It was black. Not just dark, but an abyssal black that drank in the light around it. Thin, fiery veins pulsed along its petals, and its edges flickered, shifting between solid form and an eerie, spectral mist. Its scent was impossible to place: neither sweet nor bitter, yet deeply familiar. I didn’t even know where to begin describing it.
“Daddy’s flower is extra special!” Rosie chirped, nodding firmly to herself, visibly proud of this flower of hers. “It’s like Daddy. Strong, scary, but also warm!”
How adorable. I couldn’t help but reach out and pet her head, to which her immediate reaction was nuzzling her head against my palm with a giant smile as merry, girly giggles left her lips.
But then, it was time to roll. I would have time to pamper her after finishing absorbing this power up—or whatever it was. With only a few hours remaining before the war with the lionkin and Covenant of Eternity started, I couldn’t afford to sit around idly. “Let’s roll, ladies.”
Together, we each lifted the flowers to our noses and inhaled deeply, letting the aroma of Rosie’s flowers reach deep into our lungs.
The instant the scent filled my lungs, a rush of power surged through me. It wasn’t like consuming a potion or using an artifact—it was deeper, rawer, as if something fundamental within me was shifting. My body tingled with strange warmth, my mind sharpening while an unfamiliar pressure settled in my core. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and for a moment, I swore I could feel the sheer vastness of my potential stretching further than ever before.
Then, the systematic notification rang in my ears.
[Ding!]
[Primordial Entity Quinlan Elysiar has received the blessing of a newborn dryad.]
[Warning: The Current vessel is at maximum capacity. Evolution is restricted until soul expansion is achieved.]
[Recalculating…]
[Ding!]
[Temporary boon granted: Experience multiplier increased from x3 to x10 for the next 48 hours.]
I froze. My vessel was full? I couldn’t gain a new evolution? What did that even mean?
But then, slowly, my lips curled into a wicked grin before my laughter exploded into the night.
“Hahaha! Rosie, you little genius!”
A tenfold XP multiplier just before I departed to war. This was perfect. No, beyond perfect. It was a blessing hand-delivered to me by my daughter. My excitement roared in my chest like an unshackled beast, and I couldn’t resist the urge to grab Rosie and give her a big hug.
But as I turned to my companions, expecting to see similar reactions… I paused.
They were all unconscious.
Every single one of them collapsed the moment they inhaled the mist. Their bodies remained still, their breathing steady, yet their expressions twitched as if they were experiencing something deep within their minds.
I blinked, confused.
“…The hell?”
…
Ayame gasped with shock, her breath was unsteady. A moment ago, she had felt nothing, just sitting on the lush grass of her home, then suddenly, she was dragged away somehow.
She opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by vast nothingness, an endless golden expanse stretching infinitely in all directions. There was no ground beneath her feet, no sky above, just an overwhelming, suffocating yellow void.
Her pulse quickened as she took a step forward, feeling the weight of her battle armor. A familiar, long-lost weight at her hip caught her attention. Slowly, her hand traced the smooth scabbard before she unsheathed the katana.
Her old sword, a gift from none other than her father.
The very same blade that had accompanied her during her first 14 levels before Kaede’s betrayal.
Her fingers trembled as she tightened her grip. Why was it here?
A sudden clicking of high heels echoed through the emptiness.
She spun, blade instinctively raised, as a woman emerged from the void. She was exquisite, dressed in an ornate yukata embroidered with golden cranes, her hair pinned in an elegant style. At her side, she carried a katana.
The woman stopped.
Her hand reached for the hilt of her blade.
Then, in an electric motion—too fast for Ayame to even process—her head flew from her shoulders.
Pain flared for the briefest instant before oblivion took her.
She gasped, her body jerking upright.
She was back.
Sitting exactly as she had first arrived, head intact. But the clicking of high heels came again, signaling the return of her executioner.
…
Iris opened her eyes to hell.
The battlefield was an unholy wasteland of shattered armor and desecrated corpses. The air reeked of blood and decay. Fires crackled in the distance, licking at the broken remains of what had once been a fortress.
She exhaled, slowly pushing herself upright. Was this real?
A monstrous screech answered her unspoken question.
Iris’s gaze snapped forward to a grotesque beast, a thing of clawed limbs and stretched, peeling flesh. Its many eyes twitched, each one glowing with unnatural hatred.
She didn’t know why she was here.
She didn’t know if this was some kind of trick of the mind.
But she didn’t need to understand her situation to know what she would do.
The familiar burn of power surged through her veins, her class demanding agony.
Her fingers reached toward her blade as she declared in a cold tone, “Come. I’ll put you down.”
…
Seraphiel opened her eyes to war.
The battlefield stretched before her, a land ravaged by blood and steel. But her hands—her hands felt wrong.
She wasn’t holding Lifebloom Arc.
Instead, she clutched a simple wooden staff, crude and nearly powerless in comparison to the artifact she was used to wielding.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she took in the chaos surrounding her.
Her mother, locked in combat.
Her grandmother, wounded but fighting.
Ayame, Blossom, Aurora, Lucille, and Kitsara separated, struggling, alone.
Then she heard it.
A deep, pained grunt.
Her eyes snapped toward him.
Quinlan.
Blood poured from a deep gash in his side, staining his clothes in dark crimson. His movements faltered, his strength was visibly draining from one moment to the next.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she broke into a hurried sprint.
…
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