《Villainess Of Crimson》 Prologue: The Waking World In the dazzling world of sterile white, my hospital room had become the exclusive lounge of my existence. The relentless beeping soundtrack. The unmistakable fragrance of antiseptic chic. It was the hottest spot in town, and by town, I mean my immune system. While I basked in the glory of medical battles that would make an action movie director jealous, the outside world carried on with its shenanigans. Children played, nature flaunted its vibrant hues, and adolescence had its wild parties¡ªall conveniently observed through my window. Like a spectator. Gone were the days of friendships and teenage rebellion; my entourage now consisted of doctors and nurses who probably knew my medical history better than I did. Their sympathetic gazes were the closest thing I had to a standing ovation for my survival performance. Then, on the grand stage of my sixteenth birthday, the stoic doctor made his entrance, delivering the heavy news. I smelled this coming from miles away. Guess what? My fragile existence was now on a countdown, courtesy of the unruly cancer that had decided to crash my party. Forget sweet sixteen; I was now starring in "Terminal Teen". The outside world, that elusive dream, decided to mock me with its palpable reality just out of arm''s reach. Each passing moment became a drop in the hourglass, urging me to grab life by the metaphorical horns I never got to experience. As my final chapter unfolded, the once-bland hospital room turned into a cocoon of reflection. Accompanied by the poignant background music of my life''s greatest hits ¨C or lack thereof. The specter of sickness had been my lifelong frenemy, a silent rebel I wrestled with in a never-ending game of medical chess. From my earliest memories, it was like, "Hey, here''s a life sentence of health challenges ¨C enjoy!" In the hushed corridors of solitude, my inner voice, a stand-up comedian (I wish) trapped in a hospital gown, would occasionally stir the silence with questions as ridiculous as my prognosis. Schizophrenia? Pfft, who cares? "So, any grand plans if you miraculously wake up with abs of steel and the energy of a caffeinated squirrel?" my inner jester snarked. I rolled my eyes, deciding to humor the game my mind liked to play. I swore I was sane. "Oh, you know, the usual. Frolic barefoot like a fairy in the woods, because who needs shoes when you''ve got a clean bill of health?" A snicker echoed in my thoughts. "Living dangerously, I see. What else, your majesty of good health?" ¡®Majesty of good health?¡¯ That was new. "I''d assemble a squad of friends, the Avengers of my social life. Pranks, laughter, the whole shebang. I might even attempt climbing a tree ¨C with proper supervision, of course. Can''t risk those newfound abs." My inner voice didn''t miss a beat. "And mountains? Treks? Expeditions? Who are you, a fitness guru slash explorer now?" I was normal. Mostly. "Why not? With a healthy body, I''d be an action hero. Move over, Avengers, there''s a new kid in town, and they''ve got a clean bill of health!" As the doctor dropped the bombshell of cancer setting up shop within me and the grim forecast of just a few months left in this mortal tango, an unexpected emotion flickered within ¨C relief. Maybe the medication had taken me on a psychedelic rollercoaster to the edge of madness, but when faced with an impending expiration date, did I really care about the whims of a mind doing somersaults? Was this the absurd coping mechanism my psyche had brewed up? The irony wasn''t lost on me ¨C the prospect of imminent death birthing an odd sense of liberation. Sure, the self-conversations might be a symptom of a mind on vacation (definitely schizophrenia), but with a death sentence hanging over my head, did the fine line between sanity and insanity even matter anymore? The idea of an afterlife, a potential escape hatch from the current dumpster fire of my existence, twinkled like a distant beacon. If the rumors about heavenly realms had even a smidgen of truth, perhaps the impending journey beyond the mortal coil would be a getaway from the relentless agony of illness. Hence, I clung to the dream that wherever my consciousness soared, it would be a place with Wi-Fi and an all-you-can-eat buffet, you know, to make the transition a bit more pleasant. The creaking door yanked me back to the present, and there they were¡ªmy parents, looking like they''d just survived a zombie apocalypse. If aging were an art, they''d be the Picasso of looking ten years older overnight. For a second, I questioned if the doctor had finally spilled the gloomy beans to them; their teary eyes were like a flashing neon sign, silently saying, "brace yourselves." "Please, Sana, stay strong no matter what," my mother pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears. "We will always be here for you." Their words hit me like a ton of bricks. Ah, Mom, Dad, the unsung heroes of my twisted story. They never abandoned ship, weathering the storms of my health with a commitment that would put those superhero sidekicks to shame. Their sacrifices¡ªthe missed workdays, the sleepless nights¡ªall showcased beneath the dark bags under their eyes. In that moment, the reality of my selfishness hit me like a rotten, smelly pie in the face. I''d been this bitter, resentful person, oblivious to their unwavering support. I didn''t want to leave them with a legacy of bitterness. Without missing a beat, I swooped my mother into a hug. Surprise sparked in her eyes, echoed by my dad. Yet, neither put up a resistance. My mother, who was on the verge of a tear tsunami, now opened the floodgates. "No, none of that," I whispered, my voice dripping with determination. "I''ve been rocking these shades of oblivious, but I want you to know¡ªI''m really very, very grateful to have parents as awesome as you. I love you both to the moon and back; it''s the only reason I''m still keeping the lights on in this crazy circus." I thought I heard my mom say, ¡°What are you even saying, Sana?¡± Yeah, I wondered about that too. Dad joined the hug, and the waterworks were in full swing. Despite my attempt at comfort, a lump in my throat threatened to reveal the emotional rollercoaster beneath. Instead of tears, I summoned a smile¡ªa mask to conceal the emotional tempest. Why did adults have to be so complex? I pondered, all while trying to fend off the rebellious tears. Today was not the day for vulnerability; it was a day to showcase the awe-inspiring strength instilled by these two life-coaches. So, with a practiced grin that could rival a game show host''s, I stood tall (metaphorically, of course), determined to be the pillar of resilience they desperately needed in that moment. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. In my quest to convince them I was the poster child for emotional and mental prosperity (Spoiler alert: Oscar-worthy performance), the emotional rollercoaster decided to take a breather. Maybe my attempts at humor were finally paying off, or they were just too tired to continue the tear-jerker marathon. The conversation, feeling like a script now, pirouetted away from the doom and gloom, seeking refuge in the land of my sketches. I reached for my drawing book, a treasure trove of landscapes, fantastical creatures, and characters not birthed from my own imagination, but from the vivid minds of authors whose novels I devoured. Reading and painting. The dual hues of my limited palette. Trusty sidekicks in this confined world. Flipping through the pages, I landed on the latest sketch. A rebellious teen girl with electric blue hair, eyes ablaze in piercing red, clutching a dagger stained in blood. A character from the novel I recently dove into, "The Assassinated Princess." A tale where the main character defies death, time-traveling after meeting her demise at the hands of this very girl. My parents, the seasoned critics of my horror-themed gallery, were as unflappable as ever. Their art appreciation skills could endure even the most morbid scenes. Dad, my secret painting guru, leaned in for a closer look, offering his two cents on shading. Together, we unleashed a storm of creativity, he was way too good at this stuff. Dad, the guy with a tough exterior that even doctors found intimidating, managed to keep a stiff upper lip while critiquing with an intensity that threatened to unleash the waterworks. The contrast was almost comedic. But it wasn''t fear he instilled in others¡ªit was a raw, unfiltered passion for life. Laughter echoed. A collaborative creation. A bittersweet symphony, of art and of emotion. In the cozy cocoon of slumber, I lost track of the battle between consciousness and dreams. As my eyes reluctantly surrendered to the waking world, the room was drenched in the glow of a full moon. A nocturnal beauty, through the lone open window. Dad, the undercover sleepover agent, had stealthily staked his claim on a corner of the bed, blissfully lost in a dreamland adventure. A gentle breeze, the room''s uninvited dance partner, waltzed in, giving the curtains a twirl. Eh, maybe I was still dreaming. My gaze, like a moth hypnotized by flame, fixated on the completed painting resting beside me. There she was¡ªthe villainess, with eyes as crimson as a stop sign, piercing through the very essence of the dagger she cradled. It was as if those eyes could peel away the layers of cold steel. Once again, the haunting query tiptoed through the corridors of my mind. "What would you do if you were in her place?" Damn schizophrenia, even crashing my dream parties. A chuckle escaped my lips¡ªa response to the uninvited musings throwing a masquerade ball in my mind. "Note to self: steer clear of the main character," I quipped. In the novel''s convoluted time-travel jig, the heroine and villainess were destined to cross paths. A showdown more inevitable than a plot twist in a soap opera. The voice, now a cheeky accomplice to my thoughts, chuckled playfully. A subtle remix of the moon''s glow¡ªa crimson touch injected into its silver serenade. Bah, in the grand scheme of my time-limited gig, the moon''s changing hues were just a temporary backdrop. Yet, the whispering voice just wouldn''t quit. "What if you were her?" it teased. Hmm. What if indeed! What would I do if I found myself in the villainess''s stilettos, a character with motivations as puzzling as why people put pineapple on pizza? The moon, clearly unimpressed with this late-night mind comedy, threw its crimson(??) glow upon the acrobatic musings. (Definitely a dream. I bet that silly moon was up to no good.) "You already know the answer, you stupid voice. I''d ditch the stilettos, dance barefoot in the woods like a fae, and make friends galore. Pranks, laughter, and playing would be my jam. I''d become the mountain-scaling, narrative-rewriting healthy gal, erasing that villain from the script forever." As the room plunged into a surreal shade of crimson, the voice, now a character with a life of its own, whispered once again. "What if I offer you to be her? Right here, right now?" It was a bit more commanding. Mature. Oddly enough, it sounded like my mum. I, too, responded with laughter. "I''d sign up faster than a kid at a candy store." The voice, now having fully upgraded to a distinct character, mirrored my laughter. Laughter that ricocheted through the crimson-drenched room. Eerie comedy duo. One in the walls, one on the bed. Ha-Ha He-He Ho-Ho Uh-oh? A sense of disquiet took a while to tiptoe in. Leaving me with a feeling that this dream had pulled a prank on me. The voice, having upgraded from sweet nothings to whispering in a language I didn''t even know I knew, declared, "Since you asked politely, little one." Umm, mum? In a heartbeat, my gaze shot upward. The roof, vanished. An empty cosmic canvas. A single crimson star. A celestial anomaly. Before my senses could wrap their heads around this spectacle, the star decided it was time, swelling in size and hurtling towards me with the ferocity of a comet. Yeah¡­ A rational mind might have pondered the extraordinary, but sanity packed its bags and fled in the face of such chaos. Panic seized me, and in the throes of primal fear, I did what any self-respecting dreamer would do in my surreal circumstances. I closed my eyes and screamed. Loud. The sound, a visceral release of terror. A cacophony. Of panic harmonizing with my scream. And abruptly, I found myself yanked back to reality. The familiar crimson-drenched room had disappeared, leaving me in an unfamiliar setting that could only be described as "not the hospital." Was I still dreaming? As I attempted to decipher the new locale, the disorientation settled in. The room around me felt like something out of a time-travel mix-up. The air carried a whiff of anachronism. My questioning gaze darted around the chamber, playing a game of hide-and-seek with answers. Ahh, the answers that proved to be elusive masters of camouflage. And then, out of the dreamy woodwork, the silence was rudely interrupted. A creak. The door swung open. Behold, a girl adorned in a French maid uniform made her grand entrance. A surreal dream? A whimsical fantasy? Following her lead, a peculiar ensemble of other figures joined the scene¡ªa mix of men and women. None I recognized. The girl in the maid uniform flashed a grin, unaware of my dizziness. "Ah! She is finally awake," she announced. Among the ensemble, a man stood, his features playing hide-and-seek with familiarity. Akin to my brain entering a game show called "Guess Who: Dream Edition." Not in my family list, doctors list, contacts list, social media, or any other dimension I could think of. Was he the imaginary friend I never knew I had? Eeeep! My head had started to ache. Something that should have never happened in a dream. A whirlwind of questions. A tornado of uncertainty. A havoc on my consciousness. Disorientation surged. As I grappled with the leap from the crimson-drenched dream to this anachronistic reality. Had I scored a one-way ticket on the comet express? Was this just another episode of "Reality or Dream"? Had the train of my mind finally derailed from its tracks, going full bonkers? The room, the people, the palpable aura of mystique ¨C it was like my subconscious had binge-watched every mystery series and decided to create its own. The room''s opulence. An era far removed from the familiar landscape of the 21st century. A grandiose chandelier hung from the ceiling. Its warm golden glow basking my surroundings. The girl was in the French maid uniform, clearly overdressed for this dream. The man in black (yeah, the one with the elusive familiarity), wore a fusion of styles. Seemed like he couldn''t decide whether he was attending a Victorian ball or a modern rave. "So, how is she?" he inquired. Concerned. "She''s fine, just a little scratched up," responded the man in what looked like clergy attire. Why was a priest here? "Thank the Moonweaver. Our Elidranthia is safe," the first man declared, a sigh of relief audible in his voice. Before I could process it, he rushed in, enveloping my petite frame in a warm embrace. With no time to ponder the priest''s presence or their fashion choices, the term ''Elidranthia'' echoed in my mind. A name that sounded like it was ripped from a fantasy novel deemed too fantastical for publication. Unique and strangely familiar. Caught in the whirlwind of revelation, my thoughts raced, connecting the dots like a frenzied game of Sudoku. Elidranthia ¨C wasn''t that the name of the bloodthirsty assassin from the novel, the very character I had sketched before the crimson-hued dream? Had my artistic creation pulled a Houdini? Leaping off the paper into the realm of reality? Was I still dreaming? Was I D E A D? And for the love of sanity, why did my head feel like it had hosted a rock concert WITHOUT MY FUCKING CONSENT? Questions bombarded me. Yet, the cold grasp of reality was about to yank me back. Once, I, who had yearned for a healthy body and the simple pleasures of a carefree childhood. Now, I found myself not just inside a story but transmigrated as the very antagonist ¨C the bloodthirsty villainess from the pages of "The Assassinated Princess." Chapter 1: Stuff of Dreams I was staring. Staring at the wall. What was on the wall? Nothing. What was on my head? Nothing. Just staring. I had become quite the connoisseur of wall contemplation lately. Why? No reason. I was sure every sane person did this once in a while. Practically a hobby. Or maybe, I was just trying not to launch into a full-scale meltdown over the fact that I''ve suddenly found myself inhabiting the body of a bloodthirsty villainess. Trying hard. Very hard. Yeah, just your run-of-the-mill Monday night crisis. No big deal. So, here I was, casually having dinner in her posh room. A modest spread of soup and bread, because apparently, even villains needed to watch their carbs. Door opened. In walked Marie, the maid from earlier. One with a vibe straight out of a historical drama. She curtsied or whatever the cool maids did, and I almost choked on my bread. Maybe it was just a cosplay party, who knew? I''ve got memories, and not just the usual ones. Names and faces are still doing the cha-cha in my head. But ehm, no biggie; I was just navigating this dual identity chaos. Count Shadowstep, my "dad" in this twisted Dream(?) Drama(?) Dreama(??), waltzed into my thoughts, expecting a tearful reunion. Sorry, pops, I was too busy contemplating the absurdity of being a bedtime villainess. Did villains even have bedtimes? Apparently, they did now. Trying to piece together my new and "upgraded" existence felt like solving a mystery. A mystery novel written by a caffeinated cat. The plot twists were coming faster than espresso shots in a hipster coffee shop ¨C just trying not to spill any. So, dinner, disorientation, and a dash of dual identity crisis later, here I was, pondering life''s mysteries. And by pondering, I meant staring. Lots of staring. Marie, the maid, swung by to collect the remnants of my not-so-gourmet dinner. But a villainess had to eat! Hunger didn''t discriminate between the opulence of the surroundings and the simplicity of my meal. As she leaned down to scoop up the dishes from my lap, my gaze fixated. The exposed nape of her neck. Pulsating veins beneath. The delicate and vulnerable skin. An unintended dare. A strange allure. Almost hypnotic. A mere thought. It would be over. One sharp slice. It would be the end. This twisted fantasy, it danced briefly in my mind. A macabre daydream. Interrupted only when I recoiled in sheer fucking surprise. Marie yelped too, and for a moment, we just stared at each other''s faces. "Are you okay, milady?" she inquired, a genuine concern etched on her face. ¡°Umm, yeah, no, I mean, yes, it was nothing. I was just taken aback, that¡¯s all,¡± I mumbled, still grappling with the unsettling impulse that had seized me. Marie, perhaps sensing the weird energy, closed the door after retrieving the dishes. Attempting to shake off the unsettling feeling, I tried to convince my heart that it could take a chill pill. Yet the echoes of that peculiar moment lingered. Akin to an uninvited ghost in the room. What the fuck just happened? I pondered, my thoughts racing faster than my heartbeat could keep up. The villainess whose stilettos I now awkwardly fill, Elidranthia, seemed to have more issues than a magazine subscription. Therapy? It was starting to sound like a brilliant idea, but I doubted there were therapists for fictional characters trapped in alternate realities. Alright, let''s break it down. Nighttime, a perfect moment to collect my thoughts in this madcap adventure. So, according to the web novel "The Assassinated Princess," our female protagonist (referred to as FP, the chosen one, you know the drill) got assassinated by Elidranthia, which triggered a time reset. Our resurrected princess, along with a harem of male protagonists (because why not?), set out to take down an assassin organization through a series of time resetting checkpoints. Drama, action, all that jazz. But here''s the kicker ¨C after five volumes, Elidranthia''s fate was sealed. She bit the dust. Simple. Courtesy of Prince Heracles, attempting to off another character named Claire. That was one heck of a way to clear a checkpoint. Volume one painted a picture of the FP''s serene school life, you know, before Eli came crashing in with her murder plots. When time-loop shenanigans reset the story, the FP learned from her Groundhog Day experience, leading to Eli''s early demise. (Note to self: time loops and murder plots don''t mix well.) But the plot kept thickening with other villains taking a stab at offing our FP or her male entourage. It was like a game of whack-a-mole. More drama and fewer foam hammers. At one point, there was even a volume where the FP sacrificed herself for her friends. A regular rollercoaster, this story. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! I guess being a chosen one came with its fair share of ups, downs, and loop-de-loops. Now, Eli, the show''s headliner, was the poster child for unhinged behavior, with a penchant for repeatedly introducing the FP to her stabby side in the first volume. Now, the story itself? A smorgasbord of drama, action, bittersweet romance, and some exceptionally written characters. But, well, the world-building? Ehh¡­ Not so much. The princess was too busy being clumsy and cute, collecting male characters like they were Pok¨¦mon. Gotta catch ''em all! As for me, stepping into this narrative unversed in the world''s intricacies was a bit like trying to swim. Yeah, swim. Without knowing if there were sharks in the water. Literary equivalent of cannonballing into the unknown. But hey, no worries, right? Surviving in this healthy, if slightly murderous, body just meant steering clear of the protagonist. ¡­And avoiding becoming a deranged knife enthusiast. Simple enough. The prospect made me giggle, just like when the mysterious voice asked if I fancied being the villainess. My reply? A resounding yes! (Accompanied by an imaginary evil-genius laugh. I still wasn¡¯t sure about this.) So, with the newfound freedom flowing through my veins, I gracefully leaped off the bed and started prancing around like a monkey. My body felt as weightless as a feather ¨C no pain, all gain. I revelled in the feeling, laughing like a maniacal villainess. Not that different from the body''s original tenant, though our joy sources had a tad different flavour. In this extravagant room, I, the fated villainess, decided to showcase the absurdity of my newfound agility with a spontaneous somersault performance. (Was there anything more villainous than surprise acrobatics?) No judgments here; having a healthy body felt like a literal superpower, and I was determined to milk it for all it''s worth. Giggles had a grand old-time ricocheting around the room as I showcased my newfound agility. But, alas, the impromptu circus had to close its curtains, leaving me strolling around like a character awaiting the next plot twist. The room''s mirror. The latest scene-stealer. A striking, slightly intimidating girl ¨C yours truly ¨C with menacing crimson eyes. The kind that could probably negotiate a truce between nations. Attempting to turn this potentially fierce visage into a charming smile or a funny face only resulted in a more ominous aura. "I wonder if I can make friends like this," I mused. The very notion of forging connections with my current aesthetic becoming a challenge. As the night wore on, and I finally surrendered to the beckoning bed. The pure adrenaline pumping through my veins. The bursts of serotonin. Both decided to host a post-party in my brain. Keeping poor sleep at bay. In the novel, Eli was the undisputed queen of the psycho scene, boasting memorable acts like brutal stabbings, blood-licking, and protagonist-slaying. Just to be clear ¨C I had never even slapped a mosquito in my previous life (there were none in the hospital). The idea of reenacting such horrors was as absurd as a plot twist in a telenovela. Confident in my ability to dodge the expected storyline, I envisioned a future filled with love, laughter, cozy blankets, unicorn rides(??), ehh, my bucket list was quite big. And absurd. As the adrenaline reluctantly made its exit, I finally surrendered to the realm of dreams. **** "Well, this is a head-scratcher," I muttered, plopping down amidst the atmospheric weight of the family''s study. The mana lamp was doing its dramatic dance (Someone really needed to change its faulty core), casting shadows on the oak walls. On those engravings that were more for show than substance. Perhaps the family''s attempt at avant-garde decor. In the center ring, we had the heavyweight champion ¨C a grand, imposing wooden desk. It was piled high with parchment scrolls and leather-bound tomes. Ahh, the nostalgic perfume of old paper and leather. Clearly, this desk had seen more thinkin'' than a philosophy convention. Over in the corner, we had the family''s version of a coat of arms ¨C a sword chilling behind a curtain. Very Game of Thrones. Minus the dragons and betrayal, since this was a brand-new county. The fireplace was doing its best to be the room''s MVP(?) MVO(?). Flames roaring with all the intensity of a motivational speaker. A mood-setter? A space heater? BOTH! Meanwhile, dust motes were doing their own little dance in the golden beams of light. This knowledge-packed oasis had bookshelves reaching for the stars, sagging under the weight of wisdom ¡­that probably should''ve hit the gym. In the real world, this room was like a museum exhibit ¨C everyone passed by, but no one really touched anything. The creaking leather chairs. The occasional page rustle. The soundtrack. To an intellectual soap opera ¨C drama, but no one''s actually watching. Ah, the untapped potential of a room that screams ''smart,'' but everyone''s too busy being dumb elsewhere. Well, a few days had slipped by, affording me the time to sift through the jumbled fragments of my memory. Bequeathed by the villainess. From these recently acquired recollections, I managed to cobble together my identity ¨C Elidranthia Shadowstep. A nine-year-old scion of a freshly minted count. Now, for a bit of backstory. In a tale that, ironically, seemed more gruesome on the pages of the novel than in my actual life, my journey took a dark turn. Returning from the capital with my grandfather and mother, our carriage fell prey to a monstrous attack. Carnage ensued, and against all odds, I emerged as the sole survivor. The monsters mercilessly massacred my birth mother and grandfather. I, the youngest daughter, held the dubious honor of being the lone survivor. The sole survivor of a monster mosh pit? A shadow over my existence. The animosity of the masses. How were villains made again? The count, in his peculiar wisdom or folly, had not one but two wives, and their collective blessings resulted in a brood of six children. So, it was not all gloom and doom. The intriguing twist, however, lay in the deviation between reality and the sinister portrayal in the book. According to the novel, I was destined to be a pint-sized monster slayer, potentially dabbling in the culinary arts by feasting on the remains of both my parents and the creatures. A story told through the perspective of a single person. No wonder there would be some creative liberties. Ugh. The truth, as per my memories, was far less dramatic ¨C I had ingeniously hidden within a compartment in the carriage. The snag? No one else knew this delightful detail. Oh, how they questioned. Was I the miraculous child who defied monsters? Or Was I the monstrous child that even monsters feared? A culinary artist. With a penchant for monster-slaying? Or A hide-and-seek champion. With a compartment fetish? Quite the identity crisis. But anyways, fast forward to the present, and there I was, in the solitude of the study. As I delved into the details of the unfamiliar world around me, an unexpected pang of yearning for my parents'' affection tugged at my heartstrings. Back in my previous life, I had at least found solace in the love of my good ol'' parents. Yeah, I had upgraded to calling it my ¡°Previous Life.¡± Sounded only fitting. I didn¡¯t know what happened to my body there. Maybe, I just never woke up. Would my parents have been sad? Heartbroken? What would be their thoughts? Would they go back to their lives? Answers eluded me. Once again. Melancholy, my old buddy, decided to crash the party. Uninvited. Tap. Tap. Tap. Dripping? What on earth was dripping? Place one finger. Lick it. Hmm. Salty. A quick hand swipe confirmed it ¨C my own waterworks were in full swing. Tears? Again? Why? Automated tear ducts? In action again? They were mourning. What were they mourning? I thought I was past this point. So, why such dissonance? Between my mind and my psyche. Ehh, it wasn''t the first time something like this had happened. And I just happened to have a perfect solution for these rebellious tear ducts. Chapter 2: Waltz of the Crimson Night I recentred myself. Because that was what you did when your brain and body were doing the tango without you. Easy fix ¨C just focus on something else and wait for the melancholy to drain away. Tears would stop. Eventually. I zeroed in on the notebook in front of me, filled with scribbles. A chaotic mess of unknown linguistic dots. It was all about the language I now spoke. Totally different. No idea how I was even speaking it. I just did. It was called Verodian. Basically, it boasted a diverse range of sounds ¨C click consonants and nasalized vowels. The alphabetic script resembled a mashup of geometric shapes and flowing lines. SVO order. Verbs were conjugated for tense, aspect, and mood. Nouns for number and case. And boy, the vocabulary and pragmatics? It would take me a while to get used to it. For example, if someone asked, "Syl''ethra, ela''shan?" (How are you today?), the correct response was something like, "Sindar''ethros, thiril elen." (I am mentally sane.) ¡­. Yeah, I would stop with these. Oh, look, tears were almost gone now. Bye to melancholy, hopefully, you¡¯d never show your face again. Anyways, out of that nerdy linguistic stuff, fast forward to the highlight reel of my current fantasy family. My dad had taken a sabbatical in his own head, my stepmother had snagged the role of the Ice Queen, and my siblings were perfecting the art of treating me like the unnoticed wallpaper. Not a single eye contact, not even a courtesy nod. No wonder Eli embraced the psychopath life; the poor girl just needed a cozy hug or two! If only I could unleash the unparalleled cuteness I knew was within me, I was dead sure they''d be scrambling for front-row seats. The gravitational pull of a villainess armed with a strategic dose of cuteness? I couldn''t help but giggle at the mental image. Ah, but here was the hiccup ¨C my eyes. Those pesky, intimidating crimson eyes that seemed to have been invited to the wrong ball. There was something seriously awry with them. Even I got a twinge of fear when I accidentally catch a glimpse in the mirror. Unlocking my cuteness factor? Easier said than done.
In the midst of my profound musings, the symphony of my contemplation was rudely interrupted by approaching footsteps. I furrowed my brow; evening visitors weren''t exactly a common occurrence in this study. Lo and behold, Richard, my second brother, strutted in with a frown. A physique that could make a runway model rethink their life choices, complete with blue hair like mine and emerald eyes. ¡°What''s this load of rubbish you''re wasting time on? The family''s been waiting for you at dinner.¡± Ah, Richard, the connoisseur of charm. If only he could bottle his manners and sell them, the world would be a more polite place. "Just expanding my horizons, dear brother. Why not focus on your own business?" And the mention of family waiting for me? Utter balderdash. Everyone knew Eli dined solo in her room. Seemingly caught off guard by my sass, Richard blinked in momentary surprise. "What''s amiss with you lately? I am your elder brother; you have no right to address me in such a manner." "Oh, forgive me, eLdEr StAtEsMaN of politeness. I thought rudeness was our family''s second language," I drawled. "What in the name of Moonweaver are you even saying, Eli?" Ah, sometimes my sentences just come out fully formed. It was a work in progress. "Yeah, I think I see what¡¯s happening here," he continued. I would be more surprised if he did. He scoffed, closing the distance, and slammed both of his hands on my desk. The inkpot decided to join the jerk, rolling away and liberally baptizing my notebook. I didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, I kept my gaze locked with his. "No time for your pretentious nonsense. Get a move on before everyone loses their appetite." With the subtlety of a charging rhino, he slammed my notebook shut and then proceeded to grab my hands, dragging me away with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. Surprisingly, physical violence had yet to make an entrance into this little drama. A silver lining, I mused. This guy seemed eager for a showdown, and, truth be told, I was game. My punches might not have been heavyweight, but my jaw strength was a hidden talent not to be underestimated. Yet, oddly, I chose to play the passive card as he pulled me out of the study. Resistance would be futile, or so I reasoned. Sometimes, the best battles were the ones not fought ¨C at least for now. What really threw me off was the unexpected audience waiting for me¡ªmy family. A novel development, considering I''d been ghosting through this body for five days, and the only attention I''d received was from a diligent maid. Even my father, who made a brief appearance on my awakening day, pulled a vanishing act right after. Fast forward through the intricate maze of my family''s mansion, with Richard towing me like a disgruntled baggage, and there we were, teetering on the precipice of the dining room. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! As we crossed the threshold, Mr. Tough Guy did a sudden about-face, adopting a tone of feigned concern. ¡°Sorry we''re late, everyone. Our dear Eli was just playing in the study, you know how she is. Had to coax her out of there,¡± he announced, relinquishing his grip on my wrist. I shot him a look that could curdle milk. Clearly, he was attempting to paint a peculiar picture. I was nine, and this guy could easily double as my ancient counterpart. I stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, before realizing that the entire family was now giving us the collective side-eye. Feeling the need to salvage the situation, I stammered, ¡°Y-yeah, apologies for my unexpected playing session, but I''m here now.¡± I smiled as I winced internally; my delivery felt about as smooth as a cactus. Richard moved on with a grin plastered on his face, and I followed suit, my movements resembling a particularly awkward dance routine. As we approached the dining area, my senses were bombarded by the intoxicating aroma of mouthwatering dishes. The scent guided me to my assigned seat, conveniently situated just a whisker away from the youngest family member, Daniel. Taking stock of the scene, I discovered the rare sight of the entire family gathered around the dining table. Count Shadowstep, the patriarch, exuded authority, while his elegant wife embraced the role of the lady of the manor, practically broadcasting, "Yes, we own this place." Seated next to me was the youngest son, Daniel, exuding an air of someone contemplating the merits of enduring family chatter in exchange for the promise of dessert. "Happy birthday, Eli," my father chimed in, initiating a synchronized raising of glasses in a toast to celebrate my existence. ¡­.. ¡­.. ¡­.. Wait, today was my birthday? And they chose this moment, amidst dinner and after an entire day of blissful ignorance, to casually drop that bomb? I was genuinely surprised. That was a first. Classic Shadowstep family move. As they all lifted their glasses, that grinning bastard Richard included, I couldn''t decide whether to be more shocked at the revelation or annoyed at the impeccably timed bombshell. Regardless, the mere acknowledgment of my existence and the birthday wishes were progress in the Shadowstep household. (Cope.) Oh, how my little heart fluttered. (Ugh.) The revelation that it was my birthday explained the fancier-than-usual dinner spread ¨C steak instead of the usual bread and soup. It looked positively mouthwatering. As if on cue, my younger brother Daniel, the adorable chubby one, piped up with an innocent inquiry, "Father, why is the sky red?" If only he wasn''t so hell bent on avoiding me. Glancing out the window, I indeed noticed a reddish hue in the night sky. This was undoubtedly another world. According to the novel, Eli was born on the first day of the Purgatory Comet at midnight ¨C a celestial event known by various ominous names like the "Killing Star," the "Comet of Hell," or "Reaper Comets." Superstitions labeled those born on this day as messengers from hell or grim reapers. It was all steeped in the delightful concoction of fantasy and paranoia. Oh, boy, I pondered all of this while sipping on strange red juice with a taste that was a bizarre blend of mango and orange ¨C weird but oddly nice. "Today marks the appearance of the Purgatory Comet. Its celestial display spans five days, occurring once in every decade," Dad chimed in, stealing a glance my way. And hey, this weird juice was kind of growing on me. Mental note: hit up the chefs for the name later. "I, too, was born during the Killing Star, albeit on its final day," my eldest brother, Zach, chimed in. Blue hair, emerald eyes, the family''s genetic signature. However, while the rest of the family was built like scholars, he had a tall and athletic physique that exuded action hero vibes. "Well, at least your eyes aren''t as creepy as Eli''s," Richard remarked, practically inviting a knuckle sandwich. Yet, he seemed to have overlooked the fact that he was seated right next to Zach. Richard winced suddenly, and I suspected he had received a swift kick under the table. "Haha, Richard, I told you to refrain from jesting about it, did I not?" Zach laughed. He was the only one treating me like a regular sister, unlike old Eli, who seemed to be on a sibling-detachment program. "And we are all aware that the notions about individuals born on the first day of the Killing Star being ominous are mere superstitions. His Highness, the royal prince, is as ordinary as they come, though he does have a smidgen of red in his eyes, just like our little Eli." Looked like he was my main squeeze for sibling bonding. Oh, the thrill. As for the royal prince, memories of less-than-pleasant reads from the novel popped up, but for now, I could afford not to give a damn. Our county wasn''t exactly rolling in dough; typically, our dinners were a humble affair of bread and a modest soup with a sprinkle of meat bits. So, my birthday bash marked a departure from our usual bread-and-soup routine, elevating it to a grander spectacle, starring a glorious steak that practically begged to be devoured. Bon app¨¦tit! Time to dig in. I reached for the fork and knife set laid out before me. And my breath was taken away. In this world, this marked my maiden voyage into wielding a knife. The blade, sharp and serrated, held my fascination like a moth drawn to a flame. Ahh, the cool steel in my hands, the very embodiment of sharpness crafted for the singular purpose of effortlessly slicing through the tender. I luxuriated in the sensation, a grin forming on my face as I slowly guided the knife into the steak''s soft texture. The sheer exhilaration sent shivers down my spine. Withdrew. Plunged in again. The knife''s keen edge effortlessly transforming a part of the tender steak into bite-sized, delectable pieces. And all of this performed with the grace befitting a noble lady, while my veins buzzed with the purest form of serotonin. The blade. The steak. A delicate dance. Yielding. Of tenderness to the sharpness. Slicing through a corner of the steak, I lifted it with my fork and indulged in the first taste. The marriage. Of meat juices and barbecue sauce. A symphony of flavors. I relished each succulent bite. Then, my gaze lingered longingly on the serrated knife''s blade. Ah, so sharp, so satisfying. As I licked its edges, the sauce dripped, adding an extra layer of deliciousness. Repeating the process, I cut more small pieces of meat, relishing the sensation of cleanly slicing through the meat with the knife. Ahh, the sheer joy! However, my moment of blissful knife play was rudely interrupted by the ever-watchful eyes of Father. "Eli, cease toying with your food," Dad admonished, coughing out the reprimand. "Don''t overlook your etiquette lessons. Also, your mage aptitude exam is in two months; prepare diligently for it." Eeeep! Startled, I was yanked back to reality from my food-fuelled reverie. As the dinner table fell into an awkward silence, I seized a bigger chunk of meat, quickly stuffing it into my mouth to dodge further scrutiny. "Apologies, Father," I mumbled through a mouthful of steak, employing the classic technique of eating away my problems. Once the somewhat awkward dinner concluded, I excused myself and sprinted back to the study. All while my heart raced. Ah, the ways of adapting to a new life! The fascination with sharp objects, the undeniable urge to slice through tender things ¨C it all made me ponder if I were the actual villainess of the novel I once read. These urges. They lingered in the background of my mind, initially dismissed as harmless and easily manageable. After all, it had only been a short five days in this world, and I hadn''t done anything remotely violent. I was confident I could work through these peculiar quirks. ¡­.. Nah, I really needed some mental help. I sighed, surveying the desk where ink had been carelessly spilled, turning my once-neat notes into a chaotic mess. Lacking the proper tools, cleaning up the ink was an endeavour for another time. Pulling back the sleeve of my dress, I noticed a slight bruise on my wrist. My emotions were a jumble¡ªneither angry nor sad, just a peculiar numbness. My gaze shifted to the night sky, capturing my attention with its irresistible allure. Unable to resist, I opened the window and gazed outside. My crimson eyes, reflecting the hue of the sky, locked onto the ongoing celestial shower. Celestial minstrels. The crimson curtain of space. The interplay. Between the infinite and the transient. Each streak, a radiant note. A symphony of cosmic origins and wanderlust. As if the night itself stared back, there was no fear, just an uncanny sense of familiarity, reminiscent of the moments when I first transmigrated into this world. A cloak of red light enveloped me, swift and transient. Something stirred within, awakening. Mesmerized, I found myself unable to look away. Drawn, into the waltz of the crimson night. The world before my eyes parted ways, and something materialized¡ªa tear in the fabric of reality, a single slice before it expanded into a whole screen.
[Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] gazes upon you.
Chapter 3: The Crimson Larva An uninvited guest decided to host a tap-dancing recital in the ballroom of my mind. Clearly, my sanity was the unsuspecting dance floor. Another unauthorized rock concert ensued, and I wasn''t even given the courtesy of a heads-up. Every pulse decided to join a conga line, and each thought brought along its own crash of cymbals. Was this my brain''s way of throwing a protest party, or did it decide to play an elaborate game of hide-and-seek in the chaos of throbbing discontent? Groaning, I awoke, hands pushing against the polished wooden floor as if searching for a trapdoor to escape the racket. It was a chilly awakening, both metaphorically and literally. Every thought in my head resembled a wild mess with no rhyme or reason. Something caught my attention in the corner of my vision¡ªa vivid blue something. Despite its brightness, my brain failed to string together any coherent thoughts about it. Attempting to regain control, I sat upright¡ªapparently, the only thing I was capable of doing at the moment¡ªand closed my eyes. Inhale, exhale, repeat. I just sat there, in the midst of mental mayhem, for an indeterminate period. It felt like my headache was staging a gradual exit. As my thoughts reluctantly started to weave a semblance of coherence, I dared to open my eyes. And there it was, the first thing that met my gaze¡ªa blue screen, nonchalantly hovering in the air in front of me.
