Meria lay on the soft grass beneath a tall tree, its leaves whispering in the breeze. Her eyes slowly opened, the sunlight breaking through branches above.
She blinked—then whispered, voice barely audible:
"Why… Cael?"
***
> [Trial 1: Fallen Empire]
***
Meria jolted upright. Her eyes widened at the unfamiliar world stretching around her—strange skies, broken towers, and a heavy, magical atmosphere.
It felt like a fantasy novel come to life.
Looking around, she spotted a small village in the distance. Curiosity—and caution—pulled her forward.
As she entered the village, she noticed the people dressed in old-world, medieval-style clothing. Her Earth-born instincts told her everything about this place was… off.
Then she saw her.
A girl sat alone on a wooden chair outside a bounty office. Tears streamed down her face.
She looked no older than nineteen—red hair, short, piercing green eyes. But what truly caught Meria's attention were the girl's clothes—modern. From Earth.
Meria walked over and asked gently, "Why are you crying?"
The girl looked up, voice trembling. "I lost everything… Family. Friends. No one's left. If I had known how to control my powers… maybe they'd still be alive."
"…Are you from Earth?" Meria asked.
The girl nodded. "Yeah."
Meria looked at Fiora, her voice calm but edged with quiet sorrow.
"Guilt… it won't bring anyone back. It'll just eat you alive. You have to let go—move forward. There's nothing left in the past but scars."
Fiora's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you should understand how worthless your words are. 'Move on'? It's not that easy. You don't get to say that unless you've lost everything too."
Meria thought to herself, "Maybe… I never hated Cael—not truly. Maybe I was just afraid to care."
I should've treated him like my little brother from the beginning. I should've protected him, listened to him, laughed with him…
But now—there's no one left.
Not my parents.
Not Cael.
Only silence.
And in that silence… an emptiness that gnaws at my chest. A hollow space where love should've been. Where family once was.
She looked at Fiora. "Do you think your parents would be proud… seeing you like this?"
"It doesn't matter," Fiora muttered. "You don't even know me."
"I'm Meria. I didn't choose a nickname… so for now, the system just calls me 'Unknown'."
Fiora blinked. "You're that Unknown? You killed 93 monsters?"
Meria nodded quietly.
"I'm Fiora 'Stormblade'," Fiora said. "You've heard of me… right?"
"…No," Meria replied.
Fiora huffed. "You're joking."
Meria glanced around the unfamiliar world. I can't survive this place alone, she thought.
"Listen," she said, "do you want to sit here drowning in guilt—or do you want to come with me and keep moving forward?"
Before Fiora could answer—
The world flickered.
And then—
***
Flashback: Earth, Two Years Ago
"Fiora! Hurry! The Fasching Festival's starting soon!" her mother, Mira, called out cheerfully.
Mira, Fiora's mother, was 47 years old with flowing black hair streaked lightly with silver. Her eyes held the softness of someone who had weathered many storms with grace. She spoke gently, moved with care, and carried a warmth that made everyone around her feel safe.
Fiora stepped out of her room, dressed elegantly in an emerald green dress. Her red hair framed her face perfectly.
Let's hurry now, sweetheart. The others are already waiting."
Mira beamed. "You look beautiful. Like a queen of spring."
Zara, just eighteen, had dark brown hair tied into a loose braid and warm black eyes that reflected a quiet strength. She stood beside Arielle, her best friend since childhood—who had soft hazel eyes, long lashes, and shoulder-length honey-blonde curls that danced in the breeze. Arielle had a gentle, calming presence, with a soft voice and a smile that always felt like home.
Both smiled when they saw Fiora approaching with her mother.
"There she is!" Zara waved. "Fiora, over here!"
Fiora walked down the steps of their modest home, her emerald green dress swaying with each step. Her red hair, straight and shoulder-length, shimmered under the afternoon sun. She looked elegant, but not flashy—like someone who tried to hide her beauty without quite managing it.
Arielle grinned. "You clean up nice, Fiora. We thought you'd show up in jeans again."
"I was tempted," Fiora chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But Mom insisted I dress up."
Mira, standing nearby, laughed gently. "She's always been stubborn about these things. But look at her now."
The group laughed, the sound light and free.
The Fasching Festival was in full swing—colorful ribbons tied to lamp posts, music echoing from the plaza, children laughing as they chased one another between food stalls. It was the kind of day that made the world feel whole.
As they made their way down the street, Mira slowed and gently placed her hand on Fiora's arm.
"When I'm gone, Fiora," she said softly, "you'll have to learn to live for yourself. You have such a kind heart… but don't lose yourself trying to protect everyone else."
Fiora rolled her eyes and smiled, pretending to brush off the weight of those words. "You're drunk again, Mom. Don't start talking like it's your last day."
Mira chuckled. "Maybe I am. But I'm still serious."
Zara, overhearing, stepped closer. "You don't have to worry, Aunt Mira. Arielle and I—we'll always be with Fiora. She won't ever be alone. We promise."
Arielle and Zara had grown up as orphans, but Mira had taken them in as her own. She paid for their schooling, clothed them, fed them, and gave them the warmth of a home. To them, Mira wasn't just a guardian—she was their true mother.
