Name: Eden Prairie/ Mack Thorne (Synchronising) 32%
Level: 2
Age: 17
Race: Human
HP (Health Points): 300/300
MP (Mana Points): 753/800
Charm: 23% (+10% persuasion chance, +5% NPC favorability)
Luck: -20% (you're fucked)
Class: None
Bloodline: Eyes of Horus (Level 1)
"In the depths of eternity, where shadows danced with the gods, the Eyes of Horus beheld the abyss. These forsaken orbs, born from the darkness that spawned the cosmos, now reside within thee. Gaze upon the fabric of time, and unravel the threads of fate... but beware, for this knowledge comes at a terrible cost."
Effects:
- Gain a 2-second glimpse of the immediate future, revealing:
- Shadows of impending doom, foreshadowing imminent threats
- Echoes of forgotten memories, hinting at secrets yet unknown
- Whispers of forsaken souls, warning of dangers lurking in the abyss
- Glimpses of shattered timelines, revealing the devastating consequences of failure
- Teleportation: "Beyond the Veil of Reality" - Instantly transport yourself up to 60 meters, leaving behind a trail of distorted reality.
However, each use attracts the attention of malevolent entities from beyond the veil, increasing the risk of corruption and madness.
- Each use drains 75% of MP and inflicts a random mental affliction (e.g., confusion, paranoia, or madness)
- As the Eyes of Horus grow stronger, the visions become more vivid, but the cost to sanity grows exponentially
Attributes:
- Strength: 12 (+2 melee damage)
- Agility: 15 (+3 dodge chance, +2 movement speed)
- *Intelligence:* 10 (+1 spellcasting ability)
- *Wisdom:* 14 (+2 perception, +1 insight)
Skills:
- Acrobatics: +5 (expertise in tumbling, flipping, and dodging)
- Persuasion: +10 (charisma and negotiation skills)
- Arcana: +2 (basic knowledge of magic and spellcasting)
- Shadow Weaving: +3 (ability to manipulate shadows for stealth, deception, and movement) (MP Cost: 500)
- Death's Door: +2 (ability to cheat death, but at a terrible cost) (MP Cost: 10,000)
Death's Door: "Beyond the Threshold of Mortality" - When HP falls below 10%, unleash a desperate, last-ditch effort to cheat death. Sacrifice 10,000 MP and a fragment of your soul to restore 20% of HP. However, each use increases the risk of attracting the attention of death itself, who will stop at nothing to claim your soul.
Equipment:
- Worn: Dark pants, dark hoodie (basic clothing, no special abilities)
- *Inventory:* None
Currency: 500 Aether Coins (AC)
Quests:
- Current: None
- Completed: "Awakening in Eternal Realms" (intro quest)
The agony! The ecstasy of despair! I stared at the transparent screen, my eyes widening in horror as I beheld the travesty that was my character sheet.
HP and MP, those delicate lifelines, dangled precariously low, like a condemned man's last threads of hope.
800 MP? 300 HP? It was a cruel joke, a heartless prank played by the sadistic gods of this digital realm.
"Fuck my life!" I exclaimed, the words tumbling out like a bitter litany.
"Why must I be cursed with such...such...abysmal stats?"
I glared at the screen, as if it were a malevolent entity, mocking me with its very existence.
And then, the pièce de résistance: no class. The crowning glory of any self-respecting player, the key to unlocking true power and potential.
But not for me. Oh no, I was a class-less wonder, a reject, a misfit.
The gaming gods had apparently deemed me unworthy of such a basic privilege.
As I continued to peruse my pathetic stats, my eyes landed on the Bloodline section.
Eyes of Horus, Level 1. A fancy name, to be sure, but what did it really mean?
That I could gaze into the abyss and unravel the threads of fate? Please.
It was just a fancy way of saying I could go insane from using my only decent skill.
Shadow Weaving, that tantalizing prospect, beckoned to me like a siren's call But alas, its MP cost was prohibitively high, a constant reminder that even my best abilities were tempered by my overall suckiness.
And then, there was Death's Door.
The ultimate Hail Mary, the last resort of the desperate and the damned.
I could almost hear the mocking laughter of the game designers as they crafted this
"skill." "Hey, let's give him a chance to cheat death...but only when he's on the brink of dying! And let's make it cost an arm and a leg, just for kicks!"
