S&M Maid Reboot - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

AN: I know, I know. "Oh god, he's doing a rewrite again." - well too bloody bad! Lol, sorry for the mix up, but I hated not doing this story justice properly. I've decided to redo a lot of the sloppy mistakes of my younger writing days instead of just trying to revamp what i did before. This time, I'm doing things properly, every step of the way, from Dante's entrance into the world, a real beginning arc, a proper training arc, and all the things you loved and hated. This time, I'm gonna work to give it justice.

The title might need to change, but I'm attached to it.

Quick note, in this story, Laxus/Bacchus/Dante are all the same age. Laxus remains the same age as in canon and follows the timeline.

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"Somebody speaking."

'Somebody thinking.'

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Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail, or any other anime/novel/manga/fanfic that I may use.

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Chapter 1: I Woke Up in a Magic Frat House

Fiore, July 8th 777

Hazel green eyes snapped open with a start, blurry vision giving way to a hard wooden surface, and a haunting pair of sapphire blue eyes, with a whispered, ghostly voice, flashed through memories before fading like a dream.

“WILD!” 

A shout mixed with faint heavy metal echoing off the walls made a figure’s head pound with the familiar pain of a deadly hangover.

"Who's god-awful alarm is that?" Dante mumbled as he picked his head up off the bar counter, idly feeling the sticky wet sensation of dried drool at the corner of his lips. “Gross.”

He groggily blinked the crust from his eyes as he took in his surroundings and found himself sitting at a cozy little bar with no more than half a dozen leather seats. ‘Another bar.’

A snort of dry humor worked its way through his parched throat before Dante looked beside him and found a shirtless teenager with what looked like purple armored shoulder pads and some kind of canine tattoo on his back passed out face down. ‘Who the hell is this? Shit, did I drink with a teenager last night?’

The thought went through Dante’s head before a distant sound of something being smashed brought the return of the faint heavy metal music to his ears. ‘Oh god, it’s worse. I’m in a frat house.’

Dante attempted to push himself up, only for the door to the bar to crack open, letting the grating sound magnify and make his head spin. At the same time, the taste of stomach acid rose in the back of his throat, causing him to slam back down on the bar. “Urg, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Don’t even think about it.” An amused, slightly rough older voice called out from the door before it was kicked shut, blissfully cutting off the pounding music. “I just had that counter cleaned.”

“Easier said than done.” Dante groaned and pushed the brown hair out of his eyes. “I feel like I got kicked in the head by a horse.”

“After how much you drank last night, I bet.” The aged voice responded as the man in question casually walked behind the bar. “I’m amazed you’re even awake already, not bad for someone your age.”

“Years of experience.” Dante gave a wry smile and wrangled his stomach back into line.

“Well, that’s a depressing thought. You barely look old enough to drink as it is.” The man responded with an odd tone, and only then did Dante finally look up and take him in. "Well, I guess it's fine as you are now."

Tall, thin, middle-aged, with dark, dirty blond hair framing a sharp face, sunglasses indoors for some reason, a witch's hat on his head, and a spiked collar around his neck and hat. The man looked like a midlife crisis punk rocker holding a cup of coffee, sadly not all that uncommon on college campus.

“I’m old enough.” Dante casually waved. Sure, being nineteen wasn’t technically legal in the US, but up in Maine, no one really cared. Especially at college parties. “What Frat is this?”

“Frat?” The guy raised a brow behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah, you know, fraternity?” Dante noticed the man didn’t change his expression. “This is a fraternity, right?”

The man stared at him for a solid few seconds before snorting in honest humor. “I hate that I can’t even deny that. Well played, kid.”

“I don’t even know what I won.” Dante scratched his messy hair and subtly frowned as the texture felt weird to his touch. “Please don’t tell me I wandered off campus again.”

“You don’t know where you are?” The older man asked and sipped his coffee.

“Would I be asking if I did?” Dante’s face felt itchy, and only a moment later did he touch the skin around his eye and hiss in familiar pain. “Who the hell did I fight?”

“You really don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“Not at all.” Dante flatly admitted with zero shame. “Last thing I remember is heading outside to take a piss, and now I’m here.”

There was something foggy missing from that equation, but Dante couldn’t recall it.

"Ain't that a hell of a blackout?" The man shook his head in amusement and pointed to the teenager passed out beside him. “Bacchus is the one who punched you.”

"Well, shit." Dante blinked at the sleeping teen, thankfully not seeing any obvious sign of injury on the guy. “Did I deserve it?”

“Hard to say.” The man shrugged. “But you did drench him and half the hall with water when you awakened your magic.”

‘Magic?’ Dante took another look at the guy's witch hat and spiked collar before translating that in his brain. "Did I break open a pipe or something?”

