The wooden stairway spiraled upwards in a square-like shape, with grey doors placed on the western side after each set of flights with plates showing numbers directly above them. The 1st one showed 'Room 1 ~ Room 20,' the 2nd one showed 'Room 21 ~ Room 40,' and onward until the 5th one; rooms 81 until 100.

Although the building looked pretty small from outside, it was actually quite a big place.

I opened the door on the 4th flight of stairs, and what greeted me was a long hallway almost identical to the reception area, with endless rows upon rows of vases with plants and flowers placed next to the walls on top of brown-ish dark red rugs.

The lights above were electrical and rounded, much different from the light-emitting sigils on my original world. Still, I didn't mind them much since they – again – brought a weird sense of novelty to me. It'd been years since I'd seen one of them.

They reminded me of simpler times before the Dimensional Catastrophe, before anything and everything that could go wrong, went.

'If I remember correctly, they were created with artificial energy from the KPI's stored Aura samples. It was the last good thing to ever come out from them before Kestal took over.'

My eyes narrowed slightly, but I soon pushed him out of my mind and started to search for my door again, key in hand. He deserved nothing short of being forgotten now that he was dead.

At the end of the corridor was a large, dim window with screwed-shut blinds, and a door sitting subtly to its right with the words 'Room 72' written in a black font. The small silver key jingled softly in my hands as I rolled it around my rough palms, feeling the cold material between my fingers before I slid it smoothly into the keyhole.

But as soon as the click of the door unlocking rang out, Room 71's entrance was forcefully thrown open.

"Ha, does that tramp really think she'll get anything out of me while owing so much?"

The voice sounded tired and upset, like they'd been awoken while they were in the middle of sleeping soundly.

It was a scowling, dark-skinned young man whose head only reached my chest, with spiky black hair styled to the right with buzzed sides, and a small scar on his face going from the right side of his chin to his upper left lip. I could also see hints of a lean frame below his red shirt and dark leather jacket, along with 3 brown scabbards hanging from his belt with different daggers sheathed into each one.

The curious iron gauntlets worn on his hands also caught my attention, like metallic bug shells wrapped tightly around his wrists, palms and fingers, with sharp fang-like claws on his fingertips like my own set's.

Without a doubt, he looked like trouble. But not to me, yet.

"Seriously, she only calls me after 3 weeks of radio silence. I ought to be sleeping right now, dammit."

As he strode down the hall with fists tensed in irritation, he briefly looked over his shoulders like he'd sensed my persistent gaze. His subsequent frown only cemented the idea that he was trouble in my heart; his eyes narrowed, too wild and dilated to be normal.

When he opened his mouth, a much harsher and more vicious voice came out.

"And what the hell are you looking at?"

He didn't wait for an answer before resuming his normal pace again towards the stairs, clicking his tongue.

'What's that guy's deal...'

The intensity of his gaze was bizarre, as if there was brimstone and hellfire burning behind his eyes.

'Was he on drugs or something? I just hope he won't bother me too frequently.'

I wouldn't stay here for long anyway, but I still wanted it to be pleasant. Erasing the young man from my mind as if he never existed, I entered my temporary room and closed the door behind me, locking it again before hanging the keys on the small hook beside it.

My humble peasant chambers consisted of a living room with a brown sofa, 2 doorways on the eastern wall covered only by large white curtains down to my knees, a wooden kitchen table between them, a window – similarly welded shut – on the western wall, and a small kitchen sink directly to my right with a small 4-burner mini electric stove sitting on the grey stone table next to it.

The entrance closest to me was a small bathroom with a pair of towels hanging next to the doorway on larger, blunter hooks, while the farthest one was a bedroom with a single-person bed and a green blanket. And as expected, this place, too, was filled with potted plants.

'Is it because she really has a connection with Gaia, Terra or whatever? Or is it maybe just because of personal preferences...?'

Whatever the reason, I normally wouldn't have bothered with it since the atmosphere was better with the greenery than without it.

'Even then, it feels kind of...'

W̶̮̲͒ṟ̴̗̲̬̑͂̄̚ȏ̵̜̣͘ṅ̷̳͎̉͂͜g̶͉̬̀̈̀̇.

It was like something deep inside me was innately rejecting the fresh energy of this place, transforming whatever healthy air was previously circling the room into a fiery and damp morass that almost made it harder to breathe.

"Here comes this shit again..."

I didn't know what was happening to me, but the fact that my feelings were suddenly being altered like that with so much ease gave me a distinctively nasty impression. The thought that something was continuously messing around with my head was disturbing, and even though I couldn't stop the process itself I could still clearly feel it happening.