Congratulations, you have received the [Crimson Gaze]. [Blessing of the Killing Star] upgraded! Tier-0 (The Crimson Seed) has been upgraded to Tier-1 (The Crimson Larva) Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] has been unlocked! Following skills have been granted: Perks:
  1. Fearlessness
  2. Eyes of terror evocation
  3. Adaptation
Skills:
  1. Keen Perception
  2. Aerial Grace
  3. Visionary Mastery
  4. Featherweight Descent
  5. Lethal Precision
  6. Umbral Concealment
  7. Fleet-footed Sprint
Umm yeah, this happened. Wild. Yeah, surprise, surprise, the blessing of a cosmic wanderer just received an upgrade. At this point, I should be handed a guidebook titled "Navigating Bizarre Blessings for Dummies." So, there I was, staring at this cosmic PowerPoint presentation, because apparently, even interstellar entities had a thing for bullet points and skill trees. Was there a celestial HR department handing out perks? A space admin somewhere probably pressed the wrong button and went, "Oops, wrong planet!" If only they had a feedback form¡ªI''d rate this blessing a solid three out of five stars. (The font was a bit tacky.) Let me make it clear: no such setting existed in the novel. No system. No screens. Zip. Nada. At least, main protagonist¡¯s perspective included none. She was too busy stumbling over her own feet and catching male characters like they were rare Pok¨¦mon. No judgment, dear protagonist, but your life choices were...interesting. My head throbbed once again. I had no energy for this right now. So, with a mental eye-roll, I tried to dismiss the screen. It played hard to get, like those pop-up ads refusing to close. Eventually, it succumbed to my will, or maybe it just got bored of my nonsense. (I''ll never know; system screens aren''t exactly great conversationalists.) The system screen did shed some light on Eli''s unorthodox theatrics in the novel. Super strength, an almost tangible aura ¨C the works. However, after living in her stilettos for nearly a week, I hadn''t exactly felt like I was channeling raw strength through my fingertips. No superhero vibes, no mystical auras, just a regular healthy body with an affinity for sharp objects. The screen did mention that my blessing got upgraded, asserting that this wasn''t anything new and had existed before my grand arrival here. Well, I suppose getting blessed by a wandering comet comes with its own package deal. My brain was teetering on the edge of information overload. Between deep dives into family and world history, awkward family dinners, and receiving upgrades to celestial blessing like they were free samples at the supermarket - my mental circuits were begging for a break. And what better cure for little mental fatigue (understatement) than a good night''s sleep? It was almost midnight. I had passed out for almost two hours. Rising from the study like a wobbly drunkard, I embarked on the heroic quest to reach my room. Thankfully, it wasn''t too far. Magic lessons and exams loomed on the horizon, but my bed was calling my name louder than any spell incantation. For now, the villainess needed some beauty sleep or, at the very least, a power nap to recharge her mental batteries. **** In the gentle morning light, my eyes groggily parted ways with dreamland, welcoming the sunrise like it was that buddy who owes you money and finally showed up. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Oh, the delightful allure of spring, casting off winter¡¯s icy grip with the nonchalance of a cat ditching excess fur. The breeze. The whispers of change. The aroma of endless possibilities. Lounging on my opulent bed, the silky sheets cradling me, I reveled in the aftermath of a night¡¯s beauty nap, feeling reborn like a phoenix on a spa day. A duet of exhaustion and vitality harmonized within me, perhaps a courtesy of last night¡¯s escapades. Something had changed within me. It seemed like all my anxiety and worries were drained away. With a mental command, the less-than-enthusiastic azure screen blinked to attention, displaying the digital dossier of yours truly.
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 0% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] Current Perks:
  • Fearlessness
  • Eyes of Terror Evocation
  • Adaptation
Skills:
  1. Keen Perception
  2. Aerial Grace
  3. Visionary Mastery
  4. Featherweight Descent
  5. Lethal Precision
  6. Umbral Concealment
  7. Fleet-footed Sprint
In the beginning, this whole ¡°transmigrating into a novel¡± gig felt like a surreal fever dream. I half-expected to wake up in the afterlife with a brochure, welcoming me to a customized paradise. Alas, reality hit harder than a metal brick, confirming that this was no fluffy afterlife fantasy but a full-blown literary escapade. I couldn¡¯t help but entertain the notion that the author might have been moonlighting as a deity or something. I mean, seriously, who crafts worlds like this? And this status screen ¨C talk about lifting the curtain on the novel¡¯s backstage chaos. It was the key to unravelling those pesky plot holes that used to make readers cock their eyebrows. The base magic system, as laid out in the novel, danced with the classics ¨C fire, water, ice, earth, wood, air, metal, and all the fantastical trimmings. Or people with awakened with a single skill. But then you had characters throwing supernatural curveballs that left everyone scratching their heads. Take Alfred Rayhaven, the illusionist extraordinaire from the heroine¡¯s harem. Sleight of hands, vanishing into flames, finger guns ¨C the whole mystical shebang. Now, it hit me like a lightning bolt: maybe he was just another player in the system lottery, like our dear Eli here. Blessed with a system. And let¡¯s not forget Ludwin Seraphim, the second prince and the novel¡¯s grand puppeteer of villainy. Mind magic, physical prowess ¨C he was like a walking contradiction to the established elemental order. No mind magic element in the original novel¡¯s rulebook, yet there he was, pulling strings with mental gymnastics. Facing the grim reality of my transmigrated existence, the idea of sidestepping the whole academy ordeal and seeking solace in some remote haven did cross my mind. A tempting escape, a flicker of rebellion against the predetermined path. But alas, it was but a fleeting fancy, a pipedream forbidden by the societal shackles of nobility. I gave myself a metaphorical slap, a stern reminder not to descend the spiral staircase of melancholy. No time for that self-indulgent moping. Focus. Remember what I have now, and forge a path to a future I can shape. ¡°You got this, girl!¡± I whispered, conjuring a much-needed pep talk to silence the lingering doubts. With newfound resolve, I redirected my attention to the silver lining in this predicament ¨C the skills bestowed upon me by the blessing. My heart danced with anticipation as I pondered the possibilities, but first, a little reconnaissance was in order. I needed intel on these newfound powers before unleashing them like a kid in a candy store. ¡°Hey, system! Help a girl out,¡± I mentally nudged, coercing the screen to divulge the details. After a while, it eventually did relent.
Current Skill details: Keen Perception: Possessing heightened senses, practitioners exhibit sharp ears, cultivating a quasi-sixth sense for anticipating imminent threats. Aerial Grace: Demonstrating unparalleled nimbleness, individuals effortlessly execute dexterous movements with finesse. Visionary Mastery: Adaptable vision enhancements enable the application of Night or Eagle Vision, broadening their perceptual horizons. Featherweight Descent: Practitioners gain the ability to become as light as a feather, facilitating swift movements and mitigating potential fall damage. Lethal Precision: Unleashing an intensified strike, individuals can channel their strength into a critical blow, maximizing the impact of their attacks. Umbral Concealment: Grants practitioners the unique skill of seamlessly blending into shadows, providing a potent tool for stealth. Fleet-footed Sprint: While sprinting at maximum speed, the effectiveness of the concealment ability diminishes, requiring practitioners to balance speed and stealth.
With a triumphant whoop, I revelled in the success of my mental tussle with the stubborn system. A silent cheer for me, and, well, none for you, you tenacious system bastard. Nevertheless, begrudging gratitude for finally spilling the beans on my newfound capabilities. Rapidly skimming through the skill descriptions, I couldn¡¯t suppress the grin that etched itself across my face. The possibilities were as vast as the cosmos itself. It all made sense now, the mysterious prowess of Eli that left the novel¡¯s readers scratching their heads. She could conjure bursts of strength, survive falls from dizzying heights like it was a walk in the park, and seamlessly blend into shadows like a master illusionist. Dodging attacks with the finesse of a seasoned warrior, all without the hassle of extensive training? No wonder she seemed like a living conundrum, a puzzle that defied the logic of the established elemental magic system. Yet, for all her abilities, the application seemed less than ideal. (A mental note to self: steer FUCKING CLEAR of the royal family, that pit of vipers. No need to get entangled in a web of politics and deceit woven by those power-hungry snakes. I may have gained some fancy skills, but there¡¯s no need to go picking fights with the crowned troublemakers. Survival tip number one for this villainess: avoid royal entanglements like the plague.) Ah, the delightful dance of discovery as I delved into the intricacies of my newfound skills. Okay, let¡¯s break them down:
Keen Perception: The spidey sense of the fantasy world, coupled with the ears of a bat. The idea of anticipating threats with supernatural accuracy? Sign me up for a life without surprise attacks. Aerial Grace: No acrobatic feat is too daring, no somersault too showy? Executing dexterous movements with the finesse of a cat burglar? I couldn¡¯t wait to try it out. Visionary Mastery: Night vision, Eagle vision ¨C a visual chameleon, adaptable to any lighting scenario. No more fumbling in the dark for me. Featherweight Descent: Now we enter the bizarre realm, far from the classical elemental magic system. Cancelling momentum built by gravity and acceleration? It sounded both exhilarating and terrifying. The potential for mid-air acrobatics was there, but the fear of testing it lingered in the shadows. Lethal Precision: The assassin¡¯s dream ¨C a built-in critical hit button. Umbral Concealment: The shadow¡¯s embrace? The assassin¡¯s haven? Paired with Visionary Mastery, the night was about to become my playground. Stealthy escapades and surprise attacks, anyone? Fleet-footed Sprint: A need for speed comes with a cost ¨C the effectiveness of Umbral Concealment takes a hit while sprinting. A little lesson in balance: stealth or speed, choose wisely.
The realization hit me like a wave of joy ¨C a tap dance and a little jump in my nightgown on the bed seemed only fitting. Who wouldn¡¯t be excited about a whole package of skills waiting to be tested and mastered? The prospect of trying them out, of unravelling the potential within me, set my heart aflutter with anticipation. A prudent choice indeed. While the allure of these newfound skills was undeniable, acknowledging the vast unknowns of this novel world and its potential power dynamics is a wise move. The existence of others like Eli, blessed with similar abilities, raised the stakes considerably. Not to mention the looming presence of formidable mages who wielded the might of natural calamities without the need for such blessings. In a sea teeming with sharks and literal demigods, it was a reality check to recognize oneself as a humble fish. Caution was the name of the game, and understanding the broader scope of the world became paramount. It was time to shift focus from the flashy active skills to the subtler, potentially foundational Perks. Chapter 4: The Leaping Sprite
  1. Fearlessness: Ah, Fearlessness, a nifty feature when facing sharks and demigods. But let¡¯s not get too cocky; survival is about cunning, not just bravado. Now, if only there was a switch to turn it off ¨C no one wants a dose of overconfidence.
  2. Eyes of terror evocation: Crimson eyes that double as fear-inducing beacons. Perfect for scaring off enemies, not so perfect for making friends. Turning this feature on and off would be a lifesaver.
  3. Adaptation: A wildcard in the bodily perk deck. Changing bodily functions on a whim? At least this one seems to require a conscious decision to activate. Vague information? Sure. But where¡¯s the fun if everything is laid out neatly? (Just coping here) I¡¯ll figure it out, one adaptation at a time.
So, that sums them up. Now, it was time. Engrossed in an impromptu exercise routine, I counted, ¡°one, two, three, one, two, three,¡± with the gusto of someone who just discovered the joy of flexibility. Giggles of excitement accompanied each stretch and bend; I was practically a one-woman aerobics show. With newfound flexibility and a burst of energy, it was time to put those skills to the test. I sprang off the luxurious bed, a gymnastic feat worthy of applause in my own mind, and dashed to the door. A cautious peer into the hallway revealed no prying eyes. Excellent. I closed the door, realizing there was no lock ¨C a minor hiccup. Solution? Push one plush chair from the window to create a makeshift barricade. Not foolproof, but it would buy me some time if an unwanted guest decided to make an entrance. Long azure locks tied back, gown loosened ¨C battle readiness achieved. The excitement bubbled within me like a cauldron of butterflies. It was time to see what these skills could really do. With a heart pounding in tandem with the fluttering creatures in my stomach, I stood poised for the grand unveiling. [Keen Perception], I whispered in my mind while closing my eyes, mentally nudging the switch into action. Like a subtle breeze stirring the stillness, a shift occurred within me. The once unnoticed world around me suddenly unfolded in intricate detail. The soft murmur of a distant stream. A serene backdrop, to the rustle of leaves. A gentle breeze weaving through the trees. Birdsong. A cacophony of nature¡¯s musicians. The air painted in its vibrant hues. The robust trill of a robin. The delicate chirping of a sparrow. A woodpecker¡¯s rhythmic tapping. The symphony of a spring morning. The subtle crunch of dew-laden grass beneath unseen footsteps. The distant sounds of brooms against floors. A muffled hum. I witnessed the awakening manor through my ears. Servants diligently starting their day. A particular voice seized my attention. I focused, the sound originating right below me, beyond the ground floor hallways. Barracks, I surmised. The swishing of something cutting through the air and the grunts of a man engaged in intense sword training led me to believe it was my elder brother, Zach. Another voice, adjacent to my room on the second story. I pondered, perhaps two walls away. The intrusive snoring was unmistakable ¨C Fiona, my perpetually gloomy sister. Apparently, I had risen quite early. Which was kind of surprising. As the sounds of swordplay continued below, I shut off [Keen Perception], and the world retreated back to its former state. The cessation of [Keen Perception] wasn¡¯t due to lack of excitement but rather a pragmatic realization that wielding such heightened senses demanded more mental energy than anticipated. It was akin to holding one¡¯s breath, a limit reached before the need to release and replenish set in. Superhearing, a concept alien to the pre-transmigrated version of myself, whose body rebelled against even minor physical exertion. The distant noises lingered in my memory. The peculiar sensation of auditory omnipotence. An oddity for someone who used to endure pain from the slightest physical effort. The skill had only unveiled its first facet; [Danger Perception], the second part, lay dormant, unactivated in the absence of imminent threat. No need to rush into that particular experiment. With one skill tested and six more to go, weariness was a distant concept compared to the shivering excitement bubbling within me. I hopped onto the bed, swiftly unmounting plush cushions, arranging a makeshift landing zone around it. Climbing back onto the bed, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at the sheer impossibility of the situation. Such physical feats were beyond the wildest dreams of my former cancer-ridden body. Yet, here I was, nervous but electrified. ¡°[Aerial Grace],¡± I whispered once again, and like a switch being flipped, a surge of vitality coursed through my entire being. Every unnoticed detail of my body, from the rapid beat of my heart to the constant flow of blood in my veins, came alive. My limbs weren¡¯t just extensions; they were integral parts of a grand design. With one leg gracefully moving forward and the other lifting from behind, I felt the perfect balance, the right amount of force to propel me upward. The energy within me soared as I flipped midair. Exhilarated. Excited. Suspended for a moment, my mind instinctively knew what to do ¨C focus on the front, increase the force, shift trajectory. The plush cushion awaited below as I touched down with a single leg, a choice to continue or come to a halt. But stopping was the last thing on my mind. Laughter bubbled out of me as the second leg touched down, propelling me into another flip, midair once again. The feeling was intoxicating, irresistible. Couldn¡¯t stop. Wouldn¡¯t stop! The wall approached, and I embraced the impact, legs braced for the force. Building momentum from the flips, I stood vertically, and the skill whispered for another activation. ¡°[Fleet-footed Sprint],¡± another switch flipped, another rush of energy. Legs that touched the walls were powerful. Such strength! SUCH FORCE! Hahahahaha! Laughter erupted as I vertically ran forward, hands to the ground, flipping once again, landing on my feet without missing a beat. The legs, still powerful, full of energy and the sequence continued. On and on, running, flipping, and flipping once more. Crazed with the madness of newfound power pulsating through my veins. So lost in the exhilarating dance of flips and sprints. The world around me blurred. A canvas of movement and excitement. So absorbed in the rush, I didn¡¯t even register when the makeshift barricade at the door gave way, and someone entered the room. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°Umm, hey Eli, why was this chairAH- WHAT ARE YOU DOIN-,¡± the voice¡¯s sentence took an unexpected nosedive, and suddenly, I found myself realizing that the wall I was treating like an Olympic gymnastics apparatus was, in fact, suspiciously squishy. Panic gripped me as the revelation hit, and in a frenzy, I hastily shut down the skills. Momentum, however, was not so easily dismissed, and I crashed into the soft wall. We both tumbled down, and the person I collided with had the foresight to open his arms and catch me, cushioning the fall. A deep voice, a large frame, and the distinct presence of a sword at his hip ¨C my brother Zach. Weren¡¯t you supposed to be sword training downstairs, big bro? Well, the mysteries of his sudden appearance could wait. Am I in trouble here? Eeep! Time to work that brain magic and conjure up some excuses, Eli! **** Zach stood in front of me, his eyes brewing a storm of disapproval. I fidgeted nervously, trying to radiate innocence¡ªthe kind that would make even a detective question their career choice. "In the name of the Moonweaver, what were you doing, Eli?" he thundered. I blinked, showcasing my most innocent smile. Unfortunately, the crimson eyes in front of me were unimpressed, and my charm offensive was falling flatter than a pancake on a Sunday morning. "I, uh, indulged in a spot of exercise?" I ventured, my innocent facade failing to thaw the icy glares. "Something that involves you prancing about like a goddessforsaken sprite? Did you not contemplate the consequences if I were not present to break your fall?" Zach''s tone took on a darker shade. Ah, that was a walk in the royal gardens, wasn''t it? In actuality, I''d have sprinted up to the wall, indulged in a fancy array of flips, and made it a wall-crashing spectacle until the gremlin in my mind was sufficiently entertained. But confessing that to him? Not in this medieval kingdom or any other. I couldn''t just spill the beans, ¡®Hey, esteemed big brother, your darling sisso here has been graced by the Eldritch Comet. Now, she''s got the finesse and flair of a magical clown/assassin blend ¨C crashing into walls? Never heard of that.¡¯ Nope, not rolling out that carpet of truth just yet. "Just a little experiment," I added, hoping my excuse sounded less ludicrous than the actual truth. "What kind of experiment?" Zach inquired, scepticism etched on his face. Ah, a question I had anticipated. Eli had undergone formal knight training in the novel, albeit commencing at a later age. "I wish to embark on the path of knighthood," I declared, fully aware he''d likely resist the idea. "Knighthood? You say?" Zach tilted his head, clearly perplexed. "Hm... why? It doesn''t strike me as a pursuit befitting you. The world of knights is predominantly inhabited by men, and you would encounter formidable challenges fitting into that world." Aha, I knew this medieval world was steeped in gender bias, having gleaned insights from the first five volumes of this novel. Witnessing how it treated the protagonist, our time-traveling princess, served as evidence. ¡°But, Brother¡­¡± I interjected, seeking to divert his attention from my earlier monkey acrobatic escapades. "No, none of that. You''ll be off to the Royal Academy in two years. Military education isn''t a must for women, but etiquette is. Should you possess an inclination toward the magic, that avenue may better suit your disposition. So, simmer down, Eli. You''re a bit too green to be plotting your life''s course," Zach''s stern response tried to put a damper on my ambitious aspirations. Ah, the fine art of distracting a sibling ¨C a skill honed to perfection. ¡°Alright,¡± I relented, feigning a touch of gloom. But wait a minute, didn''t I hear him earlier, clashing swords in the barracks? Or was I confusing him with someone else? No, it was definitely him. I could still catch the whiff of sweat lingering around him, and his outfit was far from formal ¨C a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, buttons undone on his broad chest, showcasing pecs that might rival his fianc¨¦e''s. Classic action hero vibes. So, what was he up to here? A chance for a little sibling bonding, perhaps? Suppressing a grin, I allowed my mood to darken. ¡°But why the surprise visit, brother?¡± I said, channelling the gloominess inspired by my recent encounters with other family members. ¡°Nobody usually visits me. Even if they do, they¡¯d usually leave without even looking at me.¡± Zach¡¯s face twisted in surprise before softening, and he crouched down, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. ¡°Hey... Eli,¡± he began. "I can almost envisage your words," I continued, a touch of bitterness seeping into my tone. "Even amidst your busy schedule, a moment to converse could have been spared. Yet, you chose to stand on the periphery, casting sympathetic glances my way. I am aware that my eyes may be disconcerting, but that doesn''t warrant the treatment I receive. I have committed no transgressions. Why does most of our family harbour such disdain for me?¡± At this point, I wasn''t even sure if I was acting anymore. It had been something I had felt since I arrived here. But no tears came out of me, as if my body had long since forgotten the concept of shedding them. Zach''s face retained a flicker of surprise, as if grasping the depth of my emotions for the first time. Eli had always been a closed book, her memories revealing a long-standing resignation to the lack of familial love. She reciprocated their coldness with her own. Yet, Zach stood apart. He treated Eli no differently than his other siblings¡ªstern but kind, and gentle. Despite his warmth, Eli maintained her stoic exterior, keeping her emotions locked away. However, I wasn''t her. If I sought the familial love I yearned for, Zach was my best bet. His hand rested on my shoulder, his expression softening even more. "Eli," he said, his voice carrying a blend of empathy and bewilderment, "I had no idea you felt this way. I''ve been preoccupied with my own concerns and responsibilities, and I didn''t realize you were navigating this alone. I''m sorry if I seemed distant." He enveloped me in a tight hug. He paused, searching for the right words to convey his understanding. "Your eyes, they''re not fearsome; they''re unique, an integral part of your identity. And you haven''t done anything to deserve the treatment you''ve received. I promise we''ll work through this together. I will try to carve out time from my responsibilities. You''re not alone, Eli." Taking a deep breath, a mix of vulnerability and relief surged within me in Zach''s comforting embrace. I yearned to express that it wasn¡¯t merely about the cold treatment; it was about feeling like a specter haunting the manor¡ªhushed conversations, sidelong glances, people treating me like a living curse. There was an overwhelming desire to release this pent-up frustration in his presence, yet I hesitated. Weakness was a luxury I couldn''t afford. So, instead, I initiated a different course. "Thank you, Zach," I commenced, my voice resonating with a sincerity that had remained veiled until that moment. "I value your comprehension and, well, your time. It holds greater significance for me than you may realize. You''ll stand by your promise, won''t you? About carving out moments for me?" Zach stood me upright, cradling me in one of his arms, his grin forming a stark contrast with my ten-year-old stature compared to his towering 6¡¯5¡±. ¡°I promise,¡± he declared, extending his pinky for a little finger promise. I looked at it for a moment before my small finger intertwined with his, creating a miniature pact. In that fleeting instant, the weight of isolation seemed to lighten. A crack had appeared in the walls Eli had constructed around herself, and my mission was to dismantle her entire fortress. But hold on, I still had no clue why he was here so early. I shot the question his way, prompting a flicker of surprise in his eyes. ¡°Ah, I almost forgot,¡± Zach smiled, reaching into his pocket. Was I even surprised anymore? You''d need to work on that memory of yours, big brother. You almost forgot I was pulling off monkey flips when you arrived. Though, it might be for the best if you don¡¯t remember that. "Here," he said, presenting a pendant with an azure droplet-shaped jewel. ¡°Wanted to give it to you yesterday on your birthday, but you left in such a rush after finishing dinner. By the time I came up, you were already asleep,¡± he said, gently placing me down and draping the pendant around my neck. It was stunning. Don''t judge me; I harboured a soft spot for jewels and gemstones, akin to any other young lady. ¡°It was something I picked up during my visit to the capital,¡± he continued. ¡°Resonant Barrier, if I remember correctly.¡± Resonant Barrier? Did I hear that right? It wasn''t my first encounter with such a term, having read the novel before. It must be quite pricey, considering it was a magical item exclusively available to royal mages. As the name suggested, it created a resonating barrier, utilizing the wielder¡¯s mana. But that wasn''t all. Multiple resonant barriers would stack and resonate, forming a formidable magical wall. It was with the help of this item that our protagonist princess averted a Drake disaster in the fourth volume. Ah, the nostalgia when such events were confined to the printed pages, not impending encounters in my near future. Quite the letdown. But still. "Thank you, dear brother! It''s exquisite, almost resembling a magic item?" I inquired, feigning curiosity, though already privy to the item''s description. "Indeed, you''re astute. A single glance, and you discern it''s a magic item. Yet, worry not until you''ve learned the art of mana manipulation. It simply conjures a magical barrier, a shield to ward off harm," Zach responded with a smile. Well, not the complete rundown of what this item could do, but still, I cherished it nonetheless. I expressed my gratitude once more, emphasizing how much I loved it. An extravagant birthday gift in the Shadowstep household? Things were definitely looking up! As he was about to exit my room, he called out, ¡°And no exercises indoors. Certainly not the ones you were attempting, Eli.¡± Ah, so he did remember. I just flashed an innocent smile. "But... if you wish, I may assist you with a modicum of physical training, nothing too strenuous, merely enough to maintain your health," he added, and the smile on my countenance widened. Noticing my grin, he made a face, "But assuredly not within these confines. And in the early hours of the morn! You best be prepared, Eli." "Indeed! Thank you, brother!" I maintained my innocent smile, yet I could envision that, from an external perspective, my crimson eyes might render my expression akin to plotting a grand machination. Zach gulped and departed, leaving me alone in my room, squealing delightfully. Chapter 5: Juice and Sketches Following Zach''s departure, the notion of rekindling a hobby had been occupying my thoughts. In the bygone days of my hospital-bound existence, painting and reading stood as cherished pastimes. They were constants, comforting companions that I found difficult to relinquish. The yearning to let my hands dance across a canvas or sketch something, anything, had become insatiable. Thus, I resolved to seek counsel from my reliable maid, Marie, on this matter. Upon confiding in Marie about my yearning to start new hobbies, her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Eager to assist, she couldn''t contain her zeal as she began to regale me with the spectrum of pastimes favored by noblewomen in the capital. From the intricacies of fashion design to the simplicity of painting, Marie delved into the myriad options with an almost fervent passion. "For those enamored with fashion, Lady Isabella has been causing quite a stir with her gown designs. Rumor has it, she''s even captured the attention of the royal couturier," she spilled the tea with a conspiratorial whisper, triggering a delightful storm of gossipy chaos among the noblewomen in the capital. Oh, the sheer ecstasy of such scandalous tidbits! (I hate it!) "But wait, there''s more!" she continued, her eyes sparkling like a scandal monger about to drop the juiciest bomb. "The literary circles are all atwitter with Lady Victoria''s grand soir¨¦e. Imagine ¨C a book club gathering at her estate, and guess who''s gracing the occasion? A commoner author! Can you believe it?" She emphasized the term "commoner" with an extended inflection, practically beaming with delight. It was evident she had found a willing partner-in-gossip, and the relief on her face was palpable. Now, while my attention had taken a detour to daydream land somewhere during Lady Isabella''s gown saga, politeness obliged me to nod along until the grand finale of Marie''s noblewomen chronicles. Swiftly seizing the conversational reins, I skilfully steered us back to my true interest ¨Cacquiring basic art supplies.
With breakfast officially in the rearview mirror, I executed a strategic retreat back to the fortress of solitude that is my room. The juice from the previous night was playing hopscotch in the recesses of my mind. Armed with curiosity, I headed to the kitchen maestros to unravel the secrets of this liquid. Lo and behold, the elixir''s essence was none other than the exotic nectar of the Sundrop Sitrus¡ªa fruit straight out of the fantasy playbook (literally!). Enthusiastic about its sublime blend of mango and orange, I promptly issued a decree to the chefs: "More, please!" Picture this: a delightful symphony of sweet mango and zesty orange, a dance of flavors that transcends the boundaries of ordinary fruit. It was the stuff of epicurean dreams, and I couldn''t get enough of that mysterious yet utterly delectable elixir that had graced my taste buds the night before. I swiftly dabbed the edges of my mouth, where an unintended drool had gathered. Hehe more of that delectable Sundrop Sitrus juice was on its way, and the anticipation was nearly tangible. Shortly afterward, Marie entered, holding a bag and a tray with a glass brimming with the yellow elixir¡ªSundrop Sitrus juice! I nearly leaped out of my bed in excitement, restraining myself from activating [aerial grace], as I was not inclined towards such foolishness. "Here, Milady," Marie gracefully presented the glass to me, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes at successfully fulfilling my desire. With the finesse of a master thief, I practically snatched the glass from Marie''s hands, losing myself in the ecstasy of each sip from the divine elixir. Ah, the flavor, the delight! Marie patiently waited as I relished every drop before unveiling the contents of the bag. To my sheer delight, a wooden box adorned with a myriad of pencil colors emerged. By the goddess! Could I be blamed for wondering if I had transcended to heaven in the wake of such pleasures?
I lounged by the window, letting my pencil pirouette across the notebook like a caffeinated ballerina. Sketching a pure azure bird with four pairs of wings. A depiction of one of the major calamities introduced in the novel¡ªthe calamity of Thunder, Xurnet. In a pivotal time checkpoint, our protagonist princess stumbled upon an ancient ruin. Now, religious fine print explicitly stated, "Hands off the ruins!" But when your fan club consists of relentless enemies, rules tend to be more like suggestions. Lo and behold, this wasn''t your average ruin. Nope, it shouldn''t even exist in the first place. Murals adorned the walls, a bird goddess playing peekaboo in the clouds while people below engaged in some serious prayer aerobics. Bizarre inscriptions covered the place, but one thing was evident: it wasn''t an ancient ruin but a trial, a sacred test. Our princess had to endure four attempts, dying four times at the hands of the pursuers, before nailing the trial and summoning the Calamity. The bird, now descending, bestowed upon our protagonist the rare gift of thunder magic. The novel''s portrayal of this moment was nothing short of breathtaking¡ªthe Calamity of Thunder, a sight that instantaneously conveyed its significance to the protagonist. And oh, did I mention the goddess went full-on smite mode on the princess''s pursuers? Ultimately clearing a checkpoint for her. While meticulously working on the shadings of the azure bird, my thoughts momentarily shifted to the intricate lining of my family, the House of Shadowstep¡ªa newly elevated noble lineage hailing from the countryside. Our noble standing had its genesis with my grandfather, a distinguished figure who earned his stripes in a war four decades past. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. In total, my siblings comprised four brothers and one sister, forming a unique and varied constellation. The family roster unfolded thus: Zach, the eldest scion and the designated heir to our house, stood at the mature age of twenty. Holding the prestigious rank of captain, he commanded a formidable force of over three hundred knights. Currently betrothed to the third daughter of a duke, he, like myself, was born on the day of the red comet. Then there''s Richard, the math genius of the family. At a spry eighteen, he was making his mark as a civil official apprentice. Rumor has it he''s engaged to a count''s daughter, so I guess his ambitions are grander than just solving equations. It''s worth noting that Richard and Zach were the sole siblings born from the same mother as me. But alas, our family''s saga took a detour down the drama lane. Fiona, the eldest daughter and a mere sixteen, got hit with the scandal stick. She faced an unjust accusation of cheating¡ªa political maneuver, perhaps, as she was only fourteen when she became engaged. The poor girl became an engagement casualty, stuck in our house, wearing a perpetual frown that could rival a widow''s. Next up, enter Alucard, the third son and a soldier with a touch of dishonor. Now, get this ¨C he was all of fourteen when he decided to peace out of a battle. Sure, he wasn''t the only one, but guess who got stuck with the "shame of desertion" badge? You got it, our dear Alucard. His military career''s upward mobility? Yeah, not happening. And then there''s little Daniel, our family''s resident cute factor at a whopping six years old. But hold on, he''s got this mysterious aversion to hanging out with me. I mean, come on, kid, I''m practically the Picasso of siblings. Can''t we at least have some adorable sibling bonding time without the melancholy vibes? As per the script handed out by the novel gods (The author), my fate was all neatly packaged to involve me gracing the halls of the Royal Academy of Althemer in a couple of years. In a parallel universe where things were, you know, normal, I should''ve been just an average girl with average dreams. But nope, fate threw me a curveball in the form of a connection with the second prince, and suddenly, I''m neck-deep in a plot so sinister it could give Shakespeare a run for his money. Now, I, the unsuspecting villainess, was handed the golden ticket to carry out the ultimate taboo ¨C assassinate both the heroine and the third prince. Like, who signed me up for this twisted version of a high school drama? Spoiler alert: it was the second prince. And what did I get for being the dutiful pawn in this messed-up game? A one-way ticket to Betrayalville, where they not only cast me aside like yesterday''s news but also managed to turn my family''s fate into a tragedy that even the most dramatic novels would find over-the-top. Regalwreck! Summing up Eli''s impending fate in the royal family''s clutches with one word is nothing short of comically tragic. Unless, of course, someone else has sneakily slipped into her shoes and had binge-watched the drama unfold in the novel. Oh, hold onto your royal crowns, because guess what? Anyways, my attention snapped back to reality as I put the finishing touches on the eight-winged azure bird. Taking a moment to ponder the creative process, I couldn''t help but chuckle at the constraints of the era''s pencil colors, fondly referred to as "pencil crayons" by Marie. These bad boys had a core harder than my last breakup (Just using a figure of speech here!), and their color range was more conservative than a politician in election season. The pigments lacked the oomph, and the colors were more on the "subdued" end of the spectrum. But hey, I revelled in the triumph of bringing this avian masterpiece to life on paper. The Calamity of Thunder. The sheer enormity of power permeating this world, coupled with the majestic presence of diverse creatures, hit me like a ton of awe bricks. It dawned on me that I was sharing the same reality with these colossal beings, a revelation that never failed to send my heart on a sprint. Seriously, just thinking about it could turn my daily musings into a cardio workout. Seeking to temper such reflections, I closed the notebook containing the drawing, choosing to divert my attention (Because, you know, contemplating your existence alongside mythical monsters is all fun and games until your heart thinks it''s auditioning for the next Olympic sprinting event.) My small fingers caressed the surface of another leather-bound notebook, now dedicated to encapsulating the canon events of the novel. It held a meticulous list of various organizations, characters, their personalities, power levels, and the hidden secrets that wove the intricate fabric of the story. My repository extended up to the first five volumes, the limit of my pre-existing knowledge. Numerous mysteries, unresolved plots, and ominous foreshadowing were captured within these pages. Anticipation for the release of the sixth volume had been building, but fate had intervened, plunging me into the very narrative I had eagerly awaited. Now, with my presence in the novel''s pages, I grappled with the stark reality of incomplete information. My existence held the potential to unleash a colossal butterfly effect, altering the course of events in unforeseen ways. Recognizing the gradual erosion of my old-world memories, I resolved to document everything diligently. I harboured a growing awareness that sooner or later, the details of my previous life would fade into obscurity. The signs were already apparent, with fragments of my past slipping through the cracks of my recollection. Writing down the events of the novel seemed like a logical step, a tether to my existence in this new reality. Choosing English for my record-keeping felt like a strategic move, a safety net against prying eyes. After all, it was a language as alien to this world as UFO sightings. In contrast, our kingdom conversed in Verodian, a language I had unwittingly adopted due to Eli''s memories residing within me. Initially, it was a linguistic tug-of-war as I habitually translated everything into English. However, with time, this linguistic adaptation became more seamless. Cracking open the notebook, I meticulously jotted down the additional details that unfurled during the Trial of Thunder arc in the novel. My sketches aimed to capture the vivid descriptions, and I found myself playing detective, trying to connect the dots to understand the intricate workings of the Trial system. In a daring act of rebellion against the narrative, I couldn''t help but leave a cheeky note for my protagonist princess: "Sorry, sweetie, in this timeline, I''m the one summoning the sassy bird deity and snagging that power-up before you do." With a timeline stretching two years before the novel officially kicks off, the unfamiliar and perilous nature of this world didn''t faze me. Instead, I embraced the challenge with an unyielding determination to face the future, armed to the teeth with preparation and power. Move over, destiny ¨C this villainess has some plot twists up her sleeve.
Marie entered the room, announcing that it was time for our etiquette lessons. Miss Deborah, our etiquette teacher, made her appearance twice a week to impart the finer points of manners and grace. I nodded in acknowledgment, setting aside my notebooks and art supplies, while Daniel, the youngest, seemed to be lost in his world of play, reluctantly acknowledging the impending lesson. Miss Deborah, a woman of refined elegance, entered the room. An air of dignified poise. A presence that commanded attention. She began the lesson with a warm smile. "Good day, Lady Eli, young Master Daniel. Today, we shall focus on the art of conversation," she declared, her tone gentle yet firm. As we settled into the lesson, Miss Deborah guided us through the nuances of polite discourse, emphasizing the importance of active listening and thoughtful responses. Meanwhile, I couldn''t help but notice Daniel''s ninja-like skills at evading any form of interaction with me. His gaze would do a disappearing act whenever our eyes met, and he seemed to be setting new records for the furthest mental retreat. But this wasn''t my first sibling tango. I anticipated his reluctance and decided it was time to unleash my secret weapon¡ªcue the candy! As the etiquette pearls of wisdom were being dropped, I sneakily produced a vibrant redberry candy from one of the hidden pockets of my gown (yes, I had those!). A sly grin played on my lips as I dangled the sweet temptation in front of Daniel, who, let''s be real, couldn''t resist the siren call of sugar. "Craving a taste, Daniel?" I whispered, wiggling my eyebrows and extending the candy toward him. His eyes widened with curiosity, and after a moment of contemplating the pros and cons of sibling interaction versus candy, he reached out to snatch the treat with the precision of a candy ninja. Just to be safe, he gulped it down as if worried I might change my mind. One strategic candy deployment later, and the battle against sibling standoffishness had been won ¨C with a hint of sweetness, of course. Baby steps. Chapter 6: Training Morning broke with its usual punctuality, and instead of the typical groggy awakening, my eyes didn''t just flutter open¡ªthey snapped open, pulsating with excitement. Zach had promised to impart some training wisdom, and I was practically vibrating with anticipation. Bounding out of bed, I swiftly gathered my long azure locks into some semblance of order and swapped my nightgown for something that screamed "ready for action." Purpose infused every step as I flung open the door and sprinted into the early morning stillness. The household slumbered, providing the perfect backdrop for my stealthy activation of [fleet-footed sprint]. A surge of energy zipped through my legs as I took off, utilizing the skill to move with both speed and stealth. My feet barely brushed the ground, creating an almost hovering sensation as I darted through the corridors and tackled the stairs like a squirrel on a caffeine high. Laughter bubbled up and escaped my lips, carried away by the wind that playfully smacked against my face. With the finesse of a seasoned navigator, I weaved through the manor halls, reaching the barracks with impeccable timing. One more thing before that. Harnessing the momentum gained from the [Fleet Footed Sprint], I decided to experiment with another skill. As I reached the entrance of the barracks, my excitement brimming, I prepared for the maneuver. The timing had to be just right. Bracing myself, I activated [Featherweight Descent]. In an instant, it worked seamlessly, dissipating the built-up speed as if it had never existed. The world around me, once a blur from the rapid sprint, snapped back into crisp details. My running came to an abrupt stop, leaving me standing as if I had been there all along. It was a peculiar sensation, yet the efficiency of the ability surprised me. The smile on my face broadened as I gazed up at the barracks, my excitement undiminished. The exterior of the barracks was a testament to Lumerian craftsmanship (that was a thing), adorned with intricately carved stone detailing featuring decorative motifs. In the section to my left, tall windows graced the fa?ade, allowing the moonlight to stream in and illuminate the polished wooden floors. Regimented rows of bunk beds hinted at the living quarters for knights within. Upon stepping inside the middle section, the air was saturated with the scent of aged wood and the polish used to maintain the barracks'' impeccable condition. The walls, adorned with military paraphernalia and framed portraits of distinguished knights and mages, spoke of a lineage, however small, steeped in military tradition. It was like a military-themed Pinterest board, only with less DIY and more legacy. And oh, the uniforms ¨C hanging with the kind of precision that would make your obsessive-compulsive aunt nod in approval, each bore the insignia of the House of Shadowstep. The central space served as a bustling hub, where knights gathered for camaraderie and discussions. My eyes fixated on the fireplace, surrounded by chairs that seemed to have absorbed a fair share of stories. It was like a cozy campfire setting, the kind of camping adventures I always dreamed of in my previous life but never got around to. Strategically placed training dummies and weaponry hinted at the barracks'' dual personality ¨C part living quarters, part training ground. The training hall, where I had the pleasure of eavesdropping on Brother Zach''s practice the day before, lay silent for now. As I ventured further, I stumbled upon Zach''s office. There it was, sitting proudly before the training halls ¨C a series of desks arranged with quills, inkwells, and regimental ledgers, showcasing the administrative side of military life. Because, you see, every battle needs a paperwork warrior. Bureaucracy shall forever remain undefeated. Armed with the intel I''d gathered from the previous day''s snooping, I was practically a seer in predicting Zach''s entrance for our impending training session. But before the party pooper arrived, I had some skills up my sleeve to test out. Yesterday in my room, I showcased three of my skills. But there was only so much I could do in a closed room. With Zach''s predictable punctuality giving me a buffer, it was the perfect moment to put some skills to the test. First up was [Umbral Concealment], an experiment from the previous night. Verdict? A resounding success ¨C as long as I kept my dance moves in check, I was practically invisible. Then there was [Visionary Mastery], which turned out to be a multitasking masterstroke. By day, it granted me Sherlock-level details of the unnoticed world around me, and by night, it doubled as night vision, turning hide and seek with Daniel into a game of supernatural tag. I couldn''t help but giggle at the memories of our yesternight escapades. Now, for the daytime shenanigans. I sprinted, executed a couple of flips (because, why not?), and found myself face-to-face with a hapless training dummy. Sword marks already adorned it, providing the perfect cover for my impending experiment. Opting for a spear from the racks (because, let''s face it, swords were too mainstream ¡­and heavy for my liking), I readied myself. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. With one skill left to put under the magnifying glass, I had to satisfy my curiosity about [Lethal Precision]. The previous trial had confirmed its ability to unleash an instant burst of power, akin to strength but with its own twist. The burst was fleeting, granting me a mere two to three seconds to witness its magic in action. Now, the lingering question was: what happens when I pair this skill with a weapon? In a momentary lapse of judgment (or sheer curiosity), I had tested it on the unsuspecting wall in my room. The result? A small, fist-sized dent now graced the once pristine concrete. Not one to be caught foolishly in the act, I quickly rearranged some furniture to play hide-and-seek with my wall''s newfound imperfection. Now though, with a spear in hand, I faced the training dummy. With the spearhead primed for action, [Lethal Precision] whispered its sweet activation. I rushed. The point that made contact with the dummy carried an unspoken promise of power. Potent. Intense. The outer layer of the dummy yielded, making way for the spear''s penetration. My heart did a sprint yet again. But here came the hiccup¡ªthe spear didn''t stop. Wait! Hold on! Cancel mission! Alas, no cancellation was available for this skill. Three agonizingly eternal seconds passed, and what used to be a training dummy now sported a baseball-sized hole. My eyes widened as I assessed the aftermath. This might be a tad more complicated to hide than a sketchy dent on a wall. Oops?
