Danmachi: The World's Anomaly

A/N: I think im starting to have some amnesia from sleeplessness, enjoy the chapter.

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky as the bustling street gradually began to quiet down. The potatoes, once neatly arranged on the stall, were now all sold. With the last customer gone, they moved swiftly to clean up the remnants of their day's work.

Griselda, as she gathered her things in silence, her movements practiced and efficient. Without much more than a nod to Mat and said goodbyes to hestia, she set off down the street.

Mat watched her for a moment, before turning his gaze to Hestia, who was still at the stall, chatting with the remaining customers. Her cheerful energy seemed to fill the space, the way a warm breeze fills a room. He didn't realize how much he'd gotten used to it, but now that the day was winding down, the absence of that warmth already felt like a void.

"Goodbye, Mat!" Hestia called out as she waved, her usual exuberant smile lighting up her face.

Mat returned the wave with a simple nod, his hand lifting in a casual gesture of farewell.

"See you later," he muttered to himself, though he wasn't entirely sure if that would be true. Hestia was often off on her own adventures, and he wondered how often their paths would cross in the future.

As Hestia disappeared into the crowd, Mat couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened earlier that didn't sit right with him. A lingering question tugged at the back of his mind. The lie. How had he, a mere mortal, managed to deceive a god so easily?

His brow furrowed as he walked away from the now-empty stall. It had been an innocent enough lie, a half-truth that barely even seemed like a lie. But the fact remained—he had lied to Hestia, a goddess, and she had believed him. He ran the event over and over in his mind, but the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became.

Could it be that Hestia just hadn't noticed? Or perhaps… perhaps she'd allowed him to lie to her? He thought back to the way she'd smiled when she'd heard his words, the light in her eyes that hadn't wavered for a second. No, it didn't seem like she was pretending.

His mind wandered, constructing a theory, one that was both impossible and tantalizing. What if there was something about him—something innate—that allowed him to deceive gods with ease? He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it entered his mind. It was ridiculous. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and Mat found himself unable to shake it.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he returned to the task at hand. It was still mid-afternoon, and the city was alive with the hum of activity. He had plans to buy some paper—nothing fancy, just something he could use to write. But more than that, he needed to find a publisher. Without one, his stories, his ideas—they would remain nothing more than idle thoughts in his head.

He quickened his pace, weaving through the bustling market, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat tempting him at every corner. As he passed a stall, the sight of a steaming bowl of stew caught his eye. His stomach growled in response, a reminder that he hadn't eaten much all day.

Without thinking too hard about it, he pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them over to the vendor. The vendor grinned, ladling a generous portion into a bowl.

"Here you go sir!. It's still hot and fresh!"

Mat nodded in thanks, taking the bowl. He moved a little further down the street, finding a quiet spot near the wall of a building to sit and eat. The stew was delicious, the rich broth warming him against the cool afternoon breeze.

As he ate, his eyes drifted around, searching for a sign, a name, anything that might lead him to a publisher. His mind kept returning to the lie, to the way it had felt so... natural. But there were more important things to think about.

He wiped his mouth and stood, determined to push those doubts away. There would be time to think about it later. Right now, he had a goal—he needed to make his stories real. And the first step to that was finding someone who could help him share them with the world.

As Mat finished eating, the last crumbs are now long gone. The warmth in his stomach was comforting, but his mind was far from at ease. He stood up from the bench where he had momentarily rested and continued his journey through Orario, determined to find a publisher. The busy streets beckoned him, and he moved through them with a sense of purpose, though his mind couldn't shake the strange feeling of unease that lingered at the back of his thoughts.

He wandered through the various districts of the city, taking time to explore the many shops that lined the streets. Each shop held something unique—brightly colored clothing, intricate accessories, and goods he'd never seen before. Mat had no intention of getting lost in the bustle of consumerism, but he found himself drawn to a few of the more interesting stalls.

He paused at a clothing shop, the fabrics catching his eye. As he stepped inside, the owner—a middle-aged woman with a warm smile—greeted him.

"Looking for something special?" she asked, her tone friendly but professional.

Mat smiled back. "Just curious. I'm new to the area, and I was wondering what makes these clothes stand out."

The woman chuckled, clearly pleased by his interest. "Ah, you're a good one for asking! These are crafted with magic-infused threads, ensuring durability and comfort. It's a bit of a specialty here in Orario. You won't find anything like it anywhere else."

Mat nodded thoughtfully, picking up a shirt that had intricate patterns woven into it. "I see... I'll take this one."

As he paid, the conversation shifted. The woman mentioned a few other local shops, and Mat asked questions—curious not only about the goods but about the gods and goddesses that sometimes visited the market. Some were well-known patrons of certain stalls, and others seemed to have their own agendas.

