Chapter 4 - The First Exploit: Judgement Frame Skip! (EDITED)

The guard's body twitched and convulsed, the broken metal still lodged deep in his throat as blood bubbled from the wound. Mochi tilted her head, observing the dying man with clinical detachment. The red edges of her vision pulsed like living roots, each throb sending tremors through her mind.

Or was that her own heartbeat? She couldn't be sure. Her smile faded, replaced by a morbid fascination with her prey's final moments.

"Must hurt like hell, huh?" Her grip tightened on the dagger as the guard's chest heaved, each wet gasp bringing him closer to oblivion. She found herself oddly impressed by this random NPC's will to live.

"Gotta admit," Mochi chuckled, twisting the blade to elicit another choked groan, "I never thought vanilla skills could be so... well, who am I kidding? I always knew the game's limitations were bullshit."

 - once limited to walls and terrain - now crushed windpipes and tripped enemies.

 - formerly ground-targeted - now blinded foes when smashed in their faces.

 - with its built-in safety protocols - now turned enemy spells against them.

"I always wanted to switch-teleport someone mid-fall," she mused, noticing the dagger had loosened. With a quick shove, she buried it deeper, smiling at the wet gurgle that followed. "Hearing them scream on impact would've been hilarious."

She examined her bloody handiwork. "And this? This little knife?" She tapped the 's hilt. "Meant for carving secret codes, now carving flesh. The devs promised freedom - guess they never specified what kind."

The guard's struggles weakened, his body slumping to the carpet in final surrender. His glassy eyes reflected only Mochi's indifferent stare before the moonlight claimed them both.

Mochi blinked at the notifications. "Souls are... actual souls?" The red tendrils receded from her vision, her pulse slowing to an unnatural calm. She stared at her blood-slicked hands, waiting for remorse that never came.

Perhaps the  state suppressed her emotions. Or maybe, in some deep corner of her mind, this still felt like manipulating pixels rather than taking a life. She almost voiced the question aloud - why didn't she feel anything? - but swallowed it down. Some truths were too dangerous to examine.

Metal boots clanged in the distance. Reinforcements. Mochi's hesitation evaporated under the weight of efficiency.

No time for existential crises. 

She moved with speedrunner precision—flinging open the window, gauging the three-story drop. Behind her, the door burst open with a thunderous crash.

Mochi jumped.

Wind screamed past her ears as the ground rushed up to meet her. At the last possible moment—

"."

For exactly 0.33 seconds, the world froze.

This was the "Judgement Frame"—that precious window where the game's clumsy code hesitated between two functions: 

1) Softening her landing 

2) Initiating a takedown 

In that brief limbo, the system discarded "inconsequential" variables. 

Like gravity. 

Her nose brushed the grass before momentum vanished. She landed in a crouch, impact dissipated across her frame-perfect form. 

"...hah...hahahahaha!" The laugh burst from her lips unbidden. After all these years, her signature exploit still worked. The "Judgement Frame Skip"—her most famous discovery—had just saved her life. 

The guards' shouts from above fueled her manic grin as she sprinted into the night. For the first time in years, Mochi felt truly alive.