The warmth from the bath lingered on my skin as I stretched, stepping into my room at the inn. It wasn't just a room—it was the room, the priciest in this entire backwater town. The old man really outdid himself. I couldn't tell if it was guilt, pride, or some warped sense of nobility, but I wasn't complaining.
The bed was massive, draped in linens that actually looked clean, and there was a faint floral scent in the air. A far cry from the prison stench that still haunted my nose. A small table sat in the corner, and on it, a steaming bowl of stew waited, its aroma filling the room.
I approached it, noticing the faint flicker of red light beneath the bowl. Elemental Crystal—Fire. The heat wasn't just natural; it was magically sustained. Fancy.
A notification blinked at the edge of my vision.
[Would you like to absorb this Elemental Crystal? Y/N]
I dismissed it with a flick of my fingers. No way. This wasn't the time for grinding or power-ups. This was about normal, human indulgence.
I grabbed the bowl, the warmth seeping into my hands, and took a bite. The taste hit me like a revelation. Simple potato and meat stew, seasoned with just enough herbs to elevate it. After a month of choking down whatever I could scavenge or hunt, this felt like dining with royalty.
I polished off the bowl faster than I wanted to, savoring every last bite. Setting the empty dish aside, I pulled out the white clothes I'd been washing and wearing endlessly since my time in the woods. The fabric was plain, a little rough, but it had served its purpose.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall and paused.
It was always a strange feeling, seeing my reflection. The face looking back at me wasn't mine—not the one I remembered, at least. A woman stared back, her tanned skin flawless, her wild white hair cascading past her shoulders in a way that looked almost too perfect. The body was lithe but athletic, curves in all the right places, a soft balance of strength and femininity.
Sometimes, I forgot I was a woman now.
I adjusted the shirt and chuckled under my breath, remembering an old friend—an elf from my last life. She would've screamed at me for wearing something so plain. Nagging, nit-picky, always ready with some unwanted advice about taking care of myself. She wasn't just annoying; she had this tragic past that made her care too much, pouring it into everyone else.
I sighed, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric. "You'd have a field day with me now, wouldn't you?"
Turning away, I walked to the window and pushed it open. The cool night air rushed in, brushing against my damp skin.
The town below was alive, buzzing with activity. Lanterns lined the streets, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths. Merchants shouted from their stalls, selling everything from hand-carved trinkets to fresh bread that filled the air with its sweet, yeasty scent. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter mixing with the hum of conversation.
And then there was the night market, not far from the inn. The faint sound of music drifted toward me—lively, cheerful, pulling me toward it like a thread I couldn't resist.
I leaned out the window, my eyes tracing the paths and stalls below. My gaze lingered on a booth selling bright scarves that shimmered under the lantern light.
I should check it out. Tomorrow morning would be brutal—a day packed with training, fighting, and more training. Tonight, though? Tonight, I could afford to enjoy myself.
And I needed new clothes anyway. The idea of browsing for something decent—and maybe something a little flashy—didn't seem so bad.
Was I… starting to think like a girl?
I shook my head with a wry grin. "Oh, well. Might as well lean into it."
Without a second thought, I swung my legs over the windowsill and climbed out. Time to see what this town had to offer.
+
The night market was a whirlwind of sound, light, and energy. It was like stepping into a medieval festival plucked straight from my memories, except this time, I had the advantage. Lamps and lanterns cast a warm, flickering glow over the market, their light mingling with the vibrant colors of banners dedicated to the Merchant God—a lesser deity whose influence was everywhere here.
Fabric roofs stretched between vendor stalls, interwoven with strings of pennants that fluttered in the evening breeze. Vendors shouted their wares, hawking everything from mystical trinkets to fantastical street snacks. The air was thick with the scents of grilled meats, spiced pastries, and something sweet I couldn't place but desperately wanted to try.
The entertainment was boundless. Professional dancers twirled and leapt to the sound of lutes and tambourines, while gamblers hunched over makeshift tables in the gaming aisles, their laughter and groans rising over the din. Bets exchanged hands faster than I could track—though with [Appraisal], I had no trouble predicting outcomes. By the time I'd wandered the market's length, I'd earned a hefty pouch of silver.
