In the heart of an immense, uncharted wilderness known as the Shadowfen Wilds, where ancient woodlands wrestled for dominance against insidious, sprawling swampland, stood a grim, weather-beaten altar. Its unyielding stone, dark and seemingly untouched by human craft, rose as a stark marker amidst the snaking, twisted trees and the stagnant, lightless waters that mirrored the sky. On this chillingly smooth, eerily pristine stone surface, a young woman lay utterly still.
A shallow depression on the slab's expanse, leading subtly towards the monument, held a patch of deep, crusted crimson—an eloquent, horrifying whisper of recent brutality.
The woman appeared no older than her early twenties, completely exposed, her naked form vulnerable to the oppressive, humid air. Her features were strikingly etched, even in her stillness: a torrent of dark, midnight-black hair fanned out across the cold rock like spilled ink, a stark counterpoint to the pallor of her skin. Her body was mature, compelling in its curves, her ample breasts hinting at a potent, natural grace that belied her current, unconscious fragility. Her skin, impossibly silken and luminescent against the rough backdrop, seemed to radiate a faint glow in the oppressive gloom. Yet, between her legs, staining her inner thighs and sex, was a grotesque, dried residue of blood and fluid, a stark tableau of violation against her pristine paleness.
Around the altar's base, arranged with a disturbing, almost ceremonial exactitude, were several small, perfect cones of fine, pale dust. Each stood equidistant, placed with unseen, meticulous care. These spectral remnants, eerie against the dark earth, offered no explanation for the macabre ritual that had just concluded, but the sight on the slab screamed of a terrifying desecration.
The young woman's unnatural amethyst eyes flickered open. A faint, strained sound escaped her lips as she clamped them shut again, wincing from the white-hot spike of agony that bludgeoned behind her temples. The pain was so acute, she feared her skull might simply fracture.
"Ow, for fuck's sake," she breathed, her voice a soft, honeyed murmur that felt strangely out of place in the brutal landscape. Instinctively, her hands rose, fingers pressing hard into her temples, beginning a slow, desperate circular rub. The agony didn't recede, but its relentless pounding subsided into a slightly more bearable throb.
Finally, she opened her eyes once more. Above, the indifferent expanse of the night sky swirled—a cosmic tapestry of distant stars and profound blackness. Slowly, with a pained grunt, she pushed herself upright into a seated position, flinching as fresh agony shot through her body. A deeper, persistent ache pulsed between her legs, and though the reason eluded her, a profound wave of primal disgust, a visceral revulsion, washed over her. The biting chill in the air suddenly registered, making her keenly aware of her complete nakedness, her nipples taut and prominent.
Her gaze darted frantically, desperate for anything—a scrap of fabric, a large leaf, anything to obscure her form. But her eyes found only the disquieting, perfectly arranged dust piles at the altar's base, the dark, congealed smear in the stone's hollow, and the horrifying, dried mixture of blood and fluid starkly plastered to her thighs and groin.
"What the hell happened here?" she wondered silently, a desperate, unspoken plea for clarity echoing into the uncaring vastness of the wilds.
Then, without warning, a semi-transparent screen shimmered into being before her very eyes. It was a data display, stark and utterly inexplicable, yet undeniably focused on her.
Name: Seraphina BrodiorAge: 22Race: HumanClass: ???Level: 0Health: 15Agility: 20Charm: 30Strength: 5Defense: 3MP: 30Intelligence: 50Luck: 1
"Is... is this me? Am I Seraphina Brodior? What the fuck is this?" she mused inwardly, her heart hammering against her ribs, the name both alien and strangely resonant with a fragile, burgeoning hope.
"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" Seraphina pondered, and as if a direct response to her unvoiced question, the holographic display flickered. The familiar stat read-out dissolved, replaced by a new tab labeled: "Missions."
Missions:Objective 1: Survival & AscentAchieve Level 10. Gather essential gear and provisions within this perilous domain.Objective 2: Class InitiationUncover concealed prerequisites to unlock your initial combat class.
Seraphina blinked, her amethyst eyes wide with disbelief and profound disorientation. "How do I dismiss this damn screen, or summon it again?" she thought to herself. Again, as if privy to her internal monologue, the screen shifted, now showcasing an "Encyclopedia." Multiple categories were present, but all save one were dimmed and inaccessible. Tentatively, she mentally 'selected' the single active tab. A deluge of data flooded her consciousness, concisely outlining that to close the interface, she could either mentally command its dismissal or vocalize the instruction. The same methods would recall it.