“That’s one way to put it.” The man snorted. “I know it can be shocking for civilians, so take your time with it.”

“Right.” Dante felt his pounding head compound as he realized he might've passed out in one of those cultish-type bars, again, sadly, not all that uncommon in his area of Maine. “You got a bathroom around here?”

“Down the hall, first door on your left.” The man gestured to the door he came through with his chin.

“Thanks.” Dante nodded and wobbled up to his feet. “And sorry for any damages, I’ll see what I can pay for.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” The guy waved it off with a chuckle. “Something breaking is practically a daily occurrence around here.”

“Sounds like a fun place.” Dante shared the chuckle and stretched out his legs. “What’s it called?”

For the first time in the conversation, Dante saw the man give him a sharp, tooth-filled smirk. "Quatro Cerberus, home to the wildest spirits around.”

“WILD!”

The sleeping teen shot his arm up and half-shouted, half-mumbled the word alongside the distant shout from elsewhere in the building, and Dante paused in a wince as he observed the sheer satisfaction saying that radiated off the man. “That still sounds like a fraternity.”

The guy's enthusiasm died a slow and terrible death. "You just had to say it.”

“If it bothers you and this place is co-ed, get some girls.” Dante reached the door and called over his shoulder.

“You think I haven’t tried that, kid?” The guy grumbled into his coffee. “Makky and Bob get all the luck.”

‘Why does he keep calling me kid? I’m an adult for fuck’s sake.’ Dante grumbled like any good teen thinking themselves an adult and stared at the door with hard eyes, psyching himself up for the soundwave coming his way. ‘This is gonna suck.’

The soundproofing in the small bar proved its worth, as opening the door was like stepping out into a tooth-rattling concert.

Just reaching the hall made Dante feel his head pound in time with his heart, alongside a dozen aches and pains that seemed to fight to make themselves known all at once. ‘This is why I hate waking up in frats. Why can’t they enjoy a good hangover like the rest of us and be silent?’

Dante grunted and wobbled his way down the hall, briefly taking in the open space before him in minor surprise. ‘Nice place.’

The building was mainly one large open space, single-floored, with a high ceiling. The room was styled like an old-school tavern, with tiki torches and heavy wooden tables everywhere, like some sort of horror-show mix of a Hawaiian/English pub.

A massive bar ran along one side, with a bulletin board and a giant map next to it, while in the very center of the room was a raised stage like a wrestling ring without any ropes.

And smack dab on the stage were giant, six-foot-tall speakers blasting out vibrating sound waves.

‘This place would make an interior decorator's soul cry out in agony.’ Dante turned away from the décor and eyed the occupants. Around two dozen punk-rocker-looking dudes, all with spikes and leather clothes, were spread around the place, either passed out on tables or slowly mopping up what looked like puddles of sticky substances. ‘Must have been a fun party.’

The door on the left quickly came up, and just as Dante was about to enter, it opened from the other side as a linebacker-sized guy that probably ate all his vegetables growing up came out and spotted him.

“Dante!” The big guy flashed him a large grin. “That was wild last night, man!”

“WILD!”

The rest of the crowd, even the sleeping ones, somehow managed to shout over the pounding music in tune with the big guy's speech, and the effect was magnified many times over compared to being back in the small bar he woke up in.

“Err…” Dante tried hard not to flinch at the weird response, seeing as no one even bothered to look over while shouting. “Uh, yeah, thanks, big guy.”

“Let me know next time you come by, I’ll be sure to beat you.” A meaty palm slammed on Dante’s shoulder with pure friendly intensity, nearly sending him through the floor, before the big guy walked off.

‘Beat me at what? I think you beat me enough already.’ Dante felt his knees buckle from the strain.

A wheeze escaped his lips as he shuffled into the bathroom, feeling like death ran him over with a Zamboni. ‘This day just gets weirder and weirder.’

Sadly, Dante had no idea how much weirder it was going to get as he turned and stared into the mirror above the sink.

Blue eyes widened as he took in the obvious changes, his jaw dropping in shock as the dying embers of his brain forced a reboot.

“Wha….how….whe….” Dante was inches from the mirror before he could blink. “WHAT DEAD MOTHERFUCKER SHAVED OFF MY FACIAL HAIR?! I LOOK LIKE A TODDLER!”

0000

'Okay, freaking out in a punk rock frat house bathroom wasn't my best move.' Dante lifted his head off the toilet seat and waved away the third well-wisher, asking if he needed any help. 'These guys are honestly pretty thoughtful for how they look, but damn it, I just need a solid minute here.’

Dante flushed the last of his bile and walked back over to the sink, taking deep breaths as he did so, and stared straight at his reflection. ‘What the hell did I drink last night….?’

