mask she had perfected over half a decade.
"Yes… yes, sir," she said, her voice a soft, melodic chirp designed to stroke his fragile ego.
The man grunted, seemingly satisfied by her groveling, and turned his back on her to continue the trek.
As she trailed behind, Lili's small hand tightened into a fist against the strap of her pack.
Her chest burned with a cocktail of emotions: rage at the injustice, helplessness against the system, and a deep, gnawing indignation.
But beneath it all, the strongest emotion was regret.
It was a heavy, cold stone in her stomach, far heavier than anything in her backpack.
It was the regret of a choice made five years ago…..a mistake that had defined her life ever since.
...…
Five years ago, Orario was a different place.
The city was still reeling from the bloody aftermath of the war with Evilus.
The streets were filled with chaos, and every small familia was desperate, clawing at the dirt for a scrap of influence or a handful of Valis.
For the Soma Familia, the desperation was a sickness.
Lili, a mere child at the time, was the lowest of the low.
She was bullied, exploited, and treated as a disposable tool by her own Familia members, who were more interested in their god's divine wine than the lives of their subordinates.
It was during that dark chapter that she had been saved.
Not by a kind stranger, but by a legend.
Some called him a "Monster," but to the world, he was Draco...the Captain of the Bahamut Familia, and arguably the strongest adventurer in Orario.
To someone like Lili, existing at the very bottom of the food chain, the idea of a "Hero" was a fairy tale.
And yet, there he was.
Draco hadn't just saved her from the pack of monsters that was her Familia; he had plucked her from the gutter of her own life and brought her into the hearth of the Bahamut Familia home.
For a few weeks, she had lived in a dream.
The members of the Bahamut Familia were unlike anyone she had ever met.
They were kind.
They gave her clean clothes that didn't smell of mildew.
They fed her meals that weren't comprised of crusts and scraps.
Most importantly, they stood as a shield between her and the Soma Familia members who had tormented her.
They had even offered her a place among them.
A permanent home.
A chance to change her crest and join one of the most prestigious Familia in the city.
It should have been paradise.
It was the ultimate "out."
But Lili, young and scarred by a lifetime of rejection, felt like a virus in a temple.
She looked at the shining warriors around her.....her new "older brothers and sisters"...and saw greatness.
Then she looked in the mirror and saw a nobody.
She had no skills, no magic, no strength, no potential.
She felt like a parasite, a charity case who was only there because of a hero's whim.
She didn't feel worthy of the light they offered.
Driven by a toxic blend of pride and self-loathing, Lili had chosen to leave.
She told herself she would "make something of herself" first.
She wanted to find her own value so that when she finally stood beside them, she wouldn't feel like a shadow.
Reality, however, did not care about the noble intentions of a child.
When she returned to the Soma Familia, the atmosphere had shifted from neglect to active malice.
Draco's intervention had wounded the Soma Familia's pride, and they took that humiliation out on the girl who had caused it.
They didn't kick her out…..they were too afraid of Draco's potential retaliation…..but they isolated her.
They ensured no one within the Familia would work with her.
Then Draco left.
The news of the "Monster" departing Orario spread like wildfire.
With the biggest threat gone, the Soma Familia grew bold.
They didn't use fists...they used debt.
They implemented "reforms," charging exorbitant fees and taxes on every member.
For someone like Lili, who was already struggling to find work with other Familias, it was a death trap.
Her barely grew.
Her wallet didn't grow.
Only her debt increased, compounding month after month until she was a slave in all but name. To survive, she had to become what she hated.
She stole.
She cheated.
She manipulated.
And as the years passed, the shame of her actions built a wall between her and the Bahamut Familia.
They had risen to even greater heights in Draco's absence, becoming a pillar of the city.
How could she go back to them now?
After five years of being a thief?
After five years of being "trash"?
She felt she no longer had the right to even look at the ground they walked on.
Wham!
A sudden, jarring pain exploded across her face.
Lili staggered, her vision swimming as the heavy backpack threatened to pull her to the ground. She caught her balance at the last second, her knees trembling.
"What the hell are you doing, dozing off in the dungeon?!" the male adventurer roared, his hand still raised from the slap.
"I already knew you were useless… but an idiot too?"
Lili clutched her red, stinging cheek.
Her eyes were downcast, but they weren't empty.
There was a flicker of that "hidden strength" the red-head had mentioned…..a stubborn, iron will to simply exist.
"Sorry, sir," she whispered, her voice quivering but controlled.
"It won't happen again."
"It better not. Ptui!"
The man spat on the ground near her boots, the ultimate sign of disrespect.
He turned and resumed his trek, grumbling about how "good help" was impossible to find.
Lili stood there for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
The air in the dungeon was cool, tasting of stone and decay.
She looked at the spit on the floor, then at the retreating back of the man she was currently serving.
'Ah… what a wretched life' she thought.
But as she adjusted the heavy straps of her pack and began to walk again, she didn't collapse.
She didn't give up.
Every step she took was proof to her survival.
She was still here.
Despite the Soma Familia, despite the debt, despite the cruelty of the world, Liliruca Arde was still alive.
She looked up at the glowing ceiling of the Labyrinth.
Somewhere, far above this level, the sun was shining on the Bahamut Familia home.
Somewhere out there, Draco was still the man who had seen something in her that she still couldn't see in herself.
She wasn't ready to return yet.
She was still in the dirt.
But as long as she was moving, there was a chance.
The regret of the last five years was heavy, yes…..perhaps heavier than the magic stones in her bag...but it was also a reminder.
A reminder that she had once been offered the light.
And if she had been offered it once, she could find her way back to it again.
She just had to keep walking.
"Wait for me!" she called out, her voice regaining its practiced, submissive tone as she hurried to catch up with the party.
Behind the mask, her teeth were grit in a tiny, defiant smile.
She was a supporter.
She carried the weight so others didn't have to.
But one day, she told herself, she would carry herself right out of this darkness.
Hope, after all, was one of the few thing that didn't weigh anything at all.