"Close Menu," Seraphina articulated, her soft voice carrying with surprising clarity in the still air. The holographic screen vanished instantly, leaving only the oppressive gloom of the forest. She blinked, a flicker of bewildered amusement sparking in her unusual eyes. "Status," she ventured next, and just as swiftly, the data interface reappeared, luminous and responsive. For a fleeting moment, she felt like a child unearthing a remarkable new toy, an innocent surge of joy that felt profoundly mismatched with her dire circumstances. However, this brief diversion was abruptly shattered by a new line of text flashed onto the screen, crisp and sharply reprimanding: "Cease these trivial directives."
Seraphina froze, a different, colder shock coursing through her. The menu wasn't just a tool; it was aware. While its communication remained text-based, its undeniable 'rebuke' was unmistakable. "Well, isn't that just a load of shit," she muttered under her breath. After dismissing the menu once more, allowing the initial astonishment to settle, she carefully slid from the altar. Fortunately, the stone's surface beneath her was smooth, sparing her further scrapes.
Now on her feet, she took a moment to truly appraise her body, a stark, almost dispassionate examination. She had to admit, even to herself, that her form was undeniably breathtaking. With a perfectly sculpted derriere, thighs that were neither too substantial nor too slight but exquisitely balanced, and long, graceful legs, she possessed a physique so captivating that, were she of the opposite sex, she would undoubtedly feel a profound fascination. If she hadn't suffered memory loss, she might have presumed a past life as a courtesan. But then, the aching, violated throbbing between her legs, now dulled to a nagging persistence, violently yanked her back to grim reality. She might lack memories, but she wasn't a goddamn idiot. Piece by agonizing piece, the stark evidence solidified: she had been a virgin before this unspeakable ordeal.
"Well, there's no point dwelling on this shit," Seraphina mused, her gaze sweeping over the unsettling altar and the dense, dark woods. "My past is a blank, so my focus must be on what lies ahead. Find some fucking clothing and decipher how to complete these objectives. My history can wait."
Instantly, a small, terse screen popped into her line of sight. It displayed a single line of text: "That is the most coherent thought you have harbored since your awakening." And just as swiftly as it materialized, it dissolved. Seraphina's amethyst eyes narrowed dangerously. She decidedly disliked the insufferable, condescending tone of this damn interface.
Despite the System's cutting remark, a more immediate, primal need asserted itself. "First," she amended mentally, "I need to locate fresh water. This... filth... has to come off, and I mean now." Only then could she even begin to contemplate attire and those confounding missions.
Before she could take a single step, the System's screen reappeared, this time laden with a scathing admonition. "I comprehend your memory deficit," it proclaimed, the words practically oozing with disdain, "but could you, for the love of sanity, engage your mind for a solitary moment? You—a creature utterly devoid of offensive or defensive capabilities—intend to haphazardly plunge into a perilous, monster-infested forest? A forest where creatures of myriad threat levels reside, creatures you, regrettably, stand no chance against."
The words continued, sharp and utterly patronizing. "Therefore, since personal hygiene is your immediate priority, might I suggest utilizing my integrated map? I possess such a function, you know. My capabilities extend far beyond mere data dissemination. Frankly, I erroneously believed your elevated intelligence indicated a higher cognitive function, despite your other meager stats. Alas, I was mistaken; you are a complete imbecile."
For a prolonged moment, Seraphina remained rooted, utterly stunned into silence by the sheer insolence of the System. Then, the shock curdled into something far more potent: a searing, intense rage. "You are one lucky son of a bitch you're not corporeal," Seraphina seethed in her thoughts.
"Why? Do you intend to strike me?" the System shot back instantly, its text cold and mocking. "Need I reiterate, you are the most fragile entity in this entire forest. My calculations indicate even a common mosquito possesses greater destructive potential than you. Pathetic."
"Map," Seraphina grated out through clenched teeth, her amethyst eyes ablaze with fury at the insulting, infuriating, yet undeniably accurate entity.
As the command passed her lips, the world around her seemed to ripple, and a new, significantly larger holographic display unfurled before her. It was a detailed topographical rendering, depicted in luminous greens and murky blues, illustrating the sprawling fusion of forest and swamp that stretched boundlessly in every direction. A small, pulsating white beacon marked her current position.
Beneath the pulsing white beacon, a bold text box solidified: "CURRENT LOCATION: YOU ARE HERE, IDIOT."
Jagged red contours pulsed erratically across various zones, accompanied by small, ominous skull symbols, unequivocally denoting regions of high monster density and heightened danger. Bright yellow exclamation marks indicated points of interest. Directly ahead, approximately half a mile through a particularly dense thicket, a vibrant, shimmering blue icon glowed—unmistakably signifying a pristine water source: a narrow, winding stream flowing into a small, clearer pool.
Adjacent to the sparkling blue icon, another text box materialized: "DESTINATION: THIS IS WHERE YOU WISH TO PROCEED, MORON."
