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Chapter 1 – The Lamest Death in History
The bass thundered so hard it rattled Sara's ribs, shaking through the overcrowded nightclub like an earthquake disguised as music. Flashing strobe lights turned sweaty faces into ghosts and devils, the air thick with perfume, smoke, and the cloying burn of cheap vodka.
Sara loved it. This was her temple. Her battlefield. Her throne.
"Shots! More shots!" she yelled, her words slurring only slightly as she slammed an empty glass on the bar. The bartender groaned but poured anyway. Sara grinned, her eyeliner smudged, her hair sticking to her damp forehead, her heels wobbling dangerously as she stood on the edge of the counter like a conqueror overlooking her domain.
Her friends cheered, phones out, recording every moment of her reign. This was her last night on Earth, and she'd be damned if it wasn't legendary.
Or so she thought.
Sara tossed back another shot, raised her arms, and struck a pose she was sure was seductive. Except—her foot landed in a puddle of spilled liquor. Her heel slipped. She flailed like a panicked flamingo.
"Wait—wait, I got this—!"
She didn't.
Her body lurched backward, crashing into the DJ's massive speaker. The music screeched, the crowd gasped, and with the grand finale of a toppled tower, Sara's head slammed against the equipment.
Darkness swallowed her.
Just like that, she was dead. The self-proclaimed queen of the club ended her reign with a vodka slip-and-slide.
The lamest death in history.
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Sara opened her eyes to silence.
No thundering bass. No flashing lights. Just… white. A vast, endless void, stretching so far she felt dizzy staring at it.
She floated, weightless, her body whole and clean. No sticky vodka, no headache, no blood. Just her.
And laughter.
Deep, booming laughter echoed all around her. A thousand voices, mocking yet strangely amused.
"Did you see her fall? Truly magnificent!"
"The vodka-swan-dive! A masterpiece of mortal idiocy!"
"Mortals never cease to entertain."
Sara scowled, her arms crossing instinctively. "Uh, hello? Excuse me? Who the hell's laughing at me? And where am I?"
Light shimmered ahead of her, forming into five colossal thrones suspended in the void. On them sat beings too radiant to describe: a silver-haired goddess whose beauty made Sara squint, a flame-bearded god whose body flickered like fire, and three others, each glowing with impossible majesty.
Sara's jaw dropped. "…Oh. Great. I really did die, didn't I?"
The goddess smiled kindly, though her eyes twinkled with mischief. "You are correct. You perished. Quite spectacularly, I might add."
Sara groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God, no. People saw that. They recorded that. That's how I'll be remembered? A YouTube fail compilation?"
The gods roared with laughter again.
"Silence," the flame-bearded one boomed, though he was still chuckling. "Mortal, your death was… amusing. Pitiful, yes, but amusing. So much so, we have decided to grant you mercy. A second chance."
Sara's head snapped up. "Wait—you mean reincarnation? Like, new life, new world, cheat powers, hot husband, endless money—that kind of deal?"
The goddess inclined her head. "Indeed. You were to be reborn as the cherished daughter of a noble family on Kyros, destined to wed a powerful cultivator and live in glory."
Sara pumped her fist. "Yes! Finally, some divine customer service!"
But then the goddess sighed. "…Unfortunately, there has been a slight mistake."
Sara froze. "…Define mistake."
Before she could get an answer, golden light swallowed her body. The gods' voices overlapped, echoing like thunder in her mind.
"You will not receive a system."
"Instead, two gifts shall be yours."
"The power to project anything your mind can envision…"
"…And the left eye that copies all it sees."
"Survive well, little drunkard."
The light tightened around her, pulling her down, down, down.
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Sara woke with a splitting headache.
"Ohhh… what did I drink? Feels like I lost a fight with a beer keg."
She groaned and sat up—only to realize the ceiling above her wasn't plaster or disco lights. It was rough, gray stone, dripping faintly with water. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and stared down at her hands.
Small. Thin. Pale.
Not her hands.
"What the—"
She scrambled to her feet, but her legs felt shorter, her balance different. She stumbled to a nearby puddle and looked down.
A face stared back at her. Not her own.
The girl in the reflection had wide golden eyes, faintly pointed ears, and a small, delicate frame. Her dark hair was tangled, her skin marked with faint tribal lines that glowed faintly blue.
Sara gasped. "Oh, no. Ohhh no. Don't tell me this is me. Don't tell me—"
A memory surfaced, whispered in her mind like an echo.
Vexin.
A race she didn't know, but somehow… she did. Weak. Despised. Bottom of the food chain.
Sara slapped the water with both hands, her reflection rippling away. "Are you kidding me?! I was supposed to be a princess married to a hot guy, not… this!"
Her shout bounced through the cavern, the sound mocking her. She groaned, collapsing onto her back.
"Great. Just great. I die drunk, get laughed at by gods, and wake up as fantasy-world trash."
She closed her eyes and muttered, "Fine. Whatever. I'll make it work. Rich husband or not, I'll survive. I'll drink, I'll fight, I'll… wait. What were those cheats again?"
She focused, and suddenly an idea sparked.
A glowing dagger flickered into being in her hand, sharp and bright. Her eyes widened.
"…Oh."
Then she blinked, and the dagger flickered out. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs.
She rubbed her left eye, which tingled strangely, almost… alive.
Sara's lips curved into a grin. "Alright, gods. You screwed up. But if you think a little thing like this will stop me, you've got another thing coming."
She pushed herself up, dusted the dust off her bare body, and marched deeper into the cave.
"Fine. No rich family. No hot husband. I'll just make my own fun. And when I'm done…" She smirked.
"…I'll drink my way to godhood."
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