Reya Advincula had been absolutely demolishing content for twelve hours straight. Her purple-haired elf avatar "Puliniel" was mid-victory dance after clutching another impossible raid boss, chat going absolutely feral with hype donations. But she kept it professional—no parasocial baiting, no shipping fuel, just pure skill expression.
"Alright degenerates, your girl's hands are literally dying," she announced, Puliniel executing her signature bow. "Don't forget to absolutely destroy that follow button. Tomorrow we're gonna be cracked at the new fantasy beta, and it's gonna be absolutely poggers."
She minimized the stream and cracked her knuckles. At thirty, she'd built her brand on being the reliable, no-drama VTuber who could carry any game while keeping the actual degenerates in line. Maximum skill, zero controversy, infinite professional energy.
But as she reached for her third energy drink of the night, reality decided to completely brick itself.
Her RGB setup twisted into something that definitely wasn't her apartment. The familiar blue glow became flickering orange and red, and suddenly the air tasted like smoke instead of stale ramen and regret. This wasn't her computer overheating—this was real fire, real danger, real "oh shit I'm about to get absolutely rekt" energy.
She looked down and nearly had a complete system crash. Four feet tall, pointed ears, silver hair that looked exactly like her avatar's model. Either she'd been drugged and kidnapped by the world's most elaborate Puliniel cosplayer, or she'd just gotten isekai'd harder than every light novel protagonist combined.
The wooden house around her was straight up burning. Outside, she could hear NPCs screaming, metal clashing, and what sounded like the most toxic voice chat imaginable.
"The Silverleaf settlement is ours!" Some absolute mouth-breather was shouting like he was the main character. "Round up every Elflet you can find! These little ones fetch premium gold in the southern markets!"
Her streamer brain immediately parsed the situation. Tutorial disaster event. Inciting incident. She was living in her own isekai anime, and right now she was playing the weak starter character about to get absolutely griefed if she didn't move her ass.
The lore was pretty yikes though. Elflets lived 300 years and were naturals at housework, making them perfect slaves. These bandits were running a human trafficking operation with fantasy window dressing. Absolutely cursed content.
She grabbed what looked like a starter pack and yeeted herself toward the window. The village was getting completely griefed, Elflets being dragged away like the world's most disturbing gacha collection.
"There's another one!" A bandit spotted her mid-parkour. "Don't let the little rat escape!"
Time to show these NPCs some real movement tech. She sprint-jumped through the burning village, her new body surprisingly responsive despite the child-like proportions. These guys were mounted though, definitely higher level than her current build.
The cliff ahead overlooked what was probably called something cringe like "Moonfall River." Thirty-foot drop into water, but the alternative was getting farmed by these absolute degenerates.
"End of the line, you little freak!" The lead bandit raised his sword, clearly thinking he was hot shit.
"GG no re," she muttered, and sent herself into the void.
The fall was terrifying, the water hitting like a truck. But this avatar seemed built different—way more durable than her IRL squishy streamer body. The current was sweaty though, dragging her downstream while the bandits malded from above.
Then she saw it—a whirlpool that screamed "secret area," glowing with that unmistakable "hidden content" aesthetic. Before she could react, it pulled her under like the world's most aggressive loading screen.
Everything went dark.