The last thing Elara Vayne remembered was the cold bite of steel sliding between her ribs. Kael Arcturus, her ex-boyfriend and the self-righteous Hero of Aetheris: Age of Ascension, had driven his sword into her chest with the same practiced efficiency he'd used to break her heart. Again. This time, though, they weren't in a pixelated boss arena or a Walmart parking lot. They were here—wherever here was—a void of shifting neon grids and a disembodied voice that sounded like Siri had inhaled helium.
"Welcome, Player Elara Vayne!" chirped the voice. "Congratulations on your transmigration to the MMORPG Aetheris: Age of Ascension. Role assigned: Minor Villainess #3. Primary Objective: Follow your scripted fate. Secondary Objective: …Why bother? You die in Chapter 12!"
Elara stared at the glowing text floating in front of her. Transmigration. Of course. She'd binged enough web novels to know the drill: die tragically, get reborn as a doomed side character, and spend 300 chapters clawing your way out of the plot's garbage disposal. But Villainess #3? The snobbish noble sorceress who mocked the Heroine at a gala, lost her magic, and got devoured by void wolves? No. She'd played this game for three years. She knew how this story ended.
"Override protocol," she snapped. "I'm not dying for your bad writing."
The system stuttered. "Error! Compliance is advised. Rewards include: Not being erased."
Her stats flickered into view:
Name: Elara Vayne
Class: Shadowweaver Sorceress
Fate Meter: 99% Villainy | 1% Redemption (Error?)
Current Quest: Humiliate Lysandra Dawnsinger at the Celestial Gala.
Elara scoffed. In the game, this quest always backfired. The Heroine would rally the crowd, Villainess #3 would panic and overreach, and the void wolves would get a five-star meal. But Elara wasn't code. She was stubborn.
"Try harder," she said, and the void dissolved.
She materialized in a ballroom suspended among clouds, her body now clad in a gown of liquid shadow that hissed like a living thing. The air smelled of ozone and arrogance. Across the room, the Heroine—Lysandra Dawnsinger—stood in a ruffled chartreuse dress, her golden braids trembling as nobles sneered.
"Quest Update," droned the system. "Mock Lysandra's 'commoner' dress. Reward: +10 Dark Charisma. Penalty for refusal: -50 HP."
Elara's shadowweaver magic prickled under her skin, hungry to lash out. But Lysandra wasn't pixels anymore. She was real—a girl biting her lip, her knuckles white around a champagne flute. This is why you died eleven times, Elara reminded herself. Because you followed the script.
She strode forward. The crowd parted like she carried the plague. Lysandra froze.
"Lady Dawnsinger," Elara purred, loud enough to silence the orchestra. "That gown is… bold. Did you raid a goblin's closet?"
The nobles tittered. Lysandra's cheeks burned.
Elara plucked a loose thread from the Heroine's sleeve. "But this sash?" She smirked. "It's tragic. Let me fix it."
"Error!" shrilled the system. "Action not found in script!"
Elara snapped her fingers. Shadows coiled from her fingertips, stitching the frayed sash into a sleek black ribbon. The crowd gasped. Lysandra stared, her eyes wide.
"Defiance rewarded!" blared the system, text flashing red. "New skill unlocked: Defiant Threads (Manipulate shadows to alter clothing. +5% Redemption.) Fate Meter: 99% Villainy → 94% Villainy."
Lysandra touched the ribbon. "Why… help me?"
Elara leaned in, her breath frosting in the charged air. "Let's call it… spite."
The ballroom doors exploded.
Kael Arcturus stormed in, his Hero's armor gleaming, his sword already drawn. His ice-blue eyes locked onto Elara, and she forgot how to breathe. He was still unfairly beautiful—all sharp angles and tragic backstory, like a romance novel cover come to life.
"Elara Vayne," he growled. "You've interfered for the last time."
"New Quest," chimed the system. "Provoke Kael into a duel. Reward: Unlock Voidfire Magic. Refuse: Lose 50% HP."
Elara's pulse roared. In the game, this duel ended with her magic stripped and her pride shattered. But the system's prompts flickered now, glitching.
"You want a duel?" She twirled a shadow-thread around her finger, her voice steady. "Fine. But I pick the rules."
"Warning," hissed the system. "Redemption Meter at 6%. Continued defiance may cause… unforeseen consequences."
Kael's sword flared with holy light. "Rules? You cheat at solitaire."
"And you still use two-handed swords to overcompensate." Elara grinned. "First rule: No blades. Second rule: No pants."
The crowd gasped. Kael's eye twitched.
Elara snapped her threads. The chandeliers shattered, plunging the room into darkness. Shadows engulfed her, yanking her toward a stained-glass window.
"Third rule!" she shouted over the chaos. "Catch me if you can, Hero!"
She leapt into the sky, the wind screaming in her ears. Behind her, Kael roared—and gave chase.
Her boots skidded across a floating rooftop, Kael's fury hot on her heels. Below, the abyss yawned, hungry and infinite.
Jump, whispered the shadows.
Jump, begged her heartbeat.
She leapt—
A hand caught her wrist.
Lysandra dangled her over the void, grip trembling but firm. "Why did you help me?" she demanded.
Elara stared up at the Heroine, her face haloed by starlight. "Let's just say… I'm allergic to bad endings."
The system screamed.