Charlotte POV
My name is Charlotte. It was just an ordinary day—or at least as ordinary as it could be. I hurriedly got ready, searching for my clothes and giving myself a final check in the mirror. I had just finished ironing my clothes, ensuring they looked neat and tidy.
As I looked at my reflection, my long blonde hair and blue eyes stared back at me, and I managed a forced smile. Satisfied with how the outfit suited me, I settled down in front of the TV.
I worked as an HR manager, and today my colleagues invited me to meet up. With no other immediate plans, I informed them that I would watch the news first. They agreed, suggesting that we would meet later.
Switching on the TV, I observed the countdown like any regular person, not expecting much. Although a hint of concern lingered, nothing significant had occurred for the past 18 years. Would today be any different? I had my doubts, but as it turned out, I was mistaken—so wrong...
When the system transported me to the trial, I mistakenly grabbed the wrong weapon—the magic staff. I hadn't realized that I wouldn't have access to any magic or spells initially, so I had to wield it like a baseball bat to kill the goblin. My body was soon riddled with injuries, and I fought like a barbarian, but I managed to survive.
Why did I choose the magic staff? That's a good question. At that time, I had assumed that, given the staff's description with spells like meteor showers and ice spears hovering in the air, it would be like what I'd seen in countless movies—some spectacular big fireball, perhaps. But where were they when I needed them?!
Arriving in the city, I was filled with fear and confusion, unsure of the fate of my loved ones. The only comfort I could find was the prospect of having my own room. Despite the uncertainty, I remained steadfast in my belief that the path of the mage was still worth pursuing.
I decided to allocate my points, placing 5 in Intellect and 5 in Mana. As I felt my mind sharpen and my thinking become clearer, I saw it as a significant step in the right direction.
The first thing I did was sit under the shower for an hour, allowing all my worries to wash away. However, my moment of tranquility was interrupted by the growling of my stomach. I scanned the room but found no food.
Perplexed, I ventured downstairs and encountered other people. I asked them about the availability of food, but they, too, had no answers. I spent several hours wandering through the vast city in search, but my efforts proved fruitless.
Then it came to me: the city was safe, but if you wanted to eat, you had to go outside. Asking around, I made it to the Northern gate, a place where a large crowd of people was gathered.
There, I spotted individuals carrying boars and fruits, a sight that made my hunger stronger as I absentmindedly rubbed my stomach. Summoning my courage, I approached them and asked them to join in.
They glanced at my appearance and then asked about the weapon I wielded. It was at that moment that I realized the error I had made. Retrieving the staff, they burst into laughter, nearly dropping the boar. "Do you possess any skills?" they said, still amused but with a clear interest in their eyes.
I replied with a simple "No," and their laughter only grew louder, with some of them saying they had already guessed as much.
My face flushed with embarrassment until one of them turned to me and said, "Sweetie, you can join us, but you'll need to do something for us. It's a kind of skill anyway," winking mischievously as they hinted at the underlying implication.
As a grown-up, I, of course, knew what he wanted, but I felt such disgrace that I left him and walked around, asking others, struggling with a sense of shame and disgust.
I attempted to find others who might be more genuine. Some of them expressed sympathy and offered to let me accompany them, but I recognized that look, a hint of lust lurking deep in their eyes. I had always been adept at sensing people's true intentions, so I politely fabricated an excuse and made my way elsewhere.
Sitting alone in my room, tears welled up and streamed down my cheeks. My family and friends were nowhere to be found. How was it possible that none of them could survive a goblin? Not even one! I thought bitterly.
I opened my contact list and began reaching out to people I knew, sending messages to every name I could remember, starting from the day I was born, desperate to establish communication. Then a reply came, and it was from Jakob.
He was a fighter and an experienced soldier before coming to this place. I knew him from my time at the university before he changed careers.
With joy, I arranged to meet him, and we did. During our meeting, he confided in me that he couldn't find anyone to group up with because he didn't like asking around.
I turned to him and extended an invitation to join my party, and without hesitation, he agreed.
"So, how many are we?" he asked.
"Only the two of us for now," I replied, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"But we will grow," I declared, and indeed, we did. We expanded our group to include 25 members, with me assuming the role of leader and Jakob as my vice head.
