Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

Morning arrived, sunlight streaming through the small cracks in the room's wooden shutters. Mat lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as if the patterns in the wood would give him answers to his lingering thoughts.

He sighed deeply. "Another day… and still no cheats," he muttered, his voice laced with both humor and frustration.

His mind replayed last night's fiasco, the echoes of his failed attempts and the innkeeper's wrath fresh in his memory.

"I must've looked like an idiot," he said, covering his face with his hand. "But… what if I'm missing something? What if I do have an ability, and I'm just doing it wrong?"

Temptation crept in, urging him to find a shortcut, to chase some miraculous way to gain power and rise above his mundane situation. The idea of speeding up his progress was alluring—he could achieve his goals faster, avoid struggles, and protect himself in this dangerous world.

But another thought pushed back, a memory of his old life and the lessons he had learned as a doctor.

"Rushing things always leads to mistakes," he said to himself firmly. "Cutting corners doesn't just hurt you—it can hurt others, too."

He shook his head, as if trying to dispel the tempting thoughts. "No. I'll figure this out the right way. One step at a time."

With a newfound sense of resolve, Mat finally sat up and stretched, his joints popping slightly.

"Alright," he said, clapping his hands together. "Goals for today. First, finish my shift at the potato stall—can't slack off there. Second, explore the other districts—see what this city has to offer. Third…"

He paused, frowning thoughtfully.

"Third, keep looking for my ability," he muttered. "If I have one, I'll find it. If I don't… well, I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

Standing up, Mat glanced at his reflection in the small mirror by the desk. His disheveled hair and tired eyes stared back at him.

"Not exactly hero material, huh?" he said with a wry grin.

He quickly washed up, tidied his hair, and prepared to face the day ahead.

Mat sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers nervously tapping on his knee. The swirling thoughts in his mind threatened to overwhelm him as he sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

"Complaining isn't going to do anything," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "But still… this is ridiculous. Am I just supposed to live here, weak and useless? What if something happens? What if danger finds me?"

He let out a frustrated groan and flopped back onto the bed, staring once again at the wooden ceiling.

"This world's not like Earth," he whispered, his voice tinged with worry. "Back home, the scariest thing I had to deal with was paperwork or the occasional rough patient. But here… even the civilians in Orario are built different. They can survive attacks from monsters, live alongside adventurers, and just… keep going."

He sat up suddenly, clutching his head. "And I'm here… with nothing! No Falna, no cheat, no strength. Just… Some knowledge that can't even be used and some potato-selling skills!"

The absurdity of it all hit him, and he let out a bitter chuckle. "The only thing scary about me is how out of place I am."

But as the humor faded, the reality of his situation set back in, and he sighed deeply.

"I can't just sit around and hope something changes," he told himself, steeling his resolve. "I need to make myself useful. I need to survive."

His gaze shifted to his bag on the floor. "Right," he said, standing up. "Let's make a plan. Write it all down and stop whining."

He crouched down, rummaging through his bag to find his notebook. His fingers brushed against various items: clothes, a small pouch of coins, and—

"Ow!" Mat yelped, pulling his hand back sharply. A thin red line appeared on the side of his left arm, a small but sharp pain stinging him.

"What the—" He turned to look at his bag and spotted the culprit: a small, unassuming knife glinting faintly in the morning light. Blood began to trickle down his arm, not enough to cause concern, but enough to annoy him.

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, grabbing a towel to press against the wound. "Just what I needed today. Thanks, universe."

As he cleaned the small cut, his eyes lingered on the knife. Memories surfaced unbidden, carrying him back to a time he'd almost forgotten.

The knife wasn't just any tool—it was a gift.

Back at the orphanage, the director had handed it to him one evening, her face solemn but kind.

"Mat," she had said, placing the knife in his hand, "this is for emergencies. You never know when you'll need to defend yourself, especially in the city."

Her words echoed in his mind now, and he found himself holding the knife carefully, studying its simple but sturdy design.

"Even then, she was worried about me," he murmured. "I was just a kid… not even strong enough to protect myself, let alone anyone else."

The thought made him grip the knife tighter. "And here I am again. Weak. Unprepared. Trying to scrape by."

He shook his head, trying to push the negativity away. "No. I'm not going to let that define me. I'll figure something out."

With a sigh, he tucked the knife back into his bag carefully this time, ensuring it wouldn't cut him again. He wrapped his arm with a strip of cloth torn from an old shirt, then stood to prepare for the day ahead.

