Which Familia Should I Join? (Part 1: The Obvious Disasters)
I needed a familia.
That was the logical next step after waking up with a ghost falna humming between my shoulder blades like it owned the real estate. You couldn't adventure in Orario without a god's blessing—except I already had one, which was exactly the problem I was refusing to think about too hard right now.
A Totally Normal Career Decision. Focus. Practical. Rational. Treat it like a very dangerous job interview.
I spent the afternoon walking the city like a paranoid tourist with a death wish, keeping to the edges of crowds, hood up, eyes scanning. The ghost falna pulsed warmly every time I got too close to certain districts, almost like a warning light. Or maybe it was just laughing at me.
First stop: the quiet residential area on the northwest side. I lingered in the shadow of a half-collapsed wall across the street, watching the old ruined church that Hestia had apparently claimed as her "home." It was a wreck—cracked stone, overgrown vines, a roof that looked ready to surrender at any moment.
The goddess of the hearth radiated warm, emotional energy even from inside that mess. Curious rather than calculating.
I watched a white-haired boy sprint past the square for the third time that day, full of desperate hope and zero chill. Bell Cranel. Plot-armor proximity bonus: noted.
But then the downsides hit like a truck.
She might let me stay just to test the waters, not out of protection. She sensed monster-like resonance but didn't fully understand it.
Hestia would stare at my back during updates wondering why her divine script looked like glitchy alien code. Questions would pile up. She'd ask other gods. Eventually—
Hard pass. Conditional ally with full access to my sleep schedule was not the win it sounded like.
I slipped away before anyone noticed me loitering near the ruins.
Next, I circled wider, staying far from the glittering central districts but close enough to observe from alley mouths and rooftops. Freya's territory loomed in the distance—elegant, overwhelming, the kind of place that felt like it was watching back.
Silver hair and with a beauty to bend anything to her will. A goddess who had never been told "no" and found the concept boring. She didn't just sense anomalies; she saw souls clearly. Inaction wasn't mercy—it was interest. I'd live only until she decided exactly what I was.
Joining her would be like voluntarily climbing onto the examination table and handing the scientist a scalpel. No thanks. I valued my continued existence, even if it came with sarcasm and mild panic.
I moved on quickly, heart rate elevated.
The Loki Familia compound was impossible to miss—large, professional, radiating the quiet confidence of people who regularly cleared deep floors and dealt with things gods didn't announce publicly. I watched from across a plaza as high-level adventurers moved with practiced efficiency.
Resources. Training. Where Ais Wallenstein existed. All tempting.
But Loki was a veteran hunter of corrupted spirits and anomalies. Confirmation would equal immediate kill order. She wasn't cruel; she was efficient. There was a difference, and neither version ended well for me. I'd probably be compost before dinner.
I backed away slowly, like the building might notice me thinking about it.
Hermes' territory was trickier—his familia was more spread out, mercantile, always moving. I caught glimpses of their operations near trade routes and information hubs. Charming god. Fun on paper. The kind who showed up with snacks and somehow you ended up three cities away wondering how.
But Hermes detected fate and system inconsistencies with zero curiosity. No testing phase. If he knew, I was already dead. He didn't wonder what I was—he just handled it.
I watched Lulune of the Hermes Familia slip into a backstreet tavern, her face unreadable. After a long moment, I decided I had better job security as a dungeon wall.
Ouranos was different. Not really a familia you can "join" in the traditional sense. The ancient god held Orario together from his hidden position, feeling Dungeon shifts rather than individuals. He tolerated anomalies that reduced chaos. Neutral unless I destabilized the system.
Interesting. Background noise. Statistically acceptable variance.
The problem? I'd have to stay small forever, and staying small required resources I didn't have—which required a familia—which looped me right back to square one.
I leaned against a wall, rubbing my face.
Every option with a god attached either already flagged me, would flag me eventually, or meant instant termination. The one true neutral demanded permanent invisibility without the infrastructure to survive.
The spreadsheet had a massive gap.
Time to expand the tour.
There had to be a god somewhere with worse judgment than me.
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