Through the forest, the ground trembles violently, rocks and soil hurled into a cloud of dust. A creature with a black shell, its body bristling with coarse hairs—one long, thick strand sprouting from beside one eye—creeps forward. Its grotesque maw lined with razor-sharp teeth drips viscous black fluid that smolders like a dangerous smoke, melting anything it touches. Eight flexible, brutal legs sweep aside the trees blocking its path.
Ahead of the creature, a slender figure stands: her once-neat red hair now tangled and dulled by sweat and mud. She wears a stiff fabric outfit that fits her voluptuous shape like a cocoon waiting to burst. The creature's gaze is fixed on her pale legs, their smooth skin standing out against the gray forest. A crude stone knife is strapped to her slim calf by a tightly wound vine, the knot pressing into the delicate boundary between her thigh and the exposed skin above—bare and unprotected.
A narrow crevice appears before her. She inhales deeply, bends low and slips swiftly beneath it. The gap is wide enough for an adult to squeeze through and shallow—its only entrance and exit. The spider madly probes with its long, sharp legs, even trying to shove its oversized head inside. Its eyes burn with rage and hatred, as if death is imminent, claws and mandibles poised to shred. It struggles to pull its prey out—the prey that willingly crawled into a dead end.
Tiny cracks in the rock and soil mean little to this thorn-armored behemoth. Once its head breaches the crevice, it suddenly halts its frenzy—every hair on its body rising at once. An invisible gas seeps through the crevice, filling every crack, heavy and quiet. The air grows hotter by the second, clues that something extraordinary is about to ignite.
You're too late, bitch!
[Fateshards [Fate of the Flame] have crystallized]
She knows this feeling—the force that set ablaze the room she woke in, the force that burned down the tree. It has haunted her for two days. She raises her hand, flicks her middle finger like igniting a lighter, and a small spark flashes in the silent air. In that instant, time seems to freeze. A deafening "BOOM!" breaks the silence, followed by a crimson blast tearing through the darkness. Flames erupt savagely, sweeping through the crevice like a awakened monster. Heat radiates, a shockwave rattles the earth, blowing dust, rocks, and screams into the chaos.
The crevice explodes, splitting earth and stone—shards flying everywhere, space convulsing in the anger of fire. Out of the smoke, a human-shaped torch envelops the creature's head. The spider thrashes, panicked, struggling to free itself. She plunges the heated stone knife into its head under unbearable heat. Clinging to the monster's smoking head; her eyes shut, nose and ears filled with blood. Her hands glow, fueling this half-cooked prey.
Pierce it! Please, just pierce it! she prays, pleading to her only weapon.
[Convergence of [Fate of the Flame] completes—threads are once again tightly bound in a new pattern, twisted and rearranged beyond any known weave. All previous bindings and limits have melted into flame and reshaped into a new form.]
The giant spider convulses violently, body trembling in pain and fear. Its frantic kicks shake the ground; its spiky legs slash outward, trying to dislodge her. Her stone blade, sharp but fragile, meets the monster's hard shell. Though its crescent-like legs claw and rip flesh, she endures, focusing all her will on piercing the beast's skull. Exhausted, trembling, bleeding, and torn—she pushes onward until reaching her limit…
A whisper suddenly echoes, and her body ignites once more—this time more intensely.
[You have obtained a Chronicle: Atroviax.]
Ignoring everything else, her hair flares with deep red light. Though she doesn't fully understand this new Chronicle, she summons Atroviax without hesitation. In place of her stone knife, a broken sword hilt appears amid swirling sparks. A dark-red aura coils, forming a pure entity of destruction. Drawing on her last strength, she drives the blade deep into the creature's skull. The spider convulses, rolling violently across the ground. As the sword pierced through the skull, she instinctively channels her remaining power into it. A devastating blaze erupts, incinerating the spider's brain in excruciating agony.
[The fire within you is no longer mere violent heat, but a living entity, seemingly aligned with your will. It surges and roars, devouring all darkness, transcending previous limits. From the ashes of the battle, this flame bursts into radiant pillars of light, burning not just flesh but the enemy's soul. A deep, ancient power stirs within you—the flame's authority transcends ancient laws, opening a new path of destruction.]
