Carmine glanced at the rest of her party. They were shaken, wounded- Daz most of all- but still alive. She turned back to the giant figure standing beside the scarred Hellhound.
"I don't think we ever got your name," she said.
Caelun paused. Names had weight. And his... was heavy. But these people had shown caution, not cowardice. Respect, not reflexive hostility. That was enough- for now.
"Caelun," he said simply. "Once of a place called Leyndell. A place I hated."
There was a strange finality in the way he said it. Not like a homeland, but a prison. Something endured, not remembered fondly.
Carmine furrowed her brow slightly. "Well, Caelun... My name is Nerilda but most people call me Carmine. Tank of this party. We're part of the Ishtar Familia, if that name means anything to you."
She gestured over her shoulder. "That's Daz our vanguard and supposed 'hero' of the group," she added dryly, without malice. "Over there's Yvette, our support and knife-thrower. The quiet one with the staff is Hiria, our healer. And the girls in the back Thena and Lera, our mage and ranger, they don't talk much, but they'll back you up with ranged support if things go bad."
Carmine took a steadying breath. "You said you wanted answers. Then let's start simple. You're in the Dungeon. A living, breathing labyrinth that stretches down for dozens of floors beneath the city of Orario."
Caelun remained silent, absorbing that name, Orario.
"The only place in the world where gods live alongside mortals," she added. "It's the heart of adventuring, and the Dungeon is where we earn power and coin."
Caelun's eyes narrowed at the mention of gods. A beat of tension hung in the air, his stare sharpening like a drawn blade. But he reined it in just as quickly, a slow exhale through his nose calming the violent twitch at the edge of his mouth. These gods weren't his gods. Not the Golden Order. Not the Greater Will. Different pantheon. Different world.
"And this 'Familia' you spoke of?" he asked, voice low but curious. "What is it, precisely?"
"It's a bond," Carmine said, cautiously. "A family in the loosest sense- created when a god or goddess gives you their blessing. That blessing- the Falna, gives us the strength to fight in this hellhole. Without it, most people don't survive even the upper floors. We are blessed by the goddess Ishtar."
Her expression shifted subtly- testing the waters. "You don't have one, but you still fought like a monster. I've never seen anything like it."
Caelun gave a short grunt of acknowledgement. " And you probably won't ever again. Even where i'm from those like me are few and far between"
"Leyndell was it? Where exactly is that?" she asked, fishing for further information, hesitantly now.
He considered her question for a moment. "A city far, far from here," he said finally. "I hated it and thats all you need you know. Don't ask more." His tone ended that thread of conversation with steel certainty.
Carmine accepted the answer, chewing it over before nodding slowly. "Fine."
Then she straightened. "You're strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever seen. If you really want to walk out of this Dungeon, there's a place for people like you. Ishtar Familia."
Caelun tilted his head again. "You would offer me a place," he said, almost amused. "When I just maimed your captain?"
"You had every reason to kill him. You didn't. That tells me more than he ever has," she said sharply, then added with a bitter smirk, "Besides, strength speaks louder than politics where I come from. And I don't need permission to make an offer."
He gave a soft Hmp, neither approval nor rejection, acknowledgement. "Then I'll deliberate. While we walk, in other words, i'll tell you once we get the hell outta here."
She nodded. "Good enough."
As the discombobulated party began to regroup, helping Daz limp along with support and potions, Caelun let his gaze drift to the sizable black hound pacing at his side.
"You followed me this long," he muttered to it, a rough hand ruffling the fur between its ears. "You need a name, don't you?"
The beast looked up at him, tail wagging.
"Arson," he said and smirked to himself. "Fits."
-----------------------------------------------------------
As they climbed from the shadowed depths of the 46th floor toward the faint torch-lit corridors of the 41st, Caelun found his mind drifting over the strange conversation. Carmine had explained how the Dungeon's tiers worked- deeper meant deadlier, and by ascending they were actually moving into zones where monsters fatigued more quickly rather than became more ferocious. A pang of disappointment hit him: he'd fought dragons and demigods, and now the fiercest immediate challenge he was likely to face would be little more than bruisers and brutes whose strength paled beside his own. He glanced at Daz, briefly curious about the man's heritage, and learned that four of the women weren't human at all but Amazones- a race of warrior-women notable for their single-sex species and their admiration for raw power. Carmine had smiled and flushed slightly when she mentioned it; her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than politeness demanded, and Caelun felt warmth creep into his own cheeks, over a millennium of battles, he'd never found many who desired anything beyond a one-night stand with an omen, let alone coveted a deeper bond, unfortunately when one's kind were known as cursed in its entirety even the most open-minded individuals hesitates. Not because he was unattractive, unlike most omens Caelun was blessed in that his horns hardly if at all manifested on his face if you didnt count his forehead or the areas near the ear which was unlike his brothers Morgott, who's regal visage was shrouded by a veritable crown of horns or Mohg who's furious bestial visage swallowed almost entirely by the touch of the crucible contrasted with the finery he usually draped himself in, but because in the Lands Between, women of towering stature often shared his blood in one way or another, and any subsequent attraction felt awkwardly incestuous. Yet here was Carmine, as tall and formidable as any chieftain's daughter, and- with the evidence of her blush, probably the first in centuries to see him as more than a monster or a weapon. He shifted to ease the unexpected tension, the heavy rune on his chest pulsing with a fire that felt oddly like hope. Though he had to admit, the attraction to taller, stronger women wasn't merely aesthetic, Caelum was Enormous and so was his 'endowment' he'd been told by those few that he slept with that he was larger than most stallions, and confused thereafter as to why they knew such things. Their conversation was cut short as they crested the final ramp toward the 41st floor and were met by the thunder of combat and the tremor of shuddering stone. Caelun's blood flared with anticipation. "Stay here, you lot," he growled, the edge of excitement in his voice. "This trek's been far too boring for my liking." Before anyone could object, he surged forward, his massive form vanishing down the corridor at a speed that would have flayed any normal man's skin mid-stride.