Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

A/N: Hello guys, thank you for reading this fanfic even though it's pacing is slow I'm still thank you for you all reading this, i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and also Happy advance Merry Christmas❤️🎆.

Mat leaned against the wall beside the door, his hands bracing him as he sat on the cold, hard floor. His breaths were uneven, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to calm the pounding in his chest. The eerie whispers from earlier still lingered in his mind, faint echoes of something otherworldly and incomprehensible.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the dim light filtering through the window. Nothing seemed out of place, yet he couldn't shake the unease settling in his gut.

He sighs "what have i done this time?" he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.

The whispers, the void, the searing sensation on his back—everything about the experience was unnatural. But even more concerning was the strange energy coursing through his body now, faint but undeniable.

Mat rubbed his temples, frustration bubbling up. "Is this… falna? Did I just give myself a falna?"

The idea seemed absurd, yet it was the only explanation that made any sense. He clenched his fists, testing his strength. His muscles felt… firmer, his body lighter, as though he'd shed an invisible weight.

"But that doesn't make sense," he thought. "Falna is granted by gods. It's not something you can just… take."

The memories of the whispers sent a shiver down his spine. "What were those things? Were they… gods? Or something else entirely?"

The questions piled up, each one more unsettling than the last. He sighed and shook his head. "No point in overthinking it right now," he muttered. "First things first—test this out, figure out what's changed, and go from there."

Mat pushed himself up, his legs shaky but steady enough to hold his weight. His body ached from sitting on the cold floor, but he ignored it as he gathered his thoughts.

"I need to clean up," he muttered, heading toward the small washroom attached to his room.

The cold water from the basin shocked his system, but it helped clear the lingering fog in his mind. After a quick rinse and a change into fresh clothes, he felt a bit more like himself.

Yet the whispers refused to leave him entirely. They buzzed faintly at the edges of his thoughts, incomprehensible but persistent.

"What did I get myself into?" he wondered, rubbing his neck.

As he walked back into the main area of the inn, Mat didn't notice the old man behind the counter calling out to him. His thoughts were too preoccupied with his falna, the whispers, and the implications of what he'd done.

"Hey, kid!" the old man called again, louder this time.

Mat blinked, finally snapping out of his trance. He turned toward the counter, startled.

"Oh, sorry. Did you say something?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with concern. "I asked if you're having breakfast here or if you're planning to grab something outside."

Mat hesitated, his mind still clouded. Normally, he would have answered without a second thought, but this time, he found himself pausing.

The old man's frown deepened. "You okay, kid? You're looking a bit pale."

Mat shook his head quickly, forcing a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just… didn't sleep well, that's all."

The old man didn't seem convinced but didn't press the issue. "Alright, then. So, breakfast here or not?"

Mat exhaled, realizing he hadn't eaten since dinner. "Yeah, I'll have breakfast here."

The old man nodded. "What'll it be?"

"Anything warm," Mat said after a moment, his voice quieter than usual. "And some bread."

The old man called out to his daughter in the kitchen. "Another order! Some warm soup with bread!"

Mat walked over to the same table he'd sat at the previous night. As he sank into the chair, his thoughts immediately drifted back to his falna.

"I need to test this," he thought, tapping his fingers against the wooden surface. "If it's real… if I really have a falna now… what does that mean? Can I level up? Can I even use abilities like adventurers?"

The idea both thrilled and terrified him.

"And those whispers," he thought, a chill running down his spine. "What were they? Was that some kind of… side effect? Or something worse?"

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside. "Focus, Mat. One thing at a time. Test the falna first, deal with the rest later."

He glanced around the inn, noting the quiet hum of conversation among the few patrons who had risen early. The normalcy of the scene was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in his mind.

As his breakfast arrived—a steaming bowl of stew with a side of bread—Mat thanked the old man's daughter absentmindedly. He took a bite of the bread, the warmth helping to steady his nerves.

"First step," he thought, chewing slowly. "I need to check my back. If there's a falna there, it should be visible. That means I'll need a mirror."

He glanced at his coin pouch, estimating how much he could spare. "After breakfast, I'll head out and buy one. No more guessing—I need to see for myself."

Despite the warmth of the meal, the unease in his chest refused to fade completely. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever he'd done last night had set something in motion, something he didn't fully understand.