"Potato stall first," he said aloud, listing his tasks to himself. "Then breakfast. And maybe… maybe I'll figure out what to do next."

His stomach growled in agreement, and he chuckled weakly.

"Okay, food it is," he said, grabbing his pouch of coins and heading out the door.

The morning air was crisp as Mat stepped out of the inn. The streets of Orario were already bustling with life: merchants calling out their wares, adventurers striding confidently through the crowds, and children darting between stalls with laughter.

He greeted the innkeeper at the counter with a polite nod, and she waved him off with a distracted smile, clearly busy with the morning rush.

As he walked, Mat scanned the stalls, looking for something simple but filling to start his day. His thoughts wandered as he navigated the busy street.

"I need to be smarter about this," he mused, glancing at the various vendors. "If I can't rely on cheats or special powers, then I have to make do with what I have. Maybe… maybe I can use the skills I already know."

His eyes fell on a stall selling freshly baked bread, the smell wafting through the air and making his mouth water. He approached the vendor, a cheerful older man with a flour-dusted apron.

"Morning," Mat greeted.

"Morning to you!" the man replied with a grin. "What'll it be? Fresh from the oven!"

Mat scanned the selection and picked a simple loaf. "Just this, thanks."

As he handed over a few coins, the man tilted his head. "You came from the outside, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Mat admitted, tucking the bread into a cloth to carry it. "Still getting used to things."

"Well, you're in the right place," the man said, laughing. "Orario's a city for anyone willing to work hard."

"Yeah," Mat said, forcing a smile. "Hard work."

The man waved him off with a cheerful goodbye, and Mat walked away, nibbling on the warm bread.

His steps slowed as he found a quieter spot to sit and eat, his thoughts swirling again.

"Hard work, huh?" he muttered. "I've done that previously. It's not enough here. Not in this world."

He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "But it's all I've got. So, I'll start with that and see where it takes me."

Finishing his bread, Mat stood and dusted himself off.

 Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

Mat spotted the potato stall down the street, bustling with customers as usual. His gaze shifted to Griselda, the owner, a stout woman with a warm smile but a commanding presence. Beside her were several large boxes filled to the brim with potatoes.

Griselda turned her head just as Mat approached, her sharp eyes catching him immediately. "Mat! About time you got here!" she called out, waving him over.

"Good morning, Griselda!" Mat jogged up, slightly out of breath. "Sorry for being a bit late. Got held up at the inn."

"Late or not, you're here now. Come on, help me with these boxes." Griselda patted one of the crates beside her.

"Got it!" Mat rolled up his sleeves and got to work, lifting the heavy boxes and organizing them at the stall.

As he worked, he noticed another familiar figure walking toward them. Hestia, with her unmistakable twin tails and bright, friendly smile, waved as she approached.

"Good morning, Griselda! Morning, Mat!" she chirped, full of energy.

"Morning, Hestia," Mat greeted back with a slight grin. Griselda gave her a curt nod, already busy arranging the potatoes.

"Alright, you two," Griselda said, her hands on her hips. "We've got customers waiting. Let's get to it."

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Mat found himself sweating as he cooked and served fried potatoes to an endless stream of hungry customers. Hestia worked beside him, handling orders with ease while chatting animatedly.

"Griselda," Hestia called out during a brief lull, "business is booming as usual! Are we staying late today?"

Griselda shook her head. "Nope. We'll be closing shop a little earlier this afternoon."

Mat and Hestia exchanged curious looks.

"Why?" Mat asked, genuinely puzzled.

"I've got some other work to finish," Griselda explained. "One of those tasks is restocking our potato supply. We're running low."

"Ah, that makes sense," Hestia said with a nod. Mat mirrored her, silently agreeing.

With that explanation out of the way, they returned to work. Between serving customers, Hestia started talking about her plans for the day.

"I've got a lot to do after this," she said, flipping a batch of potatoes in the fryer. "There's cleaning back at the shrine, and I promised Bell I'd check in on him before he heads to the dungeon. Busy, busy, busy!"

"Sounds like a full day," Mat said, his focus on slicing potatoes.

"It is," Hestia replied with a sigh. "What about you? Got any plans after this?"

Mat hesitated, keeping his eyes on the fryer. "Not much. Just… you know, trying to figure things out."

Hestia tilted her head curiously. "Figure what out?"

"Just… life," he answered vaguely, carefully steering the conversation away from his origins. "It's been… an adjustment living here, to say the least."

