Now, back to that young girl.
In the villages, it was well known—if not widely acknowledged—that those who trained in real-world danger gained stronger system integration. Fighting beasts in the wild honed true skill, unlike the sanitized simulations in the cities and noble estates. There, youth trained in public and private arenas using trapped creatures and safety spells, with escape routes and instant rescues always on standby. Effective? Sure. But lacking grit. Villagers believed this diluted potential. City folk, of course, called it superstition—low-class myths from backwater minds. In reality the villagers were correct. You can't create diamonds from coal without a little pressure. More often than not, skills earned through high stakes pressure, were indeed better. Their arrows flew a little faster, their sword strikes were more accurate, their fireballs were hotter. Better yet, they gained experience faster. Often getting more XP from animals slain.
The girl—coincidentally also named Samantha after her father, Samuel—was one of the best hunters among the non-integrated. Her potential was recognized and cherished by her family. Unfortunately, on this day, she had taken on more than she could handle. Normally, she only encountered non-integrated beasts—creatures without tiers or levels.
These non-integrated beasts were ignored by the integrated and left for the non-integrated youth to hunt for food and materials. Integrated beasts were a different matter entirely. Even the weakest among them could rival the strongest of the non-integrated. They carried cores—like organic system nodes—and sometimes dropped loot, from materials to coins. Monsters, sentient creatures like goblins, orcs, and skeletons, dropped even more: cores, gear, and system coins usable in the S.I.S.T.E.M. store or as the worlds new currency. No one really knew how the coins came to be or why, most likely an incentive to keep killing them. Some weird gift from the S.I.S.T.E.M.
This world's Sam had stumbled upon a newly Integrated beast. Sure she could probably hold her own with a level one provided it was small, and injured, and she had time to plan. But a surprise level 5?, not a chance. She'd managed to escape—barely—and hid herself in a narrow crevice high in the nearby mountains. Her injuries, however, were too severe for the low-tier health potions she carried. Little more than a bandaid to a broken leg. Those were the only kind usable by the non-integrated; stronger potions contained too much energy for their undeveloped bodies to handle.
It was at this moment—bleeding, broken, and fading—that's when our Sam's soul arrived. Just enough time passed for fragments of the old Sam's knowledge to imprint before her soul passed on, ready for rebirth elsewhere.
Muscle memory, it turned out, was a miraculous thing. While the new Sam lacked her predecessor's deep understanding of hunting, her body retained the instincts and movements honed over years. That would be enough—at least for now.
A curious boon: Sam's body, upon her soul's entry, healed almost entirely. Rebirth without renewal wouldn't make much sense, after all. And deep in that cave, the concentration of the fused mana—thanks to some not-at-all-suspicious circumstances—had reached a critical threshold.
Sam's first sensation was the lingering ache in her muscles. Her first thought? That she'd somehow survived. Her second? Dread. She was terrified she'd open her eyes and see Trevor's smug, smirking face looking down at her.
"Please no," she whispered.
A subtle chime rang in her mind.
{"Congratulations. Integration has begun. You have been successfully registered to the Sentient Interface for Survival, Tactics, Evolution, and Mana—S.I.S.T.E.M."}
Sam's eyes snapped open.
For a heartbeat, she wasn't sure if she was alive. Or why she was alive. The cold cave floor bit into her bare skin. Her pulse stuttered. Breath dragged in like gravel. She'd felt her body die—she knew she had.
Then why…
Panic surged. Her muscles spasmed, a phantom memory of restraints. Fear that she had somehow survived and the beating Trevor would inflict on her for having the audacity to try to escape him.
"Who's there?!" she gasped, eyes darting wildly in the dark crevice like cave.
A flicker of blue shimmered in the air—a translucent screen floated in front of her, glowing with eerie calm.
{"Apologies for the abrupt activation. I am your S.I.S.T.E.M. AI Assistant. Please hold still while I calibrate to your soulprint."}
"Soulprint?" she whispered, much like a fingerprint a soulprint contained every part of you, skills you've learned, memories, quirks and idiosyncrasies. Everything from your favourite scent to your darkest thoughts that even you don't want to remember. But the words barely left her lips before—
{ "Beginning synchronization. Warning: this may sting."}
Pain wasn't the right word. Evisceration, maybe. Every nerve in her body caught fire. Her bones shrieked. Even her hair hurt. Thankfully her experiences from living with her husband actually came in handy. Her ability to withstand pain helped her stay conscious. Barely.