[Attribute [Flamebound] has been replaced with [Endrise]. This flame not only burns flesh but sears the enemy's soul—it embodies will, power, and destiny.]
Time stretches as the spider's movements fade, then stop. Its massive body collapses, the head mangled with a charred hole where the blade sank in, its brains congealed and coated with a thin layer of ashes as Atroviax fades. She collapses like a puppet cut loose, chest heaving, gulping cold air to soothe her scorched lungs. Though her ears and eyes are badly damaged, she knows she has won— a soft whisper confirms her victory.
[You have slain the Arachnorath, an Elite beast.]
Satisfied for the moment, yet the harsh reality is more acute than she expected. Her body is covered in bloods, paralyzed by poison. She cannot see or hear. She can only lie there, awaiting death.
In her past life, she knew stories or films where the hero faced danger and seemed doomed—but miraculously escaped. Sometimes, to justify it, the creators insert a "flashback."
Sounds ridiculous… don't ask me why I faced that monstrosity, or how I could have survived.
⸻
After moving downstream through the ancient forest full of bizarre creatures, she's surprised there's no mountain or high vantage to scout the terrain. Three days have passed since her journey began. Besides strengthening her survival skills, her flame control has improved noticeably—through focus, she senses an invisible flow within her body, as natural as moving her hands. Now, fire can spring from anywhere on her skin, able to transfer heat. She can concentrate heat in one spot without sparks. She even invents a new cooking method: instead of using stones and firewood, she uses the broad surface of her own thigh to cook food. Partly to avoid attracting beasts, partly because it's more convenient—she becomes a walking source of warmth.
By the seventh day since waking in this world, as the forest thins, Seraphina can spot her handiwork from afar—though no longer as prominent. A vast plain stretches ahead, sloping gently forward. But first she must prepare provisions and supplies.
After four days across the plain, distant mountains emerge—countless peaks forming a wall separating the outside world from the inner lands. She wonders why these mountains weren't visible from the forest, but when she turns to look back, she realizes how far she's come. The mountains aren't even as tall as the forest. The charred tree is now just a smoldering ember on the brink of extinction. That same feeling returns—this time like the flame within nearing completion, more fierce and ready to erupt. She suppresses it and continues her journey.
The river flows unobstructed; it seems the mountains have split to let it pass. Along the riverbank, through a narrow gorge, she walks until halfway through—and another forest greets her. A sense of dread fills her as she enters this cursed place. She wants to burn it all, but doing so would mean suicide.
She wonders why that vast plain supports no animals or monsters like the forest did. She struggles to catch even a few fish for one day's food.
"These mountains… are very strange," she mutters.
The deeper she goes into the gorge, the stranger the silence in this forest. The sun is masked, trees stretching to grab every bit of light. The river is calm; no wind, no sound except her footfalls.
Driven nearly insane by the silence, she wants to get out as fast as possible. She speeds up to her maximum pace—and realizes she's in the sights of a creature hidden above. It came from overhead; She had been too lax these past few days and now she was paying the price for her lack of vigilance. This creature is terrifyingly fast, leaping between trees and lunging at its prey in an instant. She's been waiting for this moment to activate the Dominate, to dominate and surprise it. The result is beyond imagination—as it appears, an eight-legged arthropod five times her size. Without hesitation she aims and stabs at its motionless eye, then retreats. She hopes it will flee but instead senses its bloodlust growing stronger. At that moment she curses herself for not having burned this forest earlier.
⸻
That's exactly what happened, nothing more, nothing less… can I rest now?
The poison has spread through her body; breathing becomes harder. Her consciousness slows—her thoughts are not her own. She wants to live—after all she's endured, living in this other world isn't so bad. Even if it might be harder than before, she still wants this life.
As if answering her will, the flame rises once more, flickering as though expressing something. Suddenly, her blood cleanses itself of the numbing poison—and then pain returns. Ribs shattered in the explosion, torn by jagged spikes, deaf ears, blind eyes—her whole body begins to heal. The process is excruciating; she bites her lip until it bleeds, but that heals swiftly too.
Then the whisper sounds again:
[Skytear has been used on you.]