My hand gripped my staff and I planted it on the stone like a flag, instinctively trying to steady myself as the polished stone floor tiles of the mansion spun around in my vision. My cheek felt like it was on fire, like I got caught up moshing against a cheese grater. It’s been awhile since I got slapped that hard.
As I struggled to my feet, I felt something change in the atmosphere around me. Everyone was silent. Shit. I said that shit aloud, didn’t I?
That Elder Lady certainly didn’t hold back, but had certainly stopped her tirade. My hand rubbed a gnarled bump on the staff’s handle. It felt… Lighter. Was it always this easy to move around? Well, if she was going to kill me, I could at least give this a good swing before I go down. Were I a fool, I’d strike first or dare a look again. But luckily I’m not that dumb, right?
I gave the Elder Lady another glare anyways.
Her expression was twisted, altering in various shades of colors from pissed to bewilderment. She looked like she was staring at a piece of trash that had suddenly gained the ability to speak her language. The others dared not look at me again, but I could glimpse their eyes peering at me and waiting for me to get destroyed.
Hey, guys. I’ve been used to people staring at me like I’m some kind of freakshow my whole life. Get in line if you want to see how different I am.
I wanted to laugh, but the pain kept my numb face neutral and the struggle to move my weak body stuffed any audible noise down my throat with an iron fist. This— This was exactly what a main character in a novel would be, right?
A healer in a family of warriors, a daughter of dubious origins, and weak as all hell. The words she spewed meant little to me, but perhaps they would have devastated the former Kathleen. Of course, all of these details screamed the main character trope. But why me? Why did it have to be me? And why did it scream to my aesthetic of being totally different?
In my old life, I screamed against the world silently. Every time I got a new tattoo. Every time I pierced my own ears with a sewing needle because I was too poor, I did it with a foolish sense of pride. I felt like I was reclaiming a part of myself that was beaten out of me back then. It was a way of expressing myself in the dark corners of the city. A petty trick against a reality that I knew I couldn’t win one over. In this life, be it a temporary day stay or somehow worse, I’ll stand.
I heard her let out a shriek of disbelief and before I could even process it, she was right in front of me with her hand raised again. I gripped my staff harder, bracing for a fight I was definitely going to lose. Bring it!
“You—”
But the ice queen did something surprising. She stopped mid swing, while I couldn’t even fumble with my staff to guard against anything. She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, then finally let out a dismissive scoff, which deadened the room. It seemed like she decided to finally say what she was here for and gave a final contemptuous and condescending sigh.
“You’ll be dead anyways.” She kicked the humongous door open and barked to her guys. “Take this trash batch to the Test Ritual site. It’s time to get on with it.”
With that, she stormed back outside without another glance. The burliest of the guards stepped up and glared at us. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. We followed him and his posse out like prisoners on death row. The word “batch” stuck a needle in my brain. That’s exactly what we were, weren’t we?
Whether we were a strange sacrificial batch of prisoners or something worse, we headed out. The outdoor sky was shrouded in a gloomy grey. My kind of weather, if I wasn’t outside under it. As the wind smacked my cheeks and reignited the residual pain from the slap, I realized I was not in a simple Noble’s fantasy mansion— I was in a massive complex.
Massive grey stone fortresses, forlorn walls and jutting towers surrounded us like a monster’s jaw. The courtyard we were marching through seemed like a prison yard instead of a Noble’s estate square. In a way, I supposed that was probably exactly what us Cadet families were to the Main line.
“You got lucky,” Eric hissed at me. “Speaking so brazenly to the Main Branch. Foolish.”
“So?” I glared back at him. That made him nearly choke with rage as if I was the one who slapped the Main Family member.
“She won’t let you off that easily,” Tiffany sneered. “Neither will we.”
“Shut it,” a guard snapped.
We fell silent. Yeah, I mused. We were prisoners, fellow inmates in hell together. Or headed to this world’s equivalent. You’d think that we’d have some kind of dignity or sense of camaraderie as we headed together into the oven, but apparently not. I grasped at every piece of fanfiction I read during my bathroom breaks in my old life.
Illegitimate families in novels usually did this sort of thing, right? Constant squabbling amongst each other and infighting was the only legacy left for us. We’d kill each other for the right to be the last man kneeling to pick the scraps cast aside from the true heirs’ wasteful resources. We’d scrape and bleed for their tiny warmth, and we’d thank them for it.
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The ice queen herself had vanished entirely, with no sign of her anywhere in the court. Could she fly? I checked upward at the cloudy ocean above us. Nothing suggested that she could, though I would believe it if she could. I doubted she’d come back to fight an ant like me again. Though I do admit I was indeed very lucky like my dear brother said.
I took a quick peek at my Plus Menu’s red dot as we passed through a gate. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to let on that I had this thing, then it would be anyone from the Main Branch Family. They’d probably pry my eyes out just to see if it was inside me somehow. I discreetly peeked at one of the spears held by a guard and sure enough, a new notification from its Appraisal feature appeared as a red dot.
———————————————
— Ravenclast Crested Spear [Common]
— Incompatible weapon type for the Host’s current class. Wielding this will have negative effects on the Host’s stat points and will be ineffective.