I groggily acted my way through Zach''s wake-up call, muttering, "Bwother? What rr you dwing here dis earwy?" with all the coherence of a sleep-deprived toddler. Zach chuckled. "You forgot already, Eli?" I furrowed my brows, giving my best impression of someone who just woke up from a particularly confusing dream. "Whatchatalking¡¯bout?" Zach, ever the patient brother, explained, "I mentioned I''d assist you with a bit of physical training. Now, it''s perfectly acceptable if you''re not up for it and wish to indulge in a bit more of slumber." He casually strolled towards the door. Cue the dramatic awakening. My eyes widened, and with a sudden burst of energy, I declared (still acting, mind you), "No, no, no, wait. I remember." Give me that Oscar, you bastards! He turned back, still wearing that annoyingly patient smile. "Very well, I shall expect you in the training halls within five minutes. Ready yourself and ensure punctuality," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. Little did he know, he was being expertly played by the nose. Take that, you sucker! Facing the formidable aftermath of the training dummy disaster, there was no way in the seven hells I could handle the situation solo. That shit was heavy as hell. So, I decided to let destiny handle it and, with a ninja-like finesse, stealthily retreated back to my room. There were over three hundred knights under Zach¡¯s command, and most of them had access to that training ground. While the full-blown system and package of skills were practically unheard of, the concept of people possessing one or two skills was not uncommon (as per the novel''s lore). Though, granted, it was really, really rare. I was sure they would be able to cook up a wild fantasy explanation for what put a baseball-sized hole in the training dummy. After all, this was a fantasy world.
Standing in the training hall, surrounded by other knights who had already risen, I waited for Zach to make his entrance again. I had envisioned some super-secret training session where my dear brother would impart his warrior-ly knowledge to his unsuspecting sister, molding me into the next sword prodigy. Ah, the dreams. Reality, however, was a bit different. As Zach strolled in a bit later than expected, he handed me a heavy sword. I eyed it, struggling to hold back a grimace. The damn thing weighed over two pounds, which, in theory, was manageable. But there I stood, holding the sword in the same position for over five minutes, clearly fatigued. Zach had mentioned that he commissioned a sword tailored to my stature, but it would be a while before it arrived. Until then, I was stuck with the current monstrosity. And to add insult to injury, there were no wooden training swords available. The last one had broken, and, of course, nobody had given it much thought since they were so accustomed to practicing with real swords. Are you kidding me? I couldn''t decide whether to be more irritated at the lack of a proper training weapon or the fact that real swords were considered the norm for practice. Zach, noting my struggle, decided it was time for a lesson beyond mere physical exertion. He approached me with a stern (yet caring) expression. "Eli," he began, "it''s not just about wielding a sword. You must learn to respect the weapon, understand its power and purpose. It''s an extension of yourself, a manifestation of discipline and control." I nodded, my initial enthusiasm for a secret training session now replaced with a genuine curiosity. Zach continued, "Hold the sword with purpose, feel its weight, but don''t let it overpower you. Each swing, each movement should be deliberate. Remember, a sword in the hands of an undisciplined warrior is more dangerous to themselves than to their enemy." Ok¡­ that was umm¡­ deep? With those words, he guided me through the basic stances, correcting my grip and posture. With each correction, I could sense the subtle shifts in balance and control. "Respect for the weapon is as crucial as strength and skill. It''s a dance, Eli, a dance between you and the sword. Learn its rhythm, and you''ll master the art," Zach explained. This gentleman, a monster-battling maestro who had apparently spent the last five years on the border, bore the undeniable mark of experience ¨C a sword prodigy, according to the tales. I couldn''t deny the gravity of his words, much like I couldn''t deny those biceps that probably had their own fan club. It was a sensation, an extension of my peculiar intuition, which, let''s face it, was just my fancy way of saying I had vibes. Whenever I cast my gaze upon maids, servants, and even my siblings, I experienced a discernible feeling¡ªa sense of vulnerability and openness. It was as if a mere thought from me could slash their soft and delicate flesh, ending their lives in an instant. However, when in the company of Zach, Father, and even Mother, this feeling naturally subdued. Regardless of their apparent ease, the predatory instinct within me refrained from manifesting in their presence. It was as though it recognized that any attempt on my part would be swiftly quashed by these seasoned individuals. The day''s training concluded with Zach imparting light yet fundamental lessons. It wasn''t anything extravagant¡ªjust basic stances that he instructed me to practice under his watchful eye each day. Despite its simplicity, I found joy in every moment. Judging by his beaming smile, Zach seemed content too. Perhaps he harboured a touch of guilt after my impassioned outburst yesterday, but the outcome had undoubtedly worked in our favour. He playfully ruffled my hair, much to my chagrin and the amusement of the surrounding knights. Yet, I quickly regained my composure, for I had a multitude of tasks awaiting my attention. Chapter 7: Magic There was one thing that consistently sent shivers down my spine since I arrived in this fantastical realm. Magic. A whole magic system existed here, from elemental spells to enchantments that could make your grandma''s teapot sing. It was a vast and intricate web that interwove into every nook and cranny of the world. But where there was magic, there had to be mana. Mana, the energy that danced within oneself, the special juice that bent the world to your whims, allowing you to play puppeteer with the elements you were attuned to. It was utterly enchanting. My eyes followed the chaotic dance of notes sprawled in front of me. Intuiting everything I knew about the different forms of magic from the novel and the characters who wielded them, it was a wild mess of scribbles, circles, and arrows. On the side lay "Journey of a Mage Initiate," penned by the renowned fire mage Lucia Conti, a character from the novel who also served as a teacher in the Royal Academy. The book detailed the stages a Mage Initiate embarks upon, extolling the virtues of different magical attributes. Yet, I couldn''t shake the feeling that it was inherently biased. It portrayed Fire magic as the epitome of destruction, all because of its flashy powers. Burn everything, or you just aren''t hard enough. Sounds about right. My current endeavor involved deciphering the magic system in place ¨C what was considered orthodox and what veered into the uncharted. I diligently marked the characters that demanded my attention, resulting in the scribbled mess before me. What a delightful shitshow. Now, I knew that Eli in the novel was attuned to Dark magic, a rare form that specialized in indirect combat. Debuffs were the name of the game, and Dark magic was all about hexes. Its practitioners were called Witches, and society usually frowned upon them. The author''s prose on the start of one''s journey into the dark magic went a little something like this: ¡°In the genesis of one''s foray into the magical arts, the novice Dark Magic practitioner encounters the realm of Beginner Dark Spells¡ªa humble entree into the intricate system of magical mastery. It is in this initial pursuit that a stark truth becomes evident: dark magic, in its fledgling stages, offers meagre offensive potential. To be succinct, for a practitioner ensnared by creatures of the wilderness, these spells render one little more than a veritable banquet¡ªculinary prospects most unenviable. The fundamental critique hinges upon the stark insufficiency of these spells in the face of overt danger. Their offensive capacities, or rather their lack thereof, can be likened to wielding a quill against a dragon''s fiery breath. Picture, if you will, the novice dark mage armed with the ostensibly formidable [Umbral Tether]¡ªa spell so impotent that, if personified, darkness itself might weep in pity. The overture of darkness beckons, whispering sweet promises of power and dominion. Yet, the reality is that the Dark Spells are reminiscent of mere shadows attempting to outwit the midday sun. ''Step into the shadows,'' the manuals suggest. ''Feel the power of darkness,'' they assert. Alas, what transpires is a feeble dance in dimly lit corners, leaving the practitioners yearning for a touch of substance. To those embarking upon this odyssey into the dark arts, be cognizant of the limitations that accompany Dark Magic. When confronted by formidable adversaries, one may find solace in the wisdom to carry not only the weight of spell books but also a pragmatic repast, for the unfortunate truth looms: in the face of true peril, the novice dark mage risks metamorphosis into an unwitting offering upon the altar of predators.¡± This bitch. Well, she wasn''t entirely wrong. Dark magic did come with a glaring downside ¨C it offered little to no offensive power. If you were a dark mage and monsters caught up to you, you were pretty much a walking buffet. The repertoire of debuffs were mostly area-of-effect, with the caster as the source. Your own spells had a chance of turning against you or, even more unfortunate, your teammates. Hence, the thrilling part of dark magic training involved building resistance against your own kind of magical misfires. But I had a plan in mind for that. And so, the magical scavenger hunt commenced as I delved into the passages of the book, determined to gather the knowledge about Dark Magic spells without the author''s added pinch of sass. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. After some intellectual gymnastics, my hard-earned notes lay before me: "The Twilight Veil, a manifestation of intricate shadow manipulation, though not without its merits, elicits contemplation. Its significant mana expenditure warrants consideration, posing a crucial question: does the utility of obstructing both the caster''s and adversaries'' vision outweigh the cost? A calculated spell, its controllable factors afford adept sorcerers an opportunity for nuanced manipulation, but one cannot ignore the inherent irony in embracing darkness to create a fog of uncertainty. A scholarly pursuit, indeed, though some may argue it leans toward the impractical." So basically, Twilight Veil:
  • [Highly mana intensive] [AOE]
  • Description: Conjures a veil of shadowy fog. Plays hide-and-seek with vision (including the caster, because, why not? Classic dark magic shit).
  • Controllable factors: Density of fog; Area of fog.
  • Mastery Level: Directly proportional to your ability to not get lost in your own fog.
And, ¡°The Fatigue Hex, a paradigm of low-intensity debilitation, resonates with subtlety. Its accessible mana requirements align with its intended purpose¡ªto induce mild fatigue in a targeted subject. The inclusion of additional effects, notably the potential for gastrointestinal discomfort, introduces an element of levity that, while unconventional, echoes the idiosyncrasies inherent in dark magic. Controllable factors facilitate tailored applications, allowing for nuanced adjustments in both intensity and duration.¡± Fatigue Hex:
  • [Low mana intensive] [Single target]
  • Description: Sends out an invitation for a chill session, inducing mild fatigue in the target, leaving them slightly less enthusiastic about life.
  • Additional effects: Might throw in a touch of nausea and an upset stomach. Can result in a sudden urge for a bathroom sprint. Now I get why they call it dark magic.
  • Controllable factors: Intensity of the spell; Prolonged effects(?).
  • Mastery Level: Determines whether it''s a light nap inducer or a full-blown "I need a bathroom ASAP" situation.
¡°As we navigate the intricacies of dark magic, let us acknowledge the uncharted territories some may find themselves wandering. To those who have been, with fervour, embraced by the dark mana, rest assured¡ªthere is a silver lining to every seemingly lacklustre spell cast. For those attuned with the dark mana, your future may not unfold on the grand stage of masterful spellcasting. Instead, consider a distinguished career as a mana reservoir for your more adept associates. A noble role, indeed, as you stand on the sidelines, graciously offering the vital fuel that empowers the truly impactful incantations.¡± I couldn''t help but cringe. Could she sound any more derogatory? (Oh, she most certainly could.) I was starting to suspect someone subjected her to a particularly potent Fatigue Hex, and she had an unfortunate encounter with her own product. I used to love her character in the novel¡ªthe sassy professor trope. She was an arsehole. A lovable arsehole. But now that I was attuned with dark magic, I might need to reconsider her character. With a grand total of four spells (though the book only generously included matrices for two), I couldn''t shake off the feeling of unfair treatment. Fire magic got over sixteen spells, each with detailed matrices and explanations. Totally not biased, right? Anyways, with that done, I closed the book and decided to practice the art of feeling my mana. I had been following the instructions from another book for over a week now, whenever I had the time. But without an instructor, it was hard. I could feel the energy flowing through my veins¡ªthe manual said to start from the fingertips, trace it to the source, then back to my fingertips. Because that''s where I''d be forming the spells. The crux of this training revolved around allowing my fingertips to draw mana directly from the source, acquainting myself with the path as mana flowed through, and broadening my understanding. It''s a bit challenging to put into words, but I felt like I was doing a decent job. As for the source itself, I think I finally got a sense of what my soul felt like. At least I thought it was my soul. Those switches I flipped when using my blessing¡ªthey felt like a sphere. The switches were the skills, and I could feel them. On the opposite side, there were inscriptions¡ªpermanent, unchangeable. I couldn''t turn them off; they were the perks. If my soul were a spherical planet made up of switches and inscriptions, then mana was the dense atmosphere enveloping it¡ªa source of magic in its purest form. Mana, huh? I had never felt it before. Here, though, it was a whole new experience. A ...zesty sensation, like little currents wriggling through my skin¡ªkind of like a bunch of hyperactive worms doing the cha-cha. Oddly enough, it wasn''t uncomfortable at all. In fact, it was downright intriguing. Now, the tedious task of tracing which channel lead to the fingertips began¡ªan ordeal that, believe me, involved a lot of trial and error. I managed to find it thrice, only to lose it again because there was no clear distinction. The only guide was the feeling you get while tracing the mana from fingertips to the soul. Supposedly, once this feeling became as natural as breathing, I''d have mastered it, and my spellcasting efficiency would skyrocket. Well, I guess it was fair, as the manual clearly mentioned that sometimes it would take over six months to perfect the art of feeling one''s mana for spellcasting. So, I wasn''t disheartened. I was confident I would master it soon enough. Positive thoughts! My concentration wavered as the faint echoes of footsteps disrupted the tranquillity of the family study. Chapter 8: The Nimble Scamp It was an unusual occurrence¡ªthis sanctuary was seldom frequented by anyone other than the early morning servants, and the evening was far from their usual routines. Despite my heightened hearing, the usual auditory spectrum lacked the necessary details. In response, I triggered [Keen Perception], inviting a cascade of heightened details. The soft sounds became discernible¡ªlight, hesitant steps accompanied by hushed mumblings. An air of nervousness wafted through the room. My thoughts instantly turned to Daniel. Could it be him again? Was he seeking more clandestine indulgence in the form of stolen candies? I had surreptitiously purloined some from the kitchen, away from prying eyes. The mere notion of mother discovering my covert confectionery sharing with Daniel sent a shiver down my spine¡ªa prospect too dire to fathom. "I am aware of your presence, Daniel. Might you be lingering without a proper invitation?" I called out. A sudden yelp. The little scamp thought he was being stealthy. And there he entered. Chubby, like a portly young gentleman. His adorable emerald eyes avoided mine while he fidgeted with his hands. Most certainly here for candies. Muahahahaha, I have successfully ensnared him in the irresistible allure of these delightful confections. I took out the sugary delight from one of my hidden pockets (oh, the convenience of these pockets). Carefully unwrapped, I flicked it forth into the air. The nimble scamp, akin to an eagle snatching its prey, captured it mid-flight and swiftly ushered it into his eager maw. By the grace of the Goddess, his finesse mirrored a blessing bestowed upon him by the very Candy gods themselves. In response to his impish feat, I offered an approving applause, to which the young rogue responded with a courteous bow. A happy ending. ****
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 0% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] Current Perks:
  • Fearlessness
  • Eyes of Terror Evocation
  • Adaptation
Skills:
  1. Keen Perception
  2. Aerial Grace
  3. Visionary Mastery
  4. Featherweight Descent
  5. Lethal Precision
  6. Umbral Concealment
  7. Fleet-footed Sprint
I found myself locked in a stare-down with the screen in front of me. Over the past few days, I had embarked on a quest to familiarize myself with the skills at my disposal¡ª there were a lot. Each skill came with its own trigger, a specific condition that, once met, would unleash its prowess purely on instinct. Take, for instance, [Featherweight Descent], which would gracefully activate when I had amassed enough momentum, courtesy of any sort of movement. [Umbral Concealment], on the other hand, preferred the dark side¡ªonly revealing itself when I basked in the shadows or any sufficiently dark corner. Then there was [Lethal Precision], requiring the peculiar condition of direct contact, either by me or any convenient extension of myself. Odd, but hey, being blessed by a wandering comet wasn''t exactly a textbook experience. But not all skills demanded such prerequisites. [Visionary Mastery] simply required my eyes to be open, while [Aerial Grace] generously activated just by virtue of having a body. (Because, you know, having a body is apparently a condition for nimble acrobatics. Mind blown.) My eyes zeroed in on a peculiar section of the screen: Enlightenment Rate: 0% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] I stared at these lines, attempting to extract some meaning. Again. Alas, just like the first time, asking the screen for details yielded nothing. Left with only the face value of these terms, I ventured into speculative territory. Enlightenment, as far as my earthly knowledge went, referred to gaining deep insight, wisdom, and understanding, usually accompanied by clarity and awareness. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Now, considering I was literally blessed by a wandering comet, maybe it had something to do with that phenomenon. But truth be told, I was drawing a total blank. The second term, Metamorphosis, was a trickier beast. It spoke of a big and often dramatic change or transformation in form, structure, or appearance. On one hand, there''s biological metamorphosis, involving structural and physiological changes leading to a completely different form. On the other, there''s the metaphorical kind. (Here''s hoping for the metaphorical version.) The contemplation of metamorphosis always left me in a state of uncertainty. I was perfectly content with my current body, but the tier name I found myself in, [The Crimson Larva], and the constant mention of metamorphosis, suggested a transformative upgrade was on the horizon. The distinction was clear: this was the pathway for enhancing the tier of my blessing. However, the question lingered¡ªhow significant would this change be? In the novel, Eli always appeared as a regular human. Perhaps she just never underwent this mysterious process, as the conditions for it remained elusive to me. Unlocking the conditions for Metamorphosis and increasing the Enlightenment rate proved to be a baffling puzzle. Despite relentless use of my skills, the Enlightenment scale stubbornly clung to 0%. No progress. No clue on how to increase the rate. It was frustrating. A gentle poke brought me out of my system reverie. I looked at Daniel, who had decided to stay with me after snagging a piece of candy. It dawned on me that perhaps he, too, grappled with the pangs of solitude. With Alucard, Richard, and Fiona already departed for the capital, pursuing their individual endeavours¡ªRichard engrossed in his civil internship and Fiona and Alucard still ensconced within the corridors of Royal Academy. Zach also remained preoccupied, his absence increasingly conspicuous. Curiosity coursed through me, beckoning inquiries that only Marie, with her access to the whispers that traversed every corner, could sate. For young Daniel, bereft of companionship, it seemed my role as the ''intimidating sister'' was his sole solace. I had extended my sketchbook towards him, and as he thumbed through its pages, he seemed to have landed upon the depiction of the Calamity of Thunder, inked by my hand. "You have a keen eye, young sir," I told him, acknowledging his admiration for the mystical creature depicted within the sketch. "It looks like a magical beast," he mused aloud, his gaze fixed on the intricate details. "It is. Its true name eludes me still. Observed it soaring overhead one day,¡± I lied. That startled him. "Do you think it''s going to attack us?" "What? No. Don''t be foolish. It''s monsters that assail us, not magical beasts." Daniel''s brow furrowed in contemplation. "How are they different? Both seem same same and scawy," he muttered, voicing a notion that struck a chord. I paused, considering his inquiry carefully. "The distinction lies in their nature. Monsters lack reason, driven solely by a relentless pursuit of destruction. They heed no boundaries in their rampage. Conversely, magical beasts possess rationality. They harbour no malice unless provoked. With caution and respect, they pose no threat to those who honour their sanctity." Daniel nodded, assimilating the information, even though some terms used by me might have gone over his head. "So, monsters are like, umm, very bad, and magical beasts are more like intelligent creatures that are good." Such a straightforward perspective. I lacked the energy to delve into the complexities of the world''s nuances, so I nodded. ¡°Well, you can say that. It''s a matter of coexistence. Understanding how to live alongside the magical and the monstrous without inviting unnecessary conflict.¡± He nodded (clearly not understanding) before nervously fidgeting once again. Clearly, he wished to inquire about something else. "What''s on your mind?" I inquired gently, sensing his hesitation. He swallowed before voicing his thoughts, his words laden with uncertainty. "You''re not quite as Brother Richard described." A surge of indignation coursed through me. That motherfucker! What tales had he spun about me? "And what, pray tell, did Brother Richard impart to you?" I inquired, masking my simmering ire beneath a composed facade. "He said you''re very fierce and sometimes get really mad, telling me not to bother you or else something really bad might happen.¡± Daniel confessed, a mix of apprehension and confusion evident in his tone. The audacity of that bastard! Oh, when he returned from the capital, I vowed to demonstrate the true meaning of ''something bad''. Suppressing the simmering annoyance that threatened to surface, I crafted a tight smile. "Ah, dear Daniel, Brother Richard might have woven a tale spun from exaggeration. I assure you, resorting to violence isn''t my favoured mode of interaction." A thought flickered past my mind¡ªold Eli, a living testament to a different truth, but one I''d rather not dwell upon. Daniel''s relief at my response was apparent, yet his curiosity persisted. "Then why would he say such things?" The unspoken truth hovered between us, but voicing it was out of the question. Calling Brother Richard a dense dick smelling motherfucker didn¡¯t seem appropriate for this conversation, though it was startlingly accurate. Summoning patience, I drew a measured breath, carefully selecting my words. "Brother Richard, in his unique way, expresses concern. His methods, while unconventional, stem from a place of valuing your safety." Daniel arched an eyebrow, his murmured words laden with a hint of agreement. "Perhaps he was right about one thing." Intrigued, I inquired, "Pray tell, which thing might that be?" "Eli," the little goober asked, "why do you sometimes look scary?" Daniel''s candid question caught me off guard, prompting a moment of introspection. Why did I often project an intimidating air? Ah, the celestial blessing that lent my eyes an aura akin to a predatory gaze¡ªquite an unforeseen consequence. Choosing a different approach, I began, "Well, Daniel, have you heard the tale of the Night Owl?" His eyes sparkled with curiosity as I spun the yarn. "This owl loved the night because it could see in the dark and uncover hidden treasures scattered across the town," I continued, weaving a tale. "But you see, the Night Owl had these big, wise eyes that glowed, guiding its way in the darkness. Sometimes, though, people got a little scared when they saw those glowing eyes. They didn''t realize the Night Owl was simply seeking shiny things to make its nest cozy." Leaning in a tad closer, I mirrored a playful twinkle. "So, when you notice my eyes looking serious or perhaps a bit ''scary,'' it''s akin to the Night Owl. I''m just deeply focused, thinking about all the exciting things we could do together or..." I paused, "...planning the liberation of more of those delightful candies for you. Come here, you little rascal." Eli used the tickle attack! It was super effective! The scene within the study transformed into a battlefield of giggles and laughter, my tickle onslaught met with Daniel''s erupting peals of mirth as he swiftly dashed away. Our joyous tumult careened through the confines of the study before spilling into the adjacent hallways. Laughter echoed, intertwining with sheer joy, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth that seemed to radiate from within. Zach I - The Looming Threat (Zach¡¯s POV) ¨C Start Border, Northern Woods. The reverberating clash of swords in the training area echoed through the stone walls of Captain Zach''s quarters. Despite the ever-present threat looming in the northern woods, the barracks by the walls on border provided a sanctuary of sorts. The fragrance of burning firewood mixed with the subtle aroma of herbs permeated the air as Zach sat by the hearth, cradling a steaming mug of tea. His quarters, a blend of functionality and battle-torn nostalgia, displayed maps, battle plans, and the tattered banners of past conflicts. Amidst this martial decor, a small wooden carving drew Zach''s attention¡ªa gift from Rusell, one of the knights under his command. Setting his mug down, Zach picked up the carving, a beautifully crafted wooden bird. Memories of Rusell''s father, once a skilled carpenter until tragedy struck the village four years ago, flooded his mind. Monsters had escaped into the village, and Rusell''s father didn''t survive. Zach''s calloused fingers traced the intricate patterns of the carved wooden bird, a tangible link to the humanity within the military hierarchy. In the quiet moments, he often found himself contemplating the mental states of each knight under his command. They were more than mere pieces on a strategic board; they were a blend of distinct personalities and backgrounds, a makeshift family bound by the trials of the battlefield. Yet, he couldn''t shake the realization that perhaps in dedicating himself to these knights, he had inadvertently distanced himself from his own family. His thoughts turned to Eli, his little sister. The conversation with her left him acutely aware of the detachment that had grown between them. Duty and responsibility had consumed him, blurring the lines between the bonds he forged on the battlefield and the ones he once held in his own home. Zach sighed. The weight of his dual existence pressed upon him. The delicate balance between protector and sibling, leader and family man. Eli could be a bit unsettling at times. Born on the first day of the red comet''s appearance, her crimson eyes were enough to invoke superstitious fear among the people. In contrast, Zach, born on the last day of the same celestial event, bore no such mark in his eyes. While he faced some discrimination due to superstitions, his experience was likely tamer, courtesy of being the eldest scion of House Shadowstep. Reflecting on his past interactions with Eli, Zach realized that her detached demeanor might have been a result of the accumulated feelings from enduring such superstitious discrimination. He cringed, acknowledging that he had misinterpreted her need for space as a simple desire for solitude. If only he had been more perceptive, more courageous. "I must have been an insensitive arse," Zach muttered to himself, regret etching lines on his face. He was content to finally understand the underlying reasons behind Eli''s behavior. She was different now¡ªmore open, more lively. The realization brought a mix of relief and guilt, and Zach couldn''t help but smile at the thought of his sister finding a way to express herself. Shaking off the weight of his self-reflection, Zach picked up his steaming mug of tea once again. The rhythmic wind outside whistled through the barracks¡¯ walls, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers from the forest beyond. In this rare moment of tranquility, Zach welcomed the reprieve. He took a deep breath, savoring the crisp air that hinted at the cold night awaiting them. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The flickering flames in the hearth cast dancing shadows across the room, creating a comforting ambiance that allowed Zach to momentarily set aside the worries of the impending dangers outside. As he stared into the fire, a sense of warmth filled him, not just from the hearth, but from the newfound connection with his sister. The complexities of their relationship now lay bare, and Zach was determined to bridge the gap that had unknowingly grown between them. A knock interrupted his reverie, and the heavy wooden door creaked open. Elena, a stern knight with a scar across her cheek, entered with a tray of freshly baked bread. "Captain," she said, her voice steady and respectful, "I thought you might be in need of a respite from the constant scrutiny of maps and reports." Zach nodded appreciatively, setting aside the cup and accepting a piece of bread. "Any news from the scouts?" Zach inquired in a measured tone, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain," Elena replied, her eyes meeting his. "However, the men are on edge. There has been no sign of monstrous activity in the vicinity of the border, and the shallows of the forest have been devoid of any life for the past two days. It''s peculiar. Our men are yearning for action, and the unknown keeps them restless." Zach nodded, comprehending the sentiment. The monsters were an enigma, their patterns unpredictable, and the knights craved the familiarity of combat, where the enemy was tangible and the path forward clear. "Restlessness can be as perilous as the monsters themselves," Zach remarked, his gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the hearth. "It is my duty to maintain their preparedness, yet I fear they yearn for a conflict that might overwhelm us." Elena scrutinized his face, and the shadows of concern that clouded his eyes. "So, you''re still opposed to the expedition to clear the deeper parts of the forest of the accumulated monster populace?" Zach sighed, a hint of weariness in his breath. "I do understand the necessity, Elena. I only hope that whatever looms in those northern woods, we are adequately prepared." Elena selected a piece of bread and bit into it. "You carry a heavy burden, Captain. But you are not alone. We stand with you." Zach nodded, his gaze still fixed on the fire. Their conversation drifted into a companionable silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Outside, the wind howled ominously, a reminder that, no matter how cozy this moment felt, the threat was ever-present, lurking just beyond these walls. *****
"That''s not a natural occurrence. We can''t afford to be complacent. Direct the scouts to conduct thorough patrols, especially in the areas where we''ve witnessed heightened monster presence before. I don''t fancy this sudden silence," Zach addressed a knight named Reiner. Reiner nodded. "I shall see to it, Captain. Is there aught else you require?" Zach considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Keep me apprised of any developments. We cannot afford to let down our guard, particularly in the face of the unknown. The monsters may be testing our resolve." As Reiner left to carry out his orders, Zach''s eyes caught something, and he shifted his attention back to the training dummy. There it stood with a fist-sized round hole. Perfectly round, not something that can be done normally. His finger traced the smooth hole; it was undoubtedly the result of skill. Zach furrowed his brow, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he examined the precise craftsmanship. The anomaly spoke of a level of precision that surpassed the typical wear and tear of training dummies. "What skill leaves such a mark?" It was the same question he had the first time he laid his eyes on it. After confirming that none of the knights stationed at the manor awakened any skills, the dummy was transferred to the border station under his command. A consultation with the knights stationed here revealed that none of them had awakened any skills either. This revelation evoked more questions than it answered. That only left one plausible outcome ¡ª someone else, probably from his family, had awakened some sort of skill. Only one name came into his mind ¡ª his little sister, Eli. Her sudden interest in becoming a warrior, his discovery of her solitary physical training sessions; all the signs were there. But why was she hiding it? She had said nothing about it to him, but perhaps these were just his suspicions. After all, she was just a child. He decided to leave the issue be for now. Maybe he would directly ask her, approach the matter delicately to understand the truth behind it. Despite the uncertainty, Zach couldn''t shake the feeling that Eli held a secret. Chapter 9: Rumours and Feints The door to my little slice of heaven creaked open, and in waltzed Marie, my trusty maid, giggling like a co-conspirator in a teenage caper. Oh, the sheer ecstasy that gossip brought her! (I detest it, by the way!) I couldn¡¯t entirely absolve myself of fueling her appetite for scandal. ¡°Lady Eli! Hihihi¡ª¡± Marie started, her enthusiasm unhindered. ¡°Easy there, you cow! Remember, I still hold a noble title,¡± I teased with a grin. ¡°Now, spill the tea¡ªwhat rumours are swirling through the town today?¡± And off she went, spinning her yarns. ¡°First and foremost, do you recall Sir William?¡± Marie asked. Ah, yes, that young knight¡ªZach had introduced him during one of our training sessions. An eighteen-year-old man, recently knighted, from one of the wealthier families in the county. ¡°The knight with the dazzling armor?¡± I responded, envisioning his shining exterior. ¡°¡­And the somewhat lacking wit,¡± Marie chuckled. ¡°Well, he was caught trying to joust with the scarecrow by the barley fields. I daresay, the scarecrow may have won the bout!¡± A stifled laugh escaped me. Zach would surely whip that man into shape soon enough; I had seen his no-nonsense approach, especially with newcomers. Despite my best efforts, a twinge of sympathy nudged me for Sir William. ¡°And remember Mrs. Higgins, the seamstress I told you about?¡± I didn¡¯t. ¡°Yeah, yeah, of course I do.¡± ¡°Reportedly, she took it upon herself to outfit each Enquana in the village with these tiny, glistening capes. Now, they¡¯re strutting around as if they¡¯ve secured invitations to a royal banquet!¡± Enquanas, those fantastical wingless avian beings resembling crows of various hues, were known for their fleetness. Imagining a flock of bedazzled Enquanas clucking and sashaying down the narrow streets, their capes catching the sunlight, indeed painted a comical scene. ¡°¡­..a fashion show of fowl proportions,¡± I managed between wheezes, succumbing to a fit of laughter like an old hag. Marie gazed at me with wide eyes, seemingly wounded by my pun. But Marie wasn¡¯t done. She embarked on another tale, this time about the County Blacksmith and his belief that his anvil had acquired a distinct persona. ¡°He¡¯s taken to having heartfelt chats with it, even christening it as ¡®Sir Anvilsworth,¡¯¡± she explained. The County sounded anything but boring. However, reigning in the conversation became imperative once again, especially with Marie¡¯s tendency to veer off course. Skilfully, I guided our discussion back to the topic at hand¡ªthe conspicuous absence of Zach. ¡°The townsfolk whisper about increased Knight patrols,¡± Marie conveyed, her voice laced with unease. ¡°Miss Martha, our innkeeper at the county¡¯s edges, mentioned a surge in nearby Mercenary activity. She also remarked on heightened Knight presence along our borders.¡± ¡°Preparation for a monster invasion?¡± I speculated aloud, skepticism tainting my words. ¡°Seems unlikely; such a significant development wouldn¡¯t slip by unnoticed.¡± ¡°Indeed, Milady, no monster sightings in the past fortnight,¡± Marie confirmed. ¡°And an oddity¡ªMr. Holloway, our local merchant, reportedly delivering hefty rations to the border.¡± Moments of contemplation followed, weaving together these disparate threads into a single, foreboding conclusion. An expedition. Was it time for that already? The implication triggered an urgent stirring within me. But the absence of monster attacks in the recent weeks puzzled me. Our northern border, linked to untamed wilderness, often served as a gateway for grotesque, deformed creatures, widely known as Monsters. They were an ever-looming threat, their assaults as routine as the ebb and flow of seasons. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Ah, the Forbidden Northern Woods¡ªthe locals¡¯ rather drab term for this treacherous expanse. In the pages of the novel, it boasted a far more fitting title¡ªthe Spectral Glades. A name that didn¡¯t just whisper danger but bellowed it across the landscape. Within these woods danced a motley crew of fantasy creatures¡ªmagical tigers, colossal cows, crocodiles that fancied themselves avian, and even fungi with aspirations of grandeur. It was a menagerie straight out of a vivid dream¡­ or a vivid nightmare. Now, thinking about these creatures made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. They say ¡®curiosity killed the cat,¡¯ but in these woods, the cat could probably kill you, write a sonnet about it, and compose a symphony as an encore. And then there were hints of an ancient civilization lost in the woods, shrouded in mystery like a badly written plot (or so I presumed, given the original novel¡¯s reluctance to delve into its depths). These woods remained an unexplored territory¡ªa place so unfriendly, the monsters spawned there would probably prefer to teleport to the neighbour¡¯s backyard. They knew better than to hang out where they were the snacks instead of the snackers. And, the shallow parts of the Spectral Glades¡ªan area not so treacherous compared to the depths but still dangerous that even the bravest souls tiptoed cautiously. The novel hinted at such expeditions, those forays into the safer shallow fringes of the woods. Zach, my dear brother, had survived till the later parts of the story, ruling out any likelihood of his venturing deeper into that abyss. An audacious notion crept into my mind¡ªa wild and improbable desire to join this expedition. Ridiculous, wasn¡¯t it? Yet, I hesitated to dismiss the idea outright. There lingered an unspoken purpose, a task awaiting completion¡ªone that demanded familiarity with the dangers lurking within those woods, and the peculiar gifts they held. But before entertaining this mad scheme, there was a vital step to take. ¡°Marie,¡± I called upon my trusty maid, ¡°I need you to verify something for me.¡± Her inquisitive gaze met mine, awaiting my command. I relayed my request, watching as her eyes widened before transforming into a grin. The pieces were set; now, all that remained was to wait. *******
A clash of wooden swords echoed through the training grounds. Incoming attack from the left¡ªI shifted my stance, weight forward, a nimble adjustment to counter the anticipated strike. An opening¡ªtime to turn the tables. But wait, something was amiss. His grin. It was a ruse, a clever feint. Abort! The realization struck a moment too late as I felt his knee gently brush against my torso. In real combat, that misstep would have signalled defeat, launching me backward like a mere ragdoll. A resigned sigh escaped my lips. There was still a vast distance to traverse on this journey. ¡°Milady, you almost had me there,¡± chuckled the towering knight who stood before me, his smile warm with encouragement. ¡°You don¡¯t need to downplay it, Sir Percival. Let¡¯s call a spade a spade; that move was a tad too thick-headed on my part,¡± I quipped. ¡°Ah, but you underestimate yourself, Milady,¡± Sir Percival countered with a reassuring tone. ¡°Your determination and skill are commendable. Besides, every misstep is a lesson learned. In combat, one¡¯s greatest adversary is often oneself.¡± Percival, my mentor and personal guard appointed by my brother. Initially, Zach himself undertook my training, but for the past few days, his absence persisted, undoubtedly tied to the anomaly in monster activity and preparations for the impending expedition. ¡°Perhaps, but it¡¯s hard not to feel like a squashed grape when you¡¯re the one hitting the ground.¡± I mumbled. Percival, undeterred by my self-deprecation, began offering guidance and a comprehensive assessment. ¡°Milady, your technique, while promising, can benefit from small adjustments. Your agility is your strength¡ªexploit it. Use your smaller stature to your advantage, swift movements to outmaneuver opponents. And remember, not every opening is as it seems; stay vigilant.¡± I nodded; the lesson freshly learned. ¡°Lower your center. It grants stability and agility. And when you parry, use your wrist more. It¡¯ll add finesse to your strikes and conserve energy.¡± I shifted my stance, implementing his instructions as best as I could. ¡°When you¡¯re engaging, don¡¯t overextend. Swift strikes, then retreat if needed. You¡¯re not aiming to overpower; you¡¯re aiming to outmaneuver.¡± Precision over brute force. Gotcha. He paced a few steps, eyes scanning the practice area. ¡°Ah, and your footwork¡ªlight, swift steps. Always be ready to pivot or sidestep. It¡¯ll confound your opponent and give you openings.¡± ¡°Remember, Milady,¡± he added, ¡°combat is not solely about strength. It¡¯s strategy, adaptability, and finesse. With time and practice, you¡¯ll become a formidable adversary on the battlefield.¡± In my mind, I grappled with the notion that utilizing the blessing would render the bout effortless¡ªa temptation I wrestled against. Engaging without them felt akin to wielding a wooden sword(¡­yeah, couldn¡¯t think of a better comparison), a self-imposed handicap that didn¡¯t sit quite right. Yet, I yearned to construct a foundation reliant solely on my physical prowess¡ªa groundwork that would allow my blessing to complement and amplify my innate abilities. Almost every skill in my blessing enhanced the aspects already present. There was an intricate synergy between innate capabilities and bestowed gifts. So, with a decisive nod, I shifted my stance, aiming the wooden sword at the towering figure of Sir Percival. ¡°I understand, Sir Percival. How about another round?¡± ¡°As Milady wishes,¡± Percival replied with a grin that, infuriatingly, stirred an unexpected rush within me. My brother¡¯s choice of mentor suddenly seemed, to put it mildly, questionable. Oh, the audacity of that grin. It nearly set my cheeks ablaze. What on earth was my blasted brother thinking when he assigned this¡­ hunk as my mentor? ¡°I won¡¯t fall for the same trick twice.¡± He merely smiled in response. And, inevitably, I fell for his feint yet again. Blast it all! Chapter 10: Smooth Brained Brilliance "Whoa, Eli, you were so cool!" Daniel''s bubbly voice chimed from behind me. I turned to look at the little scamp. Initially, I had assumed he''d come for more candies, but to my surprise, he''d risen early just to cheer me on. I''d casually mentioned Zach was training me, never imagining he''d be so enthusiastic about watching my practice sessions. "You were like a real Knight, Eli!" Daniel''s hands danced in the air, mimicking swordplay. "Swish, swoosh, and then you were all like, ''Ha! Take that!'' You were so fast!" "Um, well, I was just practicing, you know?" I stumbled over my words, unused to such earnest praise. "It''s, uh, kind of you to think that way." I continued walking, unsure of how to handle such genuine admiration. Blast my lack of social graces. But Daniel wasn''t finished. His animated retelling of my training session continued, recounting every dodge, every spin, with unbridled excitement. "Eli! You almost dodged that one, like whoosh, almost there! It was so cool!" Daniel''s exuberance was infectious. "Do you know what else is cool?" I leaned in, scanning the corridor cautiously. "What?" His eyes widened with curiosity. "Magic," I whispered conspiratorially. The reaction on the little scamp''s face. Priceless. "Wait, you can do magic?" He looked so surprised. "But how? You didn''t even take that magic test yet. Dad said only after that can you find out if you''re a real mage." Certain facts were common knowledge in this world, and the concept of magic and mages ranked among them. It was widely understood that magic within an individual began to mature around the age of ten. This was the time when one would sense the presence of magic within themselves, although they wouldn''t discern the specific elemental affinity. Hence, it marked the age when churches across the kingdom conducted aptitude exams for this age group. The frequency of these exams varied based on the region''s population density, ranging from bi-weekly to annual occurrences. In Shadowstep county, they took place quarterly every year. "Secret," I replied cryptically, leaving him more bewildered than before. Yet, the allure of witnessing magic in action was too irresistible for him to resist.