Looking back at him wasn’t the face of his familiar nineteen-year-old pale-skinned sickly self, but one far closer to his healthy, tanned fifteen-year-old self. It wasn't someone else; it was all him.

Same face. Same eyes. Same hair. Same faint scar over an eyebrow from where he got smacked by a snapped bowstring when he was thirteen and swore off the cursed contraptions.

Yet the rest was like looking into a photograph. Dante's brown hair hadn’t been styled this way in years, like a mop dumped atop his head. He stood at 5'7, with a healthy, toned frame that still retained the hard-earned tan from withstanding over half a decade of his grandfather’s lessons in the outback of northern Maine.

None of the expected abuse he put his body through during the last two years since he started living alone was to be seen. ‘Am I in a coma?’ Dante felt his guess had a real possibility, seeing as he blacked out and somehow aged back four years. ‘A fever dream? Is any of this real?’

His gaze locked in on the clear shiner going over his left eye and the dried blood of a minor split lip. Slowly touching the spots sparked encouraging pain in him. ‘Okay, not a dream, but a coma isn’t out the window. Wait, what actually happens in a coma?’

The existential question idly distracted him for a moment before another crashing sound in the building forced Dante back to his senses. ‘Right then. What the fuck?’

Leaning over the sink, Dante turned on the cold water and splashed his face, feeling the cold liquid restore a token of clarity to his mind.

‘What happened last night?’

Before, Dante was just casually asking and not really serious about an answer; now, he was seriously asking for a clear answer.

He furrowed his brow as he thought back. ‘I was at that party Justin invited me to, had some fun, went out back to take a piss behind some trees, and then….?’ His memory stopped there, and he pushed harder. ‘Wait.’

Eyes. Void. Gate. A whisper.

Dante’s head nearly split from the fragmented memories. ‘What fucked up nightmare was that?’

The memory was gone before the pain faded, leaving a sense of instinctual terror behind that Dante couldn't put words to. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as wide hazel eyes stared at his reflection in utter confusion.

‘I…’ Dante shook his head roughly. ‘It was just a dream. I've dreamt of weird shit before; this isn't anything new.' He clung to a token of sanity and backtracked to his previous night. ‘How does taking a piss outside lead to this? Did I piss on the fountain of youth? Hell, even my clothes are what I used to wear when I was fifteen.’

Dante looked like he had just come out of one of his grandfather’s camping trips slash demonic boot camps. Cargo pants, long-sleeved breathable shirt, well-worn sturdy boots.

‘Since when does the fountain of youth give me back clothes from my youth?’

The reality was absurd, but the facts were staring him right in the face like some kind of eerie mimic, and looking in the mirror longer only made sapphire eyes seem to stare back at him like a phantom.

And to that reasoning, Dante only had one logical conclusion. ‘I’m too sober for this shit.’

All concern over how hungover he was was thrown to the side as Dante smashed aside his problems with sheer procrastination.

Pushing the bathroom door open, Dante once more returned to the main hall with clearer eyes and stopped to stare at the insanity before him. ‘This… might not be a frat house.’

More people were awake now, and before Dante’s gaze, colored flashes of light were being ejected from hands as reality was told to take a hike.

One guy with a V-shaped hairstyle, like something out of anime, was spinning his arm like a drill to sweep up debris.

The linebacker guy from earlier was off to the side, growing vines from thin air to wrap around cracked pillars.

Another guy was seemingly yelling at a puddle of liquid, all red-faced and sweating, and somehow the puddle was actually intimidated enough to move itself into a bucket.

There was even a guy in a dog costume, holding an arm to his face and crying out a stream of tears that then swept over sticky tables, leaving them dry and clean.

‘Whatever I drank last night…’ Dante watched on for another minute. ‘I think I want another bottle.’

How often does one see a sight that leaves their brain grasping for straws before it packs its bags and tells you to figure it out yourself?

“Yo Dante!” A passing dude waved with full cheer, somehow yelling over the sound of the music, and forced Dante to wave back with empty eyes. “Crazy night, huh?”

‘Does everyone know me around here?’ Dante’s gaze landed on the giant map and bulletin board to one side, and he walked over to check it out while occasionally nodding to anyone who called out his name. ‘At least it doesn’t seem like I’m in danger.’

So far, everyone he met had been friendly, which was an upside to this weird coma dream.

The map was massive. Not in the sense of the amount of land, but in the sense that a picture was magnified and expanded. 'What's the point of making it this big?'

Dante's eyes drifted to a dramatic 'You Are Here' marker pointing to a city on the map, followed by images and arrows that seemed to try to explain things to an eight-year-old. The sight alone made him internally sweat drop. 'Maybe there's a good reason it's this big.'