"That's fair," Hestia said, her tone softening. "Orario can be overwhelming, especially for someone just starting out. But you're doing great! You're hardworking, polite, and…" She paused, noticing his bandaged hand. "What happened to your hand, Mat?"

Mat blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Oh, this?" he said, raising his wrapped hand slightly. "It's nothing. Just a small cut. Barely even stings."

Hestia frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Small or not, you should take care of it. Have you used a potion?"

Mat shook his head. "I didn't think it was necessary. It's just a scratch."

Hestia sighed, crossing her arms. "Mat, even small wounds can get infected, especially if you're handling food. You should at least clean it properly. And potions are cheap; you don't need anything fancy."

"Noted," Mat replied with a sheepish grin. "Thanks for the advice, Hestia."

As they worked together, Mat found himself occasionally glancing at Hestia. Her energetic movements, cheerful demeanor, and gentle words to customers mirrored everything he remembered from the anime. Despite the surreal situation, her kindness felt genuine, grounding him in the moment.

"She's just like in the anime," Mat thought to himself, a faint chuckle slipping out. "Always so full of heart, even to someone like me."

Hestia's ears perked up at the sound, and she turned to him with a curious look. "What's so funny, Mat?"

"Huh?" Mat blinked, startled. He hadn't realized he'd laughed out loud. "Oh, uh… nothing important."

Hestia raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Come on, you can tell me. What were you laughing at?"

Caught off guard and still distracted by his thoughts, Mat struggled to come up with something convincing. Without thinking, he blurted out, "I was just thinking… it's nice working with you."

Hestia's eyes softened, and she gave him one of her signature warm smiles. "Aw, Mat, that's so sweet of you to say! You're not so bad to work with yourself."

Mat froze the moment the words left his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that—hadn't even been thinking it. He was just trying to avoid suspicion. But now, her cheerful response only made his stomach churn.

Wait… did I just lie? Not intentionally, but technically?

He glanced at Hestia again, and his chest tightened. She was back to frying potatoes, completely unaware of his rising panic. Or so he hoped.

No way. There's no way she didn't catch that, right? Gods can tell when mortals lie! That's like… one of their basic abilities.

A cold sweat broke out on his back. He could almost hear his brother's voice in his head, explaining how subtle tells often gave away deception. And yet, despite being a goddess, Hestia hadn't reacted at all.

It doesn't make sense. How did she not notice?

Hestia, meanwhile, had picked up on his sudden unease and tilted her head. "Mat? Are you okay? You look… kind of pale."

Mat scrambled to cover his nerves, forcing a weak laugh. "What? Me? Nah, I'm fine. It's just, uh… the heat. You know, from the fryer."

She frowned slightly, clearly skeptical, but didn't press him further. "If you say so. But maybe you should take a break. You've been working pretty hard."

"A break? Oh, no, I'm fine, really," Mat insisted, though his voice trembled slightly.

"Mat," Hestia said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. "Go take a break. That's an order."

Reluctantly, Mat nodded and stepped away from the stall, his thoughts racing.

Mat sank onto a nearby crate, his head in his hands as he tried to make sense of what just happened. He'd lied—intentionally or not—to a goddess. And she didn't seem to notice.

How? How is that even possible?

His heart pounded as he replayed the interaction in his mind. By all accounts, Hestia should have called him out instantly. Gods could detect lies as easily as breathing. That was a fundamental truth in this world.

So why didn't she?

His thoughts spiraled further. Maybe it was just a small lie, too insignificant for her to care about? Or maybe… she did notice and was just being polite?

No, that didn't feel right. Hestia wasn't the type to let something like that slide.

Mat's chest tightened as another possibility hit him like a brick.

What if it's not her? What if it's me?

He stared at his left hand, still wrapped in a towel, as if it might hold some answer.

Am I different from other mortals? Different enough that even a goddess can't see through my lies?

Wait, i know im different because i remember or i think becomes one with this body?....but im still a mortal.

The thought sent chills down his spine. He clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing, but the unease gnawed at him.

If that's true… what does it mean?

Forcing himself to calm down, Mat eventually returned to the stall, plastering on a neutral expression. Hestia glanced at him as he approached, her usual warmth radiating from her smile.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mat replied with a nod. "Thanks for letting me take a break."

"No problem!" Hestia said brightly. "Now, let's get back to it!"

As they resumed their work, Mat couldn't shake the lingering questions in the back of his mind.

Whatever's going on with me… I need to figure it out. And soon.