"What you are about to hear is a tale which you must be prepared to face as soon as you leave this place," the Creator began, his expression stern.
Thousands of years before the culling of prehistoric beasts, a primordial spectre, born from the stars, brought in the existence of seven deities all signifying different aspects of reality. The crafter of Time, Demise, Hatred, Blight, Disaster, Death, Cosmic and he himself, Chaos.
These seven spectres were tasked with the destruction of life after every thousand years and when the time had come, they left no stone unturned. The crafter of chaos, the Creator of the system himself stood against such injustice and was forced to hide amongst spirits in the realm of a deadly shamans.
Now every hundred years, he tested every fighter but they were deemed useless as they never possessed the sheer will to hold their own against him—but Sora was different, a young woman like her being able to stop a godly being piqued his immediate interests. Now with the thousandth year elapsing in just two to three years, she had to be ready.
Sora shook her head as she processed this information, the thought of such a fate about to befall this generation was too much for her to bear. Breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling—Sora calmed herself.
The Creator could feel her frustration, the thought of learning about a horrible fate abou to befall her planet was all too much for a human to recollect—he wanted to comfort her in such a moment but the only thing he could do was give her something.
"I have something for you," he said, taking Sora's interest. Stretching out his hand, shadows began twirling in the form of a vortex as a bright yellow light emerged from the middle of his palm—and from it, a crystalline object was forged, resting at the palm of his hand.
Sora watched, her eyes sparkling with interest—the chaos was indeed something beautiful and she didn't know she'd witness something so marvelous.
The light died, leaving the stone dim, the Creator stretched his hand towards Sora, "This is for you, crush it and it will grant you immense strength against the scourge," he said, a kind smile on his face, "My deepest apologies for causing you so much pain"
The Creator turned his back to the young woman as she took the stone from his hand and began to walk away.
"Hey, I need you to return me back to my timeline," Sora demanded.
The Creator stood completely puzzled by her request, "Timeline?," he said, his tone a mix of confusion and bewilderment, "Sora, you stand in a world of dreams, therefore you are asleep and must wake up"
'Wake up—in a dream'
Sora realized this, trying ger very best to shake off the reality that she had been in a deep sleep and needed to be aware that this was merely a dream. Crushing the rock with all her strength, the force cutting her palm, Sora felt the pain but it slowly died.
Suddenly, Sora felt a pang of energy as she was bathed in golden light that seemed to spread all around her like a vortex, the system tab emerged with a message that left her awe-struck:
[Boost Crystal Lv.25 Used!]
•Level up! x10
[Congratulations You Have Obtained A Tier One Class: Hexblade Warrior]
Sora watched as multiple tabs emerged all around her, she felt a burst of strength returning as the Creator watched with a look of satisfaction.
——
Back in the real world, the reality far from the dream world which Sora had found herself in—Merric Valencia, sat in an enclosed area, his back resting on the wall as he hid from the scourge that had been slithering around for what seemed like hours.
Any movement, and he was finished man. It was like the scourge knew of his current location. Glancing down at Sora's cloak, he felt a pang of guilt—from his first year in the Bureau of Knights he had sworn to look after his comrades and protect the innocent but now he felt hopeless, unable to do something in this predicament.
As he rested, hoping that this was a dream, he was immediately caught off guard by the Scourge looming above him, casting an eerie shadow over him. Merric slowly raised his head, his breath hitched as he witnessed two purple slit eyes peering at him.
The moment the Scourge realized that Merric had become aware of its looming presence, it wasted no time with tactics or restraint. With a savage roar that shook the branches above, it lunged forward in a primitive, beastly charge—its gaping jaws stretched wide, prepared to inflict upon Merric the same brutal fate it had unleashed upon Sora. The creature's massive form slammed into the earth with catastrophic force, its fangs gouging deep into the hardened ground, sending shards of soil and stone scattering through the air like shrapnel.
But Merric was quicker. He had anticipated the strike.
In a breath's breadth of time, he dodged to the side, rolling out of the path of destruction as the monster collided with the ground where he had once stood. His hand shot to the earth, retrieving his blade with swift, trained precision. Rising to a low crouch, his sharp eyes quickly scanned his body for injury—and relief washed over him when he found none.
"I was able to escape just in time," he thought to himself, his chest rising and falling with the breath of a man who had narrowly escaped death. Yet before that fleeting relief could fully settle into his bones, the urgency of the moment surged back to the forefront of his mind.
There was no time to rest. Not now.
With one swift movement, he rose from his crouched position, his eyes narrowing with a new resolve. He needed to lead the monster somewher where the terrain might tilt the odds in his favor. His gaze swept across the field ahead, and there—jutting up like the spines of ancient beasts—were sharp, jagged rocks scattered across the expanse. They rose from the ground in fractured clusters, like the remnants of long-forgotten towers reduced to hardened rubble.
Among those brutal stone formations, Merric would make his stand.
Merric gripped the hilt of his blade with unwavering resolve, the steel cool and solid in his palm, while his other hand clutched tightly at the cloak—Sora's cloak—the final remnant of the one who had walked beside him. With a sudden burst of determination, he began to sprint forward, his steps pounding against the earth as he charged toward the designated place, the heart of his unspoken plan pulsing in his mind like a war drum. He did not speak it aloud. He did not need to. Every motion carried the weight of purpose.