The map showed a single country, like a weirdly shaped, fat Florida, at a diagonal angle, with water on three sides, and national border lines showing at the point where it connected to more land in the northeastern direction, where the map was cut off.

Dante’s brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the map. Not only was the land shown nothing like he was familiar with, but the names of various places were odd to look at. ‘Is this old English or something?’

The words were clearly in English, but it was as if someone replaced all the vowels with different symbols. Not in that exact sense, but close enough to explain it.

‘This is like learning Italian all over again.’ Dante’s mother was Italian, so he grew up with dual languages until he was twelve, losing the opportunity to speak it since, but keeping at the written language at least made his brain able to parse out a translation for what he was seeing with some effort.

At the bottom right was a larger word that Dante took to be the name of the country.

‘Fiare? No, Fiore. Fiore, where the fuck is Fiore?’ Dante felt a faint sense of familiarity with the word, but he was sure he hadn’t seen it on a world map before.

To the side was a long list of train times, and if the travel times shown were anything to go by, the country seemed pretty big.

There was a star-marked capital in the center of the map below a large mountain range that Dante slowly translated as [Crocus], with dozens of cities and towns spread around it throughout the land, connected by train tracks, mostly congregated in the eastern half of the nation.

And on top of that, there were clearly marked cities with some kind of titles above them in a different color that Dante slowly translated to mean something like [Phantom Lord] [Blue Pegasus] [Lamia Scale], and so on.

‘Yeah, I don’t recognize any of this. Are they strip clubs?’

Like a man drowning for an answer, Dante stood before the map for almost twenty minutes trying to find something that could give him an answer despite the vibrating music shaking his skull, only for his eyes to skim over a city called Magnolia and a star-marked title named [Fairy Tail].

‘Fairy Tail….Fairy Tail….’ Dante’s abused brain pulled out the files and slowly started building connections. ‘Wait… you’re shitting me.’

Dante slowly turned around to see the various flashes of light as people continued repairing the place, then turned back to the map. 'An anime world? I got Isekai’d? Am I a magical girl now?’

A discreet check thankfully disabused the final notion, yet still left Dante blankly staring up at the map.

‘I… really need to sit down.’ Dante rubbed his forehead and turned away to walk back to the bar he woke up in.

To say there wasn’t a string of budding excitement would be wrong; to say he was scared would also be wrong. Honestly, Dante was feeling overwhelmed.

First, he was de-aged, and now he realized that, instead of waking up in a weird occult frat house, he might be in a completely fictional world he had briefly watched years ago on a computer screen.

It was the weirdest hour after waking up from a night of drinking that he'd ever had. Even more than the time with the goat and the pineapple incident.

Dante didn't even know what to think at this point; it’s not like recognizing a single detail from a work of fiction made him suddenly recall everything about it. He could barely recognize the world, let alone what that actually entailed. Nor did he fully believe this was the world he thought it was, instead of some large practical joke. He needed answers, and that wasn’t coming from a map.

Reaching his starting point, Dante hurriedly pushed open the near soundproofed door and slammed it behind him, sighing in relief as the music was cut off. "Who the hell needs music that loud first thing in the morning?”

“It’s technically the afternoon.” An amused voice came from within the room. “But I guess your soul isn’t wild enough.”

“WILD!” A raised arm came from the slumped teenager at the bar, distantly echoed by the rest of the building even through the door.

“Would you stop doing that!” Dante growled at the guy and plopped down on the cushioned leather seat he woke up on. “You’re making my head split.”

“Weak~.” The low teasing chuckle of the shirtless teen named Bacchus rang out as the guy lifted his head from between his arms. “What happened to all that fire from last night, man?”

Now that the guy’s head was turned, Dante could see that his eyes were red and slightly slanted, with black hair pulled back in a messy bun, and what looked like sharper-than-normal teeth.

As for his words, Dante didn’t remember what happened, but he knew himself well enough to guess what he’d do at a party. “Ask me again when I’m sober.”

"Sober? What's that?" Bacchus grinned over before turning slightly green as if he was feeling sick.

“It’s that feeling where you don’t feel like puking.”

“Heh, fair enough.” Bacchus extended a fist. “Master said ya blacked out last night, so in case ya don’t remember, the names Bacchus.”

“Yeah, I hear you’re the one I have to thank for this.” Dante casually pointed to his black eye.

“Ya deserved it.” Bacchus responded directly.

“What’d I do?”

“Ruined my drink with your sprinkler trick.”

Dante paused, remembering the older guy saying something about him drenching people with a burst pipe or something, and nodded. “You know, I might have done the same in your shoes." He reached out and bumped the guy's fist. "You seem to know me, but I’m Dante.”

