Her muscles tensed as the invigorating energy made every muscle fiber in her arm vibrate with power. Jean felt capable of breaking the door with a single punch, but she wasn't about to waste a third of her stamina for that.

  She kicked open the door and waited on guard. A misshapen creature of her own height watched her motionless. There was no vaporous shape to its silhouette. No soul.

  ?Meat Golem?

  Level 42

  Highest Attribute (Strength): 63

  Jean charged with Nimireth's Rage and Onslaught active. All her muscles were strengthened to the point that her veins seemed about to burst. The lunge culminated in a right hook. The upper half of the golem ended up splattered across the wall two meters behind, forming a dantesque painting.

  Jean stepped back to the stairs and remained hidden. She waited patiently until hurried footsteps were heard. They sounded like Lethann's before parting from his thin body covered in rotting rags.

  Both skeletons stared at the golem and each other for several seconds. They didn't even bother to look to their right where Jean lurked. By the time they saw her charge, it was too late. In an instant, she combined four effects on her two-handed sledgehammer.

  Part of their bodies ended up giving the final touch to her abstract masterpiece. However, it wasn't all good news. Her body felt like it was about to collapse.

  Thankfully, they were unable to attack her from the ground. For from the thorax down, they had nothing left, and even less after a meticulous review with the hammer. Only their heads resisted.

  “What the hell are you, bitch?!”, shouted one of the skeletons. She ignored them and focused on devouring the meat golem. “'Master will finish you off in an instant!”

  [You have learned Vigor — Basic Rank. Unique skill.

  You acquire temporary extra Strength when applying Strength effects to yourself. Its value will be +1 per player level, plus 1% of your base strength. Current value 13.25.

  [Pain Resistance has increased to Expert Rank. Unique skill.

  Increase your capacity to withstand pain. The base value is 3% of the sum of your attributes. Additionally, it increases by 1% per player level. Current value, 19,21%.

  [Nimireth’s Toughness has increased to Expert Rank. Unique skill.

  You gain +1 extra Toughness for every 8 points you have in the attribute.]

  Jean continued through the unlit corridors. It was no longer a problem now that she could see with such precision that even some worn murals were perfectly visible. Murals with runes that spoke of the darkness that once existed in ancient times. Turn after turn, and corridor after corridor, she read how the Guardians of the Nine had fought and ended an evil from another world. An insatiable evil that had made them live underground for decades.

  “I have a doubt? Are we players in a time before we were all abducted from Earth? ... ... ... Ok! The usual. Zero clues!”

  The silence continued until a sudden fragrance alerted her. A familiar scent she hadn't memorized. She only knew that she had smelled it for the first time after her arrival.

  “Shit! I don't have the olfactory memory of a fucking bloodhound!”

  She closed her eyes and increased her Perception by +10. Footsteps not too far away. Something was approaching from the end of the wide corridor.

  Jean searched for the vaporous form of some soul in the darkness, but found nothing. Nothing was visible at the source of the footsteps or anywhere else around.

  “Shit! ... This already happened earlier when Ilya was following me and became invisible. She also managed to hide her soul.”

  The whispers explained that with more rank in Identify she would understand why. Jean sighed and backed forward very slowly.

  “Come closer! Don't be shy!” As soon as she spoke, a bow tightened.

  The first arrow hit her in the shoulder and the second in the thorax, but neither pierced more than a finger deep; they were weakened by a barrier and the 10 points boost in Toughness from Nimireth's Rage.

  Jean smiled and unequipped Khaor's cursed outfit. She was going to do something reckless and she didn't want it damaged. “Where's Ilya?”

  The bow tightened again and Jean interposed both arms as she rammed imbued in brown with several yellow and orange trails surrounding her. “Alright! Let's end this!”

  New arrows flew through the corridor in search of her head. Hands and forearms intercepted the first three. The pain went from bearable to very annoying, but soon it became very intense. One after another, the arrows struck as the archer kept the distance.

  Under such intense assault she had no option but to stop. The barrier was hardly any help; everything depended on the effects. Jean began to regret not having equipped what was left of the shield. She wanted to intimidate the archer and to relent now would be humiliating.

