[Time remaining until launch: 00M : 00w : 00h : 00m : 01]
[Time remaining until launch: 00M : 00w : 00h : 00m : 00]
[Game Launch: Welcome to Nine Kingdoms, Players!]
Pale blue eyes shot open at the unfamiliar voice rang through her mind painfully, her thinner build bundling up from pain, wiry and pale hands fisting her pale blond hair tightly, in an attempt to reign in the headache that was leaving her confused.
When it finally died down, she slowed down her breathing, and attempted to find exactly where she was, though she had no clue where the location of a white plane would be on Earth.
The last she remembered was that she had put on the VR helmet for the new game Nine Kingdoms... she flexed her body that had the same clothing she'd worn to bed tonight, and she was shocked at the vivid sensations she felt.
It was almost like she was really here... a bad feeling clambered up her back, a sense if unease telling her that that was exactly what was going on...
[Welcome, Asta. Please join a mythology.]
"W-What?"
Confusion mounted Asta's expression, and with shaking legs, she quietly stood to her full height, her wide eyes entranced by the glowing cards in front of her.
They floated just above her head, slowly rotating around her as the four, three-foot cards glowed in colors of gold, purple, white and silver.
The only mythology she was truly familiar with was Norse as her grandmother was from Norway and loved to tell her the old myths, but she could recognize the Egyptian Queen Cleopatra in gold, the majestic purple of the great Roman Praetor called Julius Caesar, the Greek Goddess Athena and her city of Athens in the white, and Thor with Mjolnir in silver.
She knew some of the other mythologies, but since she was most familiar with Norse...
Hesitantly, she tried poking the image of Thor, startling at actually making contact with the incorporeal image.
[Mythology registered. Please choose a Patron—your Patron will determine your faction and will be the one who will grant you power in Nine Kingdoms.]
[To determine the ideal Patrons for you, a scan will be preformed—please hold still.]
A silver light the same color as the cards washed over her, and Asta kept still as the voice told her, waiting for the scan to finish.
[Scan complete.]
[Generating possible Patrons...]
Her eyes widened again at the appearance of eight new cards, one set of four in silver, the other four in black, as if to denote their affiliation.
The first one in the silver was Odin at his throne, his raven's Huginn and Muninn and his wolves Geri and Freki, laying at his feet and perched on his shoulder and arm.
The next was Frey, with a throne of trees and branches, woven in intricate patterns, a golden sword sheathed at his side as birds perched at his throne, his handsome face engraved with a beautiful smile.
After that was his twin sister, Freya, cats of great size resting at the bottom of her throne and one on her lap, her features living up to her title of Goddess of Beauty perfectly, a smile similar to her brothers in place on her face.
The last silver was Balder, a shining pillar of light resting in him as he stood alone, his blessed features upturned to the light as the gifts of the world seemed to shower down upon him.
Then the black cards came, and Asta shivered at the aura that seemed to surround each one.
The first was Loki, a roguish smile on his scarred but handsome face, his red hair untamed and his expression cruel as he lounged on his throne of stone, as if without a care despite the shackles that held his wrists and ankles.
The next was Hela, one half of her face a beautiful woman, and the other half a rotting skeleton, her gaze similar to her fathers, only colder, more judgmental and damning than mischievous and dangerous, a throne of bones her perch.
After that was the first without a throne, a huge wolf of blue and silver fur, eerily blue eyes staring down as shackles surrounded their legs, the promise of winter on its beastly expression: Fenrir, the harbinger of Ragnarok.
A shiver curled down her spine at the wolf's cruel image, her gaze waiting for it to pass, before the card shifted, and then she saw a human image of the wolf; Fenrir was now a somewhat bulky yet tall man with the same cruel blue eyes, and long, jagged gray hair, a pack of wolves surrounding him in the snow.
Then, that last card...
An enormous serpent of mindboggling size stood posed to strike, eerie yellow eyes and a pale body that spoke of a time long hidden from the light of day filling the entire card, razor sharp fangs and teeth greeting her.
Then, like Fenrir's before him, the image of the terrifying serpent who would destroy everything morphed into a man she recognized, her eyes widening as she stepped closer and closer to the card, in a trance.
