The Unyielding Surtr

"If it's your hard work, you should be able to find Theresia, right?" She released her grip, and W's startled box transformed into a black bird. Miss Surtr imbued the black bird with a wisp of protective power. It then let out a clear cry, grabbed the completed Sacred Armor, and flew towards the distant horizon.

Miss Surtr opened her eyes.

She felt something was off about the ground beneath her feet, as if something was missing, yet nothing was missing at the same time.

She reached out and took out the horrifying box W had given her—the once sturdy container now looked as if it had been weathered by a century of wind. Just a touch and it crumbled into dust.

"Um?"

There was a slightly unusual tactile sensation coming from the dust.

Miss Surtr lowered her head and examined it closely. She noticed that the clown's shell in the box was peeling away. A delicate contents were being revealed as the dust settled. This fact made her eyes widen.

It's a figurine.

A chibi-style Nendoroid figure.

The chibi-style W is hiding inside the clown in the scare box, giving her a mischievous smile.

She was taken aback at first.

"Ha."

Then.

"Ha ha."

The melancholy in his heart vanished, and his stiff lips gradually curled up into a smile.

"That's so typical of you, W... So this is what you meant by 'finding some fun'." She picked up the figurine, admiring it more and more. So this was the parting gift W had given her back then. So this was the real surprise box.

She placed the figurine against her chest and carefully tucked it away from her body.

"Thank you, W."

She felt much better.

Although she still couldn't remember what day it was or what she had missed, she felt much better.

The wind whistled outside the door; Originium Storm was forming.

The appointed time has arrived.

With a light tap of her toes on the ground, her body transformed into a wisp of fire and rose into the heart of the storm, a kilometer above the ground. The rapidly flying Originium Shards were meaningless to her, while Laevateinn's fire surrounded her, providing her with protection.

"I'm counting on you this time, Laevateinn," she said to her sword, then closed her eyes.

The gate between the two worlds was thus opened, but this time, not a single familiar or unfamiliar presence appeared in her perception.

Everything is ready; all is well.

So, let's open the Gate of the Dream Realm.

Miss Surtr opened her eyes.

What came into view was a burning flame.

Fire, boiling fire. Fire that surrounds the house, bringing thick smoke.

She looked at her hands—slender and frail. Beneath her was a soft but simple bed, and this body was situated in a cheap apartment room.

The cheap apartment room that was being burned down was where a poor and sickly girl was crammed into!

All the good mood vanished in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming rage that burst forth from the depths of my heart, uncontrollable and unwilling to be suppressed!

She abruptly turned her head and looked out the window at a place where there was a cacophony of voices, a boiling panic, and a spreading fire.

"You fucking..."

Chapter 117. Disobedient Surtr

—Well done, very well done.

—I savored the long-lost pain and confusion.

Miss Surtr closed her eyes, then opened them a second later. All the anger and hatred that had been surging in her eyes vanished in an instant. She temporarily shut down her emotional system, examining the world and everything happening in it solely with pure reason and absolute indifference.

This isn't my past life; it's just that the setting is similar and the events are alike. It's because the interior furnishings in my memory weren't like this.

—The text on the calendar is not in Chinese either.

She got up and leaped off the bed. Her frail body warned her of its impending doom with dull pain and weakness—but she ignored it, suppressing the pain with sheer willpower. She approached the nearest dressing mirror, where she saw a face roughly the same as Terra's, but without the horns.

—Red hair, not black. Eyes aren't black either—as expected, I haven't reverted to my past life.

The flames were still burning, hissing and scorching as they consumed the curtains. The screams, shouts, chaos, and sirens coming from outside the window created a layered effect, indicating that her residence wasn't the only place engulfed in flames.

The smoke was thickening, and she could sense a dense concentration of volatile energy in the air, but its nature was somewhat strange. The flames seemed like ordinary fire, yet they also seemed to be mixed with something odd, like a curse, but not quite pure.

—I shouldn't force myself to control these flames. The structure of this world is somewhat strange, and until I understand some basic common sense, I'd better just use this body that belongs to me.

—Perhaps it would be more appropriate to reset a body through death?

—No, that won't do. I will not allow this body to die in the same way I died in my previous life.

A decision was made in her mind. She then breathed lightly—not drawing in free energy from the air, but using simple breathing techniques to adjust her breath and examine whether her body differed from other bodies in the panphysical dream world. After obtaining a tangible result, several acupoints on her body swelled slightly under the influence of her will and breath.

Her lungs were aching; it was severe pneumonia. In this respect, it was quite consistent with Miss Surtr's past life.

But she doesn't cough. There's no need, and she can control it.

—A cursory observation of the human anatomy revealed no detectable free elements or exotic bloodlines. It seems the humans of this world are neither born with innate Daoist bodies nor descendants of gods or demons. Therefore, the only cultivation method available is the secret technique for refining the structure of flesh and blood.

—Before figuring out the power system of this world, let's use the Human Immortal Martial Arts and the Big Dipper Ruyuken.

—I need to replenish my energy.

There was no food in the room, but there were several bags of compressed biscuits under the bed. Taking them out and swallowing them, her stimulated stomach worked at an unusually high efficiency, instantly digesting the biscuit fragments crushed by her breath. With a surge of strength, the girl didn't use the door, but instead climbed out the window. She was about fifteen meters above the ground, but with a slight adjustment and dissipation of force, she could land as lightly as a cat.

Behind them, the entire apartment building was ablaze. Screams and cries for help could be heard intermittently. On the street, people scattered and fled.

--Western Europe.

She recognized the racial features and quickly found the corresponding language in her memory—this was Milan, or rather Italy, an ancient country with a long history. And the people here also provided a suitable reason for her to have red hair.