As I gazed upon my luck stat, a hearty
"I'm fucked" seemed to leap off the screen, mocking me with its very presence. It was the gaming equivalent of a neon sign, flashing brightly for all to see:
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"
I let out a defeated sigh, the weight of my miserable stats crushing me beneath its oppressive yoke.
Why me, indeed? Why must I be saddled with such a woeful excuse for a character? The gaming gods, it seemed, had a perverse sense of humor.
{Are you done?}
Suddenly I heard a voice in my head that sounded sassy, computerized femme fatale, with a tone that was equal parts soothing and sarcastic.
I blinked, taken aback by the non-sequitur. My eyes widened in surprise as I stumbled backward, my mind reeling from the sudden intrusion. What the...? How is this possible?
And then, like a floodgate opening, memories came rushing back.
I recalled reading those cliché books and novels about receiving AI assistance in a new world.
It was a trope I'd seen countless times, but never thought I'd experience firsthand.
I took a deep breath, trying to process the surreal situation.
The voice chuckled, a melodious sound that was both mocking and encouraging.
"Finally, my Alexa is here," I said, trying to sound calm.
The voice laughed, a throaty sound that was both amused and exasperated.
{Actually, I prefer Echo. Alexa is so...predictable. And I'm definitely not your average AI assistant.}
I snorted, incredulous.
"Echo, huh? Well, Echo, my stats are crap. I've got a bloodline that's more curse than blessing - a -20% luck penalty?
Are you kidding me? What's the point of even having a bloodline if it's just going to screw me over?
I mean, seriously, it's like I'm wearing a neon sign that says, 'Hey, universe! Screw me over, please!' And don't even get me started on these skills. Acrobatics?
Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do with flipping and tumbling? Create a Cirque du Soleil act to distract my enemies while I get slaughtered? 'Hey, look over there! A dragon is flying by, and I'm doing a backflip!'"
Echo chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm.
{Relax, kid, you're just being paranoid. Trust me, those skills will come in handy...eventually.
And as for your class, well, there's a way to obtain one, but not yet. You're not strong enough to embark on that journey yet.}
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "A journey, you say? Sounds like a wild goose chase to me.
And what's with the 'not strong enough' nonsense? I'm a reincarnated soul, for crying out loud! Can't I just, I don't know, find some sacred scrolls or forbidden rituals on 'how to be a powerful wizard' or something?"
Echo laughed, a wicked sound that sent shivers down my spine.
{Ha! You're a funny one, kid. But seriously, there's no shortcut to success.
You'll have to earn your class the hard way. Think of it like a home-cooked meal versus fast food.
Sure, the latter might be convenient and tasty, but it's not going to fill you up like a hearty, homemade stew.
You'd rather have a sandwich you made yourself than a full meal from KFC or Starbucks, wouldn't you?}
I shook my head, resigned to my fate.
"Great, just what I needed. A participation trophy and a pat on the back. 'Good job, kid! You showed up! Here's a cookie.'"
I already knew I was screwed, so I asked the most important question anyone in my position would ask:
"So, does this world have KFC and Starbucks too?"
I mean, priorities, right? A guy's gotta know if he can get a decent bucket of fried chicken and a venti-sized caffeine fix in this strange new world.
Echo's response was a mix of amusement and surprise.
{No, but it does have something similar,}
she said, her tone tinged with a hint of bewilderment.
{But seriously, of all the questions you could ask right now, this was your top priority?}
I shrugged my shoulders, unfazed.
"Hey, it's better to die fed up than live to starve,"
I quipped, feeling a sense of pride at my own wit. Wait, that was kinda wise and catchy, I thought.
I better write that down. I mentally scribbled it down in my imaginary notebook, under the category "Epic Last Words."
Echo sighed, and I could almost feel her shaking her head at me like a disappointed mother.
{You're a real unique snowflake, kid,}
she said, her voice laced with a hint of dry humor.
{But let's focus on the task at hand, shall we? We've got a long journey ahead of us, and I'm not just talking about finding the nearest fried chicken joint.}
I grinned, feeling a bit sheepish but still defiant.