Thankfully, I could still remember what my original sentiments were without trouble.

"I really have to solve this before it gets worse."

If I couldn't realize the difference between them anymore, that would be no better than the original Misha disappearing for good. But I didn't even know why it was happening, how it was happening, or the solution to reverse or even just halt its effects.

The only thing I remembered was a tiny key detail:

"That rock slab, the one with the chief mercenary."

'It must have something to do with my condition, since everything started after I saw it for the first time. Like the first spark to a wildfire. I guess I'll have to visit that little squad of his as soon as I can.'

Well, I decided to give it some more thought after a bath.

The warmth of the water seeped into my pores and refreshed me, cleansing the dried blood and sticky sweat altogether. My muscles felt stiff and heavy and soft all at the same time, too; my only comfort in this situation was the fact that my Force Aura-treated wounds only stung dully now as the flesh worked diligently to heal itself.

The numerous lacerations that the swordsman let behind, the burning black and sickly purplish blue bruises on my back from the shooter, and the many other sore spots screaming for my attention, all vanished under the healing water.

Particularly so, the heavy wound on my leg and the general burns on my arm finally saw some reprieve, even though I'd screamed bloody hell when I first stepped into the shower because of them.

I hope my neighbors didn't hear even half of my curses...

After turning off the water and stepping outside, I dried myself with both of the fluffy white towels separately – a habit I'd had since childhood – and stained them with the soft brown and maroon colors of filth and blood. I wrapped one around my shoulders after I was done to lazily wait for my hair to dry and stepped outside, feeling the cold draft from the window clash with my warm skin.

Then, I realized I'd forgotten something important:

"...I don't have anything to wear..."

Both my armour and my clothes were in similarly bloodied and ragged conditions. I remembered absentmindedly throwing my suit into the light green, plastic-made laundry basket next to the toilet, but I couldn't quite remember just where I'd...

'Where the hell could I have placed my armour?'

I licked my lips and thought hard, but still couldn't remember where I'd stashed my set, or even when.

While my White-Horned Serpent suit was very good it wasn't like I couldn't get something similar, or an even better one. I wasn't particularly attached to the thing. My armour was different though; if I lost it my plans would be hindered, and besides, I really liked it.

I searched around the entire room with that thought in mind, and when I pushed open the curtains of the bedroom...

There it was. Right on top of the bed, neat and pristine like onyx-made iron.

"But I'm sure I didn't put it in the bedroom, though?"

Scratching my shower-warmed scalp, I tried to wrap my head around the situation. Why would I have even put it there to begin with? And furthermore, it had been cleaned and repaired to utmost perfection in a matter of 30 minutes at most, the time I'd taken in the bath.

The blankets and sheets should've been stained with blood, but instead of dripping liquid life, the entire set was glossy and polished. I grabbed it carefully to inspect it closer, feeling the black steel and dark grey leather under my calloused fingers while murmuring in a mix of wonder and confusion under my breath.

It hadn't changed as far as I'd noticed, but I still didn't feel like putting it on. My thoughts were racing as I wondered if maybe I'd missed something; the hotel walls growing plant servants to clean my stuff, the blood and filth being absorbed by the hanging flora, anything...

With a sudden epiphany, I slowly marched back to the bathroom, my feet slow and uncertain. I opened the laundry basket to see that one more of my items – my suit – could now only be called "bizarrely immaculate", just like my armour.

Something was... helping me clean my equipment. I didn't quite know what to think about that.

'Should I be worried? Or glad? But how did it even happen?'

I eyed the room over once more, this time more observant, more keen on the smaller details that I'd missed the first time around. I saw that the cold yellow blossoms of a ceiling-plant whose vines trailed below it looked uncomfortably like eyes, that the blue streaks on the leaves of another bushy flora seemed like glinting claws, that the fiery roots of another bud seemed like flowing blood, and so, so much more...

For the first time since I'd entered this place, I felt genuinely uncomfortable being here. Not the fake discomfort that'd appeared when I stepped into my quarters, no; it was the same feeling when I entered a Gate, the feeling of stepping into a place untouched by people.

A wild jungle not made for humanity.

Then, I startled when a soft chime that I hadn't heard in a while rang out inside my head, followed by a golden panel materializing in my vision. My heart beat wildly against my ribcage, but I calmed myself down with a deep breath before reading its contents.

[For the user's convenience, the Slayer's Legacy will ensure all equipment adheres to quality standards.]

