The war had dragged on for so long that it felt like the world itself was unraveling at the seams. East versus West, a brutal stalemate of gunfire and grief that left scars on every soul it touched. I was Nora Mile, just another shadow in the chaos—a lone sniper with a steady hand and a heart hardened by too many losses. That day, I was crouched on a windswept mountain ridge, the cold biting through my worn fatigues as I peered through my scope. Down in the valley, the enemy general moved like a ghost from another era, his sharp commands echoing faintly up the slopes. He was the architect of this endless nightmare, the one whose strategies had buried friends I'd never forget. My finger hovered on the trigger, breath steady despite the pounding in my chest. One shot. Clean. He fell without a sound, crumpling into the dirt like a discarded puppet. No time for regret—I slung my rifle over my shoulder and scrambled down the jagged path, my boots slipping on loose rocks as I vanished into the dense forest below.
The woods were a labyrinth of twisted branches and fallen leaves, the kind of place where secrets hid in every shadow. My lungs burned from the run, but I pushed on, driven by the instinct to survive. Then, something unnatural pierced the gloom—a soft, ethereal glow filtering through the trees. Curiosity overrode caution; I parted the underbrush and stepped into a hidden glade. There, by a still pond that mirrored the fading sky, stood... something impossible. A unicorn? Its coat was a pristine white, mane cascading like silver threads, and a spiraled horn that caught the light like a prism. It wasn't some fairy-tale illusion; it felt real, alive, watching me with eyes that held an intelligence far beyond any animal I'd known. My rifle slipped from my grasp, clattering to the ground. The creature tilted its head, and I swear it smiled—a subtle, knowing curve that sent a shiver down my spine. It uttered sounds, almost words, in a tongue that teased at the edges of understanding.
Before I could retreat, a pulse of white light erupted from its horn, striking me in the throat like a bolt of frozen fire. My vision blurred, the world tilting as the unicorn shimmered and dissolved into motes of dust, carried away on an unseen breeze. Gasping, I clutched at my neck, but then a translucent panel flickered into existence before my eyes, hovering like a hallucination. It read: *Say the word: "Derive."* My mind raced—was this some enemy tech, a gas-induced delusion from the war? Trembling, I whispered it anyway. "Derive." The air hummed, and the unicorn reformed, solid and majestic, bowing its head as if in deference. A surge of intuition hit me. "Transform," I said, half-testing. In a swirl of light, it shifted into a rugged dirt bike, engine idling with an unnatural smoothness.
I hesitated, then mounted it, grabbing my rifle as I revved the throttle. The bike handled like it anticipated my every move, tearing through the forest with eerie precision. But as branches whipped past, another panel appeared: *A quest has appeared. Go to the military graveyard and say the word "Derive," or you will turn into dust.* My stomach knotted. Quest? Dust? This wasn't just survival anymore; it was a riddle wrapped in madness. I gunned it toward the old graveyard, a forsaken plot I'd passed before—rows of weathered markers and rusted hulks of tanks, where the war's forgotten dead lay silent.
Arriving under the gathering dusk, the ground felt alive, vibrating faintly. I dismounted and spoke the word: "Derive." The earth groaned, splitting open as figures emerged—thousands of them. Not specters or horrors, but men and women in tactical gear, rifles at the ready, faces etched with the weariness of battle-hardened soldiers. They stood at attention, eyes locked on me with unwavering focus. Another panel materialized: *This system is created to make you the Queen of the Underworld. You must conquer the world. Follow the system's commands or turn into dust. The beings you have awakened will become beasts, annihilating everything. Your powers peak during the full moon. The unicorn's name is Raze—your right hand, capable of transforming and creating anything. The army you have summoned resides in your pocket dimension above the black fog, where you command them. The army can be summoned at any time and made visible to humans, though they will have no free will and will act normal in front of others. You must obey the system's orders. Do not use Raze as a mode of transportation.*
The bike shimmered again, reforming into a man—tall, with porcelain skin and hair like moonlight. His eyes met mine, soft yet probing, as if he could see the storm of questions in my soul. "Your order, my Queen," he murmured, his voice a gentle timbre that echoed with hidden depths. I backed away, mind reeling. Who—or what—was he? And this "System"... was it a curse, a weapon, or something older, lurking in the fringes of reality? The war had always been about territory and power, but this felt like stepping into a mystery that could unravel everything I thought I knew.
