Awakening

On the damp floor of a dim basement lay a young girl.

She was about seventeen or eighteen, her long, light-gold hair scattered messily beneath her. Her features were delicate and her face pretty, and even the oversized men's clothing could not hide her tender, fair skin. Yet an expression of affliction currently surfaced on her stunning face, the skin between her tightly shut eyes furrowed into a deep vertical wrinkle that shifted uncertainly in the flickering candlelight.

Just as the candle on the candleholder was about to burn out, the girl awoke.

Pressing a hand to her forehead as though it were about to explode from within, she groaned and climbed up from the floor. Her overly loose clothing and trousers exposed more skin during her movements, but the person in question cared not a whit—or rather, did not notice at all.

"I... am not dead? Where is this? A hospital, or a church?" the girl muttered to herself, then jumped in fright at the sound of her own voice. "My throat... cough—" She dry-coughed a few times, yet her voice still sounded unlike it used to.

Looking up and around, the girl found herself in an unfamiliar and bizarre environment. The uneven floor was covered in dark red bloodstains radiating outward with her at the center, mixed with a few black, unknown objects. The boxes piled in the corner of the room were half-open and completely empty inside. On the stone table, a candleholder dripped with wax was the sole source of light in the room, flickering unsteadily as if a wind were blowing, casting shifting shadows over the various alchemical tools on the stone table. The crucible on the stove still emitted residual heat, and the only exit appeared to be a flight of stairs leading upward. This could not possibly be the hospital or church of her memory; instead, it resembled the site of a clandestine cult ritual.

She reached out toward her waist, but the holster that should have been there was gone.

Could it be that she had miraculously survived, only to be captured?

Just then, the single candle finally burned down to its end, and the faint yet warm candlelight flickered and vanished.

Strangely enough, the world in the girl's eyes remained clearly visible, as though an invisible light illuminated everything around her.

No, she had to leave this bizarre place immediately.

A damp environment, windowless walls, and only stairs leading upward—this was clearly a basement, so her destination was quite obvious.

The girl gritted her teeth to endure the nagging headache, straightened her body, and walked toward the direction of the stairs she had just seen. Along the way, her oversized, ill-fitting trousers tried to slip off her body several times. She had no choice but to grab the waistband with one hand while steadying herself against the damp basement wall with the other, slowly making her way up the stairs.

Seeming unaccustomed to the length of her limbs, after experiencing accidents such as being tripped by pant legs that were too long and stubbing her toes on the stairs, the girl finally reached the top and touched the trapdoor on the ceiling.

Good thing it wasn't locked from the outside, otherwise it would be far too difficult to escape without proper tools...

Clutching the handle on the trapdoor, the girl did not open it immediately, but instead cautiously pushed it open a crack and looked outside.

It matched her guess; her current location truly was a basement. Just outside the trapdoor was a blank wall illuminated brightly by red light, and aside from some furniture near the wall, no figures were in sight.

Very well, slip out first, find an opportunity to call for help, or at worst escape to open terrain so that the positioning chip in her body could transmit a signal.

Having made up her mind, she gently pushed open the trapdoor, agilely climbed out of the basement, and swung the door back into place without making a single sound from start to finish. If not for her other hand still pulling up her pants, the entire process could have been even smoother.

Without the trapdoor obstructing her view, under the illumination of the crimson light, the girl could finally observe the full layout of the room.

The trapdoor at the basement exit was located in the center of the room. Hanging on the wall directly opposite was a landscape painting, and to the left was a closed wooden door equipped with an old-fashioned bolt. Beside the door stood an unknown plant, displaying a seductive shape under the red light. Opposite the door was a rather retro desk, upon which an oversized book lay open, filled with messy notes. A fountain pen, ink, and other books were placed casually about.

Looking upward, the girl realized that the source of the red light was not the indoor lighting she had imagined, but rather outside the window.

As if spellbound, she disregarded the bottoms that had already slipped off her body during her movements, scrambled on all fours a few steps to the desk, propped herself up by the edge, and looked out the window.

Outside the window was a street similarly dyed in crimson light. The midnight street was completely empty, and the paved stone streets, iron lamp posts, and row houses across the street were all covered in the same crimson table-cloth.

In the pitch-black night sky, the crimson moon resembled the eye of a devil, peeking down at the street, the study, and the girl inside the room.

"Ah—ah!" The headache suddenly grew more severe, and she could no longer stand. Her legs went soft and she dropped to her knees beside the desk, only her slender arms still clinging to the edge of the desk, relying on this to keep from collapsing entirely.

As if she finally had the time to observe, she noticed her arms under the red moonlight, then lowered her gaze from her arms down to her torso, and finally to her legs, which had broken free from the restriction of her trousers.

No, this isn't... How is this possible!

Angel, who had originally been a man and a Templar Knight, screamed in a voice as melodious as a nightingale, yet entirely unfamiliar to her own ears.

...This is your only chance to become a Beyonder, are you really going to give it up...

...The risk of this mission is extremely high, I suggest you...

...You don't think this is the end, do you? Obey the rules of acting, with the elevation of your sequence, you will witness more...

...You are the ones acting as bait, if you aren't willing, you can withdraw right now...

...I didn't expect you to complete the advancement so quickly, then I should also fulfill my promise...

...The main force hasn't finished gathering yet, we can only rely on ourselves to stall it...

...This is the Sequence 7 potion material, Witch. I hope you can like your new identity...

A series of statements emerged from the depths of her memory, some resolute and decisive, others extremely seductive, echoing in her ears.

Soon, the whispers beside her grew quieter and quieter, leaving in the end only the thumping of blood vessels and the crimson moon growing larger and larger in her vision.

Loen Kingdom? Tingen City? What on earth is this place...

This was her final thought.