"I know enough." Bacchus grinned wider and side-eyed the older guy's coffee mug. "You've got a wild spirit, man. I respect that."

Bacchus might have felt worse than he let on since he seemed to whisper the special word this time around, and Dante silently thanked him for it.

“I still don’t know what I did, but I’ll take it.” Dante shrugged and looked at the older guy. “Speaking of which, I don’t think I got your name.”

The older guy opened his mouth to respond, but Bacchus beat him to it and pointed. “That’s Goldmine, he’s the guild master around here. Feel free to call him Old Man or Kennel Keeper.”

Goldmine’s brow twitched as he flicked a coffee bean at Bacchus’s forehead faster than Dante could blink. “Ignore him, just call me Goldmine.”

Bacchus barely flinched as the projectile snapped his head back before he happily snapped it up with a crunch like some kind of dog.

“Right, well, Goldmine, any chance I could get some…" Dante really wanted to ask for a strong drink, but sadly, he was broke and still a good punch away from emptying his stomach. “Water?”

“Sure thing, kid.” Goldmine chuckled and filled a mug from the tap. “You feeling better? Looked a bit pale when you woke up.”

“In a manner of speaking." Dante chugged the life-giving liquid and pleaded for more with his eyes, making the older man just smirk and refill it. "The music wasn’t helping.”

“I don’t usually let them go this hard in the mornings.” Goldmine admitted. “But last night was a bit extreme.”

“Damn straight.” Bacchus openly cackled before explaining. “Some random civilian showed up drunk, drank half of us under the table, started a bar fight, awakened his magic, proceeded to panic and drench half the place like a demented broken facet, started a second bar fight with me of all people when you ruined my drink, took a direct hit and didn’t get knocked out, and then went on to drink even more while dropping some wild lyrics on stage.” Bacchus damn nearly looked at Dante with worship. “If getting you drunk is that fun all the time, you gotta come by more often.”

“Well, that’s the cliff notes.” Goldmine helpfully commented.

Dante took that all in, finally getting a full picture, and proceeded to groan and drop his head on the bar. “I sang? Which song?”

What Dante was really saying was: Which unholy hell did I release on this world?

Bacchus grinned even wider and belched out with a proud grin. “99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall~!”

Dante stared flatly at the singing teen and felt his head hurt. ‘Not the worst it could have been. Thankfully, it wasn't another edition of my sad beatboxing attempts or {It's Britney Bitch}. You black out once at a sorority party and wake up with a dozen new songs in your brain and just as many videos of the things you’ve done on the internet.’

“Quite the catchy one.” Goldmine chuckled and leaned back against the wall. “Really livened things up.”

“I’m the life of the party.” Dante rolled his eyes and rested his head on a hand exhaustedly. “You guys speak like I’m a novelty, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside here.”

Goldmine and Bacchus shared a look, and both nodded.

“You kind of are, man.” Bacchus dropped back down on his arms and tried to sneakily reach for Goldmine’s coffee cup. “Not every day a Civi awakens magic. Especially at our age. Especially while drinking.” The guy seemed genuinely confused about whether to be affronted or encouraged by the last part. “Who the hell awakens while drinking? Why can’t I have that luck?”

“Don’t even think about it.” Goldmine flicked another bean at the teen. “You won’t get a caster seed by drinking.”

“How do you know that?” Bacchus fired back.

“Experience.” Goldmine shook his head and pointed a thumb at Dante. “He was just in the right place and time for his magic to pop.”

"You guys keep saying that." Dante hid his inner thoughts and took the opening to cut in. "What's that even mean?”

“Err… Master, you wanna take this one?” Bacchus passed the ball without hesitation at the sign of work.

“Oh, so I’m Master when it’s convenient, is it?” Goldmine casually moved the coffee cup out of Bacchus's reach and ignored his silent plea, turning to Dante. “Civilians always get weird ideas of magic, so it’s not odd for you to not fully understand.”

"Civilian?" Dante felt they were putting too much emphasis on the word.

“Anyone without magic.” Bacchus helpfully chimed in while making more overt attempts to snatch the coffee mug. "I just call 'em Civi's. Back home in Minstrel, we call 'em peasants.”

“It’s not a derogatory term.” Goldmine barely paid attention to the teen, yet was always a step ahead of Bacchus's grasping hands. "It's simply how things are. Technically, everyone has Ethernano in them. It’s in everything. But only a small percentage of the population has the capacity to use magic.”

“Did he just say ‘peasants’?” Dante pointed to Bacchus.

“Yeup.” The teen grinned. “You’re probably a native of Fiore, right? Shit’s way different out of the country.”

“Ignore him.” Goldmine launched another coffee bean assault. “He doesn’t even know about Ethernano, don’t go confusing him.”

