The frigid brine stung Cinnia’s eyes as she gasped, disoriented. Her lungs burned with an unfamiliar, heavy sweetness, a stark contrast to the sterile air of her lab. Above the roiling, waist-deep seawater, a single shaft of sickly yellow light pierced the gloom of what could only be a monumental, water-logged hall. Pillars carved with barnacle-encrusted serpents stretched into the unseen ceiling, their scales shimmering with a faint, unholy phosphorescence.
“Welcome, Host!” A chipper, saccharine voice—the Cherub’s Ledger—prattled directly into her mind, making her teeth ache. “Prepare for your glorious debut in the Glided Dominion of Vantira! Your quest to rescue the tragically fated soul of ‘The Chained Chimera’ begins now! So exciting!”
Cinnia ignored the treacly greeting. Her gaze cut through the watery haze, assessing the immediate threat. A vast, crumbling necropolis, a theatrical set piece for certain. The air thrummed with the low chant of robed figures, their voices resonating with a morbid reverence. At the far end of the hall, perched atop a colossal obsidian altar, a figure in a pristine white gown wept with delicate grace. Orsina, no doubt. The Original Protagonist. The thought alone made Cinnia’s stomach churn.
Bound to the altar beside Orsina was the 'tragically fated soul.' A beastman. Lean, muscled, with skin like polished obsidian and fur the color of storm clouds. Twisted horns spiraled from his temples, and heavy iron chains, thick with rust, bit into his wrists and ankles. He was on his knees, head bowed, breathing ragged. Even from this distance, Cinnia could see the fresh weals lacing his back, crisscrossed ridges of swollen tissue. Tazien.
Then she saw the blade. A ceremonial headsman, cloaked in robes of deep violet, raised a gleaming pole-axe high. The blade, etched with arcane symbols, glinted ominously in the dim light, aimed directly at Tazien’s neck. Orsina’s wails intensified, a perfect, practiced crescendo of feigned agony.
“Oh, the noble Lady Orsina sacrifices so much for the stability of the Dominion!” the Cherub’s Ledger sang, oblivious to Cinnia’s mounting fury. “Her heart is pure, her intentions divine! What a worthy soul to witness!”
Cinnia didn’t waste a second. “System, what’s my current Grace Token count?” she demanded, pushing through the cold water with a burst of frantic energy. She needed to get back to her lab, to her research, to a world where ‘sacrifices’ didn’t involve ritual slaughter.
[You currently possess a glorious zero Grace Tokens, Host! But fear not! A magnificent opportunity for earning more approaches!]
Zero. Of course. The system was designed to be stingy. The axe was descending. Orsina’s performance was reaching its peak, her hands clasped in prayer, eyes raised to the unseen heavens. She was playing the martyr, the one who grieved while others suffered. It made Cinnia’s blood boil.
This entire scenario was Orsina’s calculated play: let the beastman die, extract his crest, and consolidate her power under the guise of lamentation. The tears were for show, the 'sacrifice' a carefully orchestrated power grab. Cinnia’s mission was to save the second male leads, to disrupt these wretched plots. And Tazien, her infuriating academic rival in a past life, was first on the list.
She plunged forward, ignoring the chill, the dragging weight of her sodden clothes. The headsman's arm came down, steel slicing through the gloom. Tazien lifted his head just as Cinnia threw herself between him and the blade. Her body, surprisingly slender and frail in this new incarnation, collided with his broad back, shoving him off-center. The axe, instead of cleaving his neck, bit deep into her shoulder, a searing agony that blossomed through her entire being.
Warm, viscous liquid mingled with the cold seawater, staining the pure white fabric of her own gown a startling crimson. She crumpled, her knees giving out, her arm going numb. The heavy scent of iron filled her nostrils. Orsina’s wails abruptly cut off, replaced by a choked gasp of genuine shock. The robed striker froze, gaping at the interruption. The solemn chanting of the robed figures dissolved into a cacophony of murmurs.
Cinnia coughed, a gurgle of blood rising in her throat. She gripped the wound, pressing down, though she knew it was futile. The blade had struck deep. “There, you insufferable, attention-seeking peacock,” she wheezed, her voice thin but sharp. “Now you have something *real* to cry about.”
Orsina, face a mask of horror, could only stare at the sudden, bloody mess Cinnia had made of her perfect tableau. Tazien, pinned beneath Cinnia’s collapsing form, struggled against his chains, his golden eyes, previously dulled by resignation, now blazing with a raw, primal fury. His gaze was fixed not on the killer, but on *her*.
[What a beautiful sacrifice, Host!]
The Cherub’s Ledger chimed, its voice sickeningly sweet. Cinnia’s vision blurred, the pain a distant roar. Her only thought: *Finally. Ticket home. Back to my lab, where logical equations replace melodramatic death traps.* She welcomed the encroaching darkness, ready for the familiar jolt of dimensional transit, ready to shed this flimsy body and return to her own.
She woke to the rhythmic hum of an engine, the faint scent of ozone, and a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights. Not her lab. Never her lab. She was strapped into a plush, crimson-velvet seat on what appeared to be a luxurious train car, streaking through an infinite void. The Astral Inter-realm Express, a detail dredged from a forgotten system briefing, surfaced in her mind. Cinnia tried to move, to stand, but restraints held her fast. Nivetta, her seemingly timid maid, sat across from her, a serene smile on her face, completely unperturbed by the impossible travel.
Then the train car doors at the far end buckled. A cacophony of shrieks and tearing metal ripped through the air. Something monstrous slammed through the reinforced plating, sending shards of glittering alloys flying. Blood, dark and viscous, splattered across the gilded walls. A colossal, feral chimera burst into the car, its fur matted with gore, its massive claws tearing through the plush carpet. Its eyes, burning like twin suns, locked onto Cinnia.
It was Tazien. But not the broken beastman from the altar. This creature was pure, untamed rage, larger, more terrifying, its horns now spiraling into a crown of bone and fury. He moved with a speed that defied logic, ignoring the terrified screams of other passengers. In three guttural roars, he was upon her, smashing through the last vestiges of the shattered doors.
He slammed into her seat, crushing the restraints, pinning her to the floor with his immense weight. His hot, ragged breath ghosted across her face, smelling of blood and something wild and primal. His golden eyes, filled with an unsettling, terrifying devotion, bore into hers. She could feel the low rumble of his growl vibrating through her chest, a sound that spoke of possessive fury and ancient power.
“You always did have a penchant for overcomplicating things, Morvante,” the chimera growled, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that was both guttural and unnervingly articulate. “Adding a prime-number-based variable to a recursive dimensional fold-equation is pure, unadulterated hubris.”