The first thing Rae noticed about her new body was how different everything felt.
Her vision seemed unnaturally sharp, picking out the faintest details—a single thread unraveling in the hem of her tunic, the slight discoloration of leaves on the farthest branches of a distant tree. Scents hit her with startling clarity: the metallic tang of blood after training, the earthy richness of rain-soaked soil, even the faint traces of lavender from Luna's incessant perfumes. It was overwhelming. Her body moved with an unnatural swiftness, as though time slowed just for her, but her brain struggled to keep up. Each step felt like a stumble as her instincts, still calibrated to her former, weaker frame, betrayed her.
She punched too hard, ran too fast, and turned too sharply, as if her newfound strength was some poorly fitted costume she couldn't quite wear right. The dissonance grated on her nerves—a constant reminder of how foreign this new existence was. She missed the familiarity of her old body, even with all its limitations. She often caught herself looking down at her hands, smaller and softer now, turning them over as if trying to find some trace of her former self. Her mind still couldn't accept that she was a she now.
The training, of course, left her no room to dwell.
"Again!" Edward's voice rang out, sharp as a whip crack.
Rae gritted her teeth, sweat streaming down her face as she raised the wooden sword. Her arms burned from countless repetitions, her muscles screaming in protest, but Edward stood unwavering, arms crossed, his stern gaze cutting through her exhaustion like a knife. He was relentless, his standards unyielding. Every strike, every block, every feint had to be precise, or it wasn't worth doing at all.
"Your grip is wrong," Edward barked. "Tighter. Control the blade, or it'll control you."
Rae adjusted, but her frustration simmered beneath the surface. The weapon still felt awkward in her hands, like trying to paint with a brush too fine for her grasp. She lunged forward, the motion slightly off-balance. Edward's foot lashed out, sweeping her legs out from under her. Rae hit the dirt hard, the breath knocked from her lungs.
"Sloppy," Edward muttered. "Do it again."
She hated him in moments like this. But when she turned to Liza that night, sprawled on her bed with her aching muscles screaming for rest, the AI's soothing voice provided the clarity Edward's harsh critiques lacked.
"I've analyzed today's session," Liza said. "Your movements lack synergy because your neural pathways haven't adapted fully to your new musculature. If you focus on—"
"I don't need a lecture, Liza," Rae groaned, burying her face in her pillow.
"It's not a lecture," Liza replied evenly. "It's a solution."
And it was. Over the following weeks, Liza's guidance bridged the gap between her instincts and her body, turning her awkward fumbling into fluid precision. By the time Edward called her a prodigy, Rae had already surpassed him in ways he didn't realize. With Liza's help, she integrated techniques from her old world—sharp, efficient strikes that felt natural in ways Edward's rigid forms never could.
But Edward only pushed her harder. "You've got talent," he'd say, a rare flicker of pride in his voice. "Don't waste it."
If Edward's grueling sessions tested her body, Trina's ambushes tested her nerves. They came without warning—a shadow darting from behind a tree, a sudden burst of movement in the dead of night. Rae grew to hate the glint of moonlight on Trina's daggers, the smirk that tugged at her lips every time she caught Rae unprepared.
"Stay alert," Trina would scold, spinning a dagger effortlessly between her fingers. "You won't get a second chance in a real fight."
Rae slept with one eye open, her senses straining for any sign of attack. Even so, Trina always seemed one step ahead. It was maddening.
And then there was Luna.
"Stand up straight, Rae," Luna said, circling her like a predator. The dress she'd forced Rae into—some overly frilly monstrosity in pastel pink—itched unbearably. Rae scowled, crossing her arms, which only made Luna tut in disapproval.
"Elegance, darling. You must carry yourself with grace," Luna said, guiding Rae's arms into what she called a 'proper position.'
"Why does this matter?" Rae snapped.
"Because you're not just anyone," Luna replied with a saccharine smile. "You're a lady now. Act like it."
Rae's only solace was Merle, who greeted her with warm smiles and an endless curiosity about magic. Their shared evenings in the lab were a balm to her frayed nerves. Books and scrolls lay scattered across the table as they poured over theories of mana circuits and spellcasting.
"You're evolving fast," Merle remarked one night, watching as Rae summoned spells by name only. "Most mages take years to learn that."
"It's just focus," Rae said, downplaying it, though she couldn't help the flicker of pride that warmed her chest.
Merle leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. "Let me show you something."
She unfurled a blueprint—a complex design of intricate glyphs. "I've been working on a way to inscribe circuits into objects, so they can cast spells independently."
Rae's mind raced with possibilities. "What if we use symbolic inscriptions to draw mana directly from the environment?" she suggested.
Merle's face lit up. "Brilliant."
Together, they refined the concept, their late-night sessions culminating in a system of air-drawn magic circles. When Rae finally cast her first silent spell, the thrill was electric—a triumph all her own.
For all her achievements, there were still parts of her new life that Rae couldn't reconcile. The noble etiquette lessons Luna drilled into her grated like sandpaper, each tip on "feminine grace" a thorn in her patience. Trina's vampiric lessons offered little reprieve. Cryptic stories of past queens, fragments of forgotten lore—each tidbit only deepened the sea of questions churning in Rae's mind.
The biggest mystery, however, was her transformation itself. Rae had asked the AI embedded in her mind, Liza, to explain. The truth had been unsettling. Her human body, fragile and deteriorating, had been unable to withstand the immense energies coursing through it. Trina's vampire ritual to save her hadn't just healed her—it had offered a rare opportunity: the creation of a new body.
According to Liza, the vampire genome exhibited greater stability in females than in males. For reasons still unclear, Rae's male body had been reconstructed into a female framework, blending the durability of her new vampiric biology with the remnants of her human one. The result was a hybrid form—alien yet undeniably stronger, a body that could weather the forces her old one could not.
And yet, even as she sat beneath a canopy of stars, her gaze fixed on her hands—smaller, softer, undeniably hers—the feeling of strangeness lingered. The cool night air carried the scent of earth and distant flowers, calming yet bittersweet. Despite everything, Rae couldn't ignore the strength she had gained, nor the knowledge she had uncovered. Her goal remained unwavering: to unravel the science of magic, to bring clarity to a world that defied logic.
She let out a long breath, her fingers curling slightly as if testing their grip on this new reality. Though she still felt like a stranger in her own skin, she knew she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. Too much was at stake.
Her thoughts shifted to the road ahead. It had been some time since she began her isolated training. Soon, she would return home to Crystal—not the same as before, but stronger, wiser, more complete.