My head throbbed like a drum beaten by invisible hands, each pulse sending sharp waves of pain through my skull. I clenched my fists against my temples, fingers digging into my scalp as I tried to make sense of the darkness swirling around me.
The air was thick, heavy with a bitter tang that clawed at my throat, making me cough—a deep, ragged sound that echoed strangely in the confined space. Smoke. It was smoke, curling like ghostly fingers, stinging my eyes and filling my lungs with fire.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the haze. The room came into focus slowly, painfully. Walls of cracked stone surrounded me, flickering with the orange glow of flames licking at the edges of wooden beams overhead. The heat pressed against my skin, a lover's breath turned suffocating, wrapping around my body in waves that made sweat bead on my forehead and trickle down my neck.
Then I saw them—the bodies. Small, broken forms scattered across the floor like discarded dolls. Children's bodies, their clothes torn and soaked in red, glistening pools that spread outward. Blood. The metallic scent mingled with the acrid smoke, turning my stomach into a knot of nausea.
One boy, no older than ten, lay closest to me, his face turned away, but I could see the gash across his back, raw and exposed, the skin pale against the crimson flow. Another girl, her tiny hand outstretched as if reaching for something lost, her hair matted with soot and worse.
My heart hammered in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the crackle of the fire devouring the room. What the hell was this? Where was I?
Another cough wracked my body, smoke invading deeper, burning my throat like swallowed embers. I couldn't stay here. Panic surged through me, hot and insistent, pushing me to my feet. My legs wobbled beneath me, unsteady as a fawn's, but I staggered forward, eyes locking on the window across the room. It was my only way out—a narrow pane of glass framed by splintered wood, the outside world a blurry tease through the grime.
As I reached out, my hand trembled, and that's when I noticed it. My arm. It was small, slender, the skin smooth and unscarred, like that of a boy just stepping into his teens.
Not my arm. Not the thick, calloused one I remembered from... before. A flash of memory hit me—my old life, ending in a blur of pain and light. Reincarnated? The word echoed in my mind, but there was no time to dwell. The flames hissed closer, heat kissing my cheeks like a cruel promise.
"Cough..Cough.. I better get out of this first"
My gaze darted to the floor near the wall, where chunks of debris had fallen from the crumbling structure. A brick, half-buried in ash and rubble, caught my eye. I scooped it up. Gripping it tight, I swung with all the strength my new, fragile body could muster.
The glass shattered with a satisfying crash, shards raining down like brittle rain, tinkling against the stone below. Cool air rushed in, a sweet rush of freshness that caressed my face, pulling me out of this mess.
I climbed through the jagged frame, glass nicking my skin in tiny pricks that stung. Ignoring the pain, I dropped to the ground outside, landing in a crouch on soft earth that yielded under my weight.
The night air enveloped me, a silken blanket cooler than the inferno I'd escaped, carrying scents of pine and damp soil that soothed my raw lungs. I sucked in deep breaths, each one a balm, as I pressed my back against the rough bark of a nearby tree.
That's when I heard them—footsteps, armored and deliberate, crunching through the underbrush. Voices, low and melodic, drifted on the breeze. I peeked around the tree, my heart still racing, and froze.
Elves. Tall, ethereal figures moved through the clearing, their bodies clad in gleaming armor that hugged their lithe forms like a second skin. Silver plates etched with swirling vines caught the moonlight, accentuating the graceful curve of shoulders and the powerful elegance. Their skin glowed pale, almost luminous, and pointed ears peeked from beneath helms adorned with feathers.
They were everywhere, patrolling with purpose, spears and swords at their sides glinting ominously.
I hid myself into the bush, thorns lightly scraping my arms, releasing a faint, herbal scent that masked my own smoky odor.
From my vantage, I watched. The elves were herding children—survivors, like the ones I'd left behind in the room? No, these were different, wide-eyed and trembling, being gathered into a loose group in the center of the clearing. The kids' faces were streaked with dirt and tears, their small hands clutching at each other.
The elves' expressions... disgust. It twisted their elegant features, lips curling as if the very sight soured their tongues. One general, his armor more ornate with golden inlays, spat on the ground near a sobbing boy, his voice a sharp hiss. "Filthy half-breeds. Keep them in line."