And at the very bottom of the display, a minute, almost derisive footnote appeared: "Your preferred cleansing station. Endeavor not to meet an untimely demise en route, you complete idiot. Seriously, don't fuck this up."
Seraphina's amethyst eyes, already ignited by the sheer indignity of her predicament, narrowed to dangerous slits as she absorbed the System's latest textual barrage. "Idiot. Moron. Complete idiot. Don't fuck this up." Each word felt like a series of minute, invisible blows to her psyche, delivered with smug, undeniable truth. For a solid, agonizing moment, she remained motionless, anger coiling in her gut, a hot, suffocating knot. Her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached, and a low, almost feral growl rumbled deep within her throat. She couldn't physically strike this insufferable entity, couldn't even scream at it without validating its assessment of her as an "imbecile."
"You arrogant, self-important prick," she seethed in her mind, a venomous thought she wished could somehow transmit back and incinerate its... its very essence. The urge to shatter the phantom display was almost unbearable.
But even through the white-hot fury, her pragmatism, buttressed by that surprisingly high intelligence stat, asserted itself. The map, despite its condescending labels, was undeniably precise. It offered her a path out of this immediate, life-threatening nakedness and grime. It presented a route to survival. The System was an infuriating bastard, but it was her infuriating bastard, and for now, its assistance was essential.
A cold, unyielding resolve hardened her expression. Fine. Let it brand her an idiot. She would survive this wretched place, she would get strong, and one day... one day, this "System" would answer to her. Every single insult would be repaid with interest, you fucker.
Without further hesitation, she forcibly suppressed the lingering rage, burying it deep, and pivoted. Her bare feet instinctively guided her towards the shimmering blue icon. She wouldn't merely strive to avoid death; she would live to dance on this thing's ethereal grave. And then some.
With the System's patronizing map still hovering at the periphery of her vision—a constant, galling reminder of her initial helplessness—Seraphina pressed onward. Each step was a grim exertion. The ground beneath her bare soles was a treacherous patchwork of slick mud, grasping roots, and hidden stones that bit sharply. Above, the ancient tree canopy was so dense it devoured the already meager moonlight, plunging the swamp-forest into an oppressive, inky blackness that seemed to press in from all sides.
The air hung thick and heavy, laden with the scent of damp earth, stagnant water, and the cloying sweetness of decay. Unseen movements rustled in the undergrowth, and distant, guttural cries reverberated through the miasma, echoing the ominous monster icons that dotted her map. Her exposed skin prickled with the night's chill and the ceaseless, unsettling sensation of profound vulnerability. The persistent ache between her legs, now a dull throb, served as a constant, defiling memory of her trauma, fueling her desperate need for the water source.
She moved deliberately, cautiously, her amethyst eyes straining against the gloom, guided solely by the faint, shimmering blue icon on the holographic map that pulsed just ahead. Every muscle screamed in protest, her head still throbbed, and the deep-seated disgust clung to her like a second skin, yet she persevered, one determined, arduous step after another. Dying here, now, was simply not an option.
Suddenly, a heavy, rhythmic thud-thud-thud vibrated through the swampy ground, growing louder with each beat. Seraphina froze, her eyes snapping to the pulsating red zone on her map, which had just expanded. A new, ominous skull icon flickered into existence. Her Agility, notably high even at Level 0, screamed a primal warning. Without conscious thought, she plunged abruptly off the barely discernible path, diving headfirst into a dense thicket of thorny, trailing vines and murky, ankle-deep water. Her naked body scraped against rough bark and sharp thorns, but she ignored the fresh pain, desperately pulling the thick, dripping foliage around her, making herself as small and still as humanly possible.
A low, guttural snort, thick with the scent of damp earth and something musky, preceded the creature's appearance. A colossal shadow, crowned with massive, curving horns, lumbered into view mere feet from her hiding place. It was a Minotaur, its brutish, bull-like head swaying heavily, thick muscles rippling under its shaggy hide as it stamped ponderous hooves into the mire. It paused, its massive nostrils flaring, sniffing the air with an almost disconcerting intelligence. Seraphina held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs—a frantic drumbeat against the monster's lumbering thuds. On pure, desperate instinct, she reached down, scooping handfuls of the cold, viscous mud, rapidly smearing it over her exposed skin, her hair, even her face, frantic to mask her scent. The overwhelming reek of the swamp was, thankfully, her best disguise.
The Minotaur snorted again, a deep, frustrated rumble, then, with a final, earth-shaking step, it lumbered onward, its heavy tread slowly fading into the oppressive darkness of the swamp-forest. Seraphina remained perfectly still, a statue sculpted of mud and terror, for many long minutes after the last echo of its passage died away.