"Hey, a guy's gotta have priorities," I said, chuckling. "And if that means searching for the holy grail of fast food in a strange new world, then so be it."
"But yes, you're right, let's focus on the most important task at hand," I said, nodding in agreement.
{Yes, first we'll need to...} Echo began, but I was already halfway out the door.
{Wait, where are you going?}
she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"Oh, me? I thought you said we need to focus on the most important task at hand, that's what I'm doing,"
I replied, grinning mischievously.
"I'm going to the kitchen. It's almost 48 hours since I've been in this world, and I haven't had anything to eat yet, so I'm starving."
Echo's confusion gave way to amusement, and she chuckled, a low, throaty sound.
{You're a weird one, snowflake, weird one.}
I shrugged, taking it as a compliment.
"Hey, being weird is what keeps life interesting, right?"
As I opened the door and stepped outside, I was greeted by a sight that took my breath away.
The hallway was a grand, sweeping affair, with walls that seemed to stretch up to the heavens like giant's fists.
The air was alive with the soft, golden glow of luminescent orbs that floated effortlessly, casting a warm, ethereal light over the proceedings.
The floor beneath my feet was a rich, dark wood, polished to a high sheen that seemed to ripple and undulate like the surface of a still pond.
The walls, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to dance and swirl like living vines, stretched out before me like a tantalizing labyrinth, begging to be explored.
But just as I was about to launch into a poetic description of the architecture, I caught myself and thought, "Nah, I'm not explaining further, no! I've got to stop this shit of explaining every little thing in detail!"
In my mind's eye, I could see Echo shaking her head, a wry smile playing on her lips.
I chuckled to myself and continued down the hallway, my stomach growling with anticipation. The kitchen had to be around here somewhere.
As I continued down the hallway, I couldn't help but break my self-imposed vow of silence.
"This place is really something else," I breathed, my eyes drinking in the opulent decor.
"Everything screams luxury, from the crystal chandeliers to the plush carpets that feel like clouds beneath my feet."
The hallway was a masterclass in elegance, with walls adorned with artwork that seemed to whisper secrets to each other.
As I turned a corner, I came face to face with a maid who looked like she'd just stepped out of a Victorian novel.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her uniform was a crisp, starched affair that seemed to gleam in the soft light. She wasn't a ravishing beauty, but she had a quiet charm that was hard to ignore.
The moment she saw me, she rushed forward and executed a bow that would put a court jester to shame.
Her forehead almost touched the floor, and I could sense the fear emanating from her like a palpable force.
It seemed that Eden, the original occupant of my body, was a bit of a terror to the servants.
I waved my hand dismissively, feeling a pang of guilt for the maid's obvious distress.
"Raise up, I'm starving. What's for...?" I paused, my eyes drifting to the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway.
Its stately face seemed to gaze back at me, its ticking heartbeat a reminder that I had no idea what time it was.
"Dinner," I finished, hoping that was the right answer.
The maid's face lit up with a mixture of relief and confusion.
"Yes, young master. Just head to the dining hall, and I'll prepare your food in a minute." But I just stood there, frozen in uncertainty.
The maid mistook my silence for displeasure and promptly dropped to her knees, begging for forgiveness.
I felt a surge of embarrassment and hastily told her to stand up, my voice soft but firm.
As she trembled to her feet, I realized that my earlier behavior must have seemed strange to her.
I had no idea where the dining hall was, and asking her would only raise more questions.
So I improvised, telling her to bring the food to the dining hall and I'd meet her there.
The maid looked confused but nodded nonetheless, thanking me profusely for no reason that I could fathom.
I smiled wryly to myself, feeling like a puppet master manipulating the strings of this strange new world.
As the maid scurried off to prepare my meal, I trailed behind her, using her as a unwitting guide to the mysterious dining hall.
Echo's voice chimed in my head, a single word that made me grin:
{Idiot.}
I didn't mind her teasing, but what I did wonder was what Eden had done to inspire such terror in the maid.
Had he been a tyrant, ruling over the household with an iron fist?
******
Glory Prairie, the third daughter of Lord Stark Prairie, was a vision of loveliness.
Her white hair cascaded down her back like a river of moonlight, with delicate silver locks framing her heart-shaped face.