Arielle nodded, her voice firm but warm. "We're family. Even if we weren't born that way."
Fiora blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden wave of emotion. She looked at her friends—her sisters in everything but blood—and then at her mother, who had raised her entirely on her own.
She tried to play it cool. "You all sound like I'm about to be shipped off to war or something."
Mira smiled, cupping her daughter's cheek. "It's just… time moves faster than we think. I need to know you'll be okay."
Fiora's throat tightened. She had never known her father—not even his name. Mira had been everything: parent, protector, teacher, and home. And Zara and Arielle? They were the pieces of childhood that made her feel normal in a world that wasn't always kind.
"I will be, Mom," Fiora whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "But only if you stick around for a while longer."
Mira leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'll try."
The girls linked arms and continued toward the festival, laughter bubbling between them, unaware of how precious that moment truly was.
"It was the day everything changed—the day the Prologue began."
Fiora stood paralyzed—her knees sinking into ash and scorched earth—as her trembling hands cradled her mother's lifeless body. Mira's eyes, once so full of warmth, now stared blankly at the smoke-choked sky. Blood soaked Fiora's sleeves, still warm, still real.
"Mom…" Her voice cracked.
"MOM!! Please—wake up!" she screamed, shaking her. "You said you'd always be there! MOM!!"
But there was no answer. Only the distant roar of fire… and the screams of dying villagers.
The world burned around her.
Flames climbed rooftops like hungry beasts. The sky had turned black, raining ash like snow. The smell of charred flesh filled the air.
"FIORA!" Zara's voice cut through the chaos. "RUN!"
Fiora turned, wide-eyed, barely registering the glowing ember of terror in her friend's face.
And then—
A shriek. Wet, sharp.
An undead rose from the ground like a nightmare made flesh. Its jagged blade pierced straight through Arielle's back, splitting through her chest.
"Arielle!!" Zara screamed.
Arielle gasped, blood bubbling from her lips. She forced a weak smile. "Go… Don't break your promise…" Her voice broke as she collapsed.
"NO!" Fiora cried, but Zara grabbed her hand.
"We have to go! NOW!"
Zara pulled her into the smoke, through burning alleys and broken memories. Screams followed them. Shadows twitched. Undead moaned. Everything she knew was gone.
But Fiora's legs stopped.
"I…" She stared ahead, dazed. "I can't run anymore."
Zara turned—eyes wide with fear. "Fiora, MOVE!"
From the smoke, a monstrous blue-furred beast lunged. Its claws gleamed.
Fiora froze. She shut her eyes, expecting death.
But it never came.
She opened them.
Zara stood between her and the beast—blood pouring from her mouth.
The beast's claws were buried deep in her stomach, holding her like a broken doll.
"…Zara?"
Zara turned her head, barely holding on.
"Don't…" she coughed, more blood spilling down her chin. "Don't live your life in guilt…"
She smiled—small, broken, brave.
"That's the promise I made… to your mom."
The beast roared.
And tore her in half.
Fiora screamed.
Everything inside her cracked—splintered beyond repair. Her knees gave out. Her mind went silent. She stared into the fire, into the blood, into the nothing.
She had nothing left.
Only death.
Only guilt.
Only rage.
Then—
***
> ["Tempest Queen" has taken interest in you]
[She wants to become your supporter]
[Would you like to accept this request?]
[Yes / No]
***
Fiora clenched her fists. This… this unknown "Author" who threw us into this hell. I'll find him someday.
But for now—she whispered, "Yes."
A gust of wind surrounded her, fierce and wild. A beast lunged at her—its claws shattered against the barrier of swirling air.
***
> [Skill Unlocked: Storm Blade]
[The user channels the power of the storm into their blade]
***
Fiora grabbed a simple blade nearby. She charged—wind trailing behind her. With a scream, she swung.
A streak of blue lightning followed her slash—cleanly bisecting the undead.
More came.
She kept swinging—each strike sharper, faster, more merciless than the last.
***
> [Prologue: The Lineage Begins — Completed]
[Your Individual Kill Count: 89]
[Kill Count: 1000 / 1000]
[Rewards will be based on ranking]
***
> [Top 10 Rankings]
1. Grave Null — 152 kills
2. Ash King — 115
3. Heaven Piercer — 106
4. Specter — 98
5. Iron Saint — 95
6. Unknown — 93
7. Unknown — 89
8. Dustborn — 86
9. Silver End — 83
10. Void Walker — 78
***
> [Would you like to set a nickname?]
[Yes / No]
Fiora spoke with quiet resolve, "Yes. I am… Stormblade."
***
> [Stormblade – Kills: 89]
***
> [Would you like to move on to the next trial?]
***
Fiora hesitated. Wait—my mother… I didn't even get to say goodbye…
Meria turned to her. "Are you coming with me or not?"
Fiora remembered Zara's words: "Don't live your life in guilt."
She looked ahead.
"…Yes," she said. "From now on—we move forward together."
Meria gave a small, faint smile.
And somewhere—far, far away…
Back on Earth…
Cael opened his eyes.