———————————————
Interesting. So it had acknowledged me as the Host. Whether that term meant the old Kathleen is completely gone or not remained to be seen. The guard I glanced at glared at me when I slowed down, but not at the window in front of me. I looked down and quickened my pace mechanically. He did not seem to notice the screen at all. I meekly followed along as the group filed towards a forlorn building that looked like a church on a hill.
———————————————
> Status [+5 available]
> Notifications [+3]
> Unknown [Level 10 Required]
> Skill Points [0]
> Exit
———————————————
I did a double take at the Plus Menu’s screen. It had upgraded somehow, and I even received points. Compensation? My eyes went to the Notifications immediately and it opened up like a new tab on a browser. Heh, old habits die hard. My eyes lit up and I licked the now crusty bump on my swollen lip. This— This was getting interesting. Even though I felt like I was marching into my doom with four inmates who hated my guts, I still managed to snag something good.
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Notifications
> Endured a heavy attack and survived.
> Host has received 5 status points!
> Main Family Branch Member, Emily, has been added to the Database. [Locked]
Emily Ravenclast
Human Knight, level ??
Youngest member of the Main Family to succeed in conquering a Rift. Age: 16 years old.
———————————————
That powerhouse wasn’t even the Eldest Daughter? Well, goddamn, I marveled. And her level was so monstrous I couldn’t even see it with the Plus Menu. She was definitely holding back with that slap, then. And she had a Title to boot. I assumed that was a big deal, although I had no idea what a Rift was.
My cheek involuntarily began to sting again, but I couldn’t stop to tend to it now while we were marching. The weather seemed like it got colder, because a shiver went down my spine. I got five points for free from getting whacked in the face, but now the mechanics were blurry to me at best.
Perhaps I should’ve gotten her to smack me again?
If pain was how I would grow and abuse seemed commonplace here, then how did the original Kathleen not become a steroid addled beast by the time I got here? Wasn’t she the one getting beaten all the time? What, did she get tired of it already? How old was I anyways?
I stopped my rapidly rising internal hysteria. Although, I changed my mind. I really, really don’t want to get slapped again just to get some points. These status points must have been the reason why I felt almost energized after I fell. They were the source of my budding determination, that strange increase of confidence that had no right to be inside a shady convenience store cashier like me.
If only I had a Plus Menu back on Earth, I sighed, then stopped myself. Luckily, the wind masked my noise. I could’ve at least traded kills with that bastard Tyler.
There obviously was much more to this Plus Menu, judging off the blaring Unknown tab I couldn’t open until I reach level 10. Could that be the Database? How boring. I wasn’t interested in the bios of those who were my enemies. But it could be a different story if it expanded eventually and told me how to get rid of them.
Permanently.
I nearly was taken aback by that violent thought. It snuck in like a grave robber, digging up and throwing the bones of my past life’s morals out the burial plot. I recalibrated my mood about it quickly. I had to. This world definitely isn’t catering for me, didn’t bother catering for the old Kathleen, so why would I take all of its bullshit?
It’s a kill or be killed fantasy world, after all. Or maybe, when given the choice, I’d rather be the one slapping people around than getting slapped. It was a common ideal situation everyone wanted to be. And it would be a cherry on top if I could get points for giving people a good beatdown.
What can I say? I’m a petty person. The first thing I’d do if I returned to Earth is settle the score with that drunkard who killed me. These warriors and fighters looked down on me, anyways, so there was no reason to feel sympathetic. For all I know, I was already on borrowed time anyways.
The path ahead opened into a straight stony staircase bordered by dead trees. It pointed directly to the massive church-like building that I noticed from a distance at the gates, which had ominous statues of creatures with goat heads overlooking the place. It practically screamed, “Bad things happen here,” but what could I do? Nobody was stopping, so neither was I. Someone inside it was up to something, and I was getting tired of walking anyways.
I noticed red stains and brown splatter marks everywhere. On the stone steps themselves and also on the tree. This place was wicked and evil. Unabashedly so. It was brutal and dark and— I secretly loved its design.
As we stepped to its entrance, I couldn’t help but marvel at how large every door in this fantasy world was so far. This massive slab of wood and metal studs was no exception. In fact, it seemed like the largest door I’ve encountered before. I judged that at least three people standing on top of each other’s shoulders in a human tower could easily enter through this Church’s doors, right under the evil gargoyle statues' noses. I didn’t want to know who or what these massive mahogany monsters were accommodating.
A pack of level 10 guards filed out from around the corners from nowhere and began to pull the door open with some kind of chain pulley mechanism. It groaned like a dying whale and a cold gust blasted a foul smell that dowsed my mood immediately. My intrusive thoughts settled instantly, snuffed out by the eerie candle lit hall gazing at us.
The door opened fully, with an echoing wail still lingering in the distance over the hillside. The final thud thundered with finality and the guards stepped aside in a v-formation, leaving just enough room for us NPCs to pass through.
So, this was where they put the word “Ritual” in the so-called Test Ritual took place, huh? My eyes caught more evil looking statues in little apertures and high archways soaring above, shrouded in shadows out of view. Every nook and cranny on the walls was stuffed with a candle or something evil looking, leaving a physical burden of pure gloom and mustiness. Death and hatred were in the air. The oppression was palpable, like winter sunlight soaking the skin in a pallor film of sweat. This was awesome!
If only it didn’t concern me.