'So that's what it was, huh...'

After putting some thought into it, I quirked my eyebrows in confusion.

"But how? I didn't think you were able to interfere with my surroundings so much."

The only times that it had ever done anything was with my express consent, no matter how far it had stretched it. From the painful cleansing to transporting me here, nothing pointed to it being able to act against the laws of reality when it didn't concern me directly.

But...

[You have not yet been granted privilege to know tHis cLassIFieD inForMATioN.]

"Yes?"

In a second, the beautiful handwriting became crude and jagged towards the end, and the color faded into a deep grey.

[You have not yet been granted privilege to know this information.]

But just as suddenly as it had warped into abnormality, it quickly shifted back to normal.

During that brief moment, I swear I felt a familiar damp and viscous sensation below my skin, a soft and pleasant sensation that made a shiver go down my spine despite the physical comfort it brought me.

'Ah, shit.'

It was like the rope of a deadly trap wrapping around the prey's neck after being lured by delicious bait.

The problem was that the animal was me, and I felt like my throat would be crushed if I didn't try and resist this... thing.

'But... How do I deal with this...?'

The Slayer's Legacy wasn't something I could simply fight, not only because I didn't know if it could even be fought to begin with, but because I would be left stranded on a world on the brink of ruin with no answers to the burning questions in my heart. I was at the mercy of my "patron", and the only thing I could do was quietly analyze how to halt – and preferably even reverse – its effects.

I'd have to do something I hated doing, but accepted would be the only solution for a long while:

Bowing my head.

The situation continued to weigh heavily on my mind even as I tried to ignore the fading panel, and I decided to check out what clothes were being provided by the owner to distract myself. I walked back to the bedroom with my gear in hand, and threw them onto the bed.

The cold of the wooden floor prickled the warm skin of my feet, and the frosty night breeze continued coming in from the window.

Ignoring the uncomfortable temperature, I opened the dark brown closet's wooden doors to find a set of six clothes; three for inside use, and three for outside use. Their quality didn't look all that spectacular, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

I settled on the set that looked more like sleepwear, putting on a large pastel aquamarine shirt that would've hanged off loosely a thinner woman's frame, and slipped into some beige pants with a striped white pattern.

Then, I heard dripping from the bathroom.

Coming out of the bedroom and stepping back onto that familiar humid tiled floor, I saw that it was just the shower head leaking a bit. The steamy air was so comfortable I felt like I'd be lulled to sleep right then and there even without a proper bed, so I dragged myself back.

The bedroom itself was very small with only a bed and a diminutive closet, and that cold breeze that harassed my skin like blunt needles – not painful, but not comforting at all either – flowed in mercilessly through the open doorway.

I sidestepped a potted plant and let myself crash into the bed, pulling the sheets, blankets and covers all over my body.

'And what do I do tomorrow?'

First things first, training was in order.

Both my physique and armour had changed quite a bit, and it would take more than a single afternoon of me swinging my lance to become accustomed to the changes. And second, I would also need to scout out the Outpost and figure out any other points of interests.

Even more importantly, I needed to get a sense of what factions existed here.

My best bet would be to ally myself with a group that didn't take kindly to the new military and Roderick Powell's rule, but I wasn't very optimistic. Any protagonist worth their salt in these kinds of apocalyptic stories never left much room for trouble.

And besides, even if I did find some organization to help me...

I had no idea what I would do afterwards.

Climb up the ranks and gain control of it? Instigate a major conflict between them and the Hero? Become a trusted member that would be too valuable to dispose off even if I butted heads with Roderick? All of them sounded too far-fetched for my situation, too time-consuming.

"I'm too tired to think right now."

Sighing, I rolled around in bed and covered myself in the covers to keep a bit more of the room's meager warmth. I tried to think just a little bit more about my situation, but in the end, the sleepy part of my mind won against the neurotic, paranoid side of me that dreaded whatever would come tomorrow in this world that was so similar to my own.

I couldn't help but think about how similar my situation was even though both worlds could be so different; maybe I even chuckled a bit as my heavy eyelids settled over my globes. Sleep came quickly and easily, much to my alert heart's chagrin.

And then I dreamt of terrible things.

 

Beneath my feet were barren, endless rolling hills and battered plains, muddled by a mix of black and brown bruises. Above my head, the sky was tinted a warped and sickly green by an endless blanket of snake-shifting clouds, like thousands of serpents

If I looked close enough, I think I saw a tower in the distance as well, surrounded by... ruins, maybe?

