[Price: You have lost a life.]

[Compensation: Rebirth.]

...

Mithra, still caught in the fog of her daze, slowly opened her eyes. All that greeted her was an oppressive darkness. The air around her was cold, and something unfamiliar lingered in her nose—a strange, unsettling scent.

The tang of fresh blood. The acrid stench of something burning.

She sat up from the ground, staring blankly into the black void surrounding her, like someone waking from a deep, endless slumber. Her mind struggled to catch up, sluggish and heavy.

"Ah, I'm dead," she muttered as the realization finally dawned.

How had it happened? She seemed to recall a massive car accident—chaos unraveling across a stretch of highway. The memory was fragmented, distant. She could only hope the driver survived, though it seemed unlikely.

But why was she still here, alive in some strange, unfamiliar place? 

That, she had no answer for.

All she knew was that it had something to do with the words that had etched themselves into her mind.

She blinked, and suddenly something seemed to shift before her eyes. Swirling shades of white and purple-black came together, forming a text that she could strangely understand.

[Next, proceed to the explanation.]

"Uh..." Mithra blinked again. A whirlwind of questions spun in her mind, but she knew better than to interrupt. Now wasn't the time to speak—interrupting whatever this was felt... rude.

[We have granted you life in another world, but do not mistake this for a simple gift. It may well become an endless torment.]

"Eh...?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

[We will not restrict your actions, though there are certain objectives you must fulfill.]

[To aid your actions, we have adjusted your senses. When your senses are triggered, you will receive compensation, though a price must also be paid.]

Mithra blinked, absorbing the cryptic words.

[We may also borrow your senses to offer assistance beyond your normal limits. However, you must accept the corresponding cost to obtain such aid.]

The text vanished from sight after she finished reading. Mithra stared at the empty space where it had been, her thoughts spinning.

"So, I've been resurrected and transported to another world... And according to this... thing, I died in a car accident, losing my life, and the compensation is a new life in this place," she murmured to herself, still processing the strange explanation.

Her brow furrowed. "Doesn't really feel like a good deal."

Suddenly, a flash of light appeared again before her eyes, but this time it wasn't there to explain—

[Event – "Just Woke Up Gift": You may select one of the following forms of assistance and accept the corresponding price. Choose wisely.]

[Perfect Body: Your body will remain in flawless condition at all times. Price: You will lose the ability to move.]

[Night Eyes: Your fearless, blackened eyes will glimpse fragments of hidden truths, especially those tied to ownerless objects. Price: One of your life locks will be broken.]

[Humble Remains: You will inherit a set of "Poor and Despicable" "Corpse". Price: Its will is not yet fully extinguished.]

"Those eyes, then." Mithra made her decision without much hesitation, selecting the second option.

She had never liked overthinking, and choosing between these ominous options only aggravated her. The first would leave her immobile, and the third—well, she didn't understand it at all. The second seemed the least complicated.

Besides, she reasoned, she didn't even know what a "Life Lock" was. It said "one of," so surely she had more to spare.

After her choice, nothing happened immediately. The text dissolved from sight, leaving her in the same eerie silence as before.

Boom!

Suddenly, her head felt like it had been struck by an invisible force. A sharp, crushing pressure clamped around her heart, squeezing tighter until she thought it might burst. Her vision blackened, and a shrill ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything else.

The sensation was brutal but brief. Her sight returned swiftly, though her body still trembled from the shock. She blinked, staring at her hands, waiting for some visible change, but her eyes looked the same—no strange magic or glow.

No more text appeared either. Mithra took a few moments to steady herself before finally moving forward. Staying still wasn't going to get her anywhere.

She needed to understand where she had been brought. If it was another modern city, that would be ideal. At the very least, she hoped for some semblance of a civilized society—anything but an ancient, primitive world.

Following a faint flicker of firelight, Mithra moved cautiously through a narrow passage, the shadows around her thick and oppressive.

Her newly sharpened eyes cut through the gloom with ease. The torchlight ahead illuminated the cave, revealing what lay within—and it shattered any illusions she had clung to.

The ground was strewn with bodies, piled haphazardly as if discarded. The overwhelming stench of decay, mixed with the acrid odor of burning, hit her like a wall, forcing her to stifle a gag.

In the distance, a few figures moved in the flickering light. One held a lantern, casting eerie shadows as they worked. The others were busy transporting and dumping corpses into the growing heap. Mithra's gaze shifted to a few wooden carts nearby, where bodies were carelessly wrapped in dirty cloth, cocooned in death.

The person carrying the lamp scanned the area, and since Mithra hadn't bothered to hide, his eyes landed directly on her.

"Ah!" The man let out a blood-curdling scream.

Mithra blinked. 'What?'

The man, now pale with terror, began shouting, his trembling hand pointing wildly in her direction. His cries drew the attention of the others, who were hauling the corpses. They froze, glancing at Mithra before quickly dropping the bodies they were handling.

Weapons were snatched up in a frenzy—grass skewers, stone hoes, wooden clubs, anything remotely useful. But instead of charging toward her, they all turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

Mithra stood there, momentarily dumbfounded. 'What just happened?'

"Wait!" she called, instinctively dashing after them.

It seemed that the people in this strange place weren't exactly the welcoming type. In fact, they appeared to be... a bit shy.

As soon as the others saw Mithra chasing after them, their panic only deepened. Their pace quickened, driven by sheer terror.

The man with the lamp, though the first to spot her, was the slowest of the group. In desperation, he hurled the lamp at Mithra in a frantic attempt to slow her down.

Mithra, unfazed, carefully caught the lamp mid-air, steadying the flickering flame inside with practiced ease. She glanced at the light for a moment, shrugged, and resumed the chase.