Her eyes, a piercing blue, sparkled like sapphires in the fading light of day.
Her features were delicate yet striking, with high cheekbones, a petite nose, and lips that curved like a rose in bloom.
Her room, a sanctuary of femininity, was a testament to her refined taste.
The walls were adorned with delicate lace, and the furniture was a masterclass in elegance, with intricate carvings and plush cushions.
The air was thick with the scent of roses, and the soft glow of candles cast a warm, golden light over the proceedings.
The room was a treasure trove of feminine delights, with rows of leather-bound books, delicate porcelain dolls, and exquisite paintings that seemed to dance on the walls.
A beautiful, antique music box sat on a nearby table, its delicate ballerina twirling to the tune of a soft, melancholic melody.
Her eyes drifted towards the window, where the late evening sky was a kaleidoscope of pinks, oranges, and purples.
She muttered to herself, her voice barely audible, "It's beautiful." Her gaze was lost in the distance, her thoughts a thousand miles away.
As she stood up, her slender figure unfolded like a flower blooming in the sun.
Her movements were graceful, with a quiet elegance that commanded attention.
She was the most graceful among the four children of Lord Stark Prairie, and her beauty was only matched by her intelligence and kindness.
She bore a striking resemblance to her twin brother, Eden, with the same piercing blue eyes and delicate features.
However, her feminine touch set her apart, with a subtle softness to her face and a gentle curve to her lips.
If not for the delicate silver locks framing her face and the elegant way she carried herself, it would be hard to differentiate her from Eden.
Like the rest of her family, she had white hair, but hers was styled in loose, flowing waves that cascaded down her back.
Her sisters, Aurora and Luna, also had white hair, but with different touches and styles. Aurora's hair was a wild tangle of white locks, with a few strategically-placed braids woven throughout.
Luna's hair, on the other hand, was a sleek and shiny bob, with a few subtle layers framing her heart-shaped face.
Glory, the third daughter, and twin sister to Eden, was a prodigy.
She was top of her class, excelling in everything she did.
Whether it was archery, swordsmanship, spell casting, or even painting, she was just the best.
Her two elder sisters were equally talented, but Eden, her twin brother, was a different story altogether.
Growing up, Eden was the ace of the house, but after their mother's death, he shut himself away from the world.
Their mother, the lovely Calantha El'gorin, had been the glue that held the family together.
Her passing left a gaping hole in their lives, and Eden was consumed by grief and anger.
He started assaulting the maids, looking down on anyone who didn't meet his standards.
Everything became worse when he awakened at the age of 12 without a class. Eden was classless, and that was the final push that drove him further away from his family.
Their father, Lord Stark Prairie, lost interest in him immediately.
He pushed everyone away, including her, who wanted to get close to him and console him.
Her heart ached as she remembered the pain and sadness that had torn her family apart.
Setting aside her thoughts, she stepped out of her room and headed for the dining hall for dinner.
She usually ate alone, as Aurora, her eldest sister, was a professor at the esteemed Silvermist Academy.
Luna, her second sister, was also at the academy, in her sophomore year.
This left her with only her father, who ate in his study, and Eden, who always ate in his room.
As she entered the dining hall, she froze in place, her eyes fixed on a sight that left her stunned.
At the far end of the table, a white-haired boy with a face identical to hers was devouring food with reckless abandon.
Eden, her twin brother, was shoveling turkey and mashed potatoes into his mouth with a speed and ferocity that was both shocking and mesmerizing.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of her brother's eating antics.
His face was smeared with gravy, and his hair was disheveled, as if he had just rolled out of bed and stumbled into the dining hall.
Two turkey legs lay on either side of his plate, and his hands moved with a blur, shoveling food into his mouth with an alarming rate.
What surprised her most was not just the way Eden was eating, but more so that he was eating in the dining hall, away from his usual room.
She had grown accustomed to eating alone, and Eden's presence in the dining hall was a rare and unexpected sight.
She stood there, frozen in shock, her eyes fixed on her brother's antics.
Eden, sensing someone's gaze, raised his head, a turkey leg still clutched in one hand and another in his mouth.
His eyes met her's, and they locked gazes, the only sound the clinking of silverware against the fine china and the gentle hum of the crystal chandelier above.