The children whimpered, huddling closer, and a pang twisted in my chest. I was one of them now, in this body. What kind of nightmare had I woken into?
Then, closer voices caught my ear—two figures standing apart from the main group, near a cluster of torches that bathed them in flickering light. The man was middle-aged for an elf, his face lined with authority, silver hair tied back in a warrior's braid. His armor was practical yet regal, plates molded to his broad chest. Beside him stood a woman—his sister, from the familiar tilt of her head. She wore a white robe that flowed like liquid moonlight, sensual in how it draped over her curves, the fabric modest yet hinting at the graceful swell of her hips and the gentle rise of her breasts. It clung just enough in the breeze to suggest the warmth beneath, elegant and untouchable.
"Have you found him yet, Lirael?" the man asked, his voice deep and resonant, like thunder rolling over distant hills. He scanned the gathered children with narrowed eyes.
She shook her head, her long auburn hair swaying like silk threads, catching the light in fiery highlights. "No, brother. Not a single boy with red eyes among them. They've all been checked."
A relieved sigh escaped him, his shoulders easing slightly. "Good. That means the prophesied boy hasn't awakened. But We still can't risk it—not with the shadows stirring."
Lirael nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of her robe's neckline absently, the motion drawing my eye to the smooth column of her throat. "What now, then? The council demands purity."
The man's face hardened, his gaze sweeping over the children like a judge's gavel. "Burn them all. Gather the remaining ones in front of the mass grave. Let the flames cleanse this blight from our lands. No survivors, Lirael. The prophecy must die with them."
Her eyes flickered with something—regret? But she inclined her head. "As you command, Elandor. I'll see it done."
The words hung in the air, heavy as the smoke still clinging to my clothes. Burn them? My blood ran cold, the night's chill seeping into my bones despite the distant heat from the burning building. The children cried out as elves prodded them forward, toward a yawning pit in the earth I'd only just noticed—dark and foreboding, like an open maw.
I shifted in the bush, heart pounding, when suddenly—a rumble. The ground trembled beneath me, and a section of the wall from the burning room exploded outward in a shower of debris. Bricks and flames erupted, the force knocking leaves from my hiding spot.
"AHHH...!!!"
Oh crap, I couldn't help it—a scream tore from my throat, raw and startled, echoing into the night.
Silence fell like a blade. Eyes turned. Elandor's head snapped toward me, his piercing gaze locking on the bush. "What was that?" he barked, striding forward with predatory grace.
I froze, breath caught in my chest, but it was too late. His hand parted the branches, revealing me curled there, small and exposed. His face twisted in surprise, then triumph. "Lirael! You missed one. Look—a boy there is hiding like a rat. Bring him out."
She approached swiftly, her robe whispering against the grass, the scent of jasmine wafting from her like an intoxicating veil. Her hand reached for me, cool fingers brushing my arm, sending an unwelcome shiver through my skin. "Come now, child," she murmured, her voice soft yet laced with steel. "No need to fear. It's all right, Ones-san here will take care of you."
Panic clawed at me, but before I could bolt, the world stopped. Everything froze—the elves mid-step, the children's sobs silenced, even the flickering torches stilled like painted flames. Time itself halted, the air thick and unmoving around me.
A glow materialized before my eyes, violet light shimmering like a veil of twilight mist. A panel hovered there, ethereal and insistent, words etching themselves into existence with a soft hum that vibrated against my eardrums.
Quest: Survive
Objective: Endure for 17:57 minutes.
Reward: Power beyond your years. Allies in the shadows.
Failure: Eternal death. No second chances.
The timer ticked down visibly—17:56 now—glowing numbers pulsing like a heartbeat. My mind reeled.
'A system? Like in those stories?' But this was real, the weight of it pressing on my chest heavier than any smoke. Survive. I had to run, hide, fight—whatever it took. The world was about to unfreeze, and with it, my nightmare.
Elandor's frozen snarl inches from my face mocked me. Lirael's hand still hovered, a graceful threat. The children waited for the pyre. And me? Nyxus, or whatever I was now—I'd claw my way through this hell. The timer's glow reflected in my eyes, red as the prophecy they feared. Maybe I was the boy. Maybe that was my edge.
As the world shuddered back to life, sounds crashing in like a wave, I twisted away from Lirael's grasp, the first seconds of my quest already burning away.