"But it's too late to go back now," he thought grimly, finishing the last of his stew. "Whatever happens, I'll face it. I have to."

Mat wiped his hands on a napkin, took a deep breath, and stood. There was no turning back from here.

Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

After finishing his breakfast, Mat thanked the old man and his daughter, then stepped out of the inn. The cool morning air greeted him, refreshing and crisp against his skin. He paused on the threshold, observing the hustle and bustle of Orario slowly coming to life.

Adventurers in various armors and outfits were walking purposefully, many carrying weapons or bags packed with supplies. Their chatter and energy were unmistakable. Mat recognized the direction they were heading and felt a spark of familiarity.

"The dungeon," he muttered to himself. "Right, this is the time of day when most adventurers make their way there."

He watched as groups passed by, exchanging banter and discussing their plans for the day. It was surreal seeing this scene in real life—something he'd only experienced as a viewer through a screen.

Mat turned away, deciding to head in the opposite direction. He had no intention of stepping foot near the dungeon yet. He wasn't ready—not mentally, not physically.

As he walked through the streets, his thoughts circled back to the falna. The idea of having it, the whispers, the strange energy he felt—it was all still an enigma.

"I still don't know where this falna came from," he thought, glancing at his hands as if expecting them to give him answers. "It's not normal. Nothing about this is normal. But… I can figure that out later. For now, I need to test what I've got."

The streets were quieter than usual, with many shops still closed at this hour. The only sound accompanying him was the faint rustling of the wind, carrying a subtle chill that made him pull his cloak tighter.

As Mat walked, he noticed the cold breeze growing stronger, funneled through the alleys and streets. He looked up, realizing the air was coming from the direction of Orario's massive walls.

His feet carried him toward the city's edge, where the towering walls stretched high into the sky. It was an imposing sight, even from the inside, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe.

He spotted a set of stairs leading to the top of the wall and decided to climb. The idea of being up there, looking out over the city and beyond, felt oddly appealing.

The climb wasn't strenuous, but it was long enough to make him appreciate the height of the walls. By the time he reached the top, the breeze had turned into a strong wind, whipping through his hair and clothes.

Mat stood at the edge, letting the wind wash over him. It was invigorating, almost cleansing, as if the breeze carried away some of the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued him since last night.

Turning around, Mat's eyes were drawn to the Babel Tower at the city's center. Its imposing height and intricate design were captivating, even more so from this vantage point.

He took a moment to admire the city sprawled out before him. The rooftops glimmered faintly in the morning light, and the streets were coming alive with activity. It was beautiful, vibrant, and full of life—a stark contrast to the cold, towering walls he stood upon.

"This is it," he thought, his lips curling into a faint smile. "This is the world I used to only dream about. And now I'm standing in it."

His gaze shifted between the city and the tower, his mind wandering to the illustrations he'd seen in the anime, the vivid colors and fantastical details.

"It's different," he mused, "but also the same. The anime didn't quite capture this—the depth, the scale, the way it feels to actually be here."

The reality of Orario was far richer than any screen could portray. The scents of the city, the hum of voices, the way the light danced across the rooftops—all of it made the world feel alive in a way he couldn't have imagined.

As he stood there, Mat couldn't help but compare this moment to the countless times he'd watched scenes of Orario unfold in the anime.

"It's strange," he thought. "I always saw this as a place of adventure, excitement, danger… but now that I'm here, it's also just a city. People living their lives, trying to get by."

The adventurers, the gods, the guild—it was all real, but so were the ordinary people who cooked, cleaned, and worked to make the city function.

"I wonder," he muttered, his voice carried away by the wind, "what's my place in all this? Am I just a bystander, or am I meant to do something more?"

The questions weighed heavily on him, but he pushed them aside for now.

For the moment, he allowed himself to simply be—to enjoy the beauty of the city and the quiet strength of the wind, standing atop the walls of Orario, in a world he was only beginning to understand.

After gazing at the cityscape for a few more moments, Mat's thoughts shifted back to the task at hand—testing his newfound strength.

He took a deep breath, stepping away from the edge of the wall to a clear, open space where he wouldn't risk colliding with anything. His mind raced with ideas, pulling from countless anime, movies, and shows he'd watched back on Earth.