The door to the study creaked open, and I stepped inside with Daniel in tow. The room lay dark and empty as usual. With a flick of my wrist, I switched on the mana lamps, eliciting a soft sizzling sound before the room bathed in light once more. Daniel suspiciously peeked outside before firmly closing the door. I unlatched the window to invite in the morning light; the sun was on the brink of rising. As soon as Daniel shut the door, his excitement overflowed, and he bombarded me with a flurry of questions. "How did you figure out you''re a mage? When did you know? Can you do spells? But you don''t have teachers yet. What about elements? Can you...?" "Steady there, Daniel," I interjected, attempting to quell the deluge of questions. When he finally abated, I chose my words with care. Revealing the truth was out of the question, so I merely stated, "One day, I simply sensed the stirrings of my magic and knew I was a mage." He regarded me with suspicion, a adorably quizzical expression upon his cherubic countenance. "Can I do that as well?" inquired young Daniel. "Nope," I replied, quite bluntly. "But why?" he persisted. "You haven''t yet reached the age of ten, Daniel. Your inquiry is premature." "Oh¡­" My statement seemed to quell his words, as if I had made an irrefutable point. Returning my attention to the manual, I located the page outlining the spell matrix for [Twilight Veil]. Though committed to memory, a thorough check never harmed. In the interim, Daniel curiously sidled closer, stealing glances at the pages I perused. Questions evidently lingered on his tongue, yet for the present, he chose to stifle them. Admirable. Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. To be honest, this marked my inaugural attempt at spellcasting. Thus far, I''d immersed myself in foundational studies, various mana exercises, yet curiously skirted the actual casting of spells. The recent exercise aimed to enhance spellcasting efficiency, yet why I delved into it without prior spellcasting experience was a conundrum even to me. And so, I had summoned Daniel. It seemed the pressure of performance might serve as my catalyst to overcome this hesitation. I followed the prescribed steps. Hand extended, guiding the mana towards my fingertips. A peculiar, twitchy sensation tingled within, nestled deep within my fingertips. Now, slowly push it out of one of the mana channels. Pressure on the fingertips lightened, as I felt it flowing out. My eyes snapped open. Threads. Ethereal. Pulsating. Dark. I just momentarily stared at these threads emanating from my fingertips. Daniel stared too. But I soon recentred myself. Focus. Gently, I twirled my hand, commanding threads to weave a perfect circle. Will the second hand, expand the circle. Another circle beneath. Interlocking triangles along the periphery. Vertices, opposite. Runes, within. The world receded. Allow it. Inconsequential. Sense it. The Vibration. The faint symphony. The harmony. Shaking. Hands are shaking. CALM THEM! Pull back. Runes swirl. Fast. Faster. Wait. Wait. Just a bit more. It''s time. "[Twilight Veil]" Darkness erupted like an explosion, reverberating through the space. Reality snapped back into focus, awakened and attentive to the command issued. Wisps of darkness surged forth, hungrily chasing and devouring the ambient light. It had been a straightforward command, to obstruct all traces of light. Mana lamps were enveloped, windows shrouded, and light itself vanished. Yet, amidst the successful execution, a gradual drain began within me, a persistent feeling of losing something vital. I gazed, transfixed, at the fully formed matrix shimmering in front of my hand. Intricate, pulsating, ominous. Casting the spell had provided insights into its nature: a form of communication, a command conveyed through the runes. The Twilight. The Absence. The Shroud. Amidst this revelation, Daniel''s voice pierced through the growing darkness, pulling me back to the present. He clutched onto my gown, palpably frightened. Surveying the engulfing darkness, I realized my eyes had failed me. The cause of Daniel''s fear dawned on me, and it fell upon my shoulders to console the young lad¡ªhe was only six, after all. "Daniel, it''s alright," I said as I knelt beside him. The little man trembled, and in retrospect, I contemplated whether divulging my attunement to Dark Mana might have been a wise precursor. It seemed I had underestimated the potential impact on his tender sensibilities. "It''s just a spell. I... I didn''t expect it to turn out like this. But don''t worry, I''ll fix it," I reassured Daniel, my own surprise evident in the unexpected outcome. The anticipation of a misty shroud had starkly contrasted with the complete annihilation of light sources that manifested. The manuals had cautioned about the diverse expressions of magic, unique to each individual. Until the church''s screening, my specific capabilities remained a mystery. Focused on rectifying the situation, I deliberated the correct means to end the spell. The theoretical option to sever the mana supply came with the risk of damaging my channels. Cautiously, I observed the runes within the matrix. Amidst the swirling symbols, one remained static at the center. Concentrating on the unmoving central rune, I sensed the convergence of mana, all energies drawn toward this focal point. The circles dissipated; the runes vanished. The command of darkness dissipated, and light naturally reclaimed its dominion. As my heart gradually steadied its rapid beats, the memory of manipulating mana, of commanding and channelling it, lingered vividly. The sheer rush was an unforgettable experience. But first, Daniel. With a sigh of relief, I couldn''t help but hope for the absence of any unfortunate accidents in his pants.
In the cloak of night, my room turned into a makeshift Rapunzel tower, thanks to my resourceful bedsheet engineering. Yet, alas, no Prince Charming or distressed royalty, just me, the girl-next-window, indulging in some girly stuff. [Visionary Mastery] Night vision engaged, horizons perpetually broadened. Peering out for the umpteenth time, the garden below revealed no clandestine rendezvous; just a nameless cat planning world domination. Acceptable. A smidge of nerves fluttered in the pit of my stomach¡ªa sensation I''ve masterfully avoided for eons. Oh, the things we do when avoidance is no longer an option. With a metaphorical slap resonating through the chambers of my cranium, it marked the quintessential "JUST FUCKING DO IT!" moment, as they are wont to say in the more modern circles. Now or never, the wisdom imparted. And so, with the audacity known only to those with a penchant for questionable choices, my unshod extremities found perch upon the sill of the ajar window. Behold, a ballet of smooth-brained brilliance. I, a fearless acrobat, engaged in a nocturnal leap of faith, eschewing the commonplace notion of a rope-aided descent. Who needs such pedestrian apparatus when one can defy gravity with sheer audacity? As I descended from the modest elevation of a two-story abode, the wind became an accomplice, cavorting with my locks. Fear? Ah, a relic of yesteryears, akin to the forgotten password of an overlooked email. With the terra firma looming at a pace bordering on impertinence, my latent skill whispered sweet assurances, coaxing my attention to the forefront. And just before the imminent rendezvous with the ground, it was time. The pi¨¨ce de resistance! [Featherweight Descent] Momentum? swatted away like an incessant summer mosquito. Acceleration due to gravity? A truant on an unscheduled sojourn. Newton''s first law? Bereaved, cast into a desolate corner. Physics? demoted to a mere suggestion box. And lo, my feet met the grass with a finesse befitting a seasoned hopscotch virtuoso. In the wake of my triumphant, yet surprisingly genteel plummet from the window, elation coursed through my veins like a refreshing tonic. A proper lady, however, doesn''t engage in undignified squealing; instead, I indulged in a refined repertoire of joyous little jumpy jumpies. It worked. It worked. It worked. Naturally, as a former acrophobic, Summoning courage akin to coaxing a cat into a bath ¨C a commendable feat, if I say so. Now, what purpose did you imagine this ingeniously fashioned bedsheet rope served? Was it some avant-garde clothesline? A secret escape route for socks fed up with their monotonous drawer life? Oh, the folly of such notions. Time to ascend, conquer that windowsill with the grace of a spider avoiding raindrops. And why limit oneself to a singular leap? Marie I: In The Life of a Trusty Maid Rising early, the quiet moments before the day began might be Marie¡¯s favourite. The servants¡¯ quarter was silent as Marie slipped through the neatly arranged sheets before standing up and opening the window. The night sky was gradually brightening, bit by bit. She closed her eyes, placing her opposing hands on each eye, forming an X. ¡°Blessed Moonweaver, with your silvery glow, weave serenity into our restlessness, grace these hearts with tranquility,¡± she murmured in a quick prayer to the Goddess Selena. After her prayer, Marie went about her day-to-day duties. Quickly donning her dress, she reached for the ribbon earlier gifted to her by Lady Eli, now a daily accessory. Tying her hair, she swiftly stepped out. The household was still mostly slumbering, except for the barracks where knights rose early for their training. Efficiently navigating her chores, Marie''s ears were on high alert for the symphony of maids sharing the latest scoops. With swift note-taking skills, she uncovered a gem: Lord Richard''s return, a garden stroll turned lavatory dash, complete with a wardrobe malfunction of the trousers variety. Marie''s eyes sparkled with delight ¨C a perfect addition to her Lady Eli''s arsenal. Knowing well the cold war between Lord Richard and Lady Eli, Marie revelled in her newfound ammunition. Lord Richard''s penchant for spreading tales about his sister had always irked Marie, though she was relegated to the sidelines as a mere maid. However, times had changed. Lady Eli had undergone a metamorphosis, and Marie was grateful for the shift. Amidst more gossipy whispers, seemingly unrelated but duly noted by Marie''s discerning ears, others dismissed it as idle chatter. Not Marie. For her it was akin to an invisible thread that stitches the fabric of interpersonal relationships. The imaginary mirror that reveals the collective consciousness of everything. In the bustling breakfast hall, Marie seamlessly integrated herself into the largest group of maids. Initiating the gathering with light banter, she skillfully navigated the conversation towards the juiciest tidbits. A well-placed question here and there, and the floodgates of gossip opened wide. The news flowed ¨C the gardener''s health, Lord Richard''s return, and the night escapades of Lord Daniel and Lady Eli. Rumor had it they were playing a game called "Hide and Seek." Marie raised an eyebrow at the peculiar choice. But she attributed it to Lady Eli''s refined taste in everything, even games. Marie nodded approvingly to herself. Lady Eli, the epitome of a noble lady. Her artistic prowess left Marie breathless; those paintings, her unmatched talent at such young age. Despite the occasional peculiar requests, Lady Eli''s etiquette, speech, and grace were impeccable. Lately, she had even treated Marie like a confidante rather than a mere maid. Ahh, it felt like a blessing from Selena. Marie tapped her eyes once again, offering a small prayer of gratitude to the goddess. The moment had arrived. Marie took a detour to the servant chamber to retrieve something Lady Eli had commissioned. A quick pit stop in the kitchen secured a glass of Sundrop Sitrus juice before Marie made her way to her lady''s room. It seemed as though Lady Eli possessed an uncanny ability to sense Marie''s acquisitions. Even before Marie could knock, a cry echoed from within, "SITRUSSSSSS!" Lady Eli appeared at the door in a flash, ready to snatch the glass of juice from Marie''s hands. While the young lady was the epitome of elegance most of the time, this particular juice acted as the wolfsbane to her nobility. Marie reveled in the predictable transformation of her expression during these moments. The contrast between Lady Eli''s refined demeanor and her unbridled enthusiasm for a simple treat never failed to amuse her. Curtains, gracefully drawn. Room, meticulously tidied. Bed, an elegant masterpiece. All completed while Lady Eli indulged in every last drop of her Sundae Sitrus juice. At one point, Marie had to snatch the glass as Lady Eli ravenously licked it clean. Despite the juice-fueled enthusiasm, Marie couldn''t help but affirm that Lady Eli was indeed elegant ¡­Most of the time. "Is this the item I commissioned earlier?" Lady Eli inquired as Marie delivered the package. "Indeed, Milady," Marie responded. Lady Eli swiftly unwrapped it, revealing a dark green hood. While the request had initially surprised Marie, the wisdom Lady Eli shared about pockets still resonated in her ears. It was about pockets. How pockets transcend their utilitarian origins. How they were a metaphor to human experience. Repositories for experiences and secrets alike. Stolen novel; please report. How the fashion aficionado, in their pursuit of the perfect pocket, becomes an archaeologist of the soul. The philosophy of unearthing fragments of self in the folds of fabric. She''d basically instructed Marie to commission different garments, all with hidden pockets. Marie didn''t entirely grasp the significance, assuming she was missing some noble education. Yet, Lady Eli didn''t mind enlightening her, and Marie tackled the task with utmost sincerity. It seemed her lady was pleased. Squeals of joy accompanied the rummaging through numerous pockets in the hood. "What about the rest of them?" Lady Eli inquired. "Ready within a week." "Ah, I can hardly wait. You''re truly exceptional, Marie!" Praise appreciated, Marie moved on to her next task¡ªtending to Lady Eli''s long azure locks, a responsibility requiring eventual maintenance. "...out with it," Lady Eli declared after a while. "What?" Marie asked innocently. "I sense you''ve been harboring something to share. Come on, spill the beans¡ªwhat gossip has piqued your interest?" Ahh, her lady knew her too well. Marie unleashed a barrage of gossips, and Lady Eli responded with a well-timed laugh or comment. The pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance was undoubtedly the calamitous garden promenade of Lord Richard. Lady Eli smacked her thigh, a burst of laughter escaping. ¡°Should have sustained the intensity of the spell, but it befits him rightly.¡± "What?" Marie questioned. "Nothing. Do recall the other matter I inquired about?" Lady Eli wiped away laughter-induced tears. Trying not to question Lady Eli''s elegance too much (an uphill battle), Marie responded, "Yeah, I think I''d have good news by tomorrow." "That was quick," Eli remarked, genuinely surprised. Marie huffed her chest up and raised her head. "Anything for my lady and her audacious pursuits," she declared (having learned some of the difficult words her lady used), despite sometimes pondering the eccentricity of those pursuits. Some goals, she mused, were reserved for minds of unparalleled brilliance. Marie, content in her role, relished in assisting her lady in her peculiar endeavors. "Ahh, I wanted to ask one more thing. I''ve always yearned to understand the intricate structure of our county. I tried scouring the books in the study, but most of the material there was as outdated as powdered wigs." Marie didn¡¯t understand what that last part meant but her eyes still sparked with enthusiasm. A noble pursuit indeed. "Of course, Milady. I know a place that might have the required information." "As anticipated of you. Deliver it to me as promptly as you can." "I will do my best, Milady." After impeccably dressing Lady Eli, Marie bid farewell and plunged into her daily whirlwind of chores¡ªmostly running around to fulfill her lady''s every whim. As Marie departed, contemplating a trip to town, a voice sliced through the hallway. She turned, and her expression soured. It was Matilda. That harlot. Matilda sneered as Marie crossed her path in the hallway. "Oh, look who thinks she''s the queen''s personal handmaiden." Marie shot her a cool glance. "What is it, Matilda? As you can see, I am very busy at the moment, unlike a certain someone." "Well, you certainly seem to enjoy it, don''t you? Being the pet of that thing." Marie maintained her composure. "Are you not afraid that your words might reach her someday? I serve Lady Eli with dedication. It''s a privilege, not a burden." Matilda rolled her eyes. "I serve the lady of this house. And dedication? More like desperation. How can you stand working for someone so insufferable?" A spark of defiance ignited in Marie''s eyes. "Lady Eli might be demanding, but she appreciates my efforts. Can''t say the same for you, can you?" Marie, acutely aware of how Lady Isabelle, Lady Eli''s stepmother, treated her personal servants, didn''t mince her words. Matilda''s face twisted with disdain. "At least I don''t pretend to adore someone who¡ª" Before the verbal skirmish could escalate, a sudden stomach rumble betrayed Matilda. Marie took a step back as Matilda, now clutching her stomach, emitted a whimper¡­ before making a hasty retreat. Marie hurried behind her, catching a whiff of the impending disaster. The floodgates were already open, and Marie hoped Matilda could reach the lavatory in time. Perhaps on pure instinct, Marie turned around. But there was no one there. In an odd sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, Marie could have sworn she saw azure locks vanish down the hallway.
The clip-clop of hooves and the carriage''s creaking symphony finally reached its curtain call. First to break free from the somewhat awkward carriage ride were young Lord Daniel and Lord Richard, accompanied by Sir Percival. Finally, it was Marie''s cue to exit. So, how did this unexpected entourage come about? Well, just as Marie was plotting her escape to town for Lady Eli''s endless chores, fate threw Lord Daniel and Lord Richard on her path to town. Daniel, spotting Marie as Eli''s maid, rushed up like a gallant knight and insisted she join their expedition. What could she do? She complied. Just as Marie dared to dream of freedom, Daniel chimed in, "Why is she going alone? What if something happens to her?" And that''s how one of the two knights on this unplanned trip ended up tailing Marie. Wherever they went, people gawked, and the imposing presence of Sir Percival squashed any potential gossip, leaving Marie stewing in frustration. This outing, meant for collecting scandalous tidbits, turned into a lesson in smiling politely while listing off tasks Lady Eli had earmarked for future visits. Curse her overly good luck. "So, where are we off to?" A deep voice rumbled behind her. Marie, not quite accustomed to casual exchanges with knights, took a moment before replying. "A detour to the church library. Lady Eli seems to have developed a sudden fascination with the county''s architectural intricacies. My task is to fetch the reading material." "Ahh..." Marie knew well that Sir Percival had been Lady Eli''s swordsmanship tutor for a while. Rumors swirled about Eli''s unconventional interest in swordplay, something Marie secretly took pride in, even though she hadn''t witnessed it firsthand. Maybe one day she''d muster the courage to ask. "Perhaps she was genuinely interested. She inquired about the forest surrounding the Manor and sought additional geographical details about the county," Sir Percival continued. Marie raised an eyebrow. "Your answer?" "I shared a few morsels, you know, the ones I''m acquainted with. I''m her swordsmanship mentor, not a geography tutor." Marie couldn''t help but stifle a laugh "Well, in philosophy, a sword can be a kind of compass." Sir Percival glanced at Marie. "An unconventional perspective, but something to be considered." As the church approached, Marie seamlessly transitioned back into her routine, listing off yet another task from her seemingly endless list of chores. Chapter 11: Dear Diary
Dear Diary, It''s been a hot minute since my last scribble, marking my two-month anniversary of twirling my metaphorical mustache as the resident villainess. I must say, I''m nailing it. I can''t help but wonder about the impending novel storyline. Will I be a classic villain, or are we opting for a plot twist where I start a bakery and live happily ever after? Life update: I''ve woven my web of connections with Daniel and Zach. Still waiting for a tea session with my stepmother ¨C she''s as elusive as a cat in a laser pointer factory, and my father is MIA, probably running a marathon of avoiding family drama. But hey, I''ve got all the time in the fictional world. Eli, the recluse extraordinaire (yours truly), finally decided to rejoin the social circus. People now think she''s an open book. Yet, my eyes still have them sprinting for the nearest therapy couch. Guess what? I''ve cracked the code on scaring the bejesus out of people with my eyes. It turns out, with a bit of mental gymnastics, I can tone down the fear factor. Call it the "Eyes that see but don''t give you nightmares" technique. Still a work in progress, but it''s a start. Slip-ups occur, but hey, Rome wasn''t terrorized in a day. Let''s talk skills. [Fearlessness]. I''ve discovered it''s more than just the ability to brave a haunted house without breaking a sweat. It''s a full-on fear vanishing act. I''m evolving into this detached, aloof creature. Consequences are like yesterday''s news ¨C mildly interesting but not my problem. I fear (or not) I might end up like Eli from the novel, and [Fearlessness] refuses to play hide and seek. So, here I am, on a quest for balance ¨C the middle ground where I can still be human without feeling any fear. Added priority: pursuit of sanity (and maybe a sprinkle of fear). Next up, the expedition ¨C straight from the rumor mill, courtesy of Marie. Tomorrow marks the day I join the adventure. It''s official. Time to get acquainted with the dangers of this cruel world. I''ve been living in my little sheltered bubble for too long ¨C time for a reality check. In other news, my magical endeavors are soaring to new heights. I''ve cracked the code on drawing mana directly from the core, and guess what? I''m ahead of schedule, beating the training manual''s timeline by solid five months. Maybe it''s my past-life mana amnesia working in my favor ¨C I''m practically a mana prodigy. Speaking of mana, it''s like this tingling sensation. I get goosebumps like I''m listening to a killer playlist every time I channel it. I''ve become a mana junkie, addicted to the thrill of weaving mana. Now, I can even multitask ¨C painting and mana channeling, the dynamic duo of my current pastime. Update on my magical shenanigans: the rate of my spellcasting is on the up and up. As of now, my spell repertoire is as extensive as my patience during a family reunion ¨C a grand total of two spells. Not that I''m complaining; it''s quality over quantity, right? Spell numero uno ¨C [Twilight Veil]. It''s like a lightless area that plays peekaboo with everyone''s vision in a vast area. Paired with my [Visionary Mastery] skill, I''ve basically turned it into a useful spell without the usual downside. Numero dos ¨C [Fatigue Hex]. From minor yawns to emergency bathroom breaks, I''ve got a range that spans from "mild inconvenience" to "I might need to call an exorcist." Test subjects include the ever-charming Richard, a gossiping maid, and, surprise, Richard again. Results? Let''s just say, I''ve found my magical calling card. Now, let''s talk offense. [Lethal Precision] is my go-to, but swords? Not my vibe. Zach''s commissioned sword will be gathering dust. So, before the expedition, I''m in the market for a weapon upgrade. Fingers crossed that Marie''s intel isn''t just a product of her vivid imagination. Ah yes, Marie, my trusty rumour monger, has caught wind of my fascination with exotic things, particularly the sharp variety. I''ve spun it to her as a refined noblewoman''s hobby of collecting, making it sound as sophisticated as sipping tea at high noon. Little does she know, behind the facade of a cultured lady lies a mind actively suppressing the urge to turn everything into a pincushion. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. She was equally enamored when I mentioned my interest in painting ¨C clearly, Marie has a soft spot for what she deems "proper noble lady hobbies." If only she knew that my collection of sharp objects wasn''t destined for some high-society showcase but for the sole purpose of curbing my slightly unhinged inclinations. The irony is almost poetic. Ignorance truly is a blissful state. Finally, tier one blessing, the system screen said. Possibility of more tiers, it hinted. You''d think I''d be terrified of gradually transforming into something less human, but my mind has this incredible talent for not giving a single fuck. Yet, here I am, scribbling down the fears that I''m supposedly incapable of feeling. It''s like trying to describe a color I''ve never seen ¨C an exercise in futility. I''m scared, dear diary. Deep down, there''s a part of me that''s truly terrified of the shadow I might become. Consider these ramblings my desperate attempt to throw a lifeline to my humanity, a thread woven with ink and paper. Maybe, just maybe, these words will be my tether, a connection to my more human self in the vast expanse of future uncertainty. Fearfully (or something like that), Your Eli.
**** I snapped the diary shut, feeling like I''d just spilled the tea to my literary confidante. Evening had draped its cozy shadows, and I marveled at my linguistic rebellion ¨C English in a world that would probably think Shakespeare is a type of medieval sausage. The closing lines rattled in my head like a neurotic tambourine, a constant reminder of fear that I couldn''t quite catch. So, with a nose pinch that could rival a disgruntled toddler, I accepted the fact that some secrets were destined to play hide-and-seek within the ink-stained sanctuary of my diary. My eyes landed onto the covert ensemble laying on my bed. A green tunic with more secret pockets than a magician''s hat, leather breeches with a pocket revolution, a cloak that could smuggle a small village, a belt boasting more pouches than a kangaroo''s marsupial daycare, a bandana with a pocket so minuscule even my sanity doubted its existence, and boots that could store enough secrets to rival a politician''s memoir. Marie, the sorceress of secrecy, had outdone herself under the pretext of providing ¡°exotic clothes with pockets.¡± It was an investment in the art of concealment, a promise to future endeavors yet unknown. Ah, the price of fashion in a world that doesn''t appreciate the value of a good pocketed ensemble ¨C one shiny gold coin. A hefty investment, but hey, a girl''s gotta have her secret storage spaces. I waltzed over to my room''s drawer, home to Zach''s thoughtful gift, the Resonant Barrier. With all the grace of a seasoned cat burglar, I slung it around my neck. Out with the old clothes, in with the clandestine couture ¨C a quick change that would put Superman''s phone booth routine to shame. Blue locks tucked into a bun, hood artfully draped over ¨C voil¨¤, a refined young lady transformed into a seasoned thief. Mirror check confirmed it ¨C I looked more sneaky than a raccoon eyeing your picnic. Now, for the checklist before the grand masquerade: Outfit? Check. Spells? Check. Weapon? Zach''s commissioned sword hanging by my side ¨C check. Skills? ¡­Mostly check. In my skill repertoire, there was this one act called [Adaptation] that I had tiptoed around, hesitant to push to its limits. Its original description was a cryptic "Changing bodily functions on a whim," which sounded like a recipe for a sci-fi horror movie. So, naturally, I had held off on becoming my own guinea pig. Unlike the other skills that practically tapped me on the shoulder when they were ready for action, passives like [Adaptation] played hard to get. After some trial and error, I had finally cracked the code. Let me tell you, the potential for body horror was there, lurking like a monster under the bed. In my past life, as I battled cancer from the confines of a bed, I took it upon myself to become the Stephen Hawking of human biology. Everything delicately balanced, a complex symphony where a single off-key note could spell disaster. Yet, despite my past endeavors, I treated [Adaptation] like a contagious disease, avoiding it like the plague. I mean, who wanted to mess with a finely tuned biological masterpiece? Not me, even if I did have a nifty skill urging me to play mad scientist. But, being the fearless young lady that I was (¡­.), I decided to throw caution to the wind and embrace the allure of [Adaptation]. Suicide button? Nah, I needed every leverage in my repertoire. Starting with the finesse of a contortionist at a circus, I began with the basics ¨C finger-bending. It was like a chiropractic session, transforming my joints into a whole new realm of flexibility. Soon, I moved on to other joints, giving them a twist (literally) that would make yoga instructors jealous. Soon, I graduated to grander moves, the magnum opus being the 180-degrees neck snap ¨C my party trick for turning heads, quite literally. I embraced my role as the possessed character in a horror movie. Sure, I had dreams of elongated limbs and fingers, but alas, it seemed I was missing the instruction manual for those advanced moves. Some areas of [Adaptation] remained uncharted, like they should. For now. Oh, and the hunger! Using this skill turned me into a walking snack fiend. Dried meat became my trusty sidekick, ready to save the day whenever munchies struck. So, as I assessed my checklist: Skills? Check. Unconventional party tricks? Double check. I wrapped up my preparations as the sun took its final bow. With night poised to reclaim its throne, it was my cue to make an exit. I had everything planned for my departure. Ordinarily, my absence would slide under the radar, but skipping the dinner table might raise a few well-groomed eyebrows. To preempt any gossip, I spun a tale for Marie. I informed her that I was leaving the county with one of Zach''s knights, embarking on a quest for exotic collectibles. She seemed unsure, but the strategic play of dropping Zach''s name and hinting at my training left no room for questions. Marie offered to tag along, but I swatted that idea away, citing the need to create a smokescreen for my disapproving father. Seeing her hesitate, I sweetened the deal. I granted her a three-day grace period. If I hadn''t waltzed back by then, she had the green light to report me missing. It seemed the promise of juicy capital scandals was the key to unlocking her cooperation. I figured I could endure a bit of scandalous gossip as a reward, and if I played my cards right, I might even enjoy it. I wove a similar tale for Daniel, his hush-money reward amounting to a princely sum of fifteen candies. A small price to pay for a sealed lip. Sweet bribery at its finest. Percival, on the other hand, needed a more delicate touch. I looped in Marie, enlisting her to inform him that I wasn''t in the best of health, thus skipping our regular training sessions. Trusting Marie for this delicate task was a calculated gamble. Sure, she might be a walking rumor mill with ears in every nook and cranny, but only to me did she unveil her treasure trove of discretion. Night would soon drape its curtain over the land. I was ready. Chapter 12: The Escape As night draped its curtain over the land, my boots, as per routine, found the familiar sill of the slightly ajar window. A quick leap, and the ground approached. [Featherfall Descent]. I touched down like a cat, grace personified in the darkness that enveloped me. I activated [Visionary Mastery], scanning the surroundings. No one in sight at the moment, but the looming presence of patrolling knights meant time was of the essence. Swift action was the name of the game. [Fleet Footed Sprint]. I raced through the garden, my steps leaving no audible trace as I headed toward the easternmost front of the Manor. There, nestled in the walls, were crevices perfect for my escape. My ears perked up at the subtle cadence of hushed murmurs just ahead. Instinctively, I ducked behind a nearby bush, invoking [Umbral Concealment] and sharpening my senses with [Keen Perception]. This wasn''t a typical patrol route, and uncertainty gripped me about who might be approaching. The shuffling of footsteps reached my ears, an attempt at stealth, but nothing eluded the grasp of [Keen Perception]. "Are you sure about this?" questioned the first voice. "Yeah, nobody would actually come here," reassured the second voice. Curiosity piqued, I cautiously peeked above the foliage to catch sight of two knights, donned in casual tunics that marked them as not part of the standard patrol. My lingering questions were promptly answered when one of them tenderly caressed the face of the other. ¡­Then they began passionately making out. Umm, yeah, now they were getting rather handsy, exploring territories beyond the realm of public decency. My fingers instinctively moved, weaving mana threads with practiced finesse. In less than ten seconds, the spell was ready. "[Twilight Veil]," I silently intoned, and like a voracious abyss, the little moonlight that graced the scene was devoured. A lightless zone enveloped my surroundings, yet in the throes of their heated moment, none of them noticed the increasing darkness. I emerged from my hiding spot, casually waltzing past them like a shadow in the night, my cheeks burning with a peculiar blend of second-hand embarrassment and amusement. There wasn''t much to dwell upon; just two knights engaged in an intense, if unconventional, form of swordplay. A mental note to scrub that particular image from my memory, and I continued on my way. Soon enough, the imposing wall loomed before me, standing at about five meters tall with sporadic crevices. Scaling it conventionally wasn''t an option, but I had the newfound utility of [Lethal Precision]. Harnessing little bursts of strength from my nimble fingers, I performed awkward monkey-like jumps, each propelled by a precision that defied my petite stature. Before I knew it, I perched at the top, scrutinizing the surroundings meticulously. No patrols in sight, no secret rendezvous happening; not even a power-hungry cat orchestrating world domination. Perfect. Without a second thought, I leaped over the wall, invoking [Featherfall Descent] to land with the grace of a seasoned acrobat. Swiftly activating [Fleet Footed Sprint], I darted into the overgrown vegetation by the road. A small patch of forest surrounded the manor, and as I ventured deeper, a diverse range of trees painted a picturesque scene. Ancient oaks, with gnarled branches reaching for the heavens, stood alongside towering pines and, if my botanical knowledge served me right, silver birches. The forest floor, covered in a lush carpet of moss and fallen leaves, muffled my footsteps as I moved further. Having studied and casually questioned folks like Marie and Percival about the surrounding geography, framing it as the curiosity of a harmless child, nothing about my inquiries raised suspicion. The forested patch I found myself in spanned approximately two kilometers around the manor before seamlessly merging into the city proper. Its purpose, I gathered, was a harmonious blend of hunting ground, resource collection, and perhaps a dash of aesthetic appeal. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. In this moment, however, my primary goal was not to appreciate the newfound beauty surrounding me. Never before had I ventured into such untamed wilds ¨C not in my previous life, and certainly not in this one. Until now. Ahh, the wind played with my hair as I sprinted, carefree and unburdened. My eyes, though accustomed to scanning every nook and cranny, had almost turned it into a second nature. The moonlight revealed the intricate dance of shadows, highlighting the beauty of the trees and little patches that adorned the forest floor. I yearned to kick off my boots and run barefoot, immersing myself fully in the sensory delight of the woods. Alas, luxury was a fleeting thought; urgency beckoned. There was no time to dawdle; the need for speed took precedence. Hesitantly, I increased my pace, zipping through the woods like a caffeinated woodland sprite, until the county proper winked at me from the distance. *** As the forested patch graciously bowed to the county outskirts, the scenery morphed into a charming mosaic of cobblestone streets and narrow alleyways. Mana lamps performed their nightly duty, casting a warm glow on the quaint buildings that lined the path. Parallel to the outskirts, a riverbank unfolded, adorned with the elegant embrace of weeping willows. Their branches dipped gracefully into the water, creating a picturesque scene. An unconventional bridge, courtesy of a giant fir tree, beckoned me forward. My cloak danced in the wind, and a chilly gust prompted me to clutch onto its fabric. Next in line was the craftsman''s lane, positioned right by the river. Half-timber workshops stood tall, crowned with clay-tiled roofs. Two-story structures, with the ground floor bustling with workshop activity and the upper floor likely serving as living quarters. The chill air. The scent of freshly worked wood and metal. But my journey wasn''t destined for this quaint lane. As per Marie''s intel, a local alehouse lurked around the corner, and soon enough, my eyes met its quaint facade. Inside, there was a modest buzz, but in the nighttime, this corner of the town was keeping it low-key. To the north-east lay the cathedral quarter, and just a smidge further north stood the marketplace ¨C my final destination. I began my journey, weaving through the compact townhouses. Two to three stories high, they stood together like gossiping neighbors, each with shared walls and chimneys puffing smoke rings into the night. I couldn''t help but notice some rather suspicious glances cast my way. Not because I was dressed like a thief ¨C no, that was too mainstream ¨C but because I was rocking the look of an overly stylish thief. Velvet cloak, anyone? Oh, and there was the minor detail that I was ten years old, rendering me the most petite threat in the medieval fashion parade. I had intentionally chosen this route, steering clear of the more unsavory sections of the county. Sure, I looked like a vulnerable child, and assaults were practically a medieval hobby, but it wasn''t fear that guided me. I just wasn''t in the mood to stain my sword with human blood this early in the game. Soon enough, the cathedral quarter unfolded before my eyes. This stretch of the city seemed like the VIP section, boasting stone residences with modest gardens, a heavenly abode for the clergy residing near the grand cathedral. To the far right, standing tall like a testament to divine craftsmanship, was the magnificent Cathedral of the Goddess Moonweaver. In my past life, I was far from religious, my faith soured by the literal blessing of cancer from birth. I harbored bitterness towards my parents for their continued religious beliefs. However, life now had a different flavor. My hands moved gracefully, forming an X as each covered the opposite eye, and I bowed. "Please watch over me, Goddess," I whispered, a gesture born from a newfound appreciation for the divine. The resentments of the past had softened, replaced by a gratitude for the force that granted me this second life. The county''s faith was rooted in the Goddess of Moon and Serenity, Moonweaver Selena. By extension, so was mine now. The atmosphere around the cathedral exuded serenity, and my keen ears picked up on whispered prayers and contemplative hymns that echoed through the sacred space. My feet carried me onward, though the prolonged run was taking its toll on my stamina. With fatigue setting in, I opted for a more moderate pace ¨C just a jog to navigate the final stretch. As the marketplace came into view, the vibrant nightlife unfolded before me. Timber-framed stalls and wooden market buildings adorned the cobblestone streets leading to a central well and a bustling marketplace. Taverns with troubadours, street vendors selling roasted nuts, and open-air dance performances contributed to the lively atmosphere. The square pulsed with activity. I seamlessly blended into the crowd, my eyes scanning for a particular landmark. However, my focus was interrupted by a sudden rustle in the bustling throng. [Adaptation]. My hand contorted unnaturally, ensnaring a hand larger than mine. My neck twisted like an owl''s as I confronted the would-be thief attempting to pilfer from me. The young boy, perhaps fifteen, stared at me with wide eyes, resembling a deer caught in the unforgiving headlights of justice. Judging by the fear factor in his eyes and the telltale sign of pearls dripping down, he had also added ''pissed his pants'' to his impressive resume. Ugh, I released my grip, realizing that my luxurious velvet cloak still marked me as a prime target for thieves. I needed to be swift, for the marketplace was a den of cunning and opportunists. Navigating the lively crowd, I quickly located the Town Crier''s platform, now repurposed by some bard wannabes. A large bell stood on the side, often used to gather townsfolk for announcements. Hmm, the clockmaker''s stand had to be in the vicinity. My sharp gaze soon spotted a small stand showcasing intricately crafted timepieces and sundials. Just behind it, a narrow alley beckoned. Bingo. I moved past the cheerful watchmaker, who enthusiastically demonstrated the precision of his creations, and entered the narrow alley. Shop signs greeted my keen eyes, courtesy of the trusty [Visionary Mastery] skill that turned dim conditions into perfect clarity. The Herb Haven. The Curios Corner. And there it was, standing proudly: The Bladesmith''s Armory. Once again, Marie''s intel proved spot-on. Who would have thought that the maid of a deranged villainess could be this efficient? Chapter 13: The Spectral Glades My hands danced through the air, skillfully casting [Twilight Veil] within the recesses of my hood. A subtle manipulation of shadows created a veil of darkness over my features, a mask of obscurity. The beauty of this spell lay in its adjustability ¨C I could control the intensity, allowing for a nuanced approach. A cloak of darkness that drained mana at a rate lower than my natural regeneration. Perfect. Once shrouded, I stepped into the armory. The symphony of metal clanging against metal serenaded my ears, accompanied by the enticing scent of heated steel mingling with earthy aromas. My eyes darted around, quickly catching sight of a burly figure in the back. But, oh, just as I stepped in, a dazzling collection of finely crafted combat knives, daggers, and short swords captured my attention, rendering me utterly spellbound. My breath was taken away. Ahh, how it deepened with each passing second. The allure of finely crafted sharpness. So many sharp things. All crammed into one spot. A rainbow of colors, from black to bone-white. A smorgasbord of options, from daggers to swords. A gallery of designs, from unassuming to downright ornate. Yet, every single one sharing a singular concept¡ªsharpness. A unanimous agreement to slice and sever. Cheeks blazed with a sudden rush of warmth, blood doing a gleeful sprint through my veins, and goosebumps staging a little dance on my skin. My hands clutched around me, desperately trying to halt the involuntary shivers of raw, unadulterated delight. My eyes were having a fiesta, savoring the sensation of heaven materializing right here on earth. Unbeknownst to me, my hands moved. But a gravelly voice, akin to a splash of cold water, yanked me back to reality. "What''s yer business in The Bladesmith''s, eh?" The burly figure, having migrated from the shadows, now played the role of a soot-stained apron aficionado behind the counter. I stealthily adjusted my hood, pulling it tighter, and swaggered up to the blacksmith. My voice dropped a couple of octaves, transforming me from a refined young lady into a young male ruffian with a casual "Lookin'' for a blade, ain''t I? Somethin'' sharp and deadly." His bushy eyebrows ascended in suspicion. "A little scrapper like yerself? What kind of trouble ye plannin'' to stir?" "No trouble at all," I shot back, reveling in my newfound ruffian persona. "Just need somethin'' to keep the riffraff at bay." The blacksmith grunted, giving me a once-over with the scrutiny of a seasoned professional. "Alright, let''s see what we''ve got for the likes of ye. Follow me, tough stuff." My attempt at a rough-and-tumble accent was, let''s be honest, a bit cringe-worthy. The blacksmith, already teetering on the edge of suspicion, shot me a look that clearly said, "What in the world is happening here?" Yet, I soldiered on, because in the grand scheme of things, the goal was to walk away with a dagger or a knife. Or both. A girl can dream, right? The blacksmith''s gaze clung to me like a wary shadow, and I started to question the wisdom behind my disguise choices. Here I was, trying to look like a shady thief, and the darn velvet hood was turning me into some kind of misplaced aristocrat on a quest. (¡­) He proudly brandished a hefty broadsword, its blade catching the flickering light of the forge. "This one, perhaps? A brute force kinda weapon, suits a strapping lad like yerself." Well, this was a surprise. I hadn''t specified what kind of blade I was after, and seriously, a broadsword that could double as a small mast? I battled the urge to shove the same broadsword back up places it didn''t belong and steadied myself. Composure, Eli, composure! A scoff escaped my lips. "I ain''t lookin'' to lug around a slab of metal. Gimme somethin'' sleek and quick. A dagger, mebbe." There we go, much better. I could almost pat myself on the back for that delivery. The blacksmith''s eyes narrowed, suspicion etched across his features. Nevertheless, he grunted and gestured for me to follow him to the dagger section. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Alright, then, small one. Pick yer poison." Oh, the sweet melody of weapon choices lay before me. Different daggers, each with its unique inspiration, beckoned from the display. Simple short-bladed, double-edged daggers to long, straight-bladed dirks. A bowie knife, with its fixed-blade and distinctive crossguard. The curved and hooked blade of a Karambit. The long, slender blade of a misericorde. Ahh, they were sharp, so very sharp. My composure started slipping away once again. The sight of these daggers sent constant shivers down my spine, bursts of serotonin buzzing inside me like a caffeinated bee. I didn''t just want one; I wanted them all. GIMME THEM ALL! Little did I know, at that moment, my wallet was quietly sobbing in the depths of my hidden pocket, foreseeing its impending doom. *** In the dimly lit slums, where mana lamps dared not tread, my trusty [Visionary Mastery] acted as my guide. Navigating through a labyrinth of ramshackle wooden shanties and meandering alleys, I gracefully waltzed past them. Laundries that seemed to defy gravity on makeshift clotheslines. Street-roaming animals claiming territory like budget monarchs. This part of the county lacked the vibrancy of its more prosperous counterparts. Drunkards and homeless hobos dotted the scene. Picture of an overall chaotic ambiance. The olfactory assault on my senses prompted a silent plea for escape. Oh, the sweet smell of not-so-sweet places. Encounters with potential troublemakers were a dime a dozen, but a single glance from my crimson eyes was enough to send them scampering away, leaving behind the aroma of regret and the promise of laundry duty. The main barracks area lay to the north, where the expedition eagerly congregated. My chosen entry point into the spectral glades was a smaller gate, discreetly tucked next to the border. The slums marked my final obstacle, one I conquered with flair ¨C and okay, maybe a few wet rags, but who''s keeping track of minor details? As the destined gate loomed before me, my hands once again moved, weaving the [Twilight Veil] to enshroud me in darkness. [Umbral Concealment]. From the perspective of any onlooker, I probably resembled an actual shadow, seamlessly blending into the surroundings as if I were a figment of the night. The gate was guarded, with at least five knights stationed there. The structure itself was basic but sturdy ¨C a reliable entrance with a gatehouse beside it, and a heavy, iron-grated portcullis mercifully raised. Above, the Shadowstep coat of arms proudly displayed a sword behind a curtain atop the crenelations and machicolations. I practically waltzed past the guards; most of them were engrossed in some juicy gossip session, blissfully unaware of the little shadow slipping through their midst. With that successful maneuver, I found myself finally out. There I was, standing on the cusp of the untamed wilderness known as The Spectral Glades. And what was the first thing I did upon stepping through those gates? [Fleet Footed Sprint]. I moved. *** Moonlight, it filters through the dense canopy. Intricate, on the floor, a play of shadows. Ahh, hear that, gentle rustle of leaves underfoot. Stay still. Appreciate it. The harmony. The subtle melody, that blends with the distant cries of creatures. Inhale deeply. The sweet, sweet fragrance of wildflowers. The earthy scent of mossy rocks. A symphony of scents. How they mingle. Ahh, how they blend. Listen, to the wind¡¯s gentle persuasion, its whispers. Listen, to the tales it tells. See, the stirring leaves in its gentle dance. Ahh, and there it is - the howls, follow the howls. For the unseen was soon to be seen. AND KILLED! MAULED! SLICED APART! WHERE ART THOU HIDING, LITTLE MONSTERS? ¡­. What the fuck brain? I quickly caught my train of thoughts, attempting to wrangle them back into some semblance of order. My mind had sprinted from appreciating the serene beauty of the forest to a full-blown murder mayhem scenario faster than I could keep up. But, you know, there was a grain of truth in that chaotic thought parade. Why did I leave my cozy life behind? Was it for the thrill of gaining experience, for unraveling the world''s mysteries? Well, kind of. But let''s not kid ourselves; the main reason was to put a leash on my increasingly unhinged tendencies. Lately, the voice in my head that suggested slicing and dicing anyone deemed "weak" was cranking up the volume. Terrifying, right? So, I figured, let me be my own therapist. Like telling a cat addicted to salami, "Sure, have a little as a treat, why don''t you?" And thus, this adventure in the safari hellscape became my way of treating my unhinged tendencies. Maybe it was a tad reckless, but hey, too late to hit the brakes now! And those monsters, well, they were the mosquitoes of this world ¨C no contribution to the ecosystem, just living for the sheer desire of destruction. Wherever they spawned, they acted like invasive species, wreaking havoc in every environment. Wiping them off the face of the world? Well, nobody would bat an eye. Mmm, genocide. In the Spectral Glades, the only reason these monsters managed to escape the confines of the forest was because of its natives ¨C the magical beasts that shaped the original ecosystem of this world. These magical beasts were intelligent enough to fend off the destructive tendencies of the monsters, keeping them at bay. Now, let''s revisit the original purpose of the ongoing expedition ¨C the abrupt disappearance of monster attacks on the borders. Monsters were a natural phenomenon, spawning almost instinctively. In the Spectral Glades, they found themselves at the bottom of the food chain, hunted by the magical beasts. When faced with such adversity, the monsters, acting on instinct, sought escape. And where else would they run to unleash their destructive tendencies but the nearest civilization? Our county. Oh, joy. Now, with the absence of attacks, it could only mean one thing. Either the monsters had mysteriously ceased spawning, or they had found a way to coexist within this harsh ecosystem. Both possibilities seemed equally impossible, but one leaned more toward the realms of fantasy than the other. As an avid reader of the novel, the truth was apparent to me. A high-ranking monster had spawned and was now busy amassing its own monstrous army, plotting who knows what. Chapter 14: The Gourmet Goblins Flashes of light danced through the night. A display of smaller and larger illuminations. The first visual spectacle that greeted my eyes was a charred clearing. The lush greenery had suddenly bowed out, allowing the skeletal remains of charred trees to take center stage. The transition was abrupt. Leaving behind solemn sentinels, their bark-blackened forms told the story of a fiery past. The air, thick with the scent of burnt wood, intermingled with an unfamiliar aroma that hinted at ¡­ozone? Something new lingered in the air, and the mana density seemed to spike. As I cautiously approached the charred scene, an ensemble of new sounds reached my ears ¨C the rending of teeth and the tearing of flesh. Shuffling of small footsteps. The mystery was unveiled as my eyes settled on the scene before me. A group of monsters, resembling grotesquely deformed goblins, feasted upon the lifeless carcass of a white vixen. Monsters, twisted creatures numbered dozens or so. A macabre feast. Deformed. Grotesque. Contorted and emaciated bodies. Mottled, sickly skin clung tightly to their skeletal frames. Elongated and distorted limbs, dagger-like claws from their spindly fingers. Dripping. Oozing. Skeletal faces. Bulbous, milky eyes peered out of sunken sockets. Needle-like teeth, grinning in delight as they dug into the tender flesh of white vixen. My first reaction wasn''t what I expected. Fear was too farfetched, and disgust at their vile appearance seemed appropriate. But what I felt was a familiar sensation. There they were, feasting on the fallen magical beast like a bunch of gourmet goblins, utterly oblivious to the impending doom creeping up on them. Off guard, no sense of survival ¨C they were as foolish as the tales described. Little pretenders masquerading as predators. Feasting openly, reveling in their grotesque banquet, they plunged their claws into the vixen''s flesh, tearing it off her bones with fervor. Butterflies in my stomach fluttered as I peeked at their backs. Turned. Unaware. Ahh, perfect. My knees met the ground, and my hands gravitated to my belt, where the recently acquired daggers rested. One by one, I laid them out before me ¨C four in total, a recent indulgence I couldn''t resist. A bowie knife, now affectionately named Mr. Bow. Creative. I know. A black Karambit, a long and slender Misericorde, and finally, a straight-bladed dirk. My fingers reached for Mr. Bow, mesmerized. Ahh, sharp, so very sharp. Close to my cheek, I cradled it like a cherished pet. Who''s Momma''s little baby? You are, Mr. Bow. Yes, you are. Who¡¯s gonna hunt these little monsties for Momma? Yay! You would Mr. Bow. Something stirred inside me. The moonlight took on a crimson tint. **** This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. [Fleet Footed Sprint] Like a shadow in the night, I darted forward, dagger in hand. Silent. Swift. Deadly. The first monster approached. A wicked grin spread across my face as the sharp edge of Mr. Bow met the exposed neck of the creature. [Lethal Precision] Smooth as butter, the blade glided through its neck. Warm blood splattered, a sensation of rejuvenation filling me, but I paid it no mind. One down. The others began to realize something was amiss, but not before another head went rolling. I wasn''t overly concerned; the only overwhelming thing about them was their hideous appearance, not their might. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I had already classified them as prey. Lambs to the slaughter, blissfully unaware. Watch them scatter, abandoning their grotesque feast to charge at me. Small giggles echoed in the charred clearing as I charged at them. Little prey, with their slow, wobbly claws ¨C pitiful, how very pitiful. They too charged, but it was futile. [Keen Perception] alerted me to a claw coming from the left. A quick sidestep, a dodge, and I caught the disgusting hand of one of these monsters. [Lethal Precision] A satisfying crunch as the bones in its hand gave way. A shrill cry, promptly silenced by my blade. Head severed. They came in droves. Head back. To the forest. Lure them. They were half my size. Nowhere near as fast as me. I stepped back. They followed. Angry. Shrill cries echoed. I climbed a nearby tree. Silent. Akin to a spider. Fingers danced, casting [Twilight Veil]. What little illumination the moonlight provided was taken away, replaced by sheer darkness. Ahh, a vision honed to the darkness. It watched them, hapless souls who never thought to look up. I dropped down. Another head flew. Then another. And another. And another. In the frenzy, I reveled. Laughter¡ªmad, deranged. It was a drunken sensation of letting go, embracing the fundamental nature of the wilderness. Prey were meant to be hunted. More goblins came, and more died. Decapitated, and killed before even given a chance to cry their last. However, as I hunted the last of them, a peculiar sensation lingered. Boredom. They offered nothing. Why couldn''t they be more efficient? Their numbers were enough to overwhelm me, yet they mindlessly threw their necks at my blade. But I wasn''t letting that thought hold for much longer. The monsters were ranked, going from F-class to S-class. The higher the class, the more monstrous and intelligent they were. The ones I slew were F-class. F for "Frighteningly Feeble," I supposed. The bottom of the barrel, the deformed toddlers with claws, the ones that couldn''t even pass "Monsters 101." With the final one dispatched, I moved back to the charred clearing. *** Sorrow. It tugged at my heartstrings. As I laid my eyes on the once beautiful giant vixen. A majestic form. Now a lifeless silhouette. Marred by cruelty. Marched by malevolence. A vacant gaze. A reflection. Of emptiness of life. Of betrayed purity. Of extinguished beauty. The once pristine white fur, now marred by blood and decay. Each tuft of fur, dulled and stained. Ahh, how the very earth cradled her in a tender grief. Uncertain of the source of my sorrow, it felt almost instinctive, as if a shared kinship bound me to the fallen giant vixen. This sentiment stood in stark contrast to the hatred I harbored upon encountering monsters. In the world of the novel, magical beasts were pristine and untarnished beings, sometimes possessing intelligence surpassing that of humans. As I sat on my knees, my hands gently weaving through her once-pristine mane, the sorrow deepened. Taking a moment to recenter myself, I grappled with a flood of emotions. The adrenaline and thrill of the hunt still pulsed through me, juxtaposed against the wired, rejuvenating feeling from slaying monsters. And now, the unexpected sorrow of losing this seemingly unknown vixen weighed heavily on me. Barely five minutes had passed since my arrival, yet I found myself lingering there, cradling the mane of the giant vixen. All of my emotions heightened to extremes, my heart raced in tandem with them. Inhaled. Exhaled. Began with answers. What I gleaned. The vixen lying here had been a magical beast, its life extinguished for some time now. A Thunderquill Fox, if memory served me right. The charred remnants surrounding me. A testament, to her prowess. The goblins, reveling in their gruesome feast, couldn''t have been the architects of her demise. Their feeble abilities ruled out any possibility of defeating such a formidable creature. This only deepened the mystery, pointing to the presence of a high-ranking monster, or perhaps more. The audacity of those weak and repulsive goblins openly indulging in the feast raised alarming questions about the true nature of what was happening. My guard had to remain steadfast; the echoes of battle persisted in the background. A reminder to keep moving. Stay focused, Eli. Focus. With that thought, I rose, stealing one last glance at the fallen vixen. My blade still clutched tightly, [Keen Perception] active. [Fleet Footed Sprint] I moved once again. Chapter 15.1: The Deformed Ape Sleep had become more of a formality since the blessing bestowed upon me. Around five hours seemed to be the magical number, enough to revitalize me completely. As I wasn''t venturing too deep into the woods, exhaustion could be kept at bay, and if it dared to creep in, I always had a clear path to return. Currently, I was closing in on the source of the noise. Burnt trees surrounded me, but the moisture in the air indicated the fire hadn''t spread far. Vaulting over a fallen tree, my keen senses caught something on the periphery. A sudden halt brought me face to face with a tight cluster of burnt trees, and there it was¡ªa hint of white, another Thunderquill fox. But this time, there was a difference; no goblin entourage in sight. Swiftly activating [Umbral Concealment], I crouched down. A solitary giant ape-like monster stood before me. Its limbs were elongated, gnarled, and misshapen. It had ceased feasting on the vixen the moment I approached. Crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness¡ªferal and predatory. Its grotesque nose twisted in the air, sniffing out something amiss. The internal voice that usually urged me to cut down the weak fell silent. My heart, however, pounded in my chest as the creature stood up, moving with an eerie, loping gait. Its eyes suddenly fixated on me. [Keen Perception] screamed a warning, and though its eerie gaze might have paralyzed others with fear, my body had transcended such emotions. Without a second thought, I initiated [Lethal Precision] and [Aerial Grace], generating a burst of strength beneath my feet to propel me backwards. The deformed ape shrieked, and in a blink, two gleaming claws tore through the tree I had sought refuge behind. Towering at double the size of a normal human, its elongated hands granted it a far greater reach. My fingers instinctively moved, weaving the [Twilight Veil] spell, but the creature remained locked onto me with relentless focus. [Fleet footed sprint] This marked the first occasion where I found myself employing more than three skills simultaneously, and rapid succession was the key. My entire power hinged on being swift and dispatching the target before it had a chance to retaliate. The catch: exhaustion would inevitably start creeping in. I needed to be both swift and clever in this. The ape''s shrieks echoed as it pursued me, demolishing burnt trees with wild fervor. But speed was on my side. Once [Twilight Veil] was primed, I cast it. Darkness rushed forth, swallowing the moon''s ambient light and shrouding the area in pitch-black. [Umbral Concealment] was already in play. I waited, and so did the ape. It paused, sniffing the air, before locking onto my exact location. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. This confirmed it. My stealth was useless against it. It was relying on its keen sense of smell to hunt me down. Activating [Lethal Precision] and [Aerial Grace], I leaped out of harm''s way, ensuring this time that my gaze was fixed on the approaching ape. Observing it was crucial before making any hasty moves. The ape contorted its body backward, limbs retracting with a sickening crunch. A piercing shriek followed, and its limbs extended like hungry serpents, covering a significantly larger area this time. Vicious claws tore through the burnt trees. The creature''s elongated limbs and razor-sharp claws allowed it to shred anything within a five-meter radius. With [Umbral Concealment] deactivated and [Twilight Veil] dispelled, I initiated [Fleet-footed Sprint] and bolted back. The relentless ape was hot on my heels, determined to chase me down. My heart raced within my chest, but it wasn''t fear that fueled my sprint; it was something different, something primal. The thrill of the hunt coursed through my veins. Ahh, If I found myself anywhere near that ape, I''d be torn apart in an instant. The creature grew frustrated, shrieking and demolishing burnt trees as if they were the very obstacle preventing it from reaching me. A plan took shape in my mind. The ape needed solid footing to attack within its deadly radius, and I needed to be close to it while it lacked that stability. A smile crept onto my face, and I came to a stop. With one hand reaching for my dagger, I seized the moment as the ape gleefully rushed toward me. However, just before entering its deadly radius, I leaped back, halting a few paces away. This proved to be the breaking point for the already frustrated ape. It let out a thunderous shriek, launching itself directly at me. Its elongated claws flailed behind, and its gaping maw threatened to devour my head whole. The body of this abomination was indeed a dangerous weapon, but it failed to account for one crucial factor¡ªI was a weapon too, sharper and more dangerous. Sheer glee found its way onto my countenance as I watched the ape approach from above with an open maw, its abandoned claws wobbling behind it. It had forsaken the only part of its body that made it a threat. [Lethal Precision] A neck approached. Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable. The sharp blade slid through it, cleanly severing the head. Warm vitae spilled, but the momentum of the ape''s body remained, crashing onto me. The massive form, akin to a small car, slammed into me, launching me backward. Pain coursed through my body, muting my senses, and agony seared as I gasped for air. It was the first time. Yet, the smile on my face refused to vanish. The thrill, the adrenaline, the essence of the hunt coursed through my veins. I embraced it, revelled in it. A sensation of rejuvenation filled my body, a momentary surge that made me feel greater, higher, a bit closer to something. However, I couldn''t fully grasp it yet. Pushing everything to the back of my mind, I needed to retreat. The sounds of battle were still ongoing nearby. Groaning, I managed to stand up, sharp pain coursing through my chest. I fervently hoped I hadn''t broken any ribs. Retrieving my knife that had slipped from my grip when the ape crashed into me, I stared at its headless corpse, still twitching. Rushing back the way I came from, toward the clearing with the first Thunderquill fox, my chest burned with pain. A persistent skill kept whispering in my ears¡ªAdaptation. I hesitated to activate it at this moment. Constantly using [Keen Perception], [Visionary Mastery], and [Fleet-footed Sprint] had already drained my energy, and now it was taking its toll on me. Needing a moment of respite, I found myself back in the clearing where I had hunted the goblins, the lifeless vixen''s carcass still lying there. Lingering around it was a risky move, considering that monsters seemed drawn to such scenes. However, staying close yet inconspicuous enough to observe any approaching threats seemed like a prudent choice. Venturing into the forest, I located a suitable tree and climbed it for a better vantage point. From my elevated position, I had a clear view of the charred clearing, allowing me to heave a sigh of relief. The pain in my chest persisted. Turning off every single skill, I rested against the thick trunk of the tree. My hood remained intact, and I pulled it closer to ward off the chill of the night. Chapter 15.2: The Deformed Ape
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 12% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] Current Perks: ¡¤ Fearlessness ¡¤ Eyes of Terror Evocation ¡¤ Adaptation Skills: 1. Keen Perception 2. Aerial Grace 3. Visionary Mastery 4. Featherweight Descent 5. Lethal Precision 6. Umbral Concealment 7. Fleet-footed Sprint
I finally understood the meaning behind that rejuvenating feeling. Every time I killed a monster, it filled me with energy. The increase was minimal for goblins, but it surged significantly after dispatching that ape. [Enlightenment Rate] had finally seen an increase. The answer to what influenced it was always there, but I had refused to acknowledge it. A sigh escaped me as I surveyed the forest from the branch I was perched upon. The night had receded, and dawn was approaching. A sudden sharp pain interrupted my thoughts. [Adaptation] persisted, but it wasn''t the current priority. For the past two hours, I had been trying to recover and preserve my mana. [Keen Perception] took precedence, fueled by paranoia, even though nothing had triggered it. Now, after finally restoring my mana, I triggered it. [Adaptation] The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Since I was young, I had been fascinated by biology, spending every available moment delving into the intricate puzzle gifted to me at birth: cancer. I was driven to understand every aspect of my body¡ªwhat made it move, what defined its existence. Biology wasn''t just a subject I enjoyed; it was an obsession. In an instant, something changed. The minutest details of the injury flooded my mind as I activated [Adaptation]. It was a different experience from the last time I used it. This time, I understood it immediately. Whereas before, I sought to enhance aspects of my body, now I focused on reverting it back to its original state¡ªwhere no injury existed. I honed in on the sensation. I could feel them¡ªthe ruptured blood vessels around the injury site. Not just one, but three ribs were fractured. My body had responded immediately, forming a clot to halt the bleeding. This was where [Adaptation] came into play. A sudden inflammation followed. [Adaptation] commanded, and my body obliged. Immune cells and growth factors rushed to the injury site, initiating tissue repair. Soft callus, a delicate network of collagen and cartilage, stabilized the fractured ends of the ribs. I felt it as the soft callus was replaced by a hard callus composed of stronger, more organized bone tissue. The cartilage gave way to harder bones. I knew this process¡ªit was endochondral ossification. All of this happened in an instant. What should have taken months was accomplished before my thoughts could even keep up. But I didn''t have the time to be amazed. [Adaptation] didn''t stop. Excess bone tissue obeyed its command and took the exit. The bone reshaped itself to its original form, and I finally felt [Adaptation] going dormant. The mana consumption wasn¡¯t too much. Even though it was just three fractured ribs, I understood how powerful the process was. Another thing became clear: [Adaptation] acted based on my knowledge. I knew it the moment I activated it. The skill scoured my memories, acting once it had found a script. It was a weird feeling, one that I had no words to articulate. I touched the part of my chest that was searing from pain moments ago. There was no pain. I quickly jumped down from the tree and ran around. It was as if the injury had never existed. It never ceased to amaze me how powerful my skills were. Not just the skills, but the magic itself was awe-inspiring. Light magic, known for its healing properties, could perform miracles. The entire system of magic, how it twisted and bent the rules of the universe, the molecular significance of it all left me speechless once again. If I had possessed this power in my past life, I might have ¡­cured my own cancer. It seemed like a trivial thought, but the implications were powerful. A part of me wanted to collapse under the weight of the grandeur that magic held, how powerful it was. However, I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. There was no time to ponder the mysteries of magic. The sounds of an ongoing battle persisted, urging me to focus on the present. I had a clear picture of what was happening. There must have been a skirmish between monsters and a pack of Thunderquill Foxes. I had a more compelling reason than ever to hunt these monsters. In preparation for the future, I needed to reach an enlightenment rate of 100 percent. I didn¡¯t know what would happen then, but I wouldn¡¯t find out until I reached it. I wanted to see to what extent I could push myself. I moved once again, this time toward the noise of the ongoing battle. Chapter 16: The Victory Leap Hours ticked by as I navigated through the forest. The sun now hung directly overhead. Three times I encountered similar groups of goblins, and three times they met their demise. However, the giant ape-like monsters were nowhere to be seen again. Checking my progress on enlightenment, I found disappointment.
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 14% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] Current Perks:
  • Fearlessness
  • Eyes of Terror Evocation
  • Adaptation
Skills:
  1. Keen Perception
  2. Aerial Grace
  3. Visionary Mastery
  4. Featherweight Descent
  5. Lethal Precision
  6. Umbral Concealment
  7. Fleet Footed Sprint
Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much improvement. It seemed that hunting the same kind of species repeatedly had diminishing returns. Despite dispatching over twenty deformed goblins, the increase in the Enlightenment rate was a mere two percent. Time was not on my side. Uncertain about how far I had wandered into the forest, I knew I was still in the shallows. As the sun traversed the horizon, the expedition would soon reach the conflict area¡ªor not. I had no knowledge of the path the expedition was taking. Assuming they were covering one part at a time due to the lengthy preparation, it marked a long expedition. Despite my assumptions, I couldn¡¯t be certain. It was best to prepare for the worst. Hence, consequently, I decided to ignore the next two groups of goblins I encountered and kept moving. Around another dense cluster of burnt trees, I witnessed a new scene: another deformed ape accompanied by about a dozen goblins. Though I was still far away, [Visionary Mastery] granted me the ability to see minute details from a distance. Opting to observe, I climbed a nearby tree. The giant ape was grunting in an unintelligible manner. I couldn¡¯t comprehend what it was saying, but it was unmistakably communicating with the other goblins. This revelation contradicted my understanding of these monsters as mindless agents of destruction. The idea of them engaging in civil conversation seemed absurd. But there it was, the bizarre monster summit, the giant ape was holding a goblin TED Talk, sharing insights on tree-climbing strategies or maybe the latest trends in burnt-tree aesthetics. It took a moment for the notion of intelligent monsters to settle in. Once it did, I swiftly dismissed it. Regardless of their intelligence, these creatures were still monsters, and it didn¡¯t alter their purpose: to unleash havoc upon anything that breathed or moved. My hands instinctively moved toward my dagger, and my heart began to race. The big one had provided a significant challenge during our previous encounter. If only it hadn¡¯t been so foolish as to lose its stability, I might never have been able to hunt it. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. With my dagger in hand, I descended from my treetop perch, ready to add my own commentary to their intellectual discourse. [Fleet Footed Sprint] Silently gliding through the shadows, I navigated around the clearing, positioning myself just behind the giant ape without getting too close. Initiating an approach would undoubtedly attract the creature''s attention, especially with its keen sense of smell. My stealth abilities were ineffective against such heightened senses. A major constraint was my lack of ranged spells and limited endurance for engaging in close combat. A single strike from the giant ape could prove fatal. While I theoretically could employ my daggers as throwing knives, I lacked experience in this area and hadn''t tested whether [Lethal Precision] worked for ranged attacks. Opting for the tried-and-true method, I embraced my inner gremlin. [Fleet Footed Sprint] [Keen Perception] [Aerial Grace] [Lethal Precision] With a burst of strength propelling me forward, I closed the distance. The giant ape''s grotesque nose twitched as it belatedly sensed my presence, but by then, I was already on it. Surprising a three-meter-tall monstrosity was a bit like ambushing a boulder, but I had the element of surprise on my side. To reach its towering neck, I''d need to give away my own stability by jumping, so I opted for a more grounded approach. [Lethal Precision] engaged once again as my dagger sliced cleanly through one of its legs. A deafening shriek echoed through the clearing, announcing the commencement of yet another round in our game of rat and giant-ape-cat. The hunt was on once again. *** Amongst the trees, I danced with the grace of fleet-footed elegance. The wind, now a companion, playfully smacked against my face. Carrying with it the scent of burning wood, intermingled with the coppery aroma of warm vitae. Coming to a momentary halt, I surveyed the area around me¡ªthe violent hollers and shrieks orchestrated by the ongoing battle. A grin played upon my lips, a subtle invitation to the mad goblins on my heels. Some of them closed in, drawn by the allure of the hunt. I welcomed them, observed their eager approach with a smile on my face. Tiny goblins, their wobbly claws reaching out for a little tickle, though their expressions hinted at desires far less innocent. [Lethal Precision] "Tee-hee. You fell for it again!" Heads rolled in quick succession, each one met with a surge of rejuvenating energy coursing through me. I led the grotesque entourage on a merry chase through the forest, the little goblins scurrying after me like pesky insects. Their ugly faces and annoying presence grated on my nerves, and I dispatched them swiftly whenever they drew near. But it was the giant ape that held my focus. Despite having one leg severed, the wound had healed to a stump without actual regeneration. An interesting discovery. Now, in a fit of madness beyond comprehension, the ape screeched and pursued me with violent fervor. Its eerie gait and combination of clawed limbs made for a horrifying spectacle as it closed in on me. Employing a similar tactic, I waited for the moment when its rage would cause it to lose its stability. As it paused, its limbs contracting in readiness, I seized the opportunity to make my escape. Leaping away, I watched from a safe distance as the once lush green clearing was torn to shreds by the ape''s savage claws. In a moment of triumphant pause, a few steps away from the infuriated ape, I flashed it an innocent smile. The head of a goblin that dared to approach already rolled on the ground, further fueling the ape''s frustration. Unable to contain its rage, the ape charged at me once again. However, my strategic movements always kept me just out of reach of its attacks. This continuous evasion pushed the ape over the edge, shattering any semblance of order in its pursuit. As before, I soon found myself in the perilous proximity of the deformed ape''s horrifying visage. Its needle-like teeth threatened to devour me whole, yet the exposed neck presented an irresistible opportunity. Activating [Lethal Precision], I coated my dagger with the deadly skill. This time, however, a second activation of [Lethal Precision] found its way to my feet. I jumped. Time seemed to slow as the dagger made contact with the exposed neck of the ape. With the burst of strength propelling me forward, the ape''s head flew off in a triumphant display. The Ape''s body crashed below me, having learned my lesson the last time. However, my celebration was cut short by a stark reality¡ªI had overlooked the surrounding trees in my victory leap. As I sailed through the air, the realization hit that my line of flight wasn''t clear. In an ungraceful turn of events, a tree loomed in my path, closing the distance faster than my thoughts could keep up. The collision was inevitable, and I found myself crashing face-first into the unforgiving bark. Ouch. Chapter 17: Impatient Little Goblin Facing the aftermath of my victorious yet less-than-graceful encounter with the tree, I confirmed the unfortunate consequence¡ªa nasal fracture. It seemed that, in my peculiar pattern, injuries chose to manifest only after the immediate threat had been vanquished. My head swirled with a sharp pain around my nose, and a swipe of my hand revealed the telltale sign¡ªI was bleeding from the nose. Breathing became a challenge with both nostrils seemingly out of commission, leaving me to heave heavily. A slight ache resonated in my head from the trauma, and my nose felt a tad misshapen and tender to touch. Without hesitation, I succumbed to the persistent whispers of [Adaptation], activating it with nearly one fourth of my mana remaining. As details emerged, the initial injury response unfolded: a broken nose and ruptured blood vessels around the injury, explaining the bleeding. [Adaptation] took the reins, orchestrating a symphony of biological responses within my body. Inflammation unfolded, guided by the skill, as immune cells and growth factors hurried to the site of injury. Following [Adaptation]''s lead, fibroblasts were immediately commanded to generate soft callus, swiftly stabilizing the fractured nasal bones and the adjacent structures. It continued with endochondral ossification, a process under the unwavering direction of [Adaptation]. The soft callus transitioned seamlessly into hard callus, providing a foundation of stronger, more organized bone tissue. The final act of bone remodeling ensued, as [Adaptation] methodically removed excess bone tissue and reshaped the bone to its original form. Satisfied with its handiwork, [Adaptation] gracefully receded, and the entire restorative process unfolded in the blink of an eye. The headache was gone. My hands moved toward my nose, feeling the still-wet blood there, but the pain had vanished. I once again marvelled at the magic within me, the inexplicable force that mended my injuries in the blink of an eye. Another day, another miraculous recovery; it was becoming routine. A shadow caught my attention, but it was just another goblin, likely hoping to exploit my moment of vulnerability. My dagger lay on the ground where I had dropped it after my collision with the tree. Impatient, little goblin? My hand stealthily reached for my belt where I kept three more daggers. I grabbed the Misericorde silently. As the goblin approached, oblivious to my awareness, my arms lashed out with predatory precision. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The Misericorde found its mark¡ªplunged into the goblin''s ear, twisted savagely, and then ripped out before slamming into the base of its skull. The creature slumped lifeless, never even given a chance to properly register my presence. No need for [Lethal Precision]; the goblin met its end before it could react. I shoved the goblin''s lifeless body aside and pulled out the Misericorde, examining its now-mangled face. Once again, the feeling of rejuvenation coursed through me. My velvet robe was already stained with blood, so I nonchalantly wiped my daggers clean on it. Gotta make the most of everything. I quickly accessed the system screen once again. Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva]
  • Enlightenment Rate: 24%
  • Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked]
It had increased by ten percent. The thought crossed my mind: did hunting the same monster decrease the enlightenment gained, or was it that hunting weaker monsters inherently had a low enlightenment increment? Perhaps it was both ¨C hunting the same monsters again and again would diminish enlightenment gain, and hunting weaker monsters offered little to nothing in terms of enlightenment. Making a mental note to document these observations, I moved away, finding a safe tree to climb onto and recover my mana. Munching on some dried meat, I pondered my future scenarios. Adaptation consumed little mana, but it still converted me into a certified snack enthusiast. Leaning against a tree, the thrill of the hunt still coursing through my veins, I replayed the flashes of battle in my head. A strange sense of belonging settled within me. A part of me hesitated to return, as if I had stumbled upon a realm where endless hunting was not just a pastime but a way of life. A place where remorse was a foreign concept, and the thrill of the chase was a melody that never dulled. *** I had no exact numbers for my mana. Peeking inside me gave me a vague sense of how much I had left. Recovering from about one-sixth after the previous fight and using [Adaptation] took roughly three hours. I could have run the numbers to calculate the recovery rate precisely, but time was a luxury I couldn''t afford at the moment. A mental note marked the first task upon returning¡ªto dissect the mana consumption and recovery time of each skill. As the evening approached, I closed in on the area of conflict. Flashes of light in the distance grew more prominent¡ªbig and small, and small and big. While understanding the gravity of the situation, I resisted the urge to charge recklessly. Patience was my ally, even if my instincts screamed for immediate action. A single blow from those apes could have easily claimed my life. The gravity of the thought should have been paralyzing, but [Fearlessness] played its tricks on my mind. It was a double-edged sword, both a shield and a provocateur. The analytical part of me fought against recklessness, seeking balance in the face of danger. I wasn''t ready to let hubris overshadow my better judgment. Approaching the conflict zone, my eyes caught another hint of white, but this time it was in motion. Reacting swiftly, I activated [Umbral Concealment] to stay hidden and climbed a nearby tree for a better vantage point. With [Visionary Mastery] still active, my eyes widened as the scene unfolded before me. Chapter 18: The Mother And The Thunder Counting not one, but three of those monstrous apes, I observed the unfolding scene. The moving figure was another Thunderquill fox, and one of the apes was already dangerously close to her. The others were gradually closing in with coordinated movements, their red eyes filled with insatiable hatred. Beneath a tree, the white vixen stood, fur crackling with electricity as she growled at the closest monster. The apes, undeterred, continued their silent approach. Closest of them scrunched back, contorting its long limbs, preparing for an attack. Anticipating the danger, the vixen leaped away just in time, avoiding the savage claws tearing through the ground. Seizing the opportunity, the fox''s fur cackled with blue electricity as she charged at the interloper. There was a loud crunch as the ape fell back, now marked with slight burns. The vixen leaped back to her original position, crouching low and growling as if warning the monsters not to come closer. However, monsters don''t heed warnings, and I doubted her display of aggression would deter them. A surge of anger rose within me, and I realized that my disdain for these monsters was growing stronger. It wasn''t just their repulsive appearance; there was something deeper fueling this intense hatred. Despite this realization, I chose to set the emotion aside. Whether fueled by hatred or not, rushing into the midst of three angry apes was a swift route to becoming a shredded mystery meat. As I observed the unfolding chaos, my mind raced to devise a strategy. I lacked ranged weapons, and plunging into the melee was a recipe for disaster. The information about Thunderquill foxes that I had come across flashed in my mind. There was a heated debate in the kingdom regarding the regulation of magical beast rearing. Some noble houses saw it as a symbol of prestige and prowess, integral to their heritage. Others, driven by paranoia, were concerned about the unpredictable nature of these beasts, although rogue mages could pose similar threats. To address these concerns, a regulatory framework was established, overseen by a dedicated governing body. Education about magical beasts became a crucial first step, and books were published detailing various species. However, the true capabilities of many magical beasts remained unknown. The fox in front of me represented House Thunderquill, known for their advocacy of magical beast rearing. Hence the name ¡®Thunderquill Fox¡¯. The number of tails on a Thunderquill fox indicated its power, and the one before me had three tails crackling with electricity. The move she used, [Thunder Charge], was a basic one even for a fox with a single tail. With three tails, she should be capable of employing [Thunder Serpent], summoning constant lightning from the sky. But why wasn¡¯t she using it. This situation was perfect. Wait¡­ Observing the Thunderquill vixen''s behavior, I noticed a peculiar pattern. After retaliating against the ape, she consistently returned to the same bush. This raised suspicions and led me to investigate further. Climbing a bit higher in the tree, I gained a better vantage point. My suspicions were confirmed as I spotted a little white snout peeking out from the lush green bush. The vixen, aware of the presence, growled at the bush, prompting the snout to retreat. It became evident that she was guarding something, likely young ones, and was cautious not to expose them to the dangers of her own formidable abilities. *** POV Switch: Eterisk Viskap?ls Eterisk felt a deep unease within her heart. The order of their pack crumbled when their leader, the Stormcaller, succumbed to the malevolence of that Vilespawn. The entire pack scattered in disarray, and Eterisk, burdened by guilt, held herself somewhat responsible. Her eyes bore witness to the devastating spectacle, observing the once-mighty Stormcaller''s defeat in the flames brought forth by that Vilespawn. The sanctuary, once a bastion of security, tainted as the Vilespawn and its minions invaded. They hunted and feasted upon her kin, forcing all to abandon their haven. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Though Eterisk sought escape, her maternal instincts held her close, for her young ones were still tender, and chaos claimed one in the tumult. By the time she discovered her lost offspring, the moment for salvation had passed. A growl emanated from deep within Eterisk as she confronted the approaching fiend. While she successfully felled the adversary, it defied her by rising once again, mending itself. Frustration coursed through her being. Two additional fiends approached from the shadows, and the safety of her kits hung in the balance, a consequence of her perceived shortcomings. Eterisk''s power was formidable, but her control over the lightning coursing through her was erratic. She feared that in her attempts to defeat the fiends, her kits might become collateral damage. Ever since that Vilespawn arrived, a disturbing change had overcome the once mindless fiends. Once reckless and heedless, they evolved into cunning adversaries, as exemplified by the stealthy duo silently closing in on her. The fiend before Eterisk contorted its limbs, a preparation for yet another assault. Eterisk, undeterred, recognized the threat. The injury she had inflicted upon it earlier had regrettably healed. With a defiant snarl, she bared her teeth and crouched low with her front limbs. The familiar claws of the fiend lunged towards her, but she agilely leaped backward. Her fur crackled with energy, the lightning coursing through her veins. Eterisk aimed directly for the fiend''s head this time. She collided with the grotesque visage of her enemy, a sharp crack echoing as the bones in its face surrendered to the force of her attack. Swiftly, she unhinged her jaws and viscerally tore through its eyes and nose. Yet, in the midst of her maneuver, a sudden movement at the periphery of her vision seized her attention. Another claw, gleaming and sinister, poised to strike. Caught midair, Eterisk found herself unable to evade the incoming claw. Time seemed to stretch. The gleaming claw found its mark, digging into her fur and tearing through the muscles of her hind leg. She fell. Pain erupted with searing intensity, momentarily muting her senses as one of her legs went numb. There was no respite, for another claw approached. Eterisk''s eyes widened with urgency. For her kits, for their safety, she had to rise again. The looming specter of death hovered, but the tenacious vixen knew she couldn''t succumb. Summoning strength through sheer determination, Eterisk attempted to evade the looming claw, but the malicious appendage proved relentless. In a desperate sidelong movement, the gleaming claw tore through her, shredding a portion of her chest. Pain surged through her once again, and fresh blood pooled beneath her weakened form. Yet, even in the grip of her own impending demise, her singular focus remained on her kits. Not fully succumbing to the grasp of death, Eterisk felt the fiends toying with her, savoring their cruel torment. However, the thought of her kits falling prey to the fiends'' voracious appetites ignited a fierce anger within her. She refused to let them become victims! In a surge of courage, she tapped into a wellspring of power she had hesitated to unleash before. Lightning crackled through her fur once more, fueled not only by the thunder but also by an overwhelming surge of anger and hatred toward the fiends. NO! If the end for her and her kits was inevitable, she vowed that the fiends would SHARE THEIR DEMISE! Her tails lashed out, crackling with the essence of thunder, even as she lay in a pool of her own blood. With closed eyes, she howled, a desperate plea sent skyward to the home of all thunders, to the sanctuary of their deity. Her plea resonated through the connection, and Eterisk sensed a subtle shift in the air around her. The fiend, too, smelled something amiss and looked behind, bewildered by something unseen. Eterisk''s fur bristled, not only from her own power but also from the commanding presence of the sky itself. The fiends, sensing that Eterisk was engaged in something beyond their understanding, charged at her in a frenzy. Yet, before they could reach her, something unexpected happened. The nearest fiend crumpled to the ground, both spindly legs severed. It howled in a maddened fury, its caution abandoned as it tried to stand on its claws, scanning the surroundings maniacally. The sky responded with echoing cackles. Though other fiends closed in on Eterisk, they were too late. A connection had been established¡ªa complete prayer from the earth to the sky. The evening''s hushed stillness, the silence shattered. A jagged spear of brilliance. Bright and blue, it erupted from the sky. A luminous serpent, coiling and writhing with energy untamed, descended upon the first fiend with a furious wrath. In an instant, the creature was incinerated, reduced to a burnt crisp. The serpent of lightning, jaws agape, lunged at the remaining fiends. In the blink of an eye, the dance of the lightning serpent brought swift and merciless justice upon the fiends. All three were reduced to burnt husks. Their malevolence purged, purified by the sky. However, the wrath of the luminous serpent did not cease; instead, it lashed out indiscriminately at everything in its vicinity. Trees, bushes, and the very fabric of the once-vibrant forest seethed from its wrath. It spared none, consuming all in a relentless blaze. Eterisk, caught in the maelstrom of destruction, cried out desperately, attempting to regain control over the force. But the lightning serpent paid no heed to her pleas. The forest around her now burned in raging flames, and the anguished cries of her kits were lost amid the crackling inferno. Perhaps, in a twisted form of mercy, their lives were extinguished in the blink of an eye. Tears welled within Eterisk''s azure eyes as she gazed upon her own pool of blood. The reality of her impending fate sank in, and she recognized that soon, she would join her kits beyond the veil in the sky. As her vision grew dimmer, she dreamed of a realm, one untouched by the pain and devastation. Where her kits embodied the innocence and vitality. Dream. Of her kits playfully paddling the soft clouds with their tiny paws. Of them catching lightnings with their pearly teeth. Chapter 19: Certified Tree Puncher Surrounded by the scorching heat of the burning trees, I gazed at the Thunderquill Fox before me. It seemed she finally hit the snooze button on life. Despite being unconscious, the rise and fall of her chest indicated a tenacious grip on existence. Down I crouched, shedding my cloak. Two tiny snouts eagerly emerged from my pockets, whimpering as they rushed to their mother''s side. I allowed their reunion, swiftly tearing a section of my cloak to fashion makeshift bandages. Applying gentle pressure, I worked on stabilizing the chest wound, cautious not to exacerbate the injury. With nimble hands, I wrapped another piece around her hind leg. I wasn''t a healer, and my [adaptation] skill was strictly self-serving. Lacking sterile supplies or disinfectants, my cloak, already adorned in monster blood, was hardly ideal. I could only hope that Magical Beasts possessed an inherent resistance to mundane infections. At this point, I was just winging it, unsure of my own actions. The sorrow that gripped my heart was eerily familiar, a reflection of the moment I first encountered the lifeless vixen. The desperate desire for her survival was mirrored in this moment. I simply couldn''t bear the thought of another innocent life being snuffed out. Her little ones scampered around, their eyes reflecting a mix of anxiety and hope as they observed my attempt to stabilize their mother. Had I arrived a moment later, their fate might have been sealed. When the vixen was on the brink of summoning the thunder, I swiftly severed the legs of the nearest ape, plunging in to rescue her offsprings. Then, I sprinted away as fast as my legs could carry me, hoping the ensuing blaze would subside. Yet, even with the immediate danger averted, the vixen''s life still hung in the balance. I formulated a plan, acknowledging its challenges. After stabilizing her to the best of my abilities, I scurried around, searching for the tallest tree nearby. Finding one, I ascended its heights, surveying the surroundings from the pinnacle. [Visionary Mastery] Under the embrace of the night, my enhanced vision extended far and wide, capturing minute details with the added perk of night vision. Despite not delving too deeply into the forest, I anticipated spotting signs of the expedition. However, my hopes were met with disappointment. The dense forest canopy played hide-and-seek with my viewpoint, making it challenging to identify any clear indicators. Smoke wafted up from various locations, creating a hazy puzzle. Pinpointing the campfire smoke or determining if it was even visible from my vantage point proved elusive. Stolen novel; please report. In my quest for clues, I resorted to [Keen Perception], hoping to follow the auditory trail. Alas, the forest was alive with a cacophony of sounds, making it a frustrating endeavor to discern the relevant noises. The struggle to filter through the auditory chaos left me with a mounting sense of vexation. As I descended from my lofty perch, I mulled over my options. A spark of inspiration led me to recall a stream I had stumbled upon during my journey. If the expedition opted for a respite, it made sense for them to choose a location near a water source. Admittedly, it was a bit of a shot in the dark, but a shot nonetheless. Swiftly navigating towards the vixen, I was met with mixed reactions from her kits. One growled defensively, while the other wore a melancholic expression, fixated on its injured mother. Ignoring the growls, I approached and assessed the situation. Facing the challenge of carrying a fox nearly my own size, I resignedly removed my cloak. It seemed I was left with no choice but to devise an unconventional method for transporting the vixen. All while trying not to disrupt her injuries too much. *** Navigating the terrain with an injured fox on my back and two disgruntled kits in my pockets, I soon stumbled upon the stream and decided to trace it back towards the county. My aching feet and hands protested against the burden, but a touch of [Adaptation] applied to my them kept me moving forward. As I walked, the kits provided a quirky soundtrack¡ªone calm, the other constantly growling and attempting to take a nibble out of me. It dawned on me that I was essentially carrying a whole family on my back. Parenthood, an unexpected skill unlocked. After what felt like an eternity, [Keen Perception] detected something familiar¡ªhuman voices, and close by. The sound of laughter reached my ears, and a clearing emerged in the distance. My nimble fingers danced, casting [Twilight Veil] and shrouding myself in [Umbral Concealment]. Just in case the laughter belonged to vigilant patrollers, I intended to stay hidden. As I surveyed the campsite, I spotted the distinctive Shadowstep insignia among the tents and armored figures milling about. Bingo. It was definitely the expedition. In the wake of mandatory education on Magical Beasts, perceptions had shifted for most people. Calculatingly, I brought the vixen here, knowing Zach''s stance on magical beasts. Later in the story, he even had his own familiar. There was no way they''d let this vixen perish if they found her. I released the vixen''s kits beside her. One remained silently observant, while the other, true to form, made a ruckus, attempting to dismantle the makeshift bandage. I gave the little shit a gentle swat to keep it in line. Time was of the essence. I spotted a nearby tree. [Lethal Precision] And punched it! The cracked trunk sent a shower of leaves cascading down, the noise resonating through the stillness of the night and drawing the attention of the expedition members near the campfire. As anticipated, several armored figures swiftly turned in my direction, hands instinctively reaching for the hilts of their weapons. Meanwhile, [Umbral Concealment] cloaked me in shadows, rendering me unseen in the darkness. The growling kit, having ceased its protests, now directed its attention toward the campsite. All that remained was to wait patiently for them to investigate the disturbance and stumble upon the injured vixen and her kits. Once their attention was captivated, I could slip away stealthily into the shadows. Chapter 20: Lapse in Judgement Hidden behind a tree, I observed the scene unfold. The night''s darkness shrouded me with [Twilight Veil], while [Umbral Concealment] made me effectively invisible. Guards, already on edge, approached the area with caution. As they reached the spot, their defensive postures relaxed slightly upon finding an injured vixen and her kits. Shouts and commands echoed through the clearing, drawing more people to the scene. A keen eye revealed that not everyone bore the insignia of House Shadowstep; some were mercenaries. It suggested that this was indeed a substantial expedition, comprised of both knights of the county and hired hands. Zach arrived, drawn either by the commotion or by someone''s report. He crouched near the injured vixen, unfazed by the growling kit''s attempts to nip at him, and began barking orders. As his gaze lingered on the torn fabric around the vixen''s wounds, I couldn''t help but chuckle inwardly. I had considered removing the cloth, but I didn''t want to risk worsening her injuries. While they might speculate about the mysterious benefactor who left the injured vixen there, the idea that it could be me, the ten-year-old daughter of the count, seemed utterly implausible. I silently wished them luck in uncovering the non-existent trail. A sense of relief washed over me as a mage in white robes, presumably a healer, arrived. I sighed, leaning against the tree. A quick tap on my eyes and a nod of gratitude to the Goddess Moonweaver ¨C though I was new to religion, the very real presence of gods in this world compelled me to start somewhere. Offering a swift apology to the goddess, just in case I fumbled the prayer, I stole a glance back that the commotion. Two knights were carrying the vixen back to camp, while two disgruntled kits found their way into Zach''s arms. In those moments when paranoia proved its worth, I was grateful for my lingering sense of distrust. Since entering the forest, I''d kept [Keen Perception] active, always on the lookout for potential ambushes. If I could ambush something, logic dictated there might be others lying in wait for me. So, when [Keen Perception] erupted in my head like a banshee''s scream, I didn''t hesitate. I ducked and rolled, narrowly escaping an arrow that would''ve skewered my head moments ago. My heart pounded furiously, a sensation I would''ve identified as sheer fear if my emotional spectrum allowed for it. Regardless, the analytical part of me reasoned that I had been discovered, triggering the instinct to run. Yet, the predatory instinct whispered to me, urging a mere peek at the audacious archer who DARED to shoot at me. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Complying with instinct and skill, I activated [Fleet Footed Sprint], feeling a surge of energy propelling me forward. Simultaneously, I twisted my neck 180 degrees with [Adaptation] to glimpse back. There she was, Elena, a scar etched across her cheek, bow drawn with another arrow trained on me. I recognized her, she was one of Zach''s high-ranking knights. Beside her, Zach, hands on his sword''s hilt, gazed directly at my location. He abandoned the kits and charged my way, Elena hot on his heels. I waited for panic to set in, but it didn¡¯t. I just didn''t understand how they had spotted me, how they had pierced through my stealth. "Fuck!" I snapped my neck back to its original position, pushing myself harder, mere meters away from their location. But I just couldn¡¯t allow them to see me. Especially Zach. Cloak billowing behind me, I streaked through the forest. Despite my nimble sprint powered by [fleet footed sprint], the relentless duo, Zach and Elena, were like shadows on my tail. A fight could easily expose me, and the notion of lasting against them? Uncertain at best. The voice within me hadn''t deemed them prey¡ªyet. Course changed. I pulled my cloak closer and rushed towards the stream. Zach and Elena, hot on my heels, seemed undeterred. Arriving at the flowing stream, I noted its depth, around five feet. And it was quite wide¡ªno easy leap. Normal folks would think twice, but I was no ordinary gremlin on the run. [Aerial Grace] [Lethal precision] Harnessing the momentum from my sprint, I allowed [Lethal Precision] to enshroud my feet. A leap of faith ensued, propelled by the surge of energy. [Aerial Grace] worked its magic on my trajectory; I felt the subtle shift as I contorted my body mid-air, fixing my center of mass for a calculated landing. My feet soon elegantly met the other side of the stream. Now I just- P A I N The warmth, momentarily expelled. Enveloped my sheer coldness. Before I could fully comprehend the sensation, a searing agony exploded through my shoulder. Pain, sharp and relentless. The cruel puncture of an arrowhead. I screamed, not the brave, war cry kind, but more of a horrified tea-kettle whistle, and I fell. My legs went full vibrate mode as I stood up once again, throwing myself into the nearest bush. There was one skill that I always kept on a tight leash: [Eyes Of Terror Evocation]. It was like taming a wild beast¡ªinitially requiring conscious effort on my part to keep it subdued. But over the course of the month, it became as natural as breathing. Ever since I set foot in this forest, I didn¡¯t even give it a second thought; it was always quietly suppressed in the background. In that moment, perhaps a sheer lapse in judgment, I ceased to care about the potential consequences. As I crossed into the forest on the other side of the stream, I channelled every bit of my remaining mana into unleashing the [Eyes of Terror Evocation]. And I stared back. Chapter 21: Adaptation Channeling every iota of my mana into [Eyes of Terror Evocation], I stood there, uncertain of what I had expected. Fear and terror, while closely related, were distinct entities. Fear, a general emotional response to perceived threats, could be transient. In contrast, terror was its more extreme counterpart, immediate and acute. Fear could cause one to experience increased heart rate, elevated blood pressure, heightened alertness, and the activation of the "fight or flight" response. Whereas terror was a bizarre mix of extreme panic, hyperventilation, and a sense of paralysis driven by sheer fear. As I gazed upon the trembling forms of Zach and Elena, their eyes bleeding and their bodies seemingly paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of terror, I realized that it wasn''t just fear I had invoked. It was a crescendo of terror pushed to its extreme. In that moment, a fleeting moment where their vulnerability stood starkly before me, the voice within returned. They weren''t knights. They weren''t pursuers. They were PREY! MEANT TO BE HUNTED! MEANT TO BE KILLED! MEANT TO BE SLICED APART! The intoxicating desire to surrender to the thrill of the hunt. The urge to plunge my dagger repeatedly into the FLAILING BODIES of MY PREY. Oh, to RELISH the sensation of their FEEBLE SKIN AND FLESH yielding to the sharp edge of MY BLADE! THE SHEER URGE TO FEEL THE WARMTH OF THEIR BLOOD! But, my ever-persistent rational side once again dominated my instincts. I closed my eyes, turned away, and chose the path of retreat. My instincts SCREAMED at me. But I paid them no heed as I ran. The echoing screams of predatory instincts, drowned out, by the resolute beats of my retreating footsteps. [Fleet Footed Sprint] refused to play along, as if it too succumbed to the lack of mana. The piercing pain in my shoulder heightened with every step, and even [Adaptation] remained dormant, no longer whispering¡ªlikely due to my drained mana reserves. I couldn''t gauge how long I ran or in which direction I fled, but the one certainty was that no one was pursuing me anymore. I halted when my feet could no longer bear my weight, leaning against a nearby tree to catch my breath. In the quiet respite, I noticed something peculiar on my hand ¨C a spell matrix. Once intricate and pulsating with darkness, it now lingered in a dulled state, almost unnoticeable. Realization dawned upon me ¨C I had left [Twilight Veil] activated during the attack, perhaps in the frantic rush to escape. With a focused effort, I dispelled the rune, watching the matrix vanish. I attempted a sigh of relief, but the sharp pain in my shoulder brought me back to the grim reality. It was then that I felt something wet across my cheek. A quick swipe revealed blood. Tracing it toward the source, my fingers led me to my eyes. I was bleeding from my eyes. Oh boy, I really fucked it up this time, hadn¡¯t I? So, I just did what I was supposed to do, I kept my eyes peeled open, just in case something tried to sneak up on me once again and waited for my mana to be recovered. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. *** Summoning the determination of a particularly lazy sloth, I convinced myself that extracting this arrow was the next logical step. Then with all the confidence of a toddler trying to tie shoelaces, I reassured myself that it wouldn''t take much time, just one pull, as if I were plucking an oversized splinter. Taking in deep breaths, I eyed the arrow shaft in disgust. About two hours had elapsed, and my mana tank hovered around half full. [Adaptation] chimed in once again, like a backseat driver providing unwanted commentary. Yet, before I could indulge its whispers, I had to deal with the pesky arrow. Sure, I might not feel fear, but the irony of not wanting to feel pain while acknowledging I needed to endure more pain for relief wasn''t lost on me. As my fingers hesitated around the arrow, I pondered the consequences of activating [Adaptation] with the projectile still lodged in my shoulder. Yeahhh, nope. Mad scientist vibes aside, I wasn''t exactly in the mood for a questionable experiment on my own body. With a resolve that screamed more of desperation than bravery, I tightened my grip on the arrow shaft, a piece of my cloak clenched tightly in my other hand. I knew I''d bleed once I pulled it back, so applying a bit of pressure at the wound seemed like a wise move. Or not. I wasn''t exactly the go-to person for medical expertise. That role belonged to [Adaptation]. My knowledge on such matters barely scratched the surface. In a moment of self-administered tough love, I metaphorically slapped myself to snap out of any lingering procrastination. Then, with a deep breath, I yanked the arrow free. Pain erupted, a familiar sensation of warmth being drained away, replaced by an invading cold before my skin erupted in goosebumps. The warmth returned, bringing with it an intensified wave of pain. Quickly shutting my eyes, I applied pressure to the wound with a piece of my cloak and triggered [Adaptation]. Floodgates opened. A deluge of information flooded my mind. [Adaptation] detailed the aftermath of the arrow''s unwelcome visit. The initial penetration had left its mark, causing an entry wound. The arrowhead had encountered some serious resistance, but it pierced through various layers of my shoulder ¨C the epidermis, dermis, subcutaneous fat, and even the muscle and deeper tissues were not spared. It was a powerful shot. I frowned at the detailed terms [Adaptation] was delivering to my brain. How it conjured such intricate descriptions, I couldn''t fathom. But I knew it was sifting through the dusty archives of my memories. Perhaps it was pulling out every bit of information related to human body that I had unknowingly accumulated over time. Regardless of the source, I played the role of a captive audience as [Adaptation] took charge. Like a ruthless commander, it barked orders within my body. Blood vessels in the wounded area underwent vasoconstriction, minimizing immediate bleeding. Platelets rushed to the scene, forming a makeshift plug to staunch the flow. Under [Adaptation]''s relentless command, neutrophils rapidly migrated to the wound site, their efficiency supercharged to combat potential infection and clear cellular debris. I felt the chaos as the inflammatory response kicked in. [Adaptation] barked orders for cytokines and growth factors to be released, whipping cells into immediate action to initiate tissue repair. I couldn''t help but sense [Adaptation]''s annoyance at the perceived inefficiency of my body. It was a peculiar thought ¨C how could a skill possibly feel annoyance? Nevertheless, the internal perfectionist hurried through my body, metaphorically grabbing dormant fibroblasts by their imaginary necks, threatening them to start creating a provisional matrix posthaste. Healing unfolded. The overall size of the wound swiftly started contracting, [Adaptation] keeping a hawk-eyed watch as nervous myofibroblasts and specialized cells worked their magic. Finally, collagen fell into line, laboring away under the intense gaze of [Adaptation], excess cells were removed, and scar tissue formed. Not one to tolerate imperfections, [Adaptation] glared at the emerging scar tissue, issuing orders for immediate remodeling. Only when satisfied, perhaps still a tad annoyed at the whole ordeal, did I sense [Adaptation] finally surrendering to dormancy. What the actual fuck? The change in nature of [Adaptation] left me with a lingering suspicion. It felt different. While, I could always attribute it to the vivid realms of my hyperactive imagination, but in a world where wandering comets played peek-a-boo with ten-year-olds, imagination seldom sprouted from the solitude of one''s own mind. Yet, even if [Adaptation] was evolving into something resembling sentience, what recourse did I have? I adopted a laissez-faire attitude, leaving it to its own devices. Checking my mana reservoir, I found about one sixth remaining. Healing an arrow puncture apparently cost more mana than fixing a few fractured ribs. Curiosity nudged me to touch my shoulder, and to my amazement, the wound had vanished. I used [Adaptation] once again, unnaturally contorting my neck to see the wound. Not a single trace, not even a scar remained. Snapping my neck back, I moved my shoulder, half-expecting a lingering ache or twinge of pain, but there was nothing. Even the fatigue in my legs and the slight ache in my eyes had evaporated into the ether. Adaptation was bullshit. Chapter 22: Return With my mana tank fully charged, I resumed my journey, albeit with a bit of wariness toward my stealth ability. It was disconcerting that my stealth had been compromised twice already. First, there was the straightforward "nose knows" situation ¨C the first stealth reveal, brought to you by the sense of smell of a disgusting ape. How it smelled past its own stink was beyond me. The second time, Zach hadn''t spotted me, yet Elena had somehow pinpointed my location. Perhaps she had a skill too. The mechanics behind her skill remained a mystery, something beyond the vision-focused [Umbral Concealment]. The sudden attacks, sans any courtesy announcements, was perhaps a part of the forest''s unspoken code of "stab-first, ask-questions-later." It''s a dangerous place, fair enough, but maybe a polite "Reveal yourself!" or a discreet clearing of the throat would be more civilized than trying to turn me into a makeshift pincushion! With frustration and a hint of irritation I retraced my steps through the lush greenery. Bah! The encounter might have had left me nursing an arrow wound, but in the grand scheme of things, it could have been worse ¨C no one else got injured(except me), and there were no near-fratricides on the menu (though it almost went down that route). With a resigned sigh, I glanced around at the forest. Rerouting with [Keen Perception], I successfully located the stream again. Utilizing that as my compass, I headed in the opposite direction of the camp. It was almost midnight by then. Tomorrow marked the last day of my own expedition, so making the most of the remaining time was on the agenda. And what better way to cap it off than some good old monster hunting? I still craved that thrill. But it wasn¡¯t just the monsters, the magical beasts lurking in the forest promised variety too. From a cow the size of a small building nibbling on tree tops to a feathered flying crocodile (fat flying fella that one, kind of chill too). There were even some small fungi-like critters thrown into the mix. Exercising caution, I opted to either hide or skilfully avoid these creatures. Despite that, the variety of monsters seemed to settle into a predictable routine. Little goblins indulged in their rotten feasts around the carcass of some unfortunate creature, and the repulsive apes continued their less-than-appetizing antics. I wisely avoided the ape groups, knowing my skillset set wasn''t tailored for a face-to-face confrontation with groups. Instead, my role involved singling out stragglers who ventured too far from the safety of their pack. I had successfully hunted one so far, luring it away and swiftly dispatching it once it lost its composure. It was becoming a sort of twisted routine for me. My enlightenment rate was at 32% now. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Motivated more than ever, I realized the rarity of such opportunity in the future. Hence, I resolved to make the most of the present. Night melted into day as I continued my monster hunting spree, taking breaks between each hunt to recharge my mana and avoid underestimating any potential threat. As the afternoon sun approached, I had successfully hunted three more apes, honing my skills with each encounter. However, it was at this point that I stumbled upon something out of the ordinary ¨C or rather, somethings. Seeking a strategic advantage, I quickly scaled a nearby tree and activated [Visionary Mastery.] Perched high on a tall tree overlooking the forest, my eyes widened at the sight below. The once dense, green, and imposing forest had transformed. Darkened trees and shrubs dominated the landscape, but what caught my attention was the literal pulsating life within it. The entire area was teeming with monsters, each inch of the landscape occupied by these otherworldly creatures. The creature density was staggering. Close to me, they stood and sat at a density of one every pace in any direction, creating a living carpet of creatures. As my gaze extended into the distance, the landscape squirmed with goblins, apes, giant spiders, contorted wolves, and literal abominations of flesh. They huddled close like literal maggots, standing in a trance, unmoving. My eyes followed the opposite end where the greenery resumed. It revealed a massive clearing, filled to the brim with monsters. "How is this even possible?" Surveying the scene, I estimated there were over five hundred of these monsters scattered around, frozen in an eerie trance. And why on earth weren''t they moving? A quick obervation revealed that each creature had its gaze fixated in one direction ¨C right towards the center of the clearing. Keen eyes activated once again, attempting to discern what the fuck lurked at the heart of this bizarre congregation. From this distance, it looked like a squirming blob of who-knows-what. Yet the sheer intensity of anger that surged within me at the sight of this abomination hinted at it undoubtedly being the high-ranking monster. Perhaps the one pulling the puppet strings of its minions. As tempting as it was to dream of plunging my daggers repeatedly into its loathsome flesh, a dose of reality slapped me back to my senses. This creature was way, way above my current pay grade. Nope, not even worth thinking about it. I gracefully descended the tree, making a mental 180-degree turn. My contentment lay in hunting the outcasts ¨C the rogue goblins, the solo apes, the monsters too cool for this weird center-of-attention gathering. Perhaps, in a future blessed with an upgraded blessing, I''d entertain the idea of taking on the big boss. But for now, this little tour served as a stark reminder of my current weakness and the boundaries that hemmed me in. The sheer destructive potential carried by powerful mages. I couldn''t help but imagine a high-ranked fire mage turning this entire area into a hellish landscape with searing flames. Meanwhile, my approach felt... well, let''s go with "inefficient" for lack of a better word. Turning on my heels, I sprinted in the direction of the county. Today marked the last day of my grace period ¨C essentially tomorrow, but entering the county under the cover of night was the plan regardless. Glancing at my tattered, blood-stained clothes and grimy hairs stained with monster innards, I couldn''t ignore the undeniable fact that I WAS LITERALLY STINKING! The alluring call of the forest, beckoning me towards endless hunts, failed to override my current privileged life. Right now, all I craved was a thorough wash and the comforting embrace of my fluffy sheets. Also a bucket full of sundrop sitrus juice. Goddess, I loved civilization! Even though [Adaptation] could heal my physical fatigue, mental fatigue was finally setting in, and there was no magical remedy for that. As I made my way back to the county, I encountered two more stray apes, away from their groups. Naturally, they met their end. Their fault, really. By the time night embraced the land, the distant walls of the county seemed to wink at me in welcome. Chapter 23: The Candy Crusader
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 62% Metamorphosis Conditions: [Locked] Current Perks: ¡¤ Fearlessness ¡¤ Eyes of Terror Evocation ¡¤ Adaptation Skills: 1. Keen Perception 2. Aerial Grace 3. Visionary Mastery 4. Featherweight Descent 5. Lethal Precision 6. Umbral Concealment 7. Fleet-footed Sprint
The enlightenment rate now held steady at 62%. A quick mental calculation led me to the conclusion that hunting five more of those apes had yielded an average gain of 6% with each encounter. It affirmed the pattern that the more I hunted the same kind of monsters, the less each encounter contributed to my progress. Despite the diminishing returns, I remained content with the current rate of progress. 38% to go! Returning to the county, I slipped in like a moving shadow, utilizing both [Twilight Veil] and [Umbral Concealment]. My vigilance was heightened after the recent mishaps with my stealth abilities, but fortunately, my presence went unnoticed once again. It must be the proverbial luck of the rogue. The journey back took a while, and it was likely well past midnight by now. I also discovered a neat trick for fast travel. Although [Fleet Footed Sprint] was less mana-hungry, allowing me to run for over three hours with a full mana tank, physical fatigue kicked in after about five minutes. However, the ingenious use of [Adaptation] immediately dispelled that fatigue. Moreover, I noticed a peculiar trend ¨C the more I used [Adaptation], the less frequently I had to activate it. Initially [Fleet Footed Sprint] lasted for five minutes, it now lingered for almost ten minutes before fatigue set in, making it nearly twice as efficient. This got my gears turning. Was it just my body getting accustomed to the sprint, or was [Adaptation] subtly enhancing the efficiency of my physical abilities? Or maybe, just maybe, it was the duo of both factors working in tandem. Yearning for a guide in this novel world, I mused over the possibility of a secret society, longing for insights beyond the lack of advice of my useless system. My knowledge, confined to the initial five volumes, left me in the dark about the nuances of this world. Maybe, somewhere down the line, I''d stumble upon my own kind. But that was a story for another day. As I meandered through the county, I found myself in the slums. Critiquing the air''s pungency would have been hypocritical, considering my current olfactory contribution. My once-awe-inspiring clothes now resembled the aftermath of an avant-garde butchering session. Despite my sentimental attachment, practicality had a stronger pull. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Spying an overhanging laundry line, I decided to embark on a mission ¨C Operation Wardrobe Liberation. I snagged an unpleasant tunic and oversized pants, reminding myself that in the slums, it''s not theft, it''s just high-level recycling. With the swiftness of a seasoned knife juggler, I transformed the pants into a masterpiece of baggy pajamas. Out with the blood-stained relics, in with the new threads. My cloak, the last bastion of my former ensemble, remained draped over my shoulders, bound around my head in a makeshift mask ¨C a sartorial masterpiece, if I may say so. In the spirit of benevolence, I strung my old clothes on the hanging line, an offering to any ambitious passerby willing to perform a quick wash or dabble in a little patchwork, especially in the tattered shoulder area. Oh, how my heart ached as I bid adieu to my hidden pocketed haven. Waa! But cruel destiny demanded this sacrifice. With a lingering gaze, teary eyes, and a final Waa! I turned my back on the street. In a burst of emotion, I activated [Fleet Footed Sprint] and ran! My feeble heart, burdened with the weight of hidden pocketed nostalgia, couldn''t endure to see them any longer! *** Swiftly navigating the county with a keen awareness of its routes, I took advantage of the tame nightlife that overtook the streets after midnight. If anyone eyed me with suspicion, I simply invoked [Fleet Footed Sprint] and left them in my dust. I was a blur, a phantom of the night, too swift for prying eyes. Reentering the little patch of forest surrounding the county, the looming walls of the manor greeted me in the distance. Employing the trusty method of [Lethal Precision] and exploiting the crevices in the wall, I scaled my way back in. And just like that, I was BACK! A quick survey revealed an absence of patrols, no forbidden lovemakers, not even a cat with delusions of dominion. Perfect. Opting for a leisurely walk back to my room, I cloaked myself in [Umbral Concealment] to avoid any accidental encounters. Through the stairs, the empty hallways unfolded before me, and my room glittered like a distant beacon. Finally! But wait, why was the door to my room wide open? It was well past midnight; there should be no soul wandering around at this ungodly hour. Deploying [Keen Perception], I tuned in to the symphony of low breathing and the unmistakable melody of rummaging ¨C someone was having an unauthorized field day in my quarters. Oh, by the goddess, they picked the wrong time to engage in a bit of breaking and entering. My mental fatigue, akin to a firework show gone haywire, was setting the stage for a potential knuckle sandwich delivery ¨C with added [Lethal Precision] ofcourse! Glancing into my room with barely contained annoyance, I was met with a sight that kind of made me unclench my fist. Lo and behold, a little chubby boy, who should have been snug in his bed at this ungodly hour, was meticulously going through my closet. It was Daniel! That little goober! Engaging [Umbral Concealment], I entered the room with all the possible stealth. I positioned myself right behind him as he continued his FBI-level search on my closet, licking his lips in anticipation. "Where did she hide them? I think I saw her bringing some out of here. Maybe she hid them in the clothes!" HE WAS ON THE HUNT FOR MORE CANDIES! Oh, the audacity of this midnight candy crusader! As I moved my hands to touch Daniel''s shoulder, a crucial detail eluded me in that moment. Each time I subdued [Eyes of Terror Evocation], I essentially dampened its effects. However, the essence lingered, albeit significantly diluted. It was a detail I''d soon be acutely aware of. When he turned around and unleashed a scream that could rival banshees in their prime, I should have seen it coming. Alas, anticipation fell prey to my oversight, and I found myself hurriedly covering his mouth. Muffled screams replaced the piercing ones, but fear, like a wily adversary, sought alternative avenues of expression. As I watched pearls of terror drip down his pajamas, a foreboding realization dawned upon me ¨C my cozy encounter with fluffy sheets would have to wait. Damn it! *** Morning arrived once again, and though I was physically awake, the allure of my silky sheets persuaded me to linger a while longer. If [Adaptation] lacked its miraculous talent for banishing every trace of body ache, I might have found myself nursing a terrible headache. As a mere pretense, I decided to play the part for some extra lazy time. Yay! Today, my agenda was simple ¨C do nothing, lounge around, and indulge in copious amounts of Sundrop Sitrus juice. The mere thought of it induced unintentional drooling. I''d have to ask Marie to bring me a supply, a feat she would likely accomplish with her usual efficiency. Speaking of Marie, I needed to inform her of my triumphant return. Fortunately, my absence went unnoticed, a fact corroborated by Daniel''s earlier report. The dark cloud on my horizon materialized as I remembered that tomorrow marked my grand entrance into the church ceremony for the magical aptitude test. The realization soured my mood. Was there truly no artful dodge to sidestep this impending wave of disappointment accompanying my official awakening as a Dark Mage? Ugh. Chapter 24: The Ceremony I The day arrived and, as expected, it passed in its usual relentless manner. Sometimes, I pondered whether days seemed to sprint by when you actively tried to dodge impending events. Nevertheless, as much as I wished to procrastinate this particular day, it was inexorably upon me. Two carriages stood ready for our reluctant procession. In the first, we had The Candy Crusader Daniel, The Perpetually Gloomy Fiona (my elder sister who was back from the academia), The Rumormonger Marie, and finally me. In the second, my stepmother, father, and Richard occupied the less entertaining seats. Thank the goddess I wasn''t stuck in that one. The monotonous clip-clop of hooves, paired with the jostling medieval carriages on bumpy roads, had me feeling queasy already. The notion of leaping off and sprinting to the church was appealing, not just for the sake of my stomach but also for the thrill of it. Alas, today I had to play the role of the dutiful young noble lady. As the carriage navigated a different, longer route than the one I had taken before, most of my energy was devoted to maintaining a semblance of posture amidst the relentless jolting. It evolved into a peculiar challenge, a silent competition between me and Daniel. The little goober was so engrossed and strained that I half-expected him to spontaneously shit his pants. Soon enough, Marie joined the ranks, perhaps considering it a supremely noble endeavor to maintain poise during such bumpy rides. Predictable as ever, Marie. Fiona, although visibly annoyed, did her best to ignore the antics of the three gremlins, maintaining her stoic indifference. [Aerial Grace] would have certainly made this bumpy ride more amusing. Bah, I just decided to showcase my poise without relying on my skills. (it was a feat worthy of applause.) However, as the church section materialized on the horizon, it became evident that the atmosphere had transformed since my last visit. The place was abuzz with activity, throngs of people streaming in with their children and families. The ceremony''s scale had evidently been cranked up a few notches. Today marked the magical aptitude test for all those in the county who had turned 10 during the winter and early spring. Only a fortunate five percent would awaken as mages, leaving the majority to grapple with disappointment. Despite myths suggesting certain actions could increase one''s chances of awakening, the bitter truth was that magical aptitude was predetermined at birth. Those who awakened would be officially registered as mages. The crowd gracefully parted as the count''s carriages arrived, and soon we all found ourselves standing before the church. After disembarking, a priest promptly escorted our party inside. As we stepped into the temple, I resisted the urge to gawk at the surroundings. Marble pillars stood tall, and at the center of the entryway, a grand crescent moon-shaped symbol adorned with gemstones held court. Frescoes adorned the walls, narrating tales under the moon''s watchful gaze. One depicted a woman with hair flowing like rivers, battling a red-eyed beast¡ªan apparent homage to the first saint of the Moonweaver. Stolen novel; please report. Another showcased serene wolves with halos, and there were scenes of wars and more, each with its own historical significance. But there was one common thread. The omnipresent moon. Sometimes wide-eyed, sometimes one eye closed, and sometimes both of them closed. These depictions probably held a treasure trove of historical secrets, and someone here would likely be thrilled to narrate the tales if I bothered to ask. I didn''t ask. We were guided to special front-row seats reserved for our noble entourage, and I soon settled into my designated space, Daniel sitting beside me. The ceremony was on the brink of starting when my father got up from his seat beside my stepmother and settling beside me. That was unexpected. I couldn''t help but notice him twiddling his thumbs, an air of nervousness about him. "Father?" I questioned, curious about the sudden change in seating arrangements. With a tired smile, he spoke, "Don''t fret excessively if you don''t awaken as a mage, Eli. You ought to understand this alters nothing." Ah, so that was the concern. I wondered what was going on in his mind. As far as the family knew, none of my siblings had awakened as mages. They were about as magical as a rubber duck in a bathtub. Even though I was aware of my magical abilities, the rest of my family remained oblivious, except for Daniel, who was giddy to be the only one in the know. "I am aware, Father. Please do not trouble yourself unduly. I would manage quite well even if I were not to awaken as a mage," I replied with a reassuring smile. My response seemed to ease some tension, as I detected a faint curve on his lips. "I must admit, I wasn''t anticipating such a mature response from you," he remarked. "Well, this is predetermined at birth. I simply fail to see the point in disappointment. After all, there was nothing that could be done," I innocently explained. He sighed and smiled, saying, "Look at you, talking like a grown-up." Before he transformed into a rogue hair ruffler. Seriously, Dad? I''m not auditioning for a Pantene commercial here! As the ceremony kicked off, a dude in white robes entered the stage, delivering a sermon that sounded like a GPS reciting Shakespeare. I drowned in boredom, contemplating whether it was the material or his monotone voice that made my brain stage a walkout. Daniel, my partner in crime, had already raided the candy stash, joining me in the ranks of the thoroughly uninterested. His attention shifted to finding a safe place to dispose of his candy wrapper. Then, his emerald eyes locked onto the sacred pockets of my gown. Oh no, he wouldn¡¯t. But like a candy gremlin, he swiftly infiltrated my pockets with his sticky contraband. I shot him a glare, but he just beamed back innocently, revelling in the momentary victory, fully aware that I could do nothing for now. Fair play, little shit, fair play. However, my definition of fair needed a tweak. I retaliated with a swift yank on his back collar, depositing the sticky wrapper back into the abyss of his clothes. And oh my! His expression ¨C a mix of surprise, confusion, and a touch of regret. Frantically, he tried to fish it out with his chubby little hands, but my strategic wrapper deposit left him defeated. Victory was sweet, or in this case, sweetly wrapped in a sticky candy wrapper. Muahuahaha! Take that, candy bandit! As the ceremony progressed, I momentarily forgot that most of my family was present. A pointed cough came from my father, and my stepmother was glaring at us with a look that promised impending doom. Oh no, what had this little goober made me do! Beside Daniel, Fiona sighed and reached over to pull the sticky wrapper out from under his shirt. The glare from my stepmother intensified. I gulped as I braced myself for the consequences. The sermon finally concluded, and a large crystal ball was brought out. Strange patterns coated its surface. The priest retrieved a sheet of paper and began calling out names one by one. The moment had finally arrived. Chapter 25: The Ceremony II The priest''s voice resonated through the church as names were called, and children, including myself, gravitated toward the center. Despite the sizable gathering of over fifty kids, the church''s expanse absorbed us without feeling crowded. The stained glass overhead portrayed the moon''s various phases, its central image adorned with a peculiar symbol ¨C a moon encircled by undulating waves. Two eyes, one larger beneath and the other smaller above, peered down at us. It created an eerie sensation of being watched, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel uncomfortable. The entire interior of the structure exuded a distinctly Gothic ambiance. Despite the midday illumination outside, the atmosphere within seemed cloaked in the darkness of night. Even the light filtering through stained glass imparted a somewhat lunar quality. Weird. As the priest delved into the ceremony''s mechanics, he pointed to the crystal ball with strange patterns that was bought earlier. It was a relic. Crafted by the first saint, it served as a catalyst for gauging our elemental attunement, mana control, and mana regeneration levels. "Attunement level," the priest elucidated, "determines the potency of spells and the mana consumption of a single incantation. The higher your attunement, the mightier your spells. For instance, a fire mage''s [fireball] spell grows in size with increased mana infusion." Basically, higher the attunement level = bigger the fireballs. I pondered the inverse relationship between attunement level and mana consumption. Could a higher attunement level indeed result in more efficient spellcasting, requiring less mana for the same effect? The gears turned in my mind, something to experiment. "Mana control," the priest continued, drawing my attention back to the present, "is the mastery of spell matrices, the finesse of weaving them together. Consider an Earth Mage employing [Earthen Weaving] to craft intricate patterns within a wall ¨C only with exceptional mana control can such delicate craftsmanship be achieved." Finally, the concept of mana regeneration was explained ¨C not only the rate at which mana replenished but also its role in sustaining spellcasting endeavors. It all seemed straightforward to me, a familiar terrain explored in my pre-ceremony magical studies. However, the bewildered expressions on some of my peers'' faces hinted at a gap in their magical education. After all, we were merely ten, and I realized my obsession with magic might have made me the odd one out. "To summarize," the priest concluded, "attunement level for spell potency, mana control for precision, mana itself as your reservoir, and mana regeneration for sustaining it all." "Now, let us delve into the topic of elements. The Elements are categorized into four pairs, each pair standing as equal and opposite to the other. They are: Fire and Water; Earth and Wind; Light and Dark; Nature and Metal. Additionally, there exist other elements referred to as deviant elements, with Thunder being an example. However, mastery of these deviant elements is reserved for higher-level mages, as they only manifest once your command of the base elements has reached a certain threshold." Which was true, but not entirely. I knew the overall concept of these elements already. In the original novel, the protagonist got the Thunder attunement as a reward for completing a trial. Every text had I read clearly preached, "Thou shalt only wield thunder if thou art already a fire aficionado." Yet, the protagonist, bless her Nature-attuned heart, never even glanced in Fire''s direction before wielding the Thunder mana. Which concluded that there were facts that this world was still unaware of. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "Now that we have concluded the fundamental introduction to magic, it is time for the commencement of the ceremony. I shall announce each of your names in a prearranged sequence. When your name is called, please step forward and place your hand on this crystal." Just like that, the priest began. Calling out names one by one. If it glowed, the gift of mana was theirs; if not, they were relegated to the realm of the mundane. Names echoed through the space, and with each call, a silent tension gripped the crowd. Disappointment etched the faces of those whose connection with the crystal remained elusive. I could almost taste the bitter flavor of dashed hopes as the crystal''s glow eluded some. The first triumphant response resonated through the church as a boy''s touch ignited a vibrant green glow. I could feel it. Taste it on my buds. The aspect of the untamed. The organic. The ever evolving. The Nature. The cycles. Of growth. Of decay. Of rebirth. It was a fleeting moment of wonder that vanished as quickly as it had arrived. I just noticed that the crowd was boisterous with cheers. Did they not notice that? While I was still grappling with it, the priest¡¯s voice echoed through the church. ¡°Nature Attunement level 4. Mana Control level 5. Mana Regeneration level 2. Mana Capacity level 7.¡± ¡°O Moonweaver, the guardian of the night, we gather beneath your gaze to celebrate a blessed child touched by the embrace of your sister, Verdantia. Grace his heart with your sacred serenity.¡± As the priest closed his eyes with a symbolic gesture, the crowd followed suit. I prepared to join the collective moment of reverence, but an inexplicable sensation disrupted my focus. Goosebumps crawled across my skin, and an eerie feeling of being watched enveloped me once more. My gaze involuntarily sought out the moon symbol in the stained glass, its eyes still fixed upon me. Confusion gripped me like a spectral hand. It was a reality check: Gods in this world were more legit than my Sundrop Sitrus addiction. They were tangible, influential entities. They observed, communicated, and were probably rating my performance like a deity version of Yelp. I too closed my eyes and muttered a quick prayer to the Goddess Moonweaver. "Umm, hey Goddess, it''s Eli. Haven''t missed a prayer, but if I did, blame the snooze button. Are we cool or are you about to smite me for being on Team Wandering Comet?" As the ceremony continued, my prayer to the Moonweaver remained unanswered. No smiting happened, so I was thankful. Then, the spotlight swung my way. Oh boy, the nerves were hitting like a surprise pop quiz. I knew I was already a mage, but the audience made my stomach do somersaults. Plus, there was the burning curiosity about my exact magical stat distribution ¨C the nerdiest kind of anticipation. Glancing back, I deciphered the emotional rollercoaster on my family''s faces. Father was in the nervous dad club, Daniel gave the thumbs up like we were about to embark on some sort of adventure, Fiona and Stepmother sported their classic stoic expressions, and Richard, oh Richard, he wore the look of someone who had a personal vendetta against the entire world. Fair, considering the two medium-charged [fatigue hex] spells I''d already sneakily cast on him. ¡°Please place your hand on the crystal, young lady,¡± The priest instructed. I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. And placed my hand on the crystal. Placing my hand on the crystal, I expected warmth, but it greeted me with an unexpected chill. For a heartbeat, nothing transpired. I wondered if the crystal had taken a nap or decided to play hooky. And then it hit me ¨C or rather, everything else vanished. The world around me, with its sounds and echoes, dissipated like mist in the morning sun. I felt it. The embodiment of the space between the stars. The depth of the night sky. The secret sanctuary of dreams. The unseen. The subconscious. The unexplored. The Darkness. The crystal before me remained the sole beacon of light, but instead of plunging into darkness as expected, it crackled with crimson lightning. It was different from the darkness. It was a symbol. Of relentless pursuit. Of the thrill of the chase. The swift, calculated movements of a predator. The cautious steps of the prey. The primal instincts. To seek. To track. To kill. In that moment, I sensed that darkness was merely a fa?ade, a veil concealing my truer self. Its name danced tantalizingly on the tip of my tongue, but before I could grasp its essence, a shift occurred. A wave of serenity enveloped me, washing away every emotion and leaving behind a tranquil emptiness. I was no longer alone; something greater and infinitely more powerful than me existed within this darkness. Above me, a moon materialized. It had two eyes. Open and fixated on me with unwavering focus. A chuckle, melodious and ethereal, reverberated through the darkness. Ahh, a Saintess of The Hunt. How very amusing... Chapter 26: The Ceremony III As the darkness receded, I found myself back in the church, staring at the crystal pulsating with darkness in front of me. The priest, seemingly recovering from a shock, stuttered, ¡°D-Dark Attunement level 9. Mana Control level 8. Mana Regeneration level 10. Mana Capacity level 7!¡± The crowd erupted in cheers. The priest continued, "We have a potential Archmage candidate!" The crowd went from cheers to pure pandemonium. I knew what it meant. While dark magic might have a bad rap, having an attunement level above five automatically placed me in the top five percent of mages. And here I was, with a level nine attunement. Bloody hell. No wonder my dark magic was so potent. The crowd''s jubilation reached a new decibel level. The priest, in the midst of the uproar, continued praising the goddess. As for me, I was still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. I was momentarily convinced I had stumbled... somewhere else. The crystal was undeniably crimson, not the current dark aura it had. There was a voice too. My head throbbed as if the voice had said something important, but now it was just a headache-inducing mystery. I decided it was better not to dwell on it; thinking about it only made my head protest more vehemently. Turning my attention back to the ceremony, my father appeared at my side, enveloping me in a hug. Daniel sported a cheeky grin, Fiona, my stepmother, and Richard wore wide-eyed expressions, a rare crack in their usual stoic demeanor. Despite this all, I felt oddly numb. What should I be feeling at this moment? Emotions seemed to elude me, leaving behind a peculiar calm and empty peace. Honestly, all I wanted was to crawl into bed and enjoy a long nap. Drowsy and detached, I endured the prolonged ceremony. The fervor of the crowd began to subside, and I found myself drifting into a haze, barely registering the names being called. My mind felt foggy, as if I was forgetting something important. It wasn¡¯t until a name was called and my sleepy eyes snapped open. ¡°Alicia Bennett.¡± A girl with fiery red hair stepped up to the crystal, and my heart skipped a beat. It couldn''t be happening this early, could it? I had expected to meet the character from the novel at some point, but I wasn''t prepared for it now! The crystal glowed bright red, and suddenly, I could taste the element on my tongue. The force of energy, untamed and wild. The concept of consumption, of purification, of forging anew. The guide. The nurturer. The beacon. Fire. ¡°Fire Attunement level 6. Mana Control level 5. Mana Regeneration level 6. Mana Capacity level 10!¡± The crowd erupted once more, celebrating Alicia''s awakening. She was a key figure in the protagonist''s circle, a commoner destined to become a renowned fire mage. The revelation that she hailed from our county was the thing that caught me off guard. Such a small world. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. While everyone around me cheered, I remained silent. Father noticed my lack of enthusiasm and inquired about my well-being. His mood had noticeably improved; our county had awakened three mages this week, and two of them possessed an attunement level over five. A one-in-a-decade talent, and his own daughter was one of them. I guessed he was... proud? I couldn''t find the words to respond. Something was amiss, and I was struggling to muster any emotions. It felt as if something had taken them away, leaving me in a state of eternal peace. Father frowned, pressing for an answer. My silence prompted him to give me space, redirecting his attention to the center of the church. Perhaps he grasped something that eluded me. No one else awakened, and the ceremony concluded with one final prayer to thank the Moonweaver. *** During the carriage ride back, Daniel and Marie exchanged worried glances, seemingly saying something to me. However, I paid no attention. I had no desire to listen. The peace and serenity within me were delicate. I refused to let anything interrupt them. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the carriage, shutting myself off from the outside world. The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels and the muffled sounds of conversation became distant, drowned out by the serenity I sought to preserve. *** I woke up with a gasp. My room greeted me with all the enthusiasm of a cozy dungeon. Hand pressed against my forehead, I felt a headache crash the awakening. [Adaptation] once again decided to play the butler, gradually escorting the headache out of my skull. [Adaptation] sent a report that I promptly treated like a spam email ¨C straight to the ignore folder. A glance out the window revealed the darkness of the night, and my memory of the recent events played in my mind like a sequel nobody asked for. But something was off. Ever since my weird crystal rendezvous, I''d been living in a magical episode of the Twilight Zone. What in the hocus pocus was going on? Emotions hit me like a tornado of magical confetti. Suddenly, it dawned on me ¨C the Goddess herself, The Moonweaver, had apparently slid into my DMs and dubbed me the Saintess of The Hunt. My response was eloquent: "WhatthefuckwhatthefuckWHATTHEFUCK?" There was this tiny problem- I had zero clue what that meant. The first five volumes of the original novel had left me hanging, with plots thickening like an overcooked stew and foreshadowed stuff still lurking in the... well, shadows. The frustration of being clueless once again clawed at me. Did the Goddess know I was just someone playing the character named Eli and not the real deal? Doubtful. Her lack of reaction to my identity suggested ''She'' was either an excellent actress or genuinely oblivious. But the weird thing was, just hearing Her voice had sent my self-awareness packing. That surreal peace and serenity I felt should have been terrifying if I had a normal emotional spectrum, which, unfortunately, I didn''t. My heart raced, and I felt strangely full, bloated ¨C not emotionally, but¡­ physically. A bulb went off in my head. The stupid system! The blessing. This with the urgency of someone checking their online order tracking, I pulled up my stat screen.
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 100% Metamorphosis Conditions: [View] Current Perks: ¡¤ Fearlessness ¡¤ Eyes of Terror Evocation ¡¤ Adaptation Skills: 1. Keen Perception 2. Aerial Grace 3. Visionary Mastery 4. Featherweight Descent 5. Lethal Precision 6. Umbral Concealment 7. Fleet-footed Sprint
No fucking way. Chapter 27: Metamorphosis I brewed a theory, a potential lightbulb momentarily illuminating my brain: just being in the presence of the Moonweaver had given my Enlightenment rate a turbo boost. No other explanation seemed plausible. It was like a godly cram session where the syllabus was the mysteries of the universe. Now, the ominous [Metamorphosis Conditions] button beckoned, and I hesitated. The name hinted at something transformative, but it felt like I was about to dive into a magical contract without reading the fine print. Stalling was my game at this point. Summoning whatever courage I had left, I mentally clicked [View]. The status screen blinked out of existence, leaving me in a state of "Umm?" I waited for the grand revelation, but nothing happened. I frowned, expecting at least a "Congratulations, you''ve unlocked the next tier" message. Before I could fully process my confusion, a sudden rush of knowledge assaulted my brain, causing a headache that made my skull throb. I crumbled to my knees, clutching my throbbing head. But as swiftly as this wisdom gushed in, it retreated, taking the headache along with it. My body, now on autopilot, moved without my say-so. [Adaptation] kicked in, turning my mundane nail into a white bone talon before my eyes. As if possessed, my hand moved with a purpose that wasn''t mine ¨C it proceeded to stab one of my fingers open. Blood flowed. A crimson river escaping my finger. My body, still under the spell of some sort of puppeteer, crouched down. Macabre elegance. A hand transformed into a morbid quill. It sketched intricate symbols on the floor using my own blood. I watched, fascinated, as a tree-like shape emerged, serpent-like branches spiraling around it, each adorned with a symbol. Standing up after the eerie drawing session, my body still refused to relinquish control. A single droplet of my blood glowed with a bright crimson hue before floating towards the first symbol on the bloody tree I drew. Regaining control over my own body felt like finally snatching the remote back from a sibling. It wasn''t that I had lost control initially; it was more like I had willingly handed it over to something unseen (probably system). After all, I had long since accepted the peculiar quirks of the system. So, when my body decided to engage in a blood art exhibition, I wasn''t exactly surprised. I stared at the eerie red tree adorned with serpent-like branches and five symbols. Had I just unintentionally stumbled into a magical art class? I knew each symbol held its own cryptic meaning, forming the blueprint for the [Metamorphosis] I had unwittingly set in motion. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The first symbol, nestled in the center of the trunk resembled a reptilian slitted eye. My blood droplet had been drawn to this point. In the language of ritual doodles, it signified the "Attraction of Gaze." Moving along the branches, the second symbol depicted claws grasping each other ¨C a visual clue that I recognized as the second step. "Appeasing Them." I wondered who "Them" referred to ¨C the mystical artsy creatures or my own restless brain. The third step, marked by an open eye beyond a veil, spoke of the "Creation of Illusion." The fourth symbol, a composition of clawed hands holding a heart pierced by a blade, seemed like a blend of "Control" and "Death." Last but not least, perched atop the blood tree, the fifth symbol depicted a serpent rising out of shed skin ¨C the symbolic "Rebirth." I wondered if this was what [Metamorphosis] hinted at? My upcoming career as a metaphorical snake shedding its 9-to-5 skin? As the other symbols lay dormant, one particular reptilian eye on the trunk glowed with an eerie vitality. It was umm, alive, or at least animated for lack of a better term. Most would find it terrifying, but I, being the unconventional villainess that I was, found it impressive and wicked. While pondering the blood art on my floor, the pesky [Adaptation] decided it was time for an encore. It was like an annoying friend saying, "Hey! Hey! Hey, remember that wound you gave yourself? Let me fix that for you. It''s bleeding! Bleeding is bad! Let me fix it! LET ME FIX IT! LETMEFIXIT!" Okay, okay! Sheesh, [Adaptation] really needed a chill pill. Without much thought, I triggered it, and as if choreographed by some mystical physician, the wound visibly healed. Another informative report by [Adaptation] landed in the mental trash bin. The bone talon of my finger, which had sprouted against my will earlier, receded to its normal state. The whole [Adaptation] affair left me both intrigued and perplexed. I mean, sure, I knew it could perform magical first aid, but growing bone talons? That was a new trick. There was potential for some serious body horror, and [Adaptation] was clearly harboring more secrets than a Pandora''s box, I figured I''d understand it all in due time. The bigger issue at hand ¨C or on the floor ¨C was the eerie blood symbols adorning the room. Even a toddler could deduce that something other than a tea party had occurred in the chamber of this noble lady. If anyone were to stumble upon my macabre masterpiece, I''d be in a tight spot. Surveying the room, my brain flickered with the idea of some interior decorating. A metaphorical light bulb above my head suggested it was high time for some furniture rearrangement. After all, what better way to hide eerie blood ritual than with a well-placed bookshelf or a strategically positioned unicorn plushie? Hehe. But wait a minute. Did this world even have plushies? My enthusiasm dipped momentarily as I realized I might be deprived of the comforting presence of magical stuffed animals. As a novice dark mage, I was well aware that at the intermediate level, dark mages could cast animation hexes on dolls and plushies. There was a reason we were called witches, after all. I couldn''t help but daydream about an emporium filled with cuddly enchanted creatures, pondering if my local fantasy Walmart had a designated aisle for stuffed animals. With a sense of urgency, I rushed outside, relieved to find no prying eyes. Hastily closing the door behind me, I barricaded it with a plush chair for good measure. Turning back to survey the room, my gaze shifted from the carpet to the blood painting adorning the floor. Welp, time to start the redecoration before anyone comes snooping in. Chapter 28: The Art of Hunt It was noon, and I luxuriated in my chair by the window. Despite winter having bid its farewell, the air retained a lingering chill, making me savor every sliver of sunlight that managed to sneak through. I closed my eyes, embracing the warmth on my skin, inhaling the sweet aroma of flowers wafting in from the garden. Ahh, this moment of tranquility. A blissful illusion of this peace. Far removed, from the chaotic humdrum of the modern world. ¡°ELI!¡± Of course, tranquility is short-lived when you have a little brother named Daniel. Reluctantly opening my eyes, I found him on my bed, channeling his inner Picasso with a crayon and my notebook. ¡°Were you sleeping?¡± ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°But you looked like you were.¡± ¡°And you woke me up, now what is it?¡± ¡°I drew something!¡± He handed over the notebook with a doodle. I furrowed my eyebrows. It certainly defied an easy interpretation. A bird? A person? A bird-person? It was like a Rorschach test on crayon steroids. I nodded, playing along with the, umm, abstract masterpiece. "Ah, I see it now! Is it an art commentary on the duality of avian existence? Or perhaps a metaphor for the human struggle to spread our wings and soar?" Daniel blinked at me. "Um, it''s just a doodle." My eyebrows staged a spontaneous ascent. "Well, colour me impressed, but what in the world is this?" "Hehe, since you can''t guess it, that clearly means my drawing is just that good!" Ah, the Picasso logic of my little brother. Not quite the art world standard, but who was I to burst his creative bubble? "I imagined one of your drawn magical beasts in human form, you know. Some magical beasts can do that, so I figured this is what it would look like!" I mentally granted him a plus one for the imaginative effort. A generous plus three because, umm, the doodle was quite cute, even if the face seemed to channel a poorly drawn owl. "Mmm, it''s a masterpiece. You''ve captured the essence of...uh, owl chic? Good work," I praised, opting for the supportive sibling approach, appreciating the effort, if not the accuracy. My own gaze landed at the notebook clutched in my own hands. There was something in the whimsy of interpretation. Like art, like magic. I opened the notebook and placed it on the windowsill. A blank canvas, ready for my scribbles. Grabbing a pen, I began to sketch. The strange metamorphosis ritual had unfolded the day before. I strategically rearranged the furniture, ensuring that the edges of the carpet covering the ritual were snugly pressed between the bed and the table. Dislodging it would require a significant amount of effort. My pen danced across the paper, recreating the tree with its five symbols. I had grasped the underlying essence ¨C this tree was like a quest, each symbol representing a step. How did I arrive at this deduction? Well, it all traced back to the system screen. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Elidranthia Shadowstep, Blessed of the [Killing Star That Wanders The Cosmos] Blessing Tier 1: [The Crimson Larva] Enlightenment Rate: 100% Metamorphosis Progression: [20%] Current Perks: ¡¤ Fearlessness ¡¤ Eyes of Terror Evocation ¡¤ Adaptation Skills: 1. Keen Perception 2. Aerial Grace 3. Visionary Mastery 4. Featherweight Descent 5. Lethal Precision 6. Umbral Concealment 7. Fleet-footed Sprint
There was a new entry on the screen, [Metamorphosis Progression]. Said progression was about 20%. There were five symbols, and currently, only one radiated with an eerie glow ¨C the reptilian eye at the trunk, symbolizing the "Attraction of Gaze." Somehow, the ritual I performed had kickstarted the [Metamorphosis]. I began jotting down notes, delving into the minimal understanding the system had provided for each symbol. The rest, it seemed, was left to my own interpretation.
1) Attraction of Gaze: Already accomplished, simply by viewing the [Metamorphosis Conditions]. Yet, the question lingered ¨C the gaze of what or whom? My patron, the comet that bestowed its blessing upon me, seemed unlikely. I''ve experienced Their gaze before, and it resulted in an immediate mental blackout. So, definitely not Them. 2) Appeasing Them: Interpretation time. Given my elemental affinity for the hunt, it wasn''t a stretch to assume that whatever required appeasement could be satisfied through the act of hunting. Earthly tribes used to offer portions of their prey to appease spirits; perhaps I needed a similar approach ¨C hunting and presenting an offering to the¡­ force whose gaze I had attracted. Probably. 3) Creation of Illusion: It was a concept close to my heart. The creation of illusion in the hunt ¨C a skill I''ve honed through those encounters with apes and goblins. It¡¯s all about deceiving your prey, making them believe they have the upper hand when in reality, they¡¯re dancing to your tune. The art of turning my back, luring them into a false sense of security, and then striking when they least expect it. Feigning injuries, adopting submissive postures ¨C hunt is more than just a mere pursuit for me. It''s the thrill of lurking in the shadows, observing, and manipulating the flow of battle like a puppeteer pulling the strings. In the hunt, I''m not just a participant; I''m a strategist, orchestrating every move for the final triumph. A dance of deception. A maestro of illusion. Being a pawn on my own chessboard-
Mid-scribble, my hands trembled involuntarily, a sudden pause jolting my heart into a rapid rhythm. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The sacred essence of the hunt. It permeated my thoughts. The very act of contemplating it held such an effect on my psyche. Strangely, I found myself resisting any notion of restraint. The idea of suppressing these feelings felt almost sacrilegious. Another deep breath centered me, and I refocused on the notebook.
4) Control and Death: Noticed a pattern, and these fourth and fifth steps have me raising an eyebrow. This symbol seems to be bluntly telling me to kick the bucket. Yeah just¡­ die. The third step was all about crafting illusions, and what better illusion than pretending to be at death''s door while pulling the puppet strings on the battlefield. Spicing things up with a dash of demise? Old owner of this body never opted for an upgrade throughout the novel; maybe she shared my skepticism. I mean, anything claiming ''Death is the beginning'' is probably trying to sell you a metaphysical scam. 5) Rebirth: The serpent sheds its skin and voila! Rebirth. Both the hunt and the metamorphosis conclude here. A grand finale ¨C prey being mesmerized as the serpent gulps them down whole. Simple, elegant, and perhaps a tad dramatic. Final thoughts: Yeah, it''s all playing out like an intricate stage production. The characters? Predator and prey, strutting their stuff on the grand stage. The audience? The mysterious watchers, snug in their seats, enjoying the show. And the script? Well, that''s left to the vivid imagination of the predator. Woohoo, Eli! Break a leg, I guess?
Closing my notebook, the more I pondered, the more I felt like the bewildered lead in a play who just found out the grand finale involved a dramatic death scene. To bring the [Metamorphosis] to fruition, it seemed I had to embrace a ritualistic demise. I mean, seriously? How did the art of the hunt evolve into a convoluted stage-play with a plot twist that involved my own death? Chapter 29: Caught The world was vast, much bigger than the pages of any novel could contain. Being stumped by something unfamiliar was like realizing you hadn''t memorized every single article on Wikipedia ¨C a daunting task, to say the least. Sooo, I figured I''d pick up a few things along the way. After all, I wasn''t about to let a stupid ritual dictate my fate, especially one that seemed to involve, well, not-so-subtle hints at self-termination. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I trailed behind Marie through the labyrinthine hallways of the manor. Playing shadow puppets with my fingers. A silent dance. A foxtrot of curiosity. A jitterbug of apprehension. Stripped of fear, anxiety, and worry, I found myself feeling less human by the minute. Living without these emotions was a foreign concept, one I couldn''t quite wrap my head around. It was twisted in an inexplicable way, like describing a color nobody''s seen, or worse, trying to explain why pineapple doesn''t belong on pizza. I focused my attention back on Marie. "What was it that my father wished to talk about?" I inquired. "I''m not entirely certain, Milady..." Marie hesitated. "Oh, but I sense a ''but'' lurking," I quipped. Marie shot me a knowing smile. Of course, she knew. Her skills in connecting dots were sharper than a chef''s knife. It was like she had a PhD in eavesdropping and a minor in intuitive deduction. "Well, I noticed a carriage outside, maids whispering about robed figures with the Phantasm orchid Insignia. Then there was the arrival of this commoner named Alicia earlier today. So..." "Northern Mage Tower?" I interjected, making a well-educated guess. Our county had recently seen two mages with attunement levels above five, and news like that spread quickly. It was no surprise that mage towers would be interested in sponsoring and teaching us before academia. However, the primary reason behind it was a royal decree. Highly attuned mages had a higher risk of losing control of their mana in the fledgling mage stage, so teaching them control early on could prevent any unfortunate accidents. We arrived at the central courtyard, where my father had summoned me. I noticed him engaged in conversation with two women in black mage robes adorned with a carved symbol of a black and blue flower ¨C unmistakably the insignia of Phantasm orchid, the Northern Mage Tower. Beside them stood two figures in less conspicuous attire, a red-haired man missing an arm, and a timid girl with fiery red hair who seemed determined to keep her gaze fixed on her shoes, as if trying to minimize her presence. Alicia. Upon noticing my arrival, Father smiled and warmly invited me to join them. ¡°Ah, she is finally here. Come, Eli, we were just talking about you.¡± Both mages turned their attention towards me. Father dismissed Marie, but ehh, it was Marie. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her expertly vanish behind a pillar ¨C the kind of skill that made me question if she had awakened a skill or something. Clearly, gossip was her elixir, and she had a knack for staying invisible while savoring it. The mages acknowledged my greeting with polite smiles. The first mage spoke, "Lady Elidranthia, a pleasure to meet you. I am Magistra Seraphina from the Northern Mage Tower, and this is my colleague Magistra Callista." Seraphina boasted long raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, elegantly draped in a midnight blue dress. On the other hand, Callista sported chestnut short brown hair and similar eyes, clad in a knight''s attire of leather pants and a white shirt. She emitted a tomboyish vibe and grinned, nodding my way. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I nodded back with all the grace I could muster, "The pleasure is mine, Magistra Seraphina, Magistra Callista." Courtesy. Courtesy. Courtesy. I wished I could ace this social game like a seasoned diplomat. After all, I wasn''t exactly the poster child for social butterflies, and my responses often required a minimum of three thinking sessions before hitting the vocal cords. Still, I couldn''t shake the internal frown, because I knew exactly who Seraphina was from the novel. She was one of the heads of the Northern Mage Tower, a powerhouse of a mage. For someone of her stature to grace our humble estate with her presence was akin to having a celebrity show up at a backyard barbecue ¨C unexpected and perplexing. I had no idea why she was even here, but it certainly wasn''t for the hors d''oeuvres. Father broke my reverie and gestured towards the other two figures, the commoners, "And here are the citizens of our county. You might know one of them," he said, smiling and motioning to the red-haired girl, "This is Alicia, and her father John." Of course, I knew her. Probably better than anyone else here. I extended a courteous nod to each of them, "Welcome to our estate." John offered a warm smile and bowed, "Thank you, Lady Elidranthia. It''s a pleasure to be here." Alicia, still avoiding eye contact, mumbled a shy acknowledgment. It was evident she felt out of place, and I couldn''t help but empathize with her discomfort. Better yet, relate to it. Father, ever the diplomat, initiated the conversation, "Eli, we were just deliberating on the prospect of Northern Mage Tower tutoring you prior to your enrollment at the Academia." "Is it about the royal decree, father?" Magistra Callistra was the one who responded, her voice deeper than I expected. "Indeed, young lady, you''re cognizant of it. Given that both of you have an attunement level above five, it is imperative to instill control before you enter the academia." "But it seems our young mage here has already received instruction prior to our arrival," Seraphina remarked, casting a glance toward my father. "We arrived swiftly, but it seems another mage tower got here ahead of us." Father frowned, "I apologize, Miss Seraphina, but I can assure you that no other mage tower has reached out to us. I am confident that Northern Mage Tower is the initial contact." I followed Seraphina''s gaze, which was fixed on my fingers. Threads of mana. Dark. Pulsating. Constantly being contorted and distorted as I subconsciously manipulated them. Oh crap. I quickly dismissed them, as if pretending I wasn''t juggling the mana spaghetti in my spare time and flashed her a smile. *** I had certainly messed up. Ever since I stumbled upon the art of mana manipulation, it was like discovering a new appendage I never knew I needed. It started innocently enough¡ªI''d check my mana levels more frequently than I used to check my Instagram, treating it like a metaphorical limb. My old world was blissfully ignorant of such magical delights, so I became paranoid that if I stopped the constant mana check-ins, I''d lose this mystical limb. I wasn''t ready to bid farewell to my magic, so, even when I wasn''t actively focusing on it, I would sneak in some mana workouts. Feel it. Manipulate it. Soon, it became almost subconscious. I could twirl mana threads around my fingers like a bored office worker spinning a pen. It was a skill that invaded my dreams, turning my sleep session into a mana Cirque du Soleil performance. Just like right now. I had no idea that I was doing it. It was like my fingers had a mind of their own ¨C or maybe my mana threads had unionized without my knowledge. "Perhaps you need a moment to prepare?" Callistra suddenly whispered in my ears. I would have been startled if I had the normal emotional spectrum. Which, eh, I didn''t. So, I acted startled. "Eeeep!" Callistra burst into laughter. "Sounds like we just found a mini version of you, Sera." I shot them a deadpan look. If only they knew that my emotional range rivaled that of a teaspoon. After the big reveal, everyone was shocked. It seemed that manipulating mana threads so soon after the attunement appraisal was rarer than a unicorn sighting. I couldn¡¯t really tell them that I was already aware of my element and had dived headfirst into spellcasting practices. I decided to drop another well-calculated bomb on them, letting them in on the fact that I could already cast spells. The truth was bound to escape sooner rather than later, so I chose to spill the beans now. We found ourselves in the training grounds for knights. Some knights were still milling about, while others sat on the sidelines, gazing in my direction with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Seraphina had politely requested that I showcase my spells. That''s why we were here. Now, I only knew two spells, [Twilight Veil] and [Fatigue Hex]. But, for obvious reasons, I couldn''t properly demonstrate the latter. I mean, who wanted to witness a magical hex-induced bathroom dash? So, I decided to reveal only [Twilight Veil], because the last thing I needed was my father connecting my spellcasting prowess with Richard''s sudden lavatory sprints. Chapter 30: The Mage and The Vixen POV Switch: Seraphina Hargrave Being an archmage at the red-core stage, Seraphina could cast multiple spells in the blink of an eye. Yet, when she beheld the young mage before her, one who hadn''t even formed a mana core yet, weaving an entire matrix from scratch within ten seconds, she was utterly flabbergasted. Callista whistled on the sidelines. Impossible. Even the last time she saw this little girl named Eli, she was subconsciously manipulating mana, as if she herself wasn''t aware. She was certain that she was witnessing the subtle emergence of instinctual casting. Seraphina knew a thing or two about it; after all, she herself was an instinctual caster, but hers manifested at a much later stage. Here, she was practically witnessing the birth of another powerhouse of an archmage. A dark mage at that. The result was not too surprising, as a dome of darkness unfurled around them, warding off the intrusive rays of light. At lower attunement levels, this manifestation might have resembled a mere fog of inky mist, but with her attunement commanding a solid level 9, she essentially fashioned an area where light dared not venture. Seraphina had lost count of the numerous requests she had received from nobles imploring her to instruct their progeny. Normally, the prospect of serving as a magical mentor felt as alluring as a wand crafted from spaghetti. However, for the first time, she experienced a glimmer of enthusiasm for such a role. *** A solitary carriage ambled away from the Shadowstep manor, its robed driver skillfully guiding the horses along the dirt road. Adorning its back was a Phantasm Orchid insignia, a black and blue flower. Within, two women occupied the carriage¡ªone with piercing blue eyes gazing back at the manor, the other reclining in the seat, humming a playful tune. "Did you feel it too, Callista?" Seraphina inquired, breaking her gaze away from the manor. "Yeah, it''s all around here. Did you detect the locus?" Callista responded. "I''m afraid not. It appears that the entire county is the locus. The concentration was equally distributed." Callista emitted a low whistle, as if genuinely impressed. "Holy moly! Who do you reckon it might be?" Seraphina sighed, "I have no idea." Ever since their arrival in the county, an air of peculiarity lingered. Seraphina, a red-core mage, effortlessly discerned the weakened fabric of the world and a gateway to the spirit world. It wasn''t the first occasion that an amateur mage dabbled in illicit summoning rituals, seeking a spirit familiar without a thought for consequences. The outcome was seldom favorable. In the art of summoning, the summoner found themselves bound to the gate of the realm they sought to unveil, whether it be astral planes, spirit planes, or hell planes. Seraphina, attuned to the mana currents in the air, discerned the distinct taste of the spirit plane, a realm most perilous among the planes. "I''m not certain if a human could even perform this level of ritual, much less connect to the door. Perhaps someone has laid their hands on some sort of artifact," she mused. "Then it should probably be at least an A-rank piece to have such a massive locus. How incompetent is the local church to not have detected it yet?" Callista remarked. Seraphina gazed out of the carriage, taking in the winding trees and the ever-watchful moon. "They most certainly have," she responded. Callista''s countenance fractured like fine china as she stared at Seraphina. "I beg your pardon?" "First of all, your mask just cracked," Seraphina pointed out. Callista touched her face and grumbled. It certainly was cracked. "You told me you would be getting me a better spell for this." Seraphina closed her eyes, a green matrix forming on her hand, and the cracks began to seal. "Well, these spells are designed for humans. While you have the anatomy of one, you are not. Be thankful that these at least work on you." ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Callista grumbled as the last of the cracks were being sealed. If one looked closely, they might have spotted a molten lava-like bright red skin beneath the repaired surface. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "As I was saying, the church should already be aware of this. Guess who graced Shadowstep county with their presence this week?" Seraphina posed the question. "Wait..." "A capital inquisitor, my dear." "I hate them!" "I would too, if I were in your position." "Let me guess, next you''ll ask me to stay here and play detective under the guise of teaching those fledgling mages." "Oh, don¡¯t be naive. You just returned from a mission last week; you deserve some rest." "Aww, thank you, Sera. I knew you¡¯d understand. So, we''re off to send either Maude or Albert!" "That won¡¯t be necessary, as I''ll be tutoring these fledglings instead." Callista¡¯s smile suddenly dropped. "But what about your duties back at the tower?" she queried. Seraphina just smiled back. "I said you need a rest, not a vacation. You can always indulge in that from the comfort of a room behind a desk doing paperwork." Callista''s mask cracked once again.