  Jean shouted to chase away her own pain as several arrows sank into her chest, legs, and tore the skin on the side of her head. With the magic hardening it, they wouldn't be able to pierce his skull even in his wildest dreams. However, it wasn't easy to endure the torture. The most important thing was to avoid getting an eye hit. It would be very problematic to repair one.

  The archer stopped keeping the distance and began to approach little by little. Shooting and slowly emptying the quiver.

  With more desire to crush than patience, she calculated where the arrows came from. She momentarily increased her Strength and attacked with her greatsword. She was too slow for her stalker, but not for the bow.

  Smiling, she summoned her healing and stored the arrows one by one in the inventory. Of course, making time so that the mana wouldn't run out. “I hope you've made yourself at home, you bastard! It's my turn now!”

  A woman's laughter mocked her as she walked away down the hallway. She was still invisible, but that amused Jean as well. More time to regenerate mana instead of wasting what potions she had left. So far she was doing a good job with that.

  “You have nothing to do with Bear, do you? But ... and with that bastard Ian?” Jean didn't know how to interpret the laughter she heard. ”... What are you after then? What do you want Ilya for?”

  Jean was forced to renew the remedy. Its effect was just now going downhill. She took the opportunity to look at the map. The arrows marked the same direction she was going. That relieved her. She wasn't wasting her time.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Where are you taking me? You want a date and you don't know how to ask? How unsubtle!”

  A distant coughing sound caught her off guard. That was very strange and too much of a coincidence.

  “Have you touched the girl you took?” Nothing answered, except more coughing. “That's what you get for motherfuckers!”

  The coughing stopped for a few seconds. Jean sensed that she was holding it back, but she wouldn't hold them back for long.

  “You're screwed! Believe me! I know what I'm talking about.”

  The coughing grew louder. “I should ignore you and enjoy imagining you writhing in pain in some corner, but... I have this sick urge to make you pay for every arrow.”

  No matter how hard the archer tried, the coughing became a constant. Jean couldn’t help but smile. “You're going to tell me everything you know!”

  After more than 25 meters of corridor, she finally located the archer. She could even perceive for an instant how her invisibility weakened enough for her soul to be perceptible. It was not enough for Identify to emerge though.

  Jean drastically increased her Agility and activated Chameleon enhanced with the effect of Perception. That way she was practically invisible.

  Jean tried to surprise her, but she escaped up to 3 times. When she also increased her Dexterity, things changed; the blade ended up slightly stained with blood. After a little more pressure, the ground began to turn red as well.

  Against the ropes, the archer took action as well. Invisibility was saving her from Jean's wrath, but for how long? Or maybe…was it the other way around?

  Whispers warned her to protect her neck and heart. Request that Jean boldly ignored. She spent almost all her mana to increase her Agility and Toughness and executed Blade Dance in the direction where she sensed she would be.

  The skill was nothing like God Fist or Onslaught. With a control of every muscle like she had never experienced, she spun with fluid movements that felt like a thousand times rehearsed. Stamina coursed through her muscles to her weapon, flowing further to create two energy blades cloning the greatsword attack right where she wanted them to appear.

  The attacks hit the archer squarely, but not for free. One of her weapons pierced her spine through the neck and the other her lungs from the side. Both far from killing her, but enough for the pain to send her body into shock.

  Four streams of blood splattered the walls and floor before the archer fell to the ground. Her invisibility broke; she barely moved.

  Jean reached for the two short swords plunged into her body. She exhausted all the mana each time she stored a sword, but she managed to close the wounds.

  There was no satisfaction at all on Jean's face when Identify showed up. She even opened the map to see how the arrows from various quests pointed at the archer.

  “Ilya!?”

  A wraith began to emerge from her body. His appearance was nothing compared to Lethann. Not only was he neater and larger, but his hands were claw-like and his eyes emitted a fierce red glow.

  “No, no, no! NOOOOO! … MOTHERFUCKER!”

  Ilya was still agonizing and trying to cover the huge cut on her throat. Jean bent down and tried to block the flow of blood with her hands. Opportunity that the wraith didn’t waste.

  She didn't have time to consume mana potions to take the necessary measures to repel him. The specter pushed his head into Jean's skull and everything blurred. There was no pain, no fainting. Just a veil that enveloped everything, lulling her mind into unconsciousness.