We actively recruited new members, outlining our intentions to embark on expeditions outside the city and how rewards would be distributed based on individual contributions. To our surprise, the level of interest was so high that we had to turn away several potential recruits.
The first hunt went exceptionally well. We returned with two boars and three wolves, and we even managed to defeat a group of five goblins. During our celebration by the river in the city, I made the decision to exchange the staff for a proper sword, finally equipping myself with a reliable weapon, and we prepared a barbecue.
Surveying the confident expressions on the faces around me, I couldn't help but sense our overconfidence.
"Tomorrow, let's venture deeper," Jakob asserted, taking the lead and making the proposal.
"It's too dangerous." I hurriedly stood up, my words flowing even though the situation was against me. "We don't know what lies deeper out there," I stressed, attempting to convey the gravity of the situation.
"We took down goblins today, and it was a piece of cake," one of them chimed in, raising a triumphant fist into the air.
I tried to hold them back, but their eagerness to explore this place made my attempts futile. Feeling helpless, I reluctantly agreed, fearing falling out with them, especially since they were the reason I had food on my plate.
The following day, we arrived at the hunting grounds. No humans dared to challenge us; we might have even been seen as local bullies.
As our familiar hunting grounds gradually disappeared from view, we ventured deeper, encountering more groups of goblins and wolves along the way.
But everything was going great; no one got injured, and I even levelled up, putting some points in strength and agility, leaving my fantasy as a mage behind me.
Everything was going smoothly; none of us had sustained any injuries, not even a scratch. We easily overpowered our enemies, and I even levelled up, allocating points to enhance my strength and agility, leaving my fantasy of being a mage behind me.
However, everything took a drastic turn when we encountered "that"—yeah, that's what I called it at the time, but now I refer to it as a demon and my nightmare.
"What's that?" Jakob asked in hushed tones as he stared ahead at a group of goblins rushing toward us, causing tension to grip everyone.
Among them, one figure stood out, and though I couldn't quite put a name to it at that moment, looking back, I can confidently say that I feared its presence.
A [Strong Goblin Level 5] led the charge of goblins rushing toward our group. I urgently yelled, "Defense, fast!"
But what a cruel joke it turned out to be!
Those were the words that escaped my lips as I watched in horror, muttering brokenly, as the man attempting to block the attack was decapitated by a 'skill?"—yes, it was undoubtedly a skill.
All I can recall is the sensation of blood splattering from the person next to me as the goblin managed to breach our frontline in mere seconds, arriving right beside me. Overwhelmed by fear, I found myself frozen in place as everyone else screamed and scattered in panic as if a demon were pursuing us.
Waking up from the dream, I ran and ran, surrounded by the sounds of screams, while the pursuing goblins picked off our group one by one. In an instant, a severed head fell to the ground, rolling right beside me.
Suddenly, something struck me on the back of my head, and my world went dark. When I regained consciousness, I found myself chained in this place, awaiting an uncertain fate.
My name is Charlotte Venus, and at the age of 26, I am destined to become food—such is my fate.
Looking down at the man beside me, tied up, I sighed in hatred but mostly frustration; my complaints would be forever buried; I had none to blame anymore.
Jakob, my once friend, vice head...and the very person I now consider an enemy—the cause of this stupid outcome due to his arrogance—has been lifeless and dead for a while, chained to me along with others.
I had resigned myself to a lifeless existence as days passed, lost in thoughts of happier times while bound by chains. It was in this desolation that I encountered a lonely man within this camp.
At first, I couldn't believe it, cautiously shifting my head and body, the chain clinking as I dragged the lifeless bodies along with me.
It was akin to spotting a bright star in the darkest night—a glimmer of hope to guide me forward.
Meeting the gaze of the person with tattered clothing, who moved confidently and slowly within the goblin camp, I communicated two words through lip movements—the only words I could muster: "Save me."
He turned and looked at me with a smile, his lips moving without producing a sound. I strained to make out the words from a distance by watching his lips, and my eyes widened as I read the message.
''Up to me?'' I muttered to myself inside my mind as I watched him depart, but I clung to the belief that he would return.