Among the old things in this shack, I found paper and a quill. I couldn't resist. I gave in to old habits from my former life and started writing down everything I've learned so far—maybe it'll help me understand this world… or myself.
DAY 1 – I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT...
Magic is present in absolutely everything.
It only took a few moments in this place to realize: I can feel the magic flowing, like an invisible mist, making the air… alive.
Miriam tried to explain, patiently, that everything here has an order. A class.
I listened, trying to take mental notes, but ended up writing them down here… maybe so I don't forget. Maybe because it matters.
This is how it settled in my mind:
Race or Species – Every being has a general name, like elves, orcs, goblins, dwarves...
Subspecies (when they exist) – Some are different from one another, by culture, appearance, or even their magic. Like forest elves, dark elves, or moon elves... so beautiful, and so distinct.
Like Miriam: ethereal, sweet. Like poisoned chocolate.
Potential Classes – It's not just about appearance. Sometimes beastly, other times angelic. Each carries a potential, a force, classified as:
High Class – Rare. Wielders of arcane powers, unique magical heritages, or masters of superior magic… almost legends.
Middle Class – Few. Humans or beings with common magical or combat abilities, still respectable.
Low Class – The weakest or... the most oppressed. Limited in magic or strength, or simply placed in submissive roles.
Miriam said some classes are exclusive to one race—like Celestial Oracle, only Nephilim can be that…
But others? Anyone can attain them. Like a dark mage… if they have the courage and luck to get there.
That's all I've memorized so far. Everyone follows a branching system. Knowing where I stand, what level the creatures around me are… keeping away from the strongest and cruelest. Even if it sounds cowardly, it's vital—if I want to stay in one piece.
Yesterday, I'd laugh in her face.
But things shift when you see a man twice your size get swallowed whole by a forest bear, right?
I tucked away the quill and took a deep breath.
The habit of writing gave me a false sense of control—an echo of my old life.
As I closed the makeshift journal, I saw Miriam staring, her eyes distant.
> "Could Ema be from an ancient race?" she asked softly.
I dragged myself to a less damp corner of the shack—two straw beds, a wobbly table, two rickety stools. My nose itched with the musty smell. I tried to ignore it, focusing on the copper plaque nailed to the wall.
A strange face… not the pale, scarred one with lifeless blue eyes that always glared back at me.
This one was oval-shaped; the skin, smooth like porcelain; the eyes, brown… lost.
Who is she?
> "She's probably some experiment from a big shot. People disappearing is getting more common…"
—Korak answered, dropping into the chair, which groaned under his weight.
My stomach twisted at the thought—what kind of experiments?
> "Weird hearing this stuff about me… or how casually people talk about vanishing humans," I muttered, sitting by the dusty fireplace, hugging my knees.
Korak mumbled something like "too sentimental."
Apparently, feelings aren't very valued here... makes sense: if they don't beat you, they kill you.
> "What's weird is how you're glued to that mirror," the orc snapped.
> "I'm just... trying to understand," I replied, glancing one last time before burying the memory of Stella for good.
Since no one lit the fire, I decided to do it myself.
The moment I touched the wood, a tingling spread through my fingers, and with a sudden crack—purple fire burst out of me, igniting the logs instantly.
Miriam and Korak jumped, fear flashing on such different faces.
> "By the Nine Ancients! You used primordial magic!?"
—Miriam cried, rushing to the flames.
> "Careful! That's fae fire! Then you're a... but where's the mark?"
—Korak narrowed his eyes with a cold, assessing stare.
> "I have no idea what you're not seeing," I answered, watching my fingers still glowing in violet flames—warm and soft like a blanket.
It felt like that fire... was me.
The more the flames danced, the more my chest burned—as if I couldn't breathe.
> "Fae have a hidden mark. It only shows when they use magic.
Fire ones usually show colored branches across their body or a mark under their eye," Miriam explained, gently pulling my arm, checking my pale skin, then inspecting my eyes—so close I could see golden freckles on her nose.
> "Here… better change clothes. You're not even wearing this properly," she added, handing me a purple dress—light, with delicate sleeves and an off-shoulder neckline, paired with a thick, black corset.
Stab-proof, probably.
I looked at my rags—dirty, torn, barely covering me.
I accepted.
As Miriam adjusted the corset, I gasped.
> "Miriam! I still need to breathe!"
> "Sorry… Let's see… shoes...
These boots are tight on me, but you're smaller. Should work," she said, handing me high-cuffed boots made of some strange, soft material.
> "Harpie leather. Quality stuff," she added with a mischievous smirk.
> "What's it gonna cost me?" I asked, suspicious.
Kindness didn't seem like this world's strong suit… or mine.
> "We need one more for a guild. Come on, just this once.
You'll learn and earn some gold before heading to the human city,"
—Korak explained, sitting cross-legged, radiating raw power.
He gave me chills. Danger wrapped in muscle.
> "I don't know how to fight," I warned, sheepishly.
Fighting was never my thing. I sucked at jiu-jitsu. Too... Tay...
> "We'll teach you. Easy stuff, won't even sweat,"
—Miriam promised, pulling strange meats and a gray paste from her bag.
Looked horrible. Tasted oddly decent—rubbery, but not bad.
> "If I die… I'm haunting both of you," I warned with a sigh.
I needed supplies. There was no other option.
We slept in silence, to the crackling of the fire.
Or rather, they slept. Korak snored like a beast, and Miriam didn't move at all...
I reviewed everything in my mind—until unconsciousness took over.
---
Next Morning
I realized how pathetic I was when Korak knocked me down in three seconds.