With my newfound wealth, I splurged on clothes. It felt strange, yet satisfying, to shop for things that weren't strictly functional. The first outfit was night-black: a short skirt, sleeveless crop top, boots, and a cloak that draped perfectly over my shoulders. It had an edge I liked.
The second was a white dress with a red cloak—a look straight out of a storybook, reminiscent of Little Red Riding Hood but with a sharper, modern twist. I was wearing it now, the red fabric trailing behind me as I strolled. There were a few other outfits I picked up, but none of the armors here were worth it. Bulky, poorly made, and with abysmal stats, they weren't even worth haggling over. Maybe my standards were too high, but I wasn't going to settle.
Everything here felt primitive compared to the gear I'd wielded as a Celestial Hero. Of course, that was to be expected. The Prelude to War hadn't even begun, and this was a small town. Still, [Appraisal] made navigating this world so much easier.
Now I stood on a bridge overlooking the river that cut through the town. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light mirrored in the rippling water below. The view was serene, peaceful. A rare moment of stillness in the chaos of rebuilding my life.
I bit into the meat stick I'd picked up from a vendor, savoring the smoky flavor. The warmth of the spices lingered, and I could feel my Origin humming faintly in response, processing the nutrients like an engine fine-tuned for efficiency.
The moon reflected in the water below felt like an old friend. I'd stared at it countless nights in the woods, perched high in the trees where I could rest but never relax. The constant vigilance had been a brutal teacher, but tonight? Tonight, I could just enjoy the moon for what it was.
Holding out my hand, I let my fingers frame the distant orb. "What are you, Emblem of the Omega?" I murmured.
The name itself felt like a puzzle I couldn't solve. I knew so much about this world, the things to come, the people who would rise and fall. Yet, the biggest mystery was myself.
Why this body? Why the emblem that carried an ominous weight? The Origin burned bright in my inner world, calling to me with a promise I couldn't yet understand. Would I merge with it? Would it consume me? Godhood was inevitable, with or without the emblem—but this thing… this emblem wasn't just a tool. It felt like something far more profound.
I sighed, my hand dropping back to my side. For now, a god was just a speck in my plan. Strength was the priority. My body and this world weren't ready yet for me to hunt true power. I needed to reach at least Obsidian Rank and Mid-Class (5th Circle) before I could even begin to challenge the system here.
So much to do, so little time.
The quiet of the area suddenly pressed in on me, heavy and unnatural. My muscles tensed.
Something wasn't right.
I scanned the area, my senses sharp. Nothing stood out, yet the unease wouldn't leave. Activating [Mystic Eyes – True Sight], I opened my vision to the layers of the world.
The air shimmered faintly, the threads of a warding talisman laced through it. A low-level one, laughably so. I almost laughed myself—had I really gotten so weak that I didn't notice this immediately?
The talisman had sealed the area, likely meant to trap me for a short period. Ten minutes, at most. Just enough time for an efficient job. That only meant one thing: assassins.
I sighed, biting off another piece of the meat stick. "Come out," I said, my voice calm.
Silence.
I shook my head. "You could've let me finish this in peace." My aura flared, a wave of raw killing intent rippling through the air. It wasn't something you trained; it was something you earned—something honed through the deaths of over a million beings in a lifetime of war.
The energy signatures around me wavered, trembling in response. I counted them. Ten nearby. One stronger, lurking in the shadows.
They stepped out one by one, surrounding me on the bridge. Black cloaks draped over their bodies, masks depicting various animals hiding their faces. The masks made sense; they blocked even my Mystic Eyes from seeing their true identities.
I noted the color of their cloaks and nearly laughed out loud. They'd sent the lowest-class assassins after me. What a joke.
One of them stepped forward, his mask shaped like a wolf. His voice was calm but carried a nervous edge. "You've interfered in our affairs too much, woman. Beg for mercy now, and we'll grant you a quick release."
I finished the last bite of my meat stick and licked my fingers. "Quick release?" I echoed, tilting my head. "That's funny. I was about to say the same to you."