'Happy birthday, Sora," came a soft and gentle voice, echoing like a lullaby whispered into the void—a phantom sound floating through the dark abyss of Sora's weary mind.
The lady, who had been unconscious, slowly stirred from the black embrace of slumber. Her heavy eyelids struggled before fluttering open to meet the sight of an unfamilair ceiling—vaulted and noble in its bearing that resembled that of a grand home interior. The architecture was a marvelous and masterful harmony of polished wooden beams interlocked with precisely laid stone walls, their craftsmanship suggesting a meticulous hand had forged this union between earth and timber.
She lay upon a bed that felt lke it had been brought from clouds and velvet—a luxurious piece adorned in soft, opulent sheets. A loose, white gown cloaked her bare form, resting lightly on her skin and allowing her lungs the freedom to breathe in air. Yet, her vision remained misted, hazy with disorientation, her mind reaching out for clarity like a a drowning soul gasping for air.
'What is this place?' she muttered in her thoughts.
Then came the peculiar sound—the bubbling hiss of liquid boiling—rising from somewhere close by. A strange harmony of notes soon joined it: soft, rhythmic humming that echoed through the vast emptiness of the room like a lullaby sung to ghosts.
Where could that sound be coming from?
Gritting her teeth, Sora tilted her head toward the sound, her neck flaring in agony as though her very muscles were protesting her awakening. And then, in the corner of her blurred gaze, she caught sight of a strange, striking silhouette—a feminine figure of elegant stature, her pale white hair coiled into curls that crowned her head like an ethereal halo.
The woman was cloaked in sleeves the color of forest emeralds, draping like leafy wings in motion. The flowing material parted strategically, revealing warm chocolate-brown skin along her waist, hips, and thighs. A belt—sturdy and decorated—sat snug at her waist, adorned with twin vials of shimmering purple liquid, glowing faintly like captured starlight. These vials clinked gently as she worked, her attention focused on a wooden table brimming with more potion bottles, some resting above small flames, boiling and burbling with arcane life.
It was the sound of her brewing that Sora had heard—and the humming, too, seemed to originate from this woman. But who was she?
Sora did not know her. She had never seen such a person before.
As Sora's curiosity took hold, she strained to lift her gaze, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman's face. And what she saw filled her with unease.
Nestled beside the stranger's temples were two elegantly pointed ears—undeniably elven in nature. They were adorned with delicate earrings and thin, jeweled chains that glistened like spider silk touched by morning dew. Sunlight poured through the glass windows, casting golden beams across the room, and the glinting jewelry refracted the light until it stung Sora's eyes.
She winced, turning her face and shielding it with her arm, but not before she saw the stranger's ears twitch—subtle yet telling—as though they had heard a whisper from another realm.
And then the woman turned.
Her face was revealed—a vision of haunting beauty, one that balanced elegance with something far more mysterious. There was something unsettling in her aura, as though she had been shaped not just by nature, but by dreams and shadows, forest sorcery and a little touch of sweet, forgotten nightmares.
Now fully visible, her attire was clearly a blend of form and seduction. The leafy green ensemble clung gracefully to her frame—voluptuous and childlike at once—its design both functional and revealing. Flowing sleeves balanced the low cut of her top, which exposed her cleavage and left her toned midriff bare to the eye.
Yet it was not her captivating appearance which could draw the attention of merchants, that caught Sora's attention—it was her eyes.
They were unnatural. Unblinking. Glowing violet orbs that stared with serene shock as it locked onto Sora's gaze with the weight of ancient knowledge and unknown intent.
A gentle smile curled across her lips, followed by a quiet, satisfied laugh. "Unbelievable," she said, her voice both alluring and strange, like a breeze over haunted waters. "I cannot believe it, but it actually worked. The Scourge's heart worked just as I anticipated."
Sora's body remained frozen, but her mind screamed. The strange woman's voice, her features, her eyes—everything about her stirred memories of her mother's old tales. Tales of dark elves.
They were known to be beautiful, but catastrophic—treacherous creatures who, despite their alluring and graceful structures, harbored malicious intent. They were ruthless, known to be masters of precision and swift destruction. They were never merciful.
But those tales descibed them with skin as dark as obsiadian, with deep hues of indigo. This woman or child, however, bore skin like creamy chocolate—smooth and glowing with life to resemble the copy of human.
Why does she not match the tales?
Confusion battled instinct in Sora's mind. But instinct was victorious.
Before the elven woman could respond to Sora's subtle shifts and twitching of her fingers, Sora moved. Her body launching forward in a blinding flash of speed—likely more faser than any dark elf she had read of
"Inventory," she commanded in her thoughts.
From the depths of her system tab, she summoned a blade—one of many. And with deadly grace, she pounced upon the woman.
The elf waved her hands, a peacefl gesture to show that she meant no harm and she wanted to make Sora understand. But it was too late. Sora was alredy there, pressing her down against the hard wooden floor with an unrelenting force.