  Within seconds, the gentle swell of the sea against the sand and seagulls squawking overhead dominated. The breeze caressed her face and ruffled her long hair. The sun warmed her while the refreshing smell of the sea purified her mind.

  Opening her eyes, she saw a bicycle and the pedals turning under the momentum of her feet. A dirt road stretched out beneath the wheels as the wind stirred her summer clothes with shades of pink and blue. That could almost translate as freedom, but it was short-lived.

  “Jean, wait there! Don't ruin our vacation!”

  No way! That was the voice of... her mother? Jean stopped in her tracks and looked back. It was far away, but it was certainly her, and she wasn't alone. Her sisters and her father were there too. All on bicycles.

  She realized that she had already experienced that. A long ride along the sea. She was 12 years old and life hadn't yet crushed her like a bug. She still believed it was just a long, bad streak that she could get over.

  At that time, the distance with her mother was already huge. She felt despised by her mother. She kept insinuating that she was a very unfeminine girl. Ugly, brutish and rude. Again and again, she insisted that she shouldn't fight with other girls just because they were disrespectful to her. It was unladylike. Jean spat on those words and on half the ideas her mother tried to instill in her. Words she had learned from her grandmother. An old woman Jean hated.

  Jean clenched her teeth when she remembered the punishment of that summer. Her mother had forced her to attend the same school where she was humiliated. Her mother didn't know she was being bullied, but that was the foundation of what began to drive them apart.

  “Jean! Why do you always leave us behind? You don't want to be with us?”, her little sister asked. The perfect daughter in her mother's eyes. Always manipulating Jean's every action.

  “Jean, wait!”, her father shouted. A kind man always willing to help. He worked as a fireman. When he wasn't working, he was always busy with something, so he was hardly ever at home. That pissed off Jean. He was the only one she could talk to, even though she never talked to anyone. Perhaps because no one understood her solitary and wild nature.

  On the other side, was her older sister. Always so invisible to everyone.

  The sight of the four of them on bikes made her feel alienated. That was very common and one of the many reasons that led her to emancipate herself at the age of 18 after failing to enroll in university. She had passed her exams, but that fate eluded her. Her father was to blame, although reclaiming it to his grave changed nothing.

  Jean frowned and began pedaling again, trying to leave them behind. What the hell was she doing there? She was... Where the hell was she? … Not there. That's for sure.

  Not ten seconds later, she heard one of the bicycles trying to catch up with her. It was clearly her father.

  “You want a race, redhead?”, he giggled, getting closer and closer.

  That insignificant display of affection made her heart leap. Within an instant, it beat unstoppably. Her grumpy old face disappeared and she let joy fill her. She accepted the challenge and began pedaling harder than her body allowed her.

  A few minutes later, they were both panting, although Jean knew her father was only faking it. Always so empathetic. Even to fucking death.

  Jean soon slowed down. Her father followed suit and they continued like that for a long time. In silence. Wanting to say so many things to each other, but saying none of them.

  Jean enjoyed every second of feeling her father so close again. She knew it wasn't real, but she didn't want to ruin it. She didn't want him to disappear.

  “Why are you crying, redhead?!”

  Jean put a hand to her face. She hadn't even noticed. “You already know, Dad! This... is not real!”

  “So what if it isn't?”

  Jean tightened her grip on the handlebars. He would never have said something like that. He would never be fooled by the ephemeral and the unreal.

  “I'm sorry! I... I can't stay!”

  “Why don't you take advantage of this?”

  Jean tensed her body as if that could summon Nimireth's Rage; that wasn't her body. She closed her eyes and insisted with such intensity, that she could have deformed the handlebars if she had her new body.

  When she felt her father's hand trying to embrace her, she hesitated. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.

  “Stay, Jean! Stay with me! ... Don't leave me alone in this place!”

  She screamed at the top of her lungs, swearing eternal hatred to the one poking into the wound she had never been able to close. When she opened her eyes to see him for the last time, her father's body was completely carbonized by the fire that killed him.

  “I'm gonna kill, you fucking bastard!”

  Suddenly, he felt a cold, sharp pain in her throat. She tried to cover the wound and cast her healing skill, but it didn't respond to her call.

  “No, no no!”

  “Farewell, Daughter of Nimireth! Return to your...” Words died before she could finish.