Behind him, the monstrous Scourge let out a vicious snarl as it finally managed to wrest itself free from the jagged entanglement that had ensnared its bulk. It thrashed its grotesque form through the trees, slithering with unnatural speed, tearing through bark and foliage, breaking through the open spaces between trunks with an insatiable hunger to catch its prey.
Merric's eyes darted back for only a moment, catching a glimpse of the nightmare in pursuit—its massive body undeterred, relentless, a shadow of destruction trailing behind it. And yet, a flicker of grim satisfaction sparked in his gaze. The Scourge was following. It was doing exactly what he had hoped.
Merric's unspoken plan… was working.
Reaching the unforgiving field of jagged rocks, where the earth seemed to crack and splinter into harsh, natural blades, Merric swiftly turned his body, weaving his way through the narrow gaps left between two or three towering stones. The creature behind him hissed with a venomous fury, its eyes locked onto the fleeing young man. Unrelenting in its pursuit, it slithered and lunged through the crisscrossing formations of four massive rocks, each shaped unnaturally like stone rings—ancient, eerie, as though placed there by forgotten gods.
The monstrous being forced its grotesque head through each ring, snarling and screeching as its thick neck scraped against the rocky curves, passing through with great difficulty but still advancing, still driven by a singular, feral desire—to devour the man entirely, to consume him whole without mercy or pause.
Then, suddenly, Merric halted. His feet dug into the cracked earth beneath him, and he turned slowly to face the abomination that had been hunting him. The creature raised its gaping jaws high and wide, stretching them unnaturally, as if preparing to strike. But Merric stood still, unmoving, as though ready to confront the horror before him in a final, defiant stand.
The Scourge, now face to face with the prey it had so viciously hunted, prepared to strike with all the fury of a beast long-starved. Its muscles tensed, jaws widened to an unnatural degree—intent on swallowing Merric whole. But just as it lunged, the monster came to an abrupt and unnatural halt.
It hissed and snapped wildly, its massive form straining forward, but something was wrong. It could not move. It could not reach him.
Merric's trap had sprung.
The young man straightened, his eyes flashing with triumph as he watched the monster thrash and contort, its efforts rendered pitiful within the confines of the jagged stone field he had so cleverly led it into.
A confident smirk crept across Merric's face. "Seems my plan had worked exceptionally," he declared with cool satisfaction, his voice cutting through the Scourge's furious hissing like steel drawn from a sheath. The creature roared and twisted violently, desperate to break free, but the rocks held firm, enclosing it like the jaws of fate.
With steady determination, Merric tightened his grip on his blade. The time had come to execute the final act of his plan.
Stepping toward the creature's scaled, heaving body, Merric sought a weakness—and found one. With a precise, brutal thrust, he plunged his blade into a vulnerable gap between the hardened scales that shielded the monster's flesh. The weapon sank in deep, and the Scourge let out a monstrous screech, writhing in agony.
Merric pried at the scale, wrenching it free with force. A vile stream of venom burst forth, nearly splashing onto him, sizzling as it hit the earth. The acrid stench filled the air, but he did not flinch. Instead, he smiled—wide, cruel, and devilish.
He tore out another scale, and then another, relishing the screams that echoed across the field. The Scourge's body spasmed, its strength shaking the stone around it. Slowly but surely, cracks began to spread through the rocks. They trembled under the monster's relentless thrashing, crumbling one by one.
And then—it broke free.
With a furious roar, the Scourge shattered the remaining barriers, rock shards flying in all directions. It hissed with renewed rage, its eyes fixed on Merric as the ground beneath them quaked. Merric shielded himself with his arm, utterly overwhelmed by the sheer force of the beast's escape.
When he looked again, his heart skipped a beat.
The Scourge was gathering something terrible within its throat. A swirl of purple light churned at its core, vibrating with raw, deadly energy. It was charging an attack—a catastrophic one. And Merric stood directly in its path.
But deep within the Scourge's vile belly, something stirred.
There, within a pool of its own venom, lay Sora's dried corpse—lifeless and shriveled. Yet, from the center of her chest, a golden light began to pulse and shine, growing brighter with each passing moment. Her flesh, once decayed and broken, began to mend. The sickly gray of death gave way to a warm, familiar color. Her skin returned. Her body revived.
Sora rose from the pool of glowing venom, untouched by its corruption. She was naked, hairless, every fibre of clothing and identity scorched away by the beast's fluid. Yet she stood, her chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. The life had returned to her.
She gazed down at her hands—trembling, alive—the realization struck like a disastrous wave. She had returned. The madness of the dream world had ended.
With a ding that chimed softly, a translucent tab appeared before her eyes:
—STATUS—
• Crafter: Sora
• Level: 25
• Class: Warrior [Hexblade]
• Title: Soul Extractor
• Main Quest: Defeat the Scourge
• Special Points: 105
• LifePoints: 700
• Strength: 1000+
• Agility: 560+
• Speed: 700+
• Durability: 990+
Sora's lips curled into a wide grin that stretched out. Her one in the dream world had not been wasted. The trials, the pain, the endless battles that went on for ages—they had changed her, though they didn't kill her, they made her stronger, and now that strength echoed in her stats. This was no longer the same girl who had once been devoured.
She drew in and drew out a deep breath, steadying herself, her spirit focused. With the authority of a warrior reborn, she raised her voice.
"Inventory," she commanded.
And another tab emerged.