But just as she gained ground, they vanished into another tunnel. When she reached the entrance, the maze-like passages stretched out before her, twisting in every direction. The place was a labyrinth, and with each turn looking the same, she quickly lost track of where they had gone. 

"....."

In the stillness of the tunnel, Mithra sighed and turned back, retracing her steps toward the pile of corpses. The eerie silence was thick around her, broken only by the soft flicker of the lamp she carried.

She knelt and examined the ground beneath the corpses. This tunnel, clearly carved by human hands, bore signs of old labor. Scattered tools lay abandoned, crude and worn. There was no hint of advanced technology here—just the remnants of a place long neglected and left to decay.

Her thoughts drifted back to the people she had seen earlier—their simple, ragged clothing, and the unfamiliar style that seemed so foreign to her. It was clear now: this world wasn't just ancient in appearance, but possibly centuries behind any civilization she knew.

"Right... they looked just like—" Mithra paused, recalling a fleeting moment. As she had snatched the lamp earlier, something else had clouded her vision—a strange dark block that had briefly obscured her sight.

Mithra lifted the lamp once more, and as she suspected, a small black dot appeared on its surface.

She fixated on the dot, and after a few tense seconds, black text unfurled before her eyes:

[Villagers' Lamp from Gross Town: A tool commonly carried by workers in the Gross mine. However, when the hunt for the 'Eye' that promises wealth began, the light of this humble lamp became overshadowed by the creeping darkness where curses now fester.]

"...So that's how it works!" Mithra whispered to herself, her realization dawning.

Night Eyes—the ability she had chosen—revealed hidden truths, just as the strange message implied. This was how it functioned, allowing her to peer beyond the ordinary.

She held the lamp closer, studying it for a while, though the flickering light eventually made her eyes ache. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away, pretending to be unfazed. Now, she turned her attention to the rest of the room, scanning the area for more small black dots.

Amidst the scattered corpses, Mithra noticed an array of mining tools and chunks of mineral stones, evidence of the mine's past life. She inspected them all, but the information gleaned was consistent: this had once been a bustling mining town. Now, it lay abandoned, its tunnels filled with death, and the curses festering in the darkness.

"A mining town," Mithra muttered. "But something went terribly wrong. The tunnels, once filled with workers, are now filled with corpses. And this mine... breeding curses. Does that mean something foul has taken over?"

She scratched her head in thought.

"So, they must have mistaken me for one of those 'dirty things'—a curse in human form." Clapping her hands as if reaching a revelation, she nodded, satisfied. "That explains why they ran from me."

"Great," she sighed, a hint of irony in her voice, "then I'm not the dirty thing here."

Standing amidst the heap of bodies, Mithra glanced at the nearby flickering torches. The light cast her shadow across the ground, but it twisted and stretched unnaturally, like a creature of its own.

Mithra glanced at her shadow, then, in a moment of childlike frustration, stomped her feet a few times, as if that might coax it to settle.

But just then, a sound echoed from above—a rock tumbling down from the cliff.

Mithra turned and looked back. There, sprawled on the cliff's edge, lay a thin, humanoid creature. Its clothes were tattered, and its face bore a terrifying, feral expression. Empty eyes stared out from sunken sockets, while its mouth gaped wide, revealing teeth that resembled jagged saw blades.

As soon as Mithra laid eyes on the monster, it released its grip on the rock face and lunged at her with a primal growl.

Instinct kicked in. Mithra kicked up a pickaxe that lay nearby, gripping it tightly. With all her strength, she swung it down toward the creature.

Bang!

The pickaxe connected with a sickening thud, bending the creature's body backward as it staggered from the impact. It fell to the ground, writhing in agony. A non-human scream erupted from its mouth—an awkward, jarring sound that echoed through the tunnel.

Mithra pressed her foot down firmly on the creature's back, pinning it to the ground as it writhed in a desperate attempt to break free. 

She quickly realized that this monster possessed a surprising amount of strength. After confirming there was no black dot on its body, she raised the pickaxe high and swung down with all her might, aiming for its skull.

Swish!

The blow landed, and the creature twitched violently before falling still, its movements ceasing entirely. Mithra followed up with two more strikes, ensuring it was truly defeated. Satisfied, she finally released her foot from its back.

However, in her final swing, she had struck with too much force, embedding the pickaxe deep into the ground along with the creature's skull. With a sigh, she abandoned her efforts to pull it out for the moment and crouched down to inspect the monster's body.

"Ah, a black dot has appeared," she noted in a tone devoid of any emotion.

As the creature succumbed to death, a small black dot materialized on its form, revealing hidden knowledge.

[Gross Mine's Cursed Body: The unfortunate residents of Gross had their eyes removed, and the resentment they harbored before death birthed the Miracle of Resentment. This miracle allowed them to rise once more, yet most remained frail and weak.]

[—— Which is more important, eyes or wealth?]

Mithra pondered the question, her brow furrowing. "I don't know," she murmured, contemplating the implications.

After that, she stood up and resumed her efforts to free the pickaxe from the ground.

But before Mithra could fully gather her thoughts, a cacophony of sounds erupted behind her.

She turned, and realized she was surrounded. A swarm of similar monsters emerged from the shadows, their mouths open in grotesque roars and shrieks. There was no reason for their fury; they had long since lost the ability to discern friend from foe, their resentment now directed at all living things.

Bang!

A sharp sound echoed in the tunnel, causing the approaching monsters to momentarily halt in their tracks. 

Mithra, yanked the pickaxe free from the ground, raising it high above her head. She tilted her gaze back, her dark eyes glinting like the night, and surveyed the approaching horde.