“Bleh.” Bacchus stuck his tongue out and went back to aiming for the older man’s coffee mug.

Dante furrowed his brow as he felt faint, distant memories of the word Ethernano, but it wasn’t fresh enough to be relevant. “Could you explain a bit more?”

With such a convenient source of information, he would be stupid not to ask.

“Nope.” Goldmine instantly rejected as he reached under the bar for something. “I've had this discussion more times than I care for with thick-skulled pups.” He pulled out a thin book and tossed it on the counter. “You can read that; feel free to keep it."

Dante’s eyes dropped to the title, taking a few seconds to translate it.

[Ethernano and You]

A brow twitched as Dante looked over the… artistic designs on the colorful cover, not to mention it was likely twenty pages at most. “Is this a children’s book?”

Bacchus sniggered from the side.

“Not at all.” Goldmine answered with the most bullshit poker face around. “It’s an introductory booklet I personally made for new members.”

Dante slowly pointed to a small corner of the book cover that had a sticker that read ‘Ages 8+’ on it.

Goldmine casually slid the book back to his side, scratched off the sticker, and slid it back with a beaming smile. “Every new member gets one.”

Dante silently took it back with a deadpan expression. “I didn’t join anything.”

His grandaddy didn’t raise no cult joiner. Dante knew better than that.

“Consider it a gift.” Goldmine waved it off. “Bacchus wasn’t wrong to say it’s rare for someone your age to awaken their magic. Most wouldn’t see a result past twelve, let alone that you seem to be around fifteen.”

“Thanks.” Dante waved the point of age off; he didn't know the answer himself, and it bothered him. “I’m a bit lost here.”

"I bet." Goldmine nodded, seemingly giving up resisting Bacchus's grabs, handed over the mug, and leaned back with crossed arms. "Awakening magic can either completely change someone's life, or lead to nothing at all. Choice is up to you."

“How so? Do you have to go to school or something?” Dante thought of Hogwarts from those movies and how much the idea of school sucked.

“Nah man, that ain’t my party.” Bacchus directly denied while casually popping a bottle of scotch he nabbed from behind the bar to pour into the remaining coffee. “I’m allergic to books.”

“Stop that.” Goldmine flicked another coffee bean at the guy’s head and snatched the bottle away. “This is a fifteen-year-old bottle; use the cheap stuff for coffee."

Bacchus blatantly ignored the man, happily stirred his new coffee cocktail, and turned to Dante. “Unlike other countries, Fiore’s pretty strict with mages. If ya want to make money with magic, ya gotta be registered at a legal guild, or ya get canned.”

“He means arrested.” Goldmine sighed in exasperation. “Fiore’s magical government is strict, but on the flipside, we have a lot more mages compared to other nations. However, you don’t have to be a mage. If you want to continue your normal life, nothing's stopping you.”

Dante idly listened while pretending to flip through the book. “You saying farmers and stuff can’t legally use magic?”

“Of course they can.” Goldmine countered. “Most types of mage guilds are support or merchant-focused. You just have to be registered and legal for it.”

“And this one isn’t a merchant guild?” Dante pointed around them.

Bacchus nearly snorted his drink out through his nose. “Ha! Imagine Rocker being a farmer.”

Goldmine was equally amused at the thought as he shook his head. "No, we're a combat-focused guild. We accept jobs from civilians and make a living from it. If you want to take combat jobs, you’ll need to register with a guild.”

“What if I don’t want to take jobs?” Dante questioned. “Are civilians not registered?”

The two guys in the room looked at each other and shrugged in unison, clearly answering Dante’s question.

‘I guess this place isn't nearly as data-obsessed as my old world.’ Dante shut the book happily. “Right, you got a cheat sheet on laws I should watch out for or something?”

“Last three pages.”

The instant response from Goldmine had Dante pause, looking oddly at the older man. “Is it just me, or are you being a bit specific with pointing that out to me?"

Bacchus openly laughed. “He is. Newbies tend to let power go to their heads."

“A quick wakeup call on consequences is useful.” Goldmine tactfully added on. “Plus, you know…” He trailed off as he shot Dante a look.

“What?”

Goldmine looked like he was trying to choose his words carefully. “Well…”

“You sound like you came from the boonies.” Bacchus cut through the issue with a grin. “You got a weird accent, and you’re dressed like a hunter. You from a village or something?”

“Not to be rude, but he’s right.” Goldmine confirmed, idly flicking another bean at Bacchus for being too direct. “We can understand you, but you have an odd accent.”

Dante realized the odd form of writing might reflect in the spoken language and swallowed. “Is that an issue?”

"Nah, man, it’s cool.” Bacchus immediately shut that worry down. “Someone pointed it out last night; that’s how the fight started.”