> "You're overthinking! Feet firm, weight on the right leg! Lift the sword!
You're small and fast—use it!"
—he roared, charging with his hammer raised.
I jumped to the side just in time.
> "Is staying alive optional in your lessons?" I gasped.
My hair stuck to my forehead with sweat. My mouth tasted of blood.
My knees shook.
> "Only if you want to make it to the next lesson..."
—he said, smashing a rock like clay.
That was the entire morning—until Miriam intervened and called us for lunch.
I was near tears.
If Korak was tough, training with Miriam was hell.
Using magic, even when it flowed naturally, was brutal.
Channeling large amounts into specific points was exhausting—like electricity burning through muscle.
Thanks to years of gymnastics, I dodged the worst blows with jumps, spins, agility.
By sunset, I was used to the flames. I no longer cut myself with the sword.
A small step... but mine.
Too tired for anything else, I collapsed into sleep.
---
Next Day
Cloudy morning. The forest entrance looked sinister—like a waiting mouth.
> "Stay sharp. Ema, when we hit the Criskak, attack from the rocks,"
—Korak ordered, spinning his hammer.
> "How many of his plans actually work?" I whispered to Miriam.
Something felt off.
> "None... in the end, we improvise," she answered, with a nervous, daring smile.
> "I heard that!" —Korak growled without turning.
We went deeper. Carcasses littered the ground.
The air reeked of metal and rot.
Scratches on the walls screamed turn back, but we pressed on.
But what really chilled me... was the smell.
Something... earthy. Cold. Killer.
> "So much hide… That's valuable. Let's grab it!"
—Miriam sounded like a lady in a mall.
> "Is it normal to find this much?" I asked, holding a torn plate full of fangs.
Bad sign.
> "Trouble," I muttered, tossing the plate at their feet with a metallic clang.
> "Shit! A ground-serpent nest. Stay alert!"
—Korak barked, urgency sharp in his voice.
A horrid hiss echoed.
A pointed tail slammed a rock beside us—pulverized.
The black serpent rose—armored skin, blood-red eyes, cruel and calculating.
> "A King Serpent. DIE, YOU BASTARD!"
—Korak charged from the right, but his blows did nothing.
He jumped back—transformed: muscle bulging, skin grayish, veins bulging, aura crushing.
Now his hits cut. The beast screeched, coiled like a whip, then slammed him into the wall.
Miriam took over—fireballs useless.
The serpent's tail and our exhaustion forced us back.
A stalactite fell—crushing Miriam, leaving her exposed. Sweat beaded on her pale face.
My heart raced louder than the serpent's hiss. We were going to die...
{ATTACK}
The word blinked in red neon… or not?
No one decides my fate anymore!
My legs moved on their own.
I ran to the unconscious orc, channeling purple fire into his twin daggers.
It was like fusing myself with them—they breathed with me.
Using a fallen rock as a platform, I jumped.
As the beast struck, I landed atop it, blades sinking in like butter.
I hit the ground—serpent dead.
Miriam was on the ground, staring in stunned silence.
> "Are you hurt?" I asked, limping to her.
> "I'm fine... What the hell was that?"
> "I didn't think. I just moved. If you'd told me I could do that, I'd have helped earlier."
> "Technically, you shouldn't be able to. Not unless the daggers were magically bound..."
—she analyzed.
I stayed quiet. My stomach twisted.
Miriam gently tapped my nose.
> "Relax. You're probably a hybrid. That's why you're strong. Don't stress."
> "Why do you think I'm stressed?"
> "You wrinkle your nose when you're cornered."
> "You've known me for three days. How do you already know my quirks?"
> "You're too expressive," she smiled.
This face is way too readable.
Korak groaned, waking up—blood still dripping from his head.
After a quick healing session, we got back to work.
---
As we were leaving, Miriam pulled out a faintly glowing blue crystal and approached.
> "Stand still. I want to test something," she said.
She pressed a clear crystal to my skin—cold.
In her other hand, she murmured a spell. A soft light shimmered. A mist surrounded me...
Then the crystal… died.
> "Huh?" she frowned.
"That's never happened before..."
> "What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed.
> "It burned out. Didn't read anything. Not your name, race, nor magic.
Like you're invisible to the system," she whispered, staring at the dead crystal.
My heart pounded.
Something was wrong with me.
Korak stepped closer, serious now.
> "Only seen that with corrupted artifacts... or ancient entities."
A chill ran down my spine.
This wasn't good.
Miriam tried again.
Nothing.
> "It's like the crystal is afraid of you," she joked—half serious.
> "I... I'm not that scary, am I?" I tried to laugh, but my voice cracked.
I looked away, focusing on the rocks nearby.
Miriam smiled softly, but her eyes gleamed with genuine curiosity.
---
We headed to Scrova.
Closest town. No one wanted to travel a week just to sell loot.
Korak was a great salesman...
Or maybe people were just too scared to argue with him.
---
DIARY (NIGHT)
I got the amber core from the King Serpent. Among hunters, there's a rule—or a code of honor:
If you kill the monster alone, the core is yours.
And I decided not to sell it.
I don't know why. Maybe instinct. Maybe a gut feeling.
Korak thinks I'm crazy...
Miriam… well… I don't know if she's an optimist or just eccentric.
My agony won.
I cut my hair above the shoulders. Much more practical—after today's battle, I know how dangerous long hair is.
Also… I didn't expect to feel this… alive… gutting a monster.
But that's how I feel: dirty, sore, shaking… and incredibly ALIVE.
The problem is...
I probably shouldn't feel this way.