He kept his ears open, soaking in all the details while keeping his thoughts focused on his main goal. But it wasn't just the clothes he bought—he made sure to purchase small trinkets from a few other shops as well, all the while making mental calculations about the money he had left in his pocket.

Later, as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Mat found himself sitting on a bench in a park, the weight of his purchases beside him. The cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead, but his mind was far from calm. He looked down at the ground, sweating lightly, his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. The uneasy feeling from earlier had only grown stronger.

He knew the truth now—he had the ability to lie to gods and goddesses. At first, the realization had seemed like an amusing novelty. But now, the implications of that ability were sinking in, and it sent a chill down his spine.

If a god or goddess ever suspected him of lying, it could spell disaster. What would happen if he were caught in a lie? What if they forced him to reveal that he wasn't from this world? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

And what if some of the gods and goddesses with less-than-pure intentions learned the truth? They could turn his entire existence into some twisted game for their amusement. The more he thought about it, the more complicated his situation became. The stakes weren't just about surviving in Orario anymore; they were about keeping his true origins a secret.

Mat slapped his face, the sting of the motion jarring him out of his spiral of thoughts. The sound of his hand connecting with his skin echoed louder than he'd expected, and a few people passing by turned to glance at him in curiosity.

"Must be heartbroken," one person muttered under their breath. "Buying clothes and then slapping yourself like that."

Another person shrugged. "Maybe it's something personal."

The whispers continued, but Mat ignored them. He forced himself to breathe, his mind shifting gears. He had to stop overthinking. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he let this anxiety consume him. His ability to lie was a tool, and he would need to mix it with the truth, using both when necessary—and always with the right amount of acting.

It would take time. Patience. And strength. But once he was stronger, once he had a foothold in Orario, no one would be able to stop him.

Mat stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants and adjusting the items he'd bought. The lingering doubts and fears still gnawed at him, but for now, he had to push forward. His future depended on it.

Mat wandered through the busy streets of Orario, his steps light but his thoughts heavy. As he passed groups of people engrossed in conversation, snippets of chatter reached his ears. One recurring topic caught his attention—the Loki Familia.

"They've been down in the dungeon for a while now," someone said excitedly.

"Yeah, but they should be back soon. Heard they're pushing deeper this time."

Hearing this, Mat's thoughts drifted to the infamous adventurers of the Loki Familia. Powerful, disciplined, and notorious across Orario, their exploits were something he admired from afar. In his mind, they were likely still in the depths of the dungeon, facing dangers he couldn't even imagine. He mused silently about their inevitable return, wondering what kinds of stories they'd bring back.

Still, he had his own priorities to focus on. Mat continued toward the inn where he'd been staying, the day's events still swirling in his mind. When he pushed open the door, the familiar warm scent of cooked meals and polished wood greeted him. Behind the counter stood the same innkeeper who had checked him in on his first day—a cheerful woman with a welcoming smile.

"Ah, you're back!" she called out, noticing him immediately. "Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Mat stopped in his tracks, startled by her sudden question. "Uh, no, not yet," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

The innkeeper nodded knowingly and handed him a small notice. "Well, we're serving dinner soon. Don't miss it!"

"Thanks," Mat replied with a polite nod before heading upstairs to his room.

Once inside, he closed the door behind him and let out a breath. He placed the items he'd bought earlier on the small table near the bed, taking a moment to glance over them. Clothes, trinkets, and a few necessities. Nothing particularly special, but they were proof of his day's work.

Then, without much ceremony, Mat collapsed onto the bed. The soft mattress welcomed him, and he stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. The events of the day replayed in his mind—the shops he'd visited, the questions he'd asked, and the realization that finding a publisher in Orario wasn't going to be as simple as he'd hoped.

A sigh escaped his lips. He had made progress today, sure, but it didn't feel like enough.

He thought back to the many shopkeepers he'd spoken to, trying to piece together the puzzle of how to get his story published. Each time he'd asked, the answers had been vague or dismissive. Orario wasn't the kind of place where stories held much value.

"Everyone's too busy chasing valis," Mat muttered to himself. "With the dungeon right below us, why would anyone care about books?"

He rolled onto his side, staring at the table where his purchases sat. The idea of opening a story shop had crossed his mind earlier, but now it seemed like a ridiculous fantasy. The city thrived on adventure, not literature.

"Feels like I'm back in 11th grade," he grumbled, recalling his old days of studying and managing numbers like an overworked accountant. The memory made him groan and bury his face into his pillow.

After a few moments of wallowing, Mat forced himself to sit up. Complaining wasn't going to solve anything. If he was ever going to make something of himself in Orario, he had to tap into the cheat-like abilities he'd been granted.

"But first," he muttered, rubbing his growling stomach, "food."

He stood, grabbed his coin pouch, and headed downstairs, the scent of dinner guiding him like a beacon.