The first test was simple: speed. Mat stood still, closed his eyes, and focused. He recalled the techniques he had seen in boxing matches and training montages—stances, movements, and the precision of each strike.

"Alright," he muttered, clenching his fists. "Let's see what this falna has given me."

He positioned himself in a basic boxing stance, one foot slightly ahead of the other, his fists raised to protect his face. He adjusted his balance, feeling the weight distribution between his legs. Then, he threw his first punch.

The motion was quick—quicker than he expected. His hand blurred slightly in his vision, moving with a speed and force that surprised him.

"Whoa," he said, looking at his hand. "That's definitely faster than I've ever been. But… is it fast for a Level 1 adventurer?"

Curious, he continued to punch, experimenting with jabs, crosses, and hooks. The movements were sloppy at first, unrefined and lacking precision. But as he practiced, muscle memory began to take over, and he refined his form.

Next, Mat shifted his focus to kicks. He adjusted his stance again, this time recalling martial arts scenes from various anime he'd watched. The techniques came flooding back to him—high kicks, low sweeps, and roundhouse strikes.

His first attempts were awkward, his balance slightly off. But he didn't let that discourage him. With each kick, he improved, finding the rhythm and coordination necessary to execute them properly.

"Not bad," he thought, a small smile forming on his lips. "I'm still a beginner, but this… this feels like progress."

He continued practicing, his movements gradually becoming smoother. The power behind his kicks wasn't extraordinary, but it was far above what he had been capable of as a normal human back on Earth.

.....

After a few minutes of practicing strikes and kicks, Mat decided to test his speed on the move.

"Alright," he said, glancing down at his legs. "Let's see what you can do."

Without hesitation, he launched himself into a sprint.

The sensation was exhilarating. The cold morning air rushed past him, filling his lungs and brushing against his skin. His body felt light, as though he was gliding across the ground rather than running.

A burst of laughter escaped him as he pushed himself faster and faster. The wind roared in his ears, and his surroundings blurred slightly as he gained speed.

"This… this is amazing!" he shouted, his voice lost in the wind.

The excitement was almost childlike, reminding him of when he used to sneak out early in the morning to run along the empty streets of his hometown back on Earth. Those carefree moments, the thrill of movement, the sheer joy of running for the sake of running—it all came rushing back to him.

He laughed loudly, letting the sound echo into the open sky.

Eventually, Mat slowed to a stop, his breath coming in heavy gasps. He found a soft patch of grass and collapsed onto it, lying on his back and staring up at the vast blue sky.

The cool ground beneath him and the warmth of the morning sun above created a perfect balance, grounding him in the present moment.

He raised a hand, clenching and unclenching his fist. The newfound strength was incredible, almost unreal.

"This falna," he murmured, "it's given me so much already. But I still don't know where it came from or what it really means."

The lingering whispers from the night before echoed faintly in his memory, sending a shiver down his spine. They were incomprehensible, yet they carried a weight that unsettled him.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'll figure that out later. For now, I need to focus on what's in front of me."

As he lay there, another thought crossed his mind—one that brought him back to reality.

"How am I going to register at the guild?" he wondered aloud.

He sat up, brushing a hand through his hair.

Normally, when a mortal received a falna, it was a formal process. A god or goddess would bless them, marking the beginning of a new familia. The god would then accompany their newly blessed child to the Guild, where they would register their familia officially. This step was crucial for an adventurer to gain access to Orario's Dungeon and partake in its economy.

But Mat's situation was… unique.

"I don't have a god," he said aloud, the realization weighing heavily on him. "And I can't explain where this falna came from."

He sat up, running a hand through his hair, his expression darkening.

"Even if I tried to bluff my way through, they'd ask questions. Who's my god? What familia do I belong to?"

The very thought made him uneasy. The Guild wasn't something he could take lightly. They were meticulous, and lying to them wasn't just a risk—it was a gamble with his very place in this world.

"I need to think this through," he said, standing up and dusting himself off. "First things first, I'll need a mirror. If I can get a look at this falna, maybe I'll understand it better."

With that plan in mind, Mat began walking back toward the city, his mind racing with possibilities and questions about his next steps in this strange new world.