There was something on top of it, too, I think. But I just couldn't focus enough to see it. It felt like I was lacking oxygen; breathing here was like trying to swallow a crumbling brick for some reason, as strange as that analogy sounded.

The air felt almost sulphuric as it wormed its way into my lungs, the thick, putrid and rancid fumes burning through my throat and windpipe before nesting into my lungs like parasites, being fed to my heart and then pumped through my bloodstream towards my other organs like a dirty infection.

A set of words scurried into my head quietly like a pack of rats, as if they were mine all along:

This was a place abandoned by god.

I heard sirens in the distance, or was it howling? Those furious, mysterious hunting horns came closer and closer to me with every second, and I wondered what beast, man or machine could be making such a horrible, guttural sound. But I didn't feel scared, no...

Just an overwhelming calm.

I saw a shadow in the distance, too.  A primal thing moving silently, like it was prowling, hunting.

I cocked my neck to listen more, ears ringing from that terrible and deafening sound that was just so, so close to me now. Feeling a heavy warmth trickling down my ears, I realized I couldn't hear the wind whistling sharply like a volley of arrows anymore, just low ringing.

'My ears, what...'

I think my eardrums had ruptured.

The space in front of me darkened suddenly, and a mass of furry, flowing black and purple robes wrapped in clattering silver jewelry came towards me. The only thing I could discern as I gagged because of an overwhelming stench that suddenly smothered me was a huge, sludge-drooling mouth that didn't seem to end even as it reached its chest, full of jagged and broken dark grey teeth.

Eyes watering, I finally realized just how damn tall that thing was.

But then, from the corners of my eye, I saw the clouds parting to reveal something... something horrible. A fractured gateway, a small door to another place, opening for just a moment to let something through into these defunct and decrepit plains.

But I wasn't scared.

The towering shadow in front of me suddenly broke into a retreat, the bizarre barbed tentacles behind it flailing wildly as it ran back in the direction of the ruins.

Me and whatever that new thing was were alone now.

As I stared at that being, I felt warped fascination and awe bubble up like acid from the depths of my stomach. My eyes felt warmer, and I realized with a start that I was crying, shaking and trembling like a leaf in a storm. It was too grand and beautiful for me to witness, something I shouldn't have been gazing at with my mortal eyes, never mind while still being tied to the world of the living.

I don't know how I knew that, but I just did.

And then I think it asked me what I was doing there; it said that this realm wasn't for me, that it wasn't my home.

Then, my eyes rolled back into my head, and I felt like my heart was shoved inside a furnace, like I was being scorched and losing ever bigger bits of myself because of something that wasn't quite physical, blanketing me in a hellish heat.

I felt my vision becoming clearer and clearer by the second, and I was seeing things I didn't want to, but also desperately longed to see — a giant body with tanned skin marred by old scars and festering burns, arms one joint too long with darkened, blood-drenched outstretched hands, long and ragged tussles of matted black hair covered in thorned dead vines, and a crown decorating its... head?

Or maybe its brow, if it even had anything other than bundles of flowing hair tied up with thorn bushes connected to its torso?

But the crown was by far what marveled – and terrified – me most.

I couldn't ascertain whether it was a coronet of silver so rusted and oxidized by age that it had turned into that blood-like copper and bronze color, or if it was made of thousands of pearly bones utterly drenched in old and dried blood, just like its entire forearms.

The more I burned, the more I grasped its existence and understood it, and thus the stronger the heat became.

But just as abruptly as it started, everything stopped.

The awful burning, the cruel enlightenment I was going through, the way my body failed more and more...

And then I awoke.

 

I gasped for air.

For the cold and windy breath of the world that I wanted to hide from in the beginning.

It was really such a crude little dream, an insignificant nightmare that shouldn't – wouldn't, normally – have mattered. I would've just woken up with a start and then sighed with relief that I was awake any other day, but not this one. This wasn't any other day.

I just couldn't stop crying.

I felt the taste of iron settling into the back of my mouth, and the white pillow beneath me was drenched in blood for some ungodly reason. I realized that it was from my nose, as I had seemingly gotten a pretty bad nosebleed in my sleep.

But I didn't care about any of that.

For a long time, I sat there on the bed and shed all my tears and delight and despair without making a single sound, staring at the wall with all the focus of a blind woman. I think I got a notification from the Slayer's Legacy, but I didn't even register it. The only thing I registered was the nagging thought that something was staring down at me, through the welded windows, from somewhere high above.

From between the dark clouds, through a small door leading to another place.