“The one that led to me awakening magic?” Dante questioned.

“Yeup." Bacchus sipped the alcoholic coffee with far too much relish for a hungover fifteen-year-old. "Hell of a fun time."

“Ignore him.” Goldmine sighed and waved away any discomfort. “Most of my boys come from villages out in the countryside; it breeds stronger people. City-born types tend to be less likely to awaken magic for some reason; theories vary, probably less hardship, anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re only pointing it out to make you aware of it.”

“Damn straight. If anyone gives ya shit for it, I’ll gladly step in.” Bacchus offered with a bit too much glee.

“You seem like you just want an excuse to start a fight.” Dante pointed out.

“That too.” Bacchus didn’t deny it.

A chuckle rumbled in Dante’s throat as he felt himself relax a bit. He was still trying to figure things out, but Bacchus seemed like a good guy.

"Well, thanks, man." Dante offered his fist.

“Anytime.” Bacchus gladly bumped it back.

Turning to Goldmine, Dante nodded at the previous question. “Saying I’m from a village isn’t wrong, mostly farmers and hunters.” Growing up with his grandfather in the outback since he was twelve easily qualified as village life, even if he stormed out before his eighteenth birthday. “Honestly, I’m not even sure how I got here. Where is here, anyway?”

Bacchus freely laughed at the question.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean the guild?” Goldmine asked.

“Nah, I got that. Squat something. Fraternity. Somewhere in Fiore.” Dante helpfully filled in and enjoyed hearing Bacchus choke on his drink as he burst out laughing harder.

“Quatro Cerberus.” Goldmine dryly corrected. "And we're in Malba City, the north-west part of Fiore. Technically, a frontier city.”

“Thanks.” Dante nodded and threw aside any plan to play stupid by smiling brightly. “I have no idea where I am.”

“You don’t say.” Goldmine sighed like he was looking at a common problem he faced daily. He looked down at Dante’s clothes, specifically the camouflage style. “You mentioned hunting. Got any experience?”

Dante’s smile dimmed at that as his grandfather’s figure flashed through his mind, but he still nodded. “Plenty.”

Whether Goldmine noticed the change or not, he didn’t say. “Great. We don’t have many hunters around here. We’re only a couple of days' train ride from the capital, where the large farms are, so our city never had a need for husbandry. Still, fresh game is always welcome, and seeing as you’re a mage, I won’t have to worry about you exploring the woods.”

“Is being a mage important for hunting around here?” Dante raised a brow.

“Very.” Goldmine nodded firmly.

“Man, ya must have been way out there.” Bacchus cut back in, waving around the empty coffee mug with slightly flushed cheeks. “Most Civi’s don’t stray off main roads and trains. Hell, majority of em don’t even travel. Even a weak magic beast can screw over someone without basic protection.”

“That.” Goldmine pointed. “Fiore is pretty good and keeping roads clear, but the farther you get from population densities, the more risk even a main road might have.” He hummed and tapped the book on the counter. “A freshly awakened mage isn't so defenseless; you can read about it in here.”

“Sounds dangerous.” Dante mused thoughtfully, wondering how growing up in woodland with wolves and bears would compare to this world. ‘Then again, I’m not exactly on earth, am I?’

To say he wasn’t interested in the idea of hunting new game would be a lie. But to say he didn’t have his own demons about stepping back into the woods would be a lie as well.

“It is.” Bacchus answered casually. “Most deaths are from Civi’s who wander off, or mages who are being idiots.”

Dante raised a brow. “How many is most?”

“A lot.” Goldmine cut in, lacking his usual smirk as he looked up and seemingly thought out loud. “It’s different depending on the area, but the more concentrated ethernano is in nature, the greater the danger from the wild both in terms of environment and wildlife, and those concentrations are scattered throughout the continent.” He shook his head. “I won’t get into more than that. It’s a depressing topic, but mages are typically fine. Even if you can’t fight, you can still run in most cases. Still, having magic doesn’t make one a professional ranger.”

Dante could understand that. He couldn’t count how many times his grandpa knocked him over the head for not noticing small details when picking mushrooms. And that's just one area of foraging, let alone the rest. You could be strong and still die from a lack of knowledge.

“Magic lets us live free and wild!” Bacchus cackled, clearly knowing what he did.

“WILD!” The echoing call made Dante twitch.

“Stop that, the jokes getting old.” Goldmine chuckled and explained to an irritated Dante. “It’s our motto. We do it a couple more times than usual for guests. Makes them think we’re crazy. We find it hilarious.”

Dante gave him a dry look. “So, you’re saying you don’t all go wild whenever anyone says it?”

“WILD!”