"What… what in the tarnation do you think you're doing?" the elf cried out, bewildered, her pale violet eyes flickering with concern.
But Sora's mind was not swayed by confusion or beauty. Her heart burned with survival and rage. "Keep your venomous tongue still, you wretched spawn of darkness," she spat, raising her blade high.
She brought it down.
But the stranger was quick—quick enough to dodge. The blade's tip struck the wooden floor instead, splintering it with a violent crack.
Sensing the fatal intent in Sora's movements, the elf raised her hand. A bright light bloomed from her open palm, radiating directly into Sora's face. It was a blinding flash meant to disorient her. And though Sora's advanced system granted her increased resistance, the light still slowed her just enough.
A swift kick—barefoot—struck Sora's jaw.
The elf dashed for the door, but Sora caught her by the ankle. She yanked her back across the floor as though reeling in a fish on a hook.
"Unhand me!" the elf cried, her body writhing in a helpless, desperate struggle. She squirmed like a slug tossed into a pool of salt, trembling under death's gaze.
But Sora did not let go. Her grip was unyielding.
A vicious grin twisted her face as she raised her weapon again, poised to strike and end this once and for all.
And then—she stopped.
Her strength faltered. Her limbs grew weak. Her vision dimmed, and her thoughts unraveled.
Before she could comprehend what was happening… her body collapsed.
The elf gasped in relief, struggling to regain her breath as the threat faded, at least for the moment.
---
Sora lay motionless in the depths, her chest still, no breath escaping her lips as her bones had dried up and all the blood had been absorbed from her. But deep within her mind, the veil of memory began to lift, like the dawn parting night. Flashes returned—her battle with the Scourge, of he chaos within.
She had been trapped within the Scourge's stomach, waist-deep in venomous fluid, forging a weapon of pure defiance—massive silver blades veined with golden light. Chaos incarnate. Two chains adorned their hilts, enhancing both movement and momentum.
Nearby, Merric had stood, blade raised, ready to defend against a fatal strike. He knew escape was futile, but he braced himself to deflect.
The Scourge's head reared back—then froze. The swirling purple sphere of destruction vanished mid-formation. The beast screamed as if pierced by agony.
'What seems to be happening?' Merric wondered, his stance relaxing as he watched the strange halt in the creature's rage.
Deep inside the monster's bowel, Sora had become a whirlwind of fury, her chaos blades slciing through flesh with impossible speed. Venom poured, but she no longer feared it. Her mind blazed with images of the Creator and the gial she had sworn to reach—to rid the world of the calamity.
'I have to keep on fighting. I cannot lose. I have to keep pushing forward'
The Scourge reacted, its defenses activating, drowning her in a rising tide of liquid.
But she refused to fall.
From beneath the flood, two monstrous yellow eyes ignited.
Sora rose—
Exploding from the creature's gut, she tore free of its prison. Merric could hardly believe what he saw—Sora was alive, and she was different from how he had seen her before.
She was radiant, graceful and transcendant.
Even unclothed, there was majesty in her every motion.
Glowing like a celestial flame, she hovered in the air before launching toward the Scourge once more. The beast, wounded but defiant, rose to meet her in kind. Its movements had changed—smarter, deadlier.
With fierce determination, Sora hurled herself into its jaws, only to burst through the top of its skull in a brilliant explosion of light and steel.
Merric watched from below, awestruck.
She was more than a hexblade warrior—she was more of a storm.
With mastered precision, her blades danced across its body, cleaving scales and shattering the defenses. At last, she reached its heart—still pulsing with corruption.
With a final battle cry, she plunged her hand into the beast.
Two system tabs emerged in response:
[Double Skill Activated: Minotaurus / Metal Giant]
◈9/10 Uses◈
With a devastating pull, she ripped off the heart from the beast's core before landing gracefully, unharmed, just as the Scourge began to covulse.
A moment later, it erupted—purple blood streaming from every wound she had carved, until it exploded in a blinding, violet blaze. The battlefield shook, and the two knights nearby ducked for cover as the infernal creature met its end at last.
Once the terrible storm had cleared, leaving everything scorched, Merric erupted from a pile of rocks that had been reduced to glass from the heat of the explosion. He winced as he struggled, trying to get away from the hot objects.
Having escaped from the glass trap, he was greeted with a valley completely erased from existence by the explosion, leaving only devastation in its wake. He sighed in utter bewildrment.
In that instant, the sound of footsteps emerged, trudging through the ashes. Merric turned swiflty to face this adversary, but his gaze softened as he caught Sora who stood still after he had caught a glimpse of her.
Unclothed, hairless and on her right hand was something—a lump of flesh, the Scourge's heart.
"We... did it," Sora chuckled, her expression filled with an unspoken trauma.
Suddenely she began to feel her body grow weak and in that instant, she fell. Merric had rushed in just in time, catching her before she fell and with the cloak in his posession, he draped it over Sora's body.