"I am fine... but who are you?" the woman asked, her voice breathless with relief. She looked at Alice not as a traveler, but as a divine savior sent to pull her from the brink.
"I am Alice," she replied. She offered a brave, practiced smile, but behind it lay a fractured landscape of sadness and desperation.
The woman gripped Alice's hand to steady herself, shaking it with frantic gratitude. "Thank you for protecting me. If you hadn't intervened, I... my children would have been left with no one." Her voice broke into a sob. "I am weak, and I have my reasons for borrowing from a man like that. I just want to protect my kids so they never have to feel the weight of my stress."
As Alice looked at the weeping mother, a flicker of an old, gentle memory warmed her heart. "I shall help you," Alice said, her voice softening. "Do not worry. Your bravery has moved me."
She turned a cold, commanding stare toward Adam. "Adam, see to it that she has a room. She needs rest."
Adam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "Can we trust a stranger? What if this is a fabrication? She should provide proof before we spend our gold."
Alice's gaze turned gloomy, burdened by a longing she couldn't name. "Adam, I know the difference between a lie and the truth. No one can faine the pain held in a mother's eyes."
Silently, Adam yielded. He walked past them to book the rooms, his voice a flat, emotionless drone. "Fine. But her safety is your responsibility, Alice."
They ascended to the top floor. Alice threw open the window of their chamber, letting a gust of warm wind dance through her hair. The room felt peaceful, yet Alice's heart remained restless.
"I forgot to ask," Alice said, turning back. "What is your name?"
"My name is Liza," the woman replied.
"And where do you live, Liza?"
"A mile from this town, in a small house deep within the forest," Liza said, her face lighting up with thoughts of home. "With my sweet baby boy."
The mention of a son sent a sharp, agonizing pang through Alice. Her face fell back into a mask of sorrow. That night, while the others fell into a deep sleep, Alice remained wide awake, haunted by a feeling she couldn't shake.
Drawn by a strange pull, she headed downstairs to the inn's hall. The mission board was active 24/7, a glowing beacon for those seeking fortune or death. Alice's eyes scanned the parchments until they landed on a black-covered contract. She tore it from the board and approached the clerk.
"Welcome, madam. I am Joseph," the man said with a jovial laugh. "How can I assist you?"
Alice slammed the black mission onto the desk. "Where is the destination for this?"
Joseph's smile vanished. His eyes grew keen and sharp. "The black tier? Madam, those are 'Impossible' class. Those who take them do not return. I suggest you reconsider."
"I don't need luck," Alice hissed, her voice a low vibration of power. "I know how to win."
She vanished into the night forest. At first, the woods were a dreamscape of bioluminescent fireflies and singing insects. The moonlight painted the path in silver, and the forest breathed with a beautiful, rhythmic sound.
Then, the world died.
With her next step, the sound vanished. The light was swallowed by an absolute, suffocating darkness. Alice looked at the mission paper; it was now a blank, white sheet. She didn't panic. Her eyes ignited into a sparkling red-orange glow, and the veins in her hands pulsed with crimson mana.
"Why have you come here?" A woman's voice, cold as a funeral shroud, echoed inside Alice's skull. "You are an outsider. Go back to the region where you belong."
Alice's mana flared. The secret of her origin was a secret she would kill to protect. Suddenly, the reality around her shattered like glass. The pigments of the forest fell away into a black void, followed by a blinding flash of light.
When she opened her eyes, she gasped. She was standing in front of her old house in Albelion, perched atop the familiar cliffs.
"An illusion," Alice sneered, her voice trembling despite her bravado. "A smart move."
She pushed open the door, and the sight inside stole the air from her lungs. She saw herself—or a version of herself—sitting in a cradle chair. The dream-Alice was humming a sweet, low melody, cradling a small baby against her chest.
Alice stood frozen, her senses failing her. Then, the door in the memory opened. A man entered. His face was a blurred smudge of light and shadow, but his presence was unmistakable. He approached the chair, hugging the woman and the child. He kissed the woman's cheek and patted the baby's head, their laughter filling the room with a warm, tender light.
Alice couldn't breathe. The long-lost feeling of belonging hit her with the force of a tidal wave. Panic seized her heart; cold sweat drenched her skin. She clutched her head, her eyes glowing with a terrifying, incandescent red.
"NO!" she screamed, the sound tearing through the fabric of the dream.
The house, the family, and the light dissolved. Alice was left floating in a pitch-black space, her screams echoing into the endless nothingness.
Alice floated in the suffocating void, her consciousness fraying at the edges. But then, a voice pierced the absolute silence—a sound so sweet it felt like a physical touch against her soul.
"Mom... Mom, wake up. You can't give up yet. Our mom is so strong..."
The words were a lifeline, a missing piece of a shattered heart clicking back into place. Alice's eyes snapped open within the pitch-black abyss. The warmth of that voice didn't just soothe her; it ignited a solar flare of pure, unadulterated rage.
She screamed, a primal sound that tore through the vacuum. A torrential eruption of crimson and orange mana exploded from her form, flickering like celestial flames. The output was so massive, so violent, that the darkness itself began to groan under the pressure. The void could no longer contain her.
With the sound of a thousand mirrors breaking, the darkness shattered into shimmering glass shards.
Alice's boots hit solid ground. She blinked, her vision clearing to reveal a small, rustic hut. It was humble and beautiful, nestled in a pocket of reality that felt unnervingly still. Driven by a volatile mix of wrath and instinct, Alice kicked the door open, her mana still rolling off her shoulders in waves.
Inside, there was no monster. No dark mage. Only a cradle.
A small child sat within it, playing quietly with wooden toys. The infant looked up and smiled—a pure, happy expression that felt like a knife to Alice's chest.
What is this? she muttered to herself, her eyes darting around the room. A baby? Could a mere child have conjured that nightmare? Impossible.
As the thought crossed her mind, the temperature in the room plummeted to sub-zero. The air grew heavy, thick with a murderous intent so sharp it felt like a blade pressed against her spine. It was a pressure far beyond the "black-tier" mission—it was the presence of a true executioner.
Alice didn't flinch. Her eyes began to glow with a lethal, incandescent light as she slowly turned her head toward the source of the malice.