A man with solemn, sharp eyes and pupils like a snake started back at her with bright yellow irises, pale white hair framing an androgynous appearance that was both male and female, as bony yet lean frame that stood clothed in a dark robe at the sea edge engraved on the card.
A dream whom she'd thought to only be just that came to her mind, those curious yet innocent eyes staring quietly at her, as if earnestly wanting to learn everything from her.
Asta's hand shook as she rose her hand, her fingertips brushing against the image as if it was precious to her.
"'𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙎𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙪𝙥,'" 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨, "'𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙊𝙙𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚.'"
"'𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙙,'" 𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙, 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙢, "'𝙅ö𝙧𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜! 𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙉𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙! 𝙄𝙛 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙙𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣—'"
"'𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙙,'" 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙, 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙖'𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙙𝙧𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙'𝙨 𝙣𝙖ï𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙮𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨.
"'𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚.'"
[Is the World Serpent, Jörmungandr, your chosen Patron?]
"Yes."
[Patron affirmed—generating affiliation mark...]
[Prepare to enter the Bifrost and enter Midgard...]
[Would you like to keep your avatar the name and appearance of your real body?]
This answer came slower, but Asta figured that she didn't have anything to hide, and chose to answer yes also, though she still felt self-conscious about how she looked...
[Understood. Generating Avatar....]
[Avatar generated.]
[Synchronization with Avatar starting...]
It was then Asta felt as if she was being pulled into an unknown direction, her feet skidding against a floor without purchase and she yelped when she slammed into a foreign object.
It was then she felt like something was meddling into her, and when she opened her eyes, she was in the same body she'd been in, only this time with a white tunic and pants that carried a Norse yet modern sensibility in the style.
She hissed with pain as a sudden burning sensation appeared just below her collarbone. When she checked on it, there was a serpent coiled in a circle as it seemed to eat itself, appearing in white, and almost blending in seamlessly with her own naturally pale skin.
She rubbed the spot with a scowl, before her eyes widened, her annoyance transforming into wonder at the sight before her.
Rolling fields of midnight grass surrounded her, the sunlight bright and warm in contrast to the cool breeze, the sky an eye aching blue that took away the breath from her lungs.
"Beautiful..." she murmured, her arms wrapping around herself, the long sleeves of the tunic lending to her attempt to keep warm. But then, that prickling yet persistent sense of unease came to her again.
In an empty field where everything was dark colored... wasn't her clothing too noticeable?
It was almost as if... like something wanted her to be noticed...
The dread rose to a crescendo and following instinct, she immediately fell flat, skidding down the hill to try to darken her clothing.
She fell just in time—a spear flew to where her head had been, and her heart dropped to her stomach, her limbs shaking with adrenaline. She pulled grass up by the handfuls, smearing the her sleeves and torso with some blue liquid, running low to find cover to hide.
"Do you reckon she's dead?"
"Don't know—she did fall, but I don't think it connected with her head... let's check, yeah?"
'Cover... I need to find cover... is there no cover?!'
Asta's thoughts were everywhere, the stress bringing tears to her eyes and she searched wildly, anxiety bursting through her at the thought of nearly dying and being hunted by some lunatics.
Her hands stung from pulling up the grass, her nails beds aching as she realized that this wasn't just an advanced VRMMORPG—no, this was real; she was really here in this world and she almost 𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 because of some lunatic, and she would actually die if they caught her.
'What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?!'
She tried to calm down a little, trying to asses the situation.
She was on the top of a hill, and had rolled down. That meant someone had been either below her or on another hilltop to throw a spear. The grass was pretty tall, and with her smaller build, she could probably hide well enough in it, especially since her tunic and pants were filthy from her fall.
She glanced at the spear that was embedded in the ground a little farther from her; it would be good to have a weapon, but there was a chance that if she ran for it, those people would spot her. Besides, she didn't know how to use a spear, and it would likely use precious stamina if she lugged it everywhere she went.
She needed to be light, and she needed to be fast in order to be inconspicuous—and a spear was none of those. She fumbled her hands on the ground, and managed to find some decently sized yet light stones; if she threw them hard enough, they could act as a distraction or even a weapon.