Bacchus stared at Dante for a second before bursting out laughing and reaching over to slap his shoulder. “Ha! I knew I liked you, Dante. You’re practically an honorary member.”

Goldmine chuckled fondly. “Perhaps we say it every now and then.”

“Right.” Dante brushed off Bacchus’s arm and picked up the book he was handed, which despite the previous sticker saying it was for kids, had a lot of confusing images he needed to sit down and focus on to understand. “I’ll give this a good read. Mind if I come back if I have more questions?”

“Anytime, kid.” Goldmine gave him a welcoming smile. “You got a place to stay?”

"Er…" Dante paused, just realizing he didn't have any cash, nor did he even know what the cash around here looked like.

Goldmine smirked knowingly. “You can shack up at the guild dormitory until you get yourself situated.” He turned to Bacchus. “Ragnar got his own place recently, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Bacchus’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got a free bunk in my room, you can chill with me, man.”

Dante blinked at the overwhelming generosity. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” He scratched the back of his head. “Should I wait tables or something to pay for it?”

“Hell no, you’re part of the party, you can’t go serving it.” Bacchus instantly denied like someone wanted to steal his favorite toy.

“It’s fine.” Goldmine waved it off with a smile. “I own the dorm, so don’t worry about it. Just stick to the house rules, and you can stay a couple of months for free." He paused to pinch his chin and think for a moment. “But since you say you’re a hunter, bring me back some fresh rabbit meat. I've been craving some recently, and the butchers only sell what's defrosted after it arrives from the capital.”

Dante immediately felt that internal hesitation again, almost making him want to ask for a drink rather than a room, before shaking it off with an attempt at a confident smile. “You got it. Anyone around to give me the lay of the land?”

“Bacchus will deal with it.” Goldmine answered.

“Oi, don’t go volunteering me, Old Man.” Bacchus grumbled before shooting Dante a grin. “But I’m down to party. I can show ya my training grounds, maybe spar a bit. Just be sure to bring back some good meat for a barbecue.”

“Sure.” Dante didn’t know what to say at the warm words that stirred an old wound in his gut, focusing instead on the challenge and recalling that he never had to fight anyone outside a bar before. “Just don’t have high expectations.”

“No worries, I’ve seen ya rumble last night; you’ve never been in a real fight before, have ya?” Bacchus fired back with far too much confidence. “You’ve got some crazy balance though. I woulda called bullshit on ya being a good hunter if I didn’t see that.”

Dante could only scratch his cheek awkwardly. “Thanks, I guess.”

“If you need any supplies, feel free to check out the storage shed in the back. We keep a stock of basic materials with how often things break around here.” Goldmine casually offered, leaving Dante feeling even more out of his depth.

He wasn’t used to accepting things for free, but his pride blinded him once before, and he decided to make a wiser choice this time.

“Uh, I mean, thanks guys. Really.” Dante bowed his head slightly in gratitude, not really a cultural thing, but more of something he simply did by habit. “If I get the chance, I’ll repay you.”

There were a lot of negative things Dante could admit about himself, but he never forgot a debt.

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Goldmine grinned reassuringly. “Go get some rest, you look like a washed-up pup."

“He means ya smell like shit.” Bacchus helpfully added.

“That goes for you too, you little shit.” Goldmine fired back in a calm voice.

Bacchus raised a hand to argue, paused, lifted his arm to get a sniff, and felt his eyes water as his protests were strangled rather than silenced. “Fair enough. Come on, man.” He waved for Dante to follow and hopped off the bar. “See ya around, Master.”

“If you finish my drink, return the cup to the kitchen, Bacchus.” Goldmine tossed over the coffee mug and made Bacchus pout at not being able to sneak away.

“Fine.” He casually tossed the cup to Dante. “Dante, do me a solid.”

“I don’t even know where the kitchen is.” Dante caught it by reflex and responded.

“Ugh.” Bacchus snatched it back. “I’ll give ya the tour.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Bacchus pulled open the door back into the hell of sound-wave war crimes, and Dante was surprised that he didn't feel as nervous as he had on the way back in.

He might not know what the hell was going on with his situation, but even if it meant he had to use skills he firmly shut behind a mental door nearly two years ago, Dante got the feeling he couldn’t procrastinate on his troubles much longer.

“Survive.”

Dante’s eyes fogged over while his foot caught on a board.

“Whoa.” Bacchus’s arm shot out and stopped him from slamming his head on the door. “Ya good, man?”

Dante blinked and shook his head with a furrowed brow. “Thanks, probably just the hangover.”

“Come on.” Bacchus chuckled and led the way. “Let’s grab some grub.”

"Yeah." Dante grunted as ethereal blue eyes flashed through his mind. "Food sounds good."

Chapter End.