POV Switch: Eterisk Viskap?ls Eterisk had dreams. Dreams where she found herself embraced in the arms of a blue-haired goddess, a figure carrying her wounded form towards the gates of the sky. In her pockets, playful kits nestled, and the goddess exuded a warmth unparalleled. Her kindness, Her warmth. Eterisk basked in it. Savoring the moment of an embrace before the goddess bid her farewell. The dream ended. Awakening, Eterisk opened her eyes to lick her still-sleeping kits lying beside her. They remained unnamed, yet Eterisk had plans for their names once twenty-seven cycles of thunder had marked their birth. She had already crafted names for them in her mind. The tent''s flaps rustled, drawing Eterisk''s attention upward. A human in armor stepped into the area¡ªa tall, robust male with emerald eyes and blue hair reminiscent of the goddess in her dreams. His entrance was accompanied by a scarred woman, her expression a blank canvas. Eterisk found her quite distasteful. "How are you feeling?" the man inquired, a warm smile on his face. Eterisk fixed her gaze on the man. She comprehended his words, even though she couldn''t reciprocate in kind. Humans, in her estimation, were peculiar creatures. He posed a question, fully aware of her inability to respond. It might have irked her if not for the kindness she sensed from him, coupled with the fact that his hair resembled that of the goddess from her dreams. In response, Eterisk emitted a vulpine snort, her way of affirming that she was blessed of the sky, such wounds meant nothing to her, hence she was indeed, fine. Unsurprisingly, the humans didn''t grasp her meaning, but Eterisk knew they possessed some commendable deduction skills. To her satisfaction, they guessed correctly this time. "That¡¯s good to hear," the man said, his smile reinforcing the warmth Eterisk had sensed from him. Eterisk initially found herself in a state of bewilderment, convinced she had met her demise. Yet, one day, she awoke to the cries of her kits in a human encampment nestled within the forest. As a mother, her initial instinct was to comfort them, though her vigilant eyes remained watchful of the unknown. Initially defensive and distrusting, Eterisk soon discovered that these humans not only provided sustenance for her and her kits but were also engaged in an ongoing conflict with the minions of the Vilespawn. The one with the blue hair stood out as their leader, consistently taking up arms on the frontlines. A formidable human, agile and swift, though slightly outmatched against the Vilespawn. Still, Eterisk acknowledged that he might hold his own in a duel against their patriarch. Accepting the food provided by the human leader, Eterisk savored each bite. The cooked meat and mana stones blended with spices surpassed anything she had ever tasted. She silently relished the flavors, careful not to betray her satisfaction with a visible reaction. Eterisk could now relate to the sagas of her kindred tribes who willingly forayed beyond the forest and cohabitated with humans. They had their own version of a mutually beneficial pact. The exchange was simple¡ªprotection for protection, something the humans fancied calling a ''Bond.'' Another human, blessed with the light and the art of healing, arrived to tend to her kits. Eterisk, pragmatic as always, allowed it. Soon, she ventured out with their leader, the Zach. The humans stared at her as if she were a rare creature, with some even raising their guards. Eterisk wasn''t one to court attention, but being a tad smaller than her counterparts, she hoped to project an image of diminished threat. Human Zach, displaying what she could only label as ''human logic,'' asked if she wished to rest or join them in battle. Eterisk let out a vulpine snort in response¡ªwhy on earth would she choose rest when fully healed? She could contribute more on the battlefield than in the safety of the camp. Human logic, it seemed, was still a bit puzzling to her. "Eeeee! EEE!" Eterisk delivered her message. Knowing full well that the human comprehension of her words was rather limited, she elegantly ruffled her fur with lightning, an expressive gesture conveying her yearning for action, specifically targeted at those abominable fiends. May the sky erase their hideous mugs from the very landscape of this forest. "Alright, Alright. Just wanted to ask once. You certainly seem enthusiastic," Zach laughed. Enthusiastic? That was putting it mildly. Eterisk was practically sizzling with the desire for a confrontation, particularly against the forces of the Vilespawn. Each well-aimed strike she delivered chipped away at their influence. In her solitary battles of yore, she fought alone; now, she had humans as formidable allies. And they were horrifyingly efficient at it. Eterisk meant every bit of it. The one with the warm smile in front of her was a tactical maestro on the battlefield. He orchestrated their movements with a strategic brilliance, ensuring they were always poised to exploit every weakness the fiends exhibited. When he joined the fray, his sword moved with unparalleled speed, vanishing and reappearing, dismantling wave after wave of fiends. In the language of strength, power was universal. For Eterisk, it all began as a sense of indebtedness. The humans had saved her and protected her kits. Repayment took the form of battlefield assistance against the relentless fiend onslaught. Almost two thunder cycles had elapsed, and she continued to stand by the humans whenever they fought. With her pack in disarray and their patriarch gone, she found solace and safety under the humans'' protection. Her kits thrived, well-fed and entertained by the humans whenever she went to hunt. If someone had asked her about considering a ''Bond'' with a human three thunder cycles prior, she might have scoffed and laughed. Yet, at this moment, she found herself contemplating it. As she gazed at the sky, she couldn''t help but wonder. The blue-haired goddess from her dreams was also human. Whoever she was, Eterisk harbored a deep desire to meet her. Chapter 31: Somethings up! I glanced at the girl timidly staring at her shoes. "G-greetings, m-milady!" she stuttered, struggling to form a coherent sentence. I exchanged a puzzled look with Marie, who just shrugged in response. What had I done to trigger this? Last time I checked, I wasn''t emitting those fear-inducing pheromones. The fear factor of my crimson eyes was also toned down to the lowest possible setting. I turned my attention back to Alicia, who seemed to be auditioning for the role of the world''s shyest shoe model. Her fear was practically a five-course meal for the little predator in my head, urging me to indulge in some rapid stabbing. But ehh, I dismissed it. Stabbing someone over a stutter seemed a tad excessive, even for a potential villainess like me. I had only invited her a tad earlier than planned for our study sessions. Father had received a letter yesterday announcing that Seraphina herself would be taking charge of our magical education. She was due to arrive in an hour. Knowing Alicia knew nothing of magic, I''d extended the invitation under the guise of a ''Tea Party'', hoping to impart some of my¡­ erm magic wisdom and build up some good karma into my relationship with one of the novel''s major characters. Guiding her to a chair within the garden pagoda, I motioned for Alicia to settle as Marie promptly bought some tea. "Alicia, please, do partake in some tea," I offered, my smile hopefully not betraying any nefarious intentions, though my inner self might suggest otherwise. She accepted the tea. Ahh, her hands as tremulous as a leaf in a gale, as if anticipating the cup to sprout fangs and snarl. "T-thank you, milady," she murmured, her gaze still firmly affixed to the porcelain vessel. Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I battled the frustration. Goodness me! It''s merely tea, not some elixir concocted from the blood and tears of a unicorn. Although, come to think of it, that could be a lucrative venture. Taking a little delicate sip of my own tea, I tried to lighten the mood. "So, Alicia, let''s talk. What''s your experience with magic?" ¡°N-nothing much, milady,¡± she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Just the basics the priest mentioned that one time. U-um, about awakening levels and elemental affinities.¡± I took another sip, maintaining an air of refined composure as a young lady should before responding, ¡°Quite so, nothing much indeed. Are you familiar with the notion of a mana core?¡± ¡°N-no, milady,¡± she admitted. Taking a deep breath, I began, "I''ve delved into various tomes on this matter. Some contend that the mana core is synonymous with what we call our soul. Others argue it''s more akin to a protective shield surrounding the soul." "Personally," I continued, "I tend to align with the latter perspective. But hey, who knows? We''re like umm,¡± I paused, before snapping my fingers, ¡°like those freshly baked cookies ¨C our mana core needs some time to set before it''s ready to dunk in milk.¡± I was proud of that delivery. ¡°I-is that so, Milady..¡± Alicia''s response was about as enthusiastic as a snail in a marathon. But I wasn''t about to let her lack of interest rain on my magic rant parade. "Indeed," I affirmed, undeterred. "At present, we find ourselves in what''s known as the formless white core stage. As we progress, it''ll solidify into a white core. Each evolution of our core grants us access to higher-level spells." ¡°For instance,¡± I gestured with my hands, summoning the mana threads to swirl and weave into a spell, "currently, I''m capable of casting only basic dark magic spells." With practiced movements of my fingers, I completed the weaving, forming a matrix of swirling runes. ¡°This here,¡± I declared, ¡°is the most fundamental Dark spell, ¡®Twilight Veil¡¯. Once activated, it shrouds the area in darkness.¡± Alicia''s gaze widened as she fixated on me, her eyes like saucers, completely captivated by the swirling matrix in my hands. I couldn''t help but suppress a little internal chuckle. I knew more about her than anyone else and I meant it ¨C her story, her drink preferences, her favourite foods, hobbies, pastimes, and, of course, her all-consuming obsession with magic. With a flourish of my hands, I summoned the magic like a seasoned witch. This time, I confined the spell to a smaller area, just enough to envelop the pagoda. Manipulating the shroud rune in the matrix, I gradually diminished its size until it barely covered my own skin. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Alicia''s eyes widened even further. "H-how did you¡ª" she began, stuttering once again. In response, I deftly manipulated the absence rune, ensuring my face remained untouched by the darkness. With only my features illuminated, I wagged my eyebrows mischievously at Alicia, appearing as a genuine shadowy figure. Ohohohoho¡­ Alicia was utterly spellbound now, gaping at me like a fish out of water. Just as I was about to suggest delving into some basic spell matrices together ¨C after all, I had plenty of unexplored and ugh useless fire spells up my sleeve ¨C a sudden round of applause interrupted our moment. I swiftly dispelled the spell, banishing the matrix, and met the unexpected arrival with a poised demeanour. "Such a captivating demonstration of your magic control, Lady Eli," Seraphina remarked, her midnight blue gown draping elegantly around her figure, albeit without her customary robes. What the fuck? What was she doing here ahead of schedule? She wasn''t due for another hour! Marie executed a graceful bow, prompting me to rise and offer my own, albeit with Alicia lagging a bit behind before joining in. ¡°Greetings, Magistra Seraphina. We certainly weren''t expecting you so soon,¡± I remarked, trying to mask my surprise. "Just thought I''d give my new pupils a little surprise. Didn''t anticipate being surprised myself beforehand," Seraphina chuckled lightly. "Now that I''m here, follow me. We''re beginning your first lesson immediately," she declared, already turning on her heel, expecting us to fall in line. I exchanged a glance with Marie, who maintained her stoic expression but flashed me a discreet thumbs up. ¡°Shouldn''t we be making our way to the training grounds, Magistra Seraphina?¡± I inquired, expecting a traditional start to our magic education. "Of course not, my silly little pupil. Magic is intertwined with nature itself. You''ll learn far more about it here in the gardens than within the confines of a training ground," Seraphina replied, looking at me with her swirling blue eyes. "And drop the formalities, we''re all mages here. Just call me Sera." I gladly accepted the offer. ''Magistra Seraphina'' was quite the mouthful. "Only if you do the same! You can call me Eli," I said, acting like the ten-year-old kid I was supposed to be. "Deal!" Sera chuckled. "Since you were discussing mana cores, let''s start from there." I raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been there?" "Long enough to catch wind of your conversation," she replied. Ugh. I hadn''t even noticed her presence, which was quite fair considering none of my skills were active. ¡°So, mana cores¡­¡± Sera paused, deeply inhaling the aroma of flowers in the garden, ¡°Such a fascinating subject. If I were to explain them, consider them simply as ranks.¡± I nodded. "The darker the hue of your mana core, the greater your mana capacity and the higher your spellcasting proficiency," Sera explained. Another few nods. Hmm hmm. It was all familiar territory for me. "Our first lesson will be basic yet crucial: learning to sense the flow of mana within yourself," she continued. I could achieve far more than that, but considering Alicia''s relative inexperience, I didn''t mind revisiting the basics. And so, the lesson commenced, with Sera guiding us through exercises designed to heighten our awareness of our own mana. While I effortlessly navigated through the exercises, Alicia''s frustrated expression betrayed her struggle. It was kind of a reminder for me. My perception of normalcy was a bit skewed by my own abilities. Sera, ever patient, maintained a reassuring smile as she approached Alicia, requesting her hand. Alicia seemed uncertain, prompting me to intervene with a playful nudge. "She''s not going to bite your hand off, silly," I quipped, attempting to ease the tension. I knew I was perhaps being overly familiar, but what else was I supposed to do? It''s not every day your favourite fictional character materializes before your very eyes. Sera grasped Alicia''s hand, gently intertwining their mana. Alicia''s initially apprehensive expression transformed into one of wonder as she felt the mana coursing through her. It was heartening to witness Alicia''s timidness gradually being eclipsed by her burgeoning fascination for magic. Good for her, I thought, silently cheering her on. And with that, our inaugural magic lesson drew to a close. While I hadn''t gleaned much in terms of new magical knowledge, I had forged a bond with Alicia, and, begrudgingly, found myself warming up to Sera. Despite my initial expectations of her being a typical arrogant mage tower head, Sera proved to be surprisingly polite and gentle. It was a pleasant surprise, to say the least. Yet, a nagging suspicion lingered in the back of my mind. Why was Sera, a supposed Tower Head, spending her time teaching fledgling mages like us out of the blue? Tower Heads weren''t known for their leisurely schedules. Furthermore, she hadn''t even identified herself as the head. ''Magistra'' was a title reserved for researcher mages within a tower, not its leader. I narrowed my eyes, my mind whirring with questions. Something didn''t add up. As Marie and I walked side by side, I gazed at her. "Marie, I have a task for you," I said, breaking the silence. She shot me a deadpan look. "It involves eavesdropping on people." Her expression immediately brightened. "Go on." "Firstly," I began, "I need you to sniff out where Magistra Seraphina is laying her head." Marie nodded confidently. "Consider it done, Milady." "Secondly," I added, "I need you to dig up some dirt on Alicia''s old man." Marie hesitated, scepticism seeping into her voice. "That might be a tad tricky." Unfazed, I reached into my pockets and produced a pouch filled with a portion of my savings. The gold coins inside clinked as I tossed it to Marie, who caught it with the grace of a seasoned thief. "Will that grease the wheels a bit?" I said. Marie swiftly stashed the pouch away, her expression still as stoic as ever. "Consider it sorted, Milady. I''ll do my best." With that settled, we continued our stroll as if nothing happened. But behind Marie''s cool fa?ade, I could practically hear the gears of my trusty rumourmonger whirring into action. Chapter 32: Somethings Beneath the Veil Perched by the open casement of my chamber, I found myself staring at the bowl brimming with assorted fruits nestled in my lap. With a song upon my lips, fit for a noble maiden of my station. Thus, I began my lamentation. "There are too. Many. Grapes. In my fruit bowwwwwl, I craaave a-finer-fruit! I DEMAND a better fruit!" With a sudden surge of indignation, I hurled the bowl skyward. A trajectory defying gravity, propelled by the very fervor of my frustration. A fork brandished menacingly as I lunged towards the luminous eye of the ritual on my floor. By the name of the Moonweaver, I swore that the eye recoiled in response to my sudden lunge. Narrowing my gaze, I heightened the aura of dread emanating from my eyes, channelling a smidgen of mana into [Eyes of Terror Evocation.] My fingers slowly traced the outline of the blood ritual once again. The bloody tree ensconced within a circle. A trunk adorned with a solitary, glowing eye. Thus far, only the eye had seen fit to illuminate, for I had yet to discern the means to ¡®appease them¡¯. I had toyed with the notion of returning to the untamed wilderness once more. Ahh, where the wind whispers to the trees. Wherein the rustle of leaves held sway over my heart. Where I can just go unhinged and stab monsters to my heart¡¯s content. Yet, alas, such an opportunity had yet to present itself. Now, with Seraphina''s tutelage guiding me along the path of becoming a revered mage, the spotlight seemed to follow my every move. There was no slipping away unnoticed for a solitary jaunt into the forest, oh no. It appeared I would need to devise an alternative approach. A curious aspect puzzled me still. While the stone floor of my chamber remained steadfast and unyielding beneath my feet, the area enshrouded by the ritual possessed a strangely soft quality. It was almost as if it defied the laws of solidity, yet despite its pliancy, I found myself unable to penetrate its confines. So, it was not a liquid either. The ritual hinted at a process of metamorphosis, with my rebirth marking its culmination. Yet, my rebirth was just a final phase that would bring about this ritual¡¯s completion. "I dare not fathom the consequences that may unfold. But mark my words, by the name of the Moonweaver, if this proves to be naught but a cunning ploy to summon forth a long-sealed demon, I shall unleash a fury the likes of which this county has never witnessed." I fixed my gaze upon the luminous eye nestled within the trunk of the ritualistic tree. "My emotional state is already akin to that of a being devoid of humanity. Yet, in death, I can only envision a further descent into darkness. So, to whomever or whatever may be observing my plight, should you dare to encroach upon this sacred chamber of mine, I shall fucking flay you alive." A bit dramatic, But I didn¡¯t break my gaze. Soon, a familiar voice resounded within the recesses of my mind, a telltale sign of someone nearby succumbing to fear. Yet, as I glanced around, there was no one to be seen, save for the gaze of a certain solitary eye. Confirmation, at last. There was indeed someone or something lurking beyond the boundaries of this ritual circle, likely the very entity observing my every move. And now, it felt the fear, as it rightly should. Ah, the peculiarities of existence! I used to ponder the incessant dullness in my emotional spectrum. But gradually, it dulled to the point where I simply couldn''t be bothered anymore. Not exactly a stellar approach. But, one ought to maintain a facade of normalcy, if only to remember how it''s done! So, that''s precisely what I did. Rising from my perch beside the ritual circle, I carefully covered it once more, like a witch concealing a particularly unimpressive magic circle. My notebook brimmed with my musings, basic rules I concocted to keep my humanity intact. Amidst the madness that I could see encroaching upon my reality. 1) Never harm the innocents. Even though my inner predator might salivate at the thought of perfect prey, I pledged to keep it in check. Rationality shall reign supreme, allowing me to discern truth from impulse. No harming the ''innocent,'' whatever that means in this topsy-turvy world. 2) Always maintain secrecy. I''m as clueless about this system and its ''blessed ones'' as a vixen is about algebra. Whether the world is oblivious or just playing coy, the safest bet is to keep myself shrouded in secrecy. It was always better to be mysterious than to be dissected in a magical medieval lab! 3) Protect the family. Why did I add this point? Perhaps out of sheer sentimentality or a delusional hope that they''ll reciprocate someday. Regardless, I''ll always cherish them, even if most of them are as warm as an ice cube. My duty is clear: shield them from harm, even if the source is me. Ah, the memory of that confrontation with Zach in the forest still smolders in my mind. The primal urge to throttle him at that moment. An indelible mark. Constantly stoking the flames of paranoia within. Thus, this final point served as a reminder: never let harm befall my family, even if the threat originates from within. For deep down, I remain a girl longing for familial warmth, despite the doubts that gnaw at my soul. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. There were just three rules for now, more would be added soon. I closed the notebook with a grin, suppressing a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Everything inscribed within its English-laden pages was enough to make a native of this world soil their smallclothes in terror. My gaze flickered briefly to the carpet concealing the ritual circle below. A feeling, nothing more, but I couldn''t shake the notion that whatever lurked beneath that circle would spring to life once the ''rebirth'' portion of the ritual was complete. I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope that whatever entity awaited wasn''t of the hostile variety. *** "The Golden Lion Inn..." I murmured, the words rolling off my tongue as Marie nodded beside me. Finally, Marie had returned with news. Seraphina, that tower head, was lodging at the Golden Lion Inn. Quite the establishment, if I do say so myself, nestled snugly within our county''s boundaries. Made sense, really, considering her wealth and status. But if it were me, the Golden Lion wouldn''t be my first choice. "Is something amiss, Milady?" Marie inquired, her brow furrowing. "Just pondering," I replied, tapping my chin. "It''s just that Magistra Seraphina could have selected lodgings in the wealthier districts. The Golden Lion''s location doesn''t sit quite right with me." Marie''s frown deepened. "Why''s that? It''s one of the finest inns, conveniently close to the church. Perhaps Lady Seraphina is a devout follower of the Moonweaver." Oh, if only it were that simple. I knew from the depths of the novel that Seraphina''s faith lay firmly in the Iron Serpent, Thalador. Perhaps I was simply nitpicking, but something about Seraphina''s actions had set my internal alarm bells ringing. Well, what''s a bit of late-night snooping among friends? "And what of Alicia''s father?" A puzzled look adorned Marie''s face, her brow furrowing in consternation. "Milady, were you privy to some knowledge when you tasked me with investigating Alicia''s father?" she inquired. Ah, so she had uncovered something after all. "I was indeed. And what did you uncover?" I responded. "It''s just that... I observed him conversing with some rather... unsavoury characters," Marie began, her voice hesitant. "They were dressed in tattered rags, yet their imposing stature belied their beggarly appearance." "And what was the nature of their discourse?" I pressed. "I''m afraid I couldn''t discern much," Marie confessed. "Their conversation was muffled, but I did catch snippets related to ''debt''." I let out a weary sigh, my mind already piecing together the fragments of information. "Anything else?" "Just this, Milady," Marie continued, her voice trailing off slightly. "John Bennett, he... he seemed to harbour quite strong feelings toward the nobility. I overheard him lamenting to his companions about how every woe he faced stemmed from those of noble birth. It was relatively mild, but noteworthy nonetheless." "You''ve done admirably, Marie," I commended her, though a sense of frustration gnawed at me. "If only we knew more about these shadowy figures." "They''re a cautious bunch, Milady," Marie replied. "Their eyes were ever watchful, and I even caught glimpses of weapons concealed beneath their ragged attire. Approaching them directly would have posed a considerable risk." "Even lingering around them might have been dangerous. Leave them be, Marie. I believe I have gleaned sufficient information," I instructed. Marie then withdrew a pouch from her pocket, its contents emitting a soft clinking sound as it moved. I furrowed my brow in confusion. "What''s this for?" I inquired, eyeing the pouch warily. Marie''s expression mirrored my own confusion. "What do you mean, Milady? These funds were intended for the mission you entrusted to me. I used a portion to acquire information, but the remainder rightfully belongs to you." Ah, my dear, silly Marie. With a sigh, I pushed the pouch back toward her. "The remainder was meant to be your reward for successfully completing your mission," I clarified. Her eyes widened in astonishment. "B-But it''s far too much, Milady. It''s like a year''s worth of income for someone like me!" "So what if it is?" I retorted, shaking my head. "You deserve every bit of it." "B-But..." Marie stammered, clearly overwhelmed. "No ''buts''," I interjected. "It''s entirely up to you what you choose to do with it. However, I recall you mentioning a gown design that had caught your eye in the wealthier districts. You spoke of its gracefulness and intricate detailing..." Marie''s cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment, her gaze dropping to the floor in bashfulness. "Milady, I didn''t expect you to remember that..." Marie murmured. "Oh, don''t act so surprised. I''m not completely clueless, you know," I drawled. "I knew how much you adored it. Go on, treat yourself to one." "I was merely momentarily enamoured by it, Milady. Besides, I have no need for such a gown. I wouldn''t have any occasion to wear it," Marie scoffed, attempting to maintain her facade of indifference. Ah, she just needed a gentle nudge in the right direction. "Well, you may not have an occasion at present, but soon enough you will. Who else would accompany me to the Royal Academy?" I pointed out, watching with delight as Marie''s facade began to crack, her jaw dropping comically. She opened and closed her mouth several times, clearly struggling to find the right words. "Don''t fret too much," I reassured her, seizing the pouch and thrusting it back into her pocket before ushering her toward the door. "I''m a mage now, my authority in this household has skyrocketed compared to before. If I were to demand Father allow you to accompany me, he would comply without hesitation." "I-" Marie began, her words faltering as I pushed her out of my room, a grin tugging at my lips. "Now off you go, back into the county. Treat yourself to not one, but two of those gowns. I want the prettiest maid in the entire capital!" Marie''s head seemed to be spinning like a top by this point, but I pressed on. "Remember, once we''re there, you might just have the chance to rub elbows with your beloved Lady Constance, the one you''ve raved about endlessly. Or perhaps even Lady Ariana!" I said. A sparkle ignited in Marie''s gaze at the mention of her favourite noble ladies. "And who knows," I added with a grin, "you might even have the delightful opportunity to... eavesdrop on them in person!" Marie visibly shivered with raw delight, a reaction akin to the way I feel when I think of giving someone a good stab with a knife. Perhaps I shouldn''t have mentioned the eavesdropping part. I might have been awakening something within Marie. Something that I couldn''t quite discern whether it was good or bad. Marie drifted away, lost in her daydreams. I couldn''t help but hope she wouldn''t blow everything on gowns. But Marie was sensible, responsible even. I trusted her to exercise some restraint and set aside a bit for the future. Turning my gaze back to the window, I saw the sun sinking below the horizon. As I stood by the window, a flood of snippets about Alicia''s backstory filled my mind. An orphan in the novel, Alicia harboured a fiery hatred for her father. Merely mentioning his name risked one''s very existence, for Alicia possessed a temper that could scorch the very earth. Literally. Throughout the story, Alicia remained tight-lipped about her father. Yet subtle hints were dropped regarding her disdain for him. Something didn''t quite add up, and I couldn''t shake the feeling that there was more to the story than met the eye. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to bask in the gentle embrace of the setting sun. Its soft orange glow. A hue most warm. Night, ahh my beloved night, would soon descend upon the land. Enveloping everything in the embrace of darkness. It appeared that the time had come for me to venture forth and get more information on these ''shady people'' Marie had mentioned. Chapter 33: The Gentle Sobs The veil of night descended upon the land once more. I found myself treading the well-trodden path, scaling the familiar wall, and alighting upon the customary forested glade. Another cloak adorned my shoulders, for my previous one met a rather unfortunate demise. I instructed Marie to fetch me a sturdier one this time, one that could withstand the, err, rigors of my activities. I traversed through the woodland. My stilettos clutched in hand as I frolicked barefoot upon the verdant grass. Giggling like a fae from the depths of folklore. Ahh, how I had longed to experience such a sensation! Fear not for my well-being! For my trusty skill [Adaptation] kept a vigilant watch, ensuring this corporeal vessel of mine remained in optimal condition. And thus, I ran. The wind caressing my visage. The earth beneath my nimble feet. My ears serenaded by the symphony of nature''s denizens. But alas, all good things must come to an end. Duty beckoned me to pursue those shady individuals. To know more about them. At the tender age of ten, my schedule was already brimming with activity. Oh, how I pondered what my life would have been like had I remained blissfully unaware of the novel. Yet, dwelling on such matters served no purpose. With a resigned sigh, I slipped my stilettos back onto my feet as the distant glow of county blinked at me. Alicia''s abode nestled in the western fringes of the church district, teetering on the edge of the slums but not quite plunging into their depths. Certainly not the safest locale for a ten-year-old lass like myself. Dashing through the streets with the agility of a cat on the prowl, [Fleet Footed Sprint] kicked into high gear, propelling me forward at breakneck speed. Meanwhile, [Twilight Veil] and the [Umbral Concealment] worked in tandem to cloak my presence, rendering me as elusive as a shadow in the night. I was growing adept at juggling multiple skills simultaneously. Sure, I could manage it before, but now the process flowed like a well-oiled machine. It was as if my body were instinctively adapting to the use of these skills. Though there was no visible skill leveling system, I could sense their growth. It was peculiar, further confirming my suspicion that there were many facets of this world beyond what appeared on the surface of system screen. As I neared my destination, a flicker of movement caught my keen eye. With a burst of strength, I ascended a nearby rooftop using fleeting bursts of strength, opting to observe from my vantage point high above the bustling streets below. [Visionary Mastery] A man, disguised in tattered rags in a feeble attempt to pass as a beggar, crossed my path. However, his well-toned physique and the unmistakable glint of a sword hilt at his hip betrayed his true nature. He sauntered in the direction of... Alicia''s abode. Well, well, well. It seemed I was about to uncover their plans for the day. As I prepared to descend from the rooftop, another shadow caught my attention. This one, smaller in stature, cloaked in a manner similar to mine. They trailed behind the first figure, skulking in the shadows and darting from wall to wall with caution. Once again, I concealed myself on the rooftop, though it was unnecessary. With [Umbral Concealment] and [Twilight Veil] shrouding me in darkness, I blended seamlessly with the night. Theoretically, I could have stood behind them, pilfered their pockets, and they would have been none the wiser. However, my past experiences with stealth being compromised reminded me that my invisibility wasn''t foolproof. So, I chose a more cautious approach, opting to observe from a safe distance. Paranoia could be quite the handy companion, serving as a counterbalance to my lack of fear. I relished in indulging in its embrace, especially in moments like these. As I continued to observe, it became apparent that the second robed figure was indeed tailing the ragged man¡­ while yet another ragged individual stealthily trailed behind the robed figure. What in ¡®a tangled web we weave¡¯ shit was going on? My keen eyes, sharpened by the darkness, didn''t miss a single detail. I had a sinking suspicion about the identity of the robed figure, but I silently prayed to the goddess that I was mistaken. I had already asked her to leave these people alone. This area of the county was densely packed, the buildings worn and weathered, their narrow alleyways twisting and turning like a labyrinth. Perched atop the tallest building in the vicinity, I had a bird''s-eye view of the events below. How Marie, if indeed it was her, managed to maintain her pursuit in such darkness was a puzzle even to me. After all, she was but a mere skill-less human. The man trailing behind her drew closer with each passing moment, and I clenched my teeth in frustration. Was there anything I could do to intervene without revealing my presence? I racked my brain for a solution. Think, Eli, think! But, just as the first man veered left onto a narrow four-way path, Marie opted to dart in the opposite direction, slipping into a blind spot beyond my view. Without a moment''s hesitation, I leaped from the building, activating [Featherweight Descent] and [Fleet Footed Sprint] in rapid succession. I traversed the rooftops with the grace of a cat, employing bursts of [Lethal Precision] to empower my legs as I bounded across the urban landscape. Soon, I found myself perched atop a building overlooking the lane where Marie had disappeared. I caught sight of her cloak fluttering in the breeze as she sprinted down the alleyway. A quick glance back revealed the telltale bob of her short hair¡ªit was unmistakably Marie. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. But before I could ponder her sudden change in direction, my question was swiftly answered as the man who had been tailing her earlier broke into a full sprint, hot on her heels. Oh, shit! Marie was in trouble! What had I told her? Oh, right, it was my own doing. I had instructed her to investigate Alicia¡¯s father in the first place. There had always been the risk that her insatiable curiosity would lead her down this perilous path. And knowing Marie, the relentless gossipmonger that she was, she would undoubtedly take her chances. I metaphorically gave myself a resounding slap. In truth, the darkness provided ample cover for a swift leap over the man, should I choose to take such a bold move. My fingers traced the outline of the sharp misericorde concealed beneath my dress, and a chill coursed through my veins. A hidden strike. A potential most deadly. A blade poised to pierce the unsuspecting flesh. A warm revelation of what lay hidden beneath. The allure of such a calculated maneuver. It was oh so undeniable. The promise of the swift and the decisive. The sheer temptation to succumb to its seductive call. But I quickly banished the notion from my mind. I stood at the precipice, of a slippery slope. A path most treacherous, one that I was not yet ready to tread. Despite the undeniable allure, I knew that I was not prepared to embrace the real Eli that lurked within me. One that would take human lives without remorse. Every skill at my disposal was honed for efficient hunting. A fact that would have both exhilarated and frightened me in equal measure, if my emotional spectrum allowed for such. And so, I pushed it aside and focused on the task at hand. I sprinted across the rooftops, my skills seamlessly working in tandem as I chased after Marie. I was faster than the man, thus, I maintained my lead, ready to intervene if the need arose. But as Marie continued to navigate the labyrinthine pathways, it became evident that she might just be able to outmanoeuvre her pursuer. However, what I hadn''t anticipated was her sudden shift in strategy. With a swift turn in an alley, Marie bent down and seized a baseball-sized piece of wood and took cover behind a nearby wall, assuming a defensive stance. My eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. The man, moving too swiftly to react, likely didn''t anticipate the heavy piece of wood materializing before him. With a resounding smack, it connected squarely with his face. He staggered and fell backwards, clutching at his injured visage. But Marie was far from finished. She clutched the wood and swung it in a two-handed grip, delivering a crushing blow to the man''s... well, let''s just say his family jewels were likely reduced to a fine paste. I winced in sympathetic agony from my perch atop the nearby rooftop. As the man crumpled to the ground, incapacitated by the pain, Marie wasted no time in concealing her weapon beneath a pile of nearby trash. It was a practiced motion. Something told me that this wasn''t her first time employing such tactics. Marie soon collapsed nearby. Ahh, a regrettable turn of events, though considering her laboured breathing, it seemed a necessary respite. I kept my eyes keenly peeled, wary of any further surprises that may befall her. Thankfully, none were forthcoming. Upon regaining her footing, Marie began to stomp and curse with fervor, her frustrations boiling over as she delivered a swift kick to the unconscious man''s torso. It was the first time I had ever heard her utter such colorful language. "I was this close! This close to uncovering their hideout, only for this blasted piece of Enquana shit, this bloody scoundrel to catch my scent," she lamented, kicking the man once again. After a resigned sigh and a deep breath, Marie clutched her cloak tightly and retraced her steps, now heading towards the Church district. [Keen Perception] I glanced towards the direction of Alicia''s residence before shrugging and deciding to tail after Marie. Though she may be capable, I felt a sense of duty to ensure her safety. "Perhaps tomorrow then, but how am I expected to find rest knowing there''s a conspiracy brewing right under my very nose? A plot that involves a grade 6 fire mage," Marie whined under her breath. Thanks to my [Keen Perception], her words were crystal clear to my ears. Typical Marie. Once I had ensured Marie''s safety and watched her disappear into the bustling crowds, I swiftly retraced my steps using [Fleet Footed Sprint], blending into the shadows with my stealth abilities as I returned to the area where Marie had parted ways with the man she had been tailing. Marie had mentioned a potential hideout, and the eerie lack of human activity in this part of town only fueled my suspicions. With narrowed eyes, I began to snoop around, scouring the dilapidated residences for any sign of the clandestine. Most of the buildings stood in a state of disrepair, with cracked walls and broken windows. Some were inhabited, while others lay empty and forlorn. Yet, despite my thorough investigation lasting nearly an hour, I discovered nothing of note¡ªno trace of the man Marie had been trailing, nor any indication of a hidden hideout. At the corner of the street stood a stable and an inn, both seemingly going about their usual business without any hint of intrigue. I furrowed my brow in frustration. Was I overlooking something crucial? The hour grew late, and I couldn''t shake the feeling of mounting unease at my prolonged absence. I sighed heavily. Oh, how my original task had been overshadowed by the unexpected encounter with Marie. Now, with nothing to show for my efforts, it was time to refocus my attention and complete the task I had set out to accomplish earlier. I made my way back towards Alicia''s house, navigating the winding pathways with ease until I reached my destination. Here, the atmosphere was lively, but not in the way one might expect. Beggars lined the streets, their presence conspicuous yet oddly inconspicuous. As I surveyed the scene, I noted six figures scattered about, their frames varying in appearance. Only one bore the telltale signs of malnutrition, while the others merely wore the guise of poverty. Marie''s suspicions were indeed true. These beggars possessed a well-defined musculature more befitting of warriors than of destitute souls. Their vigilant eyes darted about in the darkness, ever watchful for potential threats. Perched upon the roof, shrouded in the protective embrace of [Twilight Veil] and [Umbral Concealment], I momentarily observed their silent vigil. Before choosing to disregard them for the time being as I made my way towards Alicia''s residence. The house stood like many others in the area¡ªsimple stone architecture, worn and weathered by time. It was a modest two-story abode, and I found myself atop its roof, uncertain of Alicia''s exact whereabouts within. Relying on the information provided by Marie, I knew I had to confirm my suspicions. Discarding my stilettos with a silent clatter, I descended the side of the house with the grace of a stealthy spider. Finding a window on the first floor conveniently close to the roof, I suspended myself upside down, my feet anchored firmly as [Aerial Grace] aided in maintaining my balance. A cautious glance inside. With [Visionary Mastery] still in effect, I peered into the dimly lit room, my gaze penetrating the darkness with ease. To my relief, it appeared empty. No sign of anyone lurking within. Perfect. Carefully, I climbed inside, using a fortunate crevice above the window (totally not the courtesy of a deft [Lethal Precision] jab!) to lower myself into the room. As my bare feet touched the cool stone floor, I looked around. Nearby lay a humble hay mattress, positioned close to the window. A solitary wooden quill and a slate adorned with poorly written Verodian alphabets caught my eye, though there was no ink in sight. A wooden chest stood nearby. I opened it. Two sets of rough, homespun dresses, along with a single brown gown. Reminiscent of the one I had seen Alicia wear during her visit to the manor. Among the garments were threads, patches for mending, scraps of fabric, and handmade hay dolls adorned with ragged dresses of their own. The room was enveloped in silence, save for the soft breathing and faint murmurs emanating from beyond the wall¡ªaccompanied, it seemed, by the gentle sound of sobbing. Frowning, I closed the chest and made my way towards the source of the sobs. Announcement!!! Ello, everyone! So, yeahh, I¡¯m not dead, nor lost in the backrooms. Life happened, and I couldn''t keep going for a bit¡ªcould ramble on about the reasons, but that''s not what this announcement¡¯s about. I''m taking my first proper step towards being a full-time writer, so yeah, I''ve committed to a new story. Part of the reason I never had a Patreon before was because I didn¡¯t want folks supporting me for something I wasn¡¯t fully dedicated to. But now, I¡¯m all in. This announcement is mainly to give you an update. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I¡¯ve got plans to pick up Eli¡¯s story again, depending on how this new venture of mine pans out. Here¡¯s the link to the current novel I¡¯m focusing on: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/92766/how-to-dragon-101-a-monster-evolution-litrpg If you enjoyed Eli¡¯s character, I¡¯m confident you¡¯ll love Jade¡¯s too. The writing style is the same, just sharper since I¡¯ve improved as well. Currently, there are 8 chapters out, with 16+ advanced chapters available on Patreon. Give it a chance, and any follows, ratings, or reviews would be much appreciated!