Holding the three rocks in both hands, she hunkered low into the stalks, and began to crawl in them, trying to use the breeze to disguise her retreat.
Through the stocks she peeked towards the top of the hill, and saw a lone figure at the top, gazing down on where she's fallen; the other man she'd heard wasn't there, so she summarized he was either in the grass or had went around the hillside to hide his presence.
The only problem was now she couldn't tell whether or not he was on the other side of the hill opposite to her or in the grass on her side. Either way was a gamble, and since she couldn't exactly cross in front of the hill top guys gaze, she had to continue her course.
The man on top of the hill had apparently lucked out, and was given darker clothes than her to wear, and paired with his tanner complexation, hid in the grass better than she could.
He lumbered down the slope, grabbing the spear with a scowl on his harsh features before he began to stab in the grass around him, slowly inching in Asta's direction.
She regretted not going for the spear, but losing it allowed for her to get a head start on them.
She took one of her rocks, aimed, and threw it to the other side when the guys back was turned, the loud rolling sound it made attracting the man with the spear's attention, and he ran in that direction.
She crawled through the grass, thankful for the winds direction as it hid her movements, and soon, the man was falling farther and farther behind as she held her rocks with a slick grip, and it seemed like she was going to escape.
It seemed like it.
The other man tackled her, rolling in the grass as she suppressed her shrieks of surprise, not wanted to alert the one with spear.
"So, that's where you were. You're clever, I'll give you that, but not clever enough."
She writhed in his grasp, and since he was holding down her arms, his pale face and dark brown eyes in front of her, she gathered her saliva and spit up, right into his smiling face and into his eye.
"Agh—!"
He wiped away the saliva from his stinging eye on instinct, releasing her left hand, and with a grunt, she tightened her grip on the rock, and slammed it into his other, glaring one.
Blood dribbled from the stone and into her hand and face, and he shrieked with pain, releasing her to try and pull out the sharp rock from his eye, blinded. She kicked the hand pulling at the rock to push it in further, and with adrenaline racing through her, she sprinted as far from the man she could, ignoring stealth for speed.
"Samuel, your eye—!"
"T-that b!tch did this to me! K-Kill her, KILL HER, YOUR MOTHERFUXXER, KILL THAT FUXXING B!TCH!"
Asta didn't stick around for the spear guy to get her, choosing to run as fast and hard as she could to get behind cover. Her wide, quivering eyes surveyed the land quickly, looking for rocks she could hide in.
In the vast field of rolling hills and grass, there was a hollow spot in between two hills that held a cropping of rocks. These of course were not the only cropping of rocks, but she chose this farther one since she knew that guy would likely go to the closest rocks to check where she was.
Asta stopped in the grass, hunkering down low to wipe the blood in the soil to hide her trail, and began to crawl to the rocks she'd chosen, to keep as much attention away from her.
It took a little longer, but she didn't care—she got to the rocks in one piece, and had even found a small, yet hidden hole in between two of the large rocks, and with a breath of relief, she squeezed into the hole, for once thankful towards her thinner and smaller build.
The hole dug into the hillside of the huge rocks, dipping down into a room that she fit into snugly, her erratic heart finally calming down a little in knowing that guy would be hard pressed to find her.
It was only when the adrenaline was gone that her emotions rose up again, and the reality of what she'd done finally registered. Tears filled her eyes, her body beginning to shake, and she had the sudden urge to vomit as she looked at her bloody clothes and blood smeared hand.
She curled up, trying to calm down by breathing in and out slowly, suppressing the urge to vomit. She's just mortally wounded a man. She'd taken a rock and had shoved it into his eye.
Tears dribbled down her face, but even when she mourned over her actions, Asta didn't make a single sound; even in Hell, she didn't want to die.
And so the sun fell into the night, and Asta fell asleep, exhausted and with puffy eyes.
———
Jörmungandr's eyes opened at the twin moon's rising, the screen in front of his face remarking on the start of the Game, and another one telling him about the amount of Players he was a Patron too—about a thousand or so.
He couldn't care less—he just wanted to find that girl again. He just hoped that she'd chosen him...