Then came the voice, cool and clinical:
{"Anomaly detected. Host soul is not original to vessel. Beginning unnecessary trauma purge. Merging host identities… recalibrating…"}
'What the hell is necessary trauma?' she thought. Then came the memories—hers, yet not quite—poured through her like wildfire. Hunting, gathering, faces she knew but didn't and ... So much love for those faces. Then came moments of fear, the screaming of her name to run, of silences that choked louder than screams. Then a familiar fear, a fear she lived with since she was eighteen and only ended when she took matters into her own hands. Pain, so much pain and betrayal and hopelessness. These memories were definitely solely hers.
But the memories didn't break her. They floated in front of her mind like old films—painful, but processed. She remembered the hurt, the terror, the ache of enduring. But now it felt… distant. Like something she'd already healed from.
Then: silence. Peace.
{ "Soul cleansing complete. Emotional load reduced by 87%. Personality core retained. Trauma index: manageable.
Calibration successful. Welcome, Operator."}
She collapsed sideways, curling into herself instinctively. Her body trembled, waiting for pain that no longer came.
"Thank fuck that's over," she whispered, limbs limp, heart pounding with something close to hope. At least she wasn't in a hospital awaiting her doom.
{"My apologies. At most, you should have experienced a minor headache. Your soul seems to contain… a great deal of trauma"}
She laughed—sharp and broken.
"Ya, no shit. Oh and, no offense, but your pain scale is a bit off."
A pause. Then, the voice continued—same tone, but just a hint more human.
{"Noted. Adjusting pain calibration bias by 12%. Thank you for your feedback."}
The faint glow shifted, and she blinked as a floating screen changed in front of her, now showing something resembling… a menu?
{"As Operator, you may choose customize your S.I.S.T.E.M. assistant's identity, tone, and behavioral layer. Please select your preferences."}
She stared at the options:
{Name: ________
Gender: ☐ Male ☐ Female ☑ Non-Gendered
Voice: ☐ Preset 1 ☑ Preset 2 ☐ Preset 3 ☐ Custom
Tone: ☐ Casual ☐ Professional ☐ Formal ☑ Semi-Professional
Screen Notification Output:
☐ AI Audio and Notification Text On, Notification Read by AI Audio On
☐ AI Audio Only (With Text Notification Backlog)
☐ Text Only, AI Audio Off
☑ AI Audio On, Notification Text On, Read by AI Audio Off}
{"If you have a specific voice in mind, choose custom, then focus on the voice you have in mind. I will replicate the memory signature and construct a matching interface."}
She hesitated—but only for a moment.
Jarvis, she thought. From Iron Man. Always liked him. Calm, loyal, smarter than the guy he worked for…
The voice returned.
{"Shall I begin with a British accent, dry wit, and unwavering competence?"}
She smiled, a real one this time.
"Yes. Make me a Jarvis."
{"As you wish, Operator. Voice initialized. You may refer to me as Jarvis if you like—or rename me at any time."}
She set the name.
Name: Jarvis
Gender: Male
{ "Welcome, Operator. Let's not get killed in the first five minutes, shall we?"}
Sam laughed again, but it didn't crack this time.
For the first time since she'd fallen into that dark hole between worlds, she felt like someone—something—had her back.
Not a savior. Not a rescuer.
A teammate.
"You can just call me Sam, Jarvis" she said smiling to herself. The first real smile in a long time.
As the tension faded from her limbs, Sam blinked up at the floating blue screen.
{"Request noted and logged. Greetings Sam. Now initiating baseline orientation."}
Jarvis's voice returned, crisp and polished—like someone reading instructions with just enough sarcasm to keep her grounded.
"Welcome to the S.I.S.T.E.M.—Sentient Interface for Survival, Tactics, Evolution, and Mana. I will be your companion and tactical assistant moving forward. Your S.I.S.T.E.M. contains various modules to assist it's operator.
S.I.S.T.E.M. Interface Modules:
Profile – View personal stats, class, skills, and achievements
Inventory – Holds items mana-digitized (weightless). Weight: Infinite Capacity: 10 unique items (upgradable with level)
Quests – Tracks active, completed, faction, and legacy quests
Community – Messages, reputation, party/guild options
Store – Sells or purchases gear, spells, information, or upgrades
Shall we begin with your current profile?"}
"Yeah... why not? I'm already half-broken and lying on a rock. Might as well learn the rules of the afterlife."
{"Technically, this is not the afterlife. But your sarcasm has been noted and logged. Displaying Operator profile."}