### Chapter Two: The Rise of the Queen of Ashes
The graveyard air grew thick with unspoken secrets, the moon climbing higher like a watchful eye. I stood there, Nora Mile—no longer just a sniper, but apparently the unwilling heir to some shadowy throne. The soldiers arrayed before me weren't mindless drones; I could see the flickers of humanity in their stances—the subtle shifts of weight, the way their grips tightened on their weapons as if remembering old battles. Raze, now in human form, regarded me with a patience that bordered on empathy, his presence both comforting and unnerving.
"Queen Nora," he said softly, the title feeling like a chain around my neck. "The First Legion is yours. But questions burn in you—I can see it."
I laughed bitterly, rubbing my arms against the chill. "Questions? This is insanity. One minute I'm taking out a target, the next I'm... what? Summoning armies from the grave? Who are you, really? And this System— is it some kind of AI gone rogue, or a myth come to life?"
Before he could answer, the voice intruded again, cold and insistent in my mind: *You are chosen. Doubt invites oblivion.* It pulsed like a headache, forcing me to wince. *I am the System, the weaver of fates long forgotten. Embrace your role, or fade into the void.*
Raze's expression softened, a hint of sorrow in his ancient eyes. "It's not a machine, Nora. Not entirely. It's... older. A force that balances the scales when worlds tip too far into chaos. Fighting it is like screaming at the tide—it only pulls you under deeper."
I paced, kicking at a loose stone. "I didn't choose this. I've lost enough in this war—friends, purpose. Now I'm supposed to conquer the world? For what?"
He stepped closer, his voice a whisper carried on the wind. "Purpose finds us in the darkest places. You've always been a survivor, Nora. This is survival on a grander scale."
A rustle drew my gaze—one of the soldiers approached, his face lined with the ghosts of past lives, rifle slung low. He knelt, voice rough from disuse. "My Queen of Ashes, we rise to serve. The forgotten ones, bound to your will."
"Ashes?" I echoed, the word tasting like dust on my tongue.
Raze nodded. "The remnants of what was. You bridge the living and the lost, commanding from the shadows."
The moon's glow intensified, and I felt it—a subtle pull, like threads connecting me to each soldier. Their thoughts brushed mine faintly: echoes of loyalty, fragments of memories from wars long past. It was intoxicating, this power, but laced with dread. What secrets did they hold? And why me?
*Command them,* the System urged, its tone almost eager. *Unveil your strength.*
Hesitant, I pointed to a cluster of soldiers. "Form up—scout the perimeter." They moved as one, silent and efficient, vanishing into the treeline like phantoms. No hesitation, but I wondered: were they truly willing, or puppets in this enigmatic game?
"If I refuse?" I asked Raze, my voice cracking with vulnerability.
His gaze darkened. "You dissolve, scattered to the winds. And they... twist into something feral, unleashing havoc unchecked."
The weight settled heavy on my chest. No escape, only deeper into the enigma. Then, a new panel gleamed: *First Quest Initiated: Subdue the Fallen Citadel of Ironvale. Pierce its veils of secrecy to claim your throne.*
Ironvale—the Eastern stronghold, rumored to hide more than just weapons: whispers of forbidden experiments, lost artifacts. "How?" I muttered, fear mingling with a spark of intrigue.
Raze extended a hand, his smile faint and enigmatic. "With cunning, my Queen. I am your key to forms unseen, and they your blade in the dark. But beware—the path reveals truths that may shatter you."
The night whispered secrets through the graves, pulling me into a web of mystery where every step uncovered more questions. The war was merely the surface; beneath lay a tale of shadows, waiting to be unraveled.