*
There were flames as far as the eye could see, ultimately technology has not reached the point where homes could resist fire. They burnt to a crisp like a puddle of oil, turning everything to ash. In other words, an act of heavenly punishment, a disaster that couldn't be quenched.
What did we do to deserve this? A lone question courses through her mind, she has no heart for resentment or any other higher purpose. For the moment, it was all she could muster to grieve. That's why... If she were given a second chance... She didn't think she could avoid the impending disaster nor did she conceive the thought to abandon the village. The goblin horde killed and destroyed, plundered food and played with women. All she wished for was that she'd leave something behind, something that couldn't burn to a crisp. Her mark in the land would eventually erode and leave nothing behind, nothing could be eternal, her sob goes unheard.
Maybe after she died, if she turned undead she could do whatever she wanted, to stop feeling hunger, thirst, drowsiness or fatigue. What would she do with such a life without want or need? The possibilities are endless. In the past, she heard of a rumour that if you prayed to the demon lord, they would turn you into an undead and you would be able to live the rest of your life freely. She couldn't see the contradiction in undead and life, she was just a village girl after all, such specific sophistry has no bearings on her life nor will it be entertained. With nowhere else to turn, she could only accept it.
As the last remaining survivor, as the individual carrying everyone's memory, names and soul, she must accept death. Rather, what else could she do? Her world turns dark, reduced to ashes and agony. Finally, when the pain stopped, she would rest. There is nothing left for her to see with, nothing left in her skull to worry with. Everything will return to nothing.
"" (Lastia)
Black turned to white, like a single drop of purity instantly spread blankness to the canvas. This is not the world of the living, she knows that. Was this heaven? Or was it something else? It filled her body with warmth for a moment, yet she dreaded such a sensation. If she had too much of something good, she would be moan the absence of it in the future. As a villager, times would be tough more often than not, she learned to curb her desires like most commoners of the time.
"... An amalgamation of souls, yet one ego remains dominant. I see, you've been through your fair share. Daughter of the village chief." (Lastia)
Her unnamed skill had evolved, or rather more of its potential has been revealed. What she had before, manipulating black kinetic constructs was never the full package. Was evolution locked behind a level requirement?
One soul walked this far, persisted on strength alone. Depending on the worldview people subscribed to, they believe that when people die they leave something behind, whether it's the soul or something else. In every belief created by human hands, people would prefer to believe that something is left behind even if their sense of self isn't. No one could bare the thought of vain.
"Your last wishes, I will hear them." (Lastia)
You will become my strength. That is the contract. She wont fulfill those wishes if she couldn't, but she'll carry them for as long as she lived. Believing the demon lord exists within the confines of the level system is naive. Systems exist to be broken, she won't just be some bystander when that happens. To be at the forefront is to account for any possibility.
"Carry my people. I am nothing without them." (Soul who lost their name)
"You will be carried in salvation." (Lastia)
"... Then prescribe meaning to that salvation. We are in your hands." (Soul-)
White light exploded like firecrackers, sparkling brilliantly against the blazing noon. The final few sparks of this village were the brightest. The should had been absorbed by her magic. She had no idea where it went, only that she had gained some new skills related to farming, such as crop and livestock management.
She gazed at her open palms for a moment more, mulling over what happened. Before she noticed, when she was done annhilating the goblins she saw small shimmer in the distance. A lone mote of light blinking faintly, she felt like if she was any further than she was she wouldn't have spot it due to how faint it was. Her skill had activated on its own, the conditions for this part of her skill weren't clear, nor did she know what it did at first. Her palms closed and she turned her gaze forwards, there is no turning back as the hero.
Her great sword dissolves into the air, fading into miniscule black particles that vanish like snow flakes. Walking towards the opposite end of the village, each step felt heavy as warm gale brushed her skin. This world felt real, it's real. All of her sensations tell her that, but there was something off putting about the world itself. Was it because of the game like system? Or the traditional hero and demon lord setting? Something is off, but she couldn't identify what was.
Her thoughts roll and roll, but she couldn't get anywhere. When she came to, she had gone a long distance since she left the village. The neighbouring trade city of Milarvelia. A peripheral financial hub of the kingdom, from its name alone it sounded like it never lacked resources. The problem now was that she lacked an id, for that matter did they have ids in this time period? For a couple days she washed up in the rivers nearby but she no longer needed to do that.
It removed dirt off the surface of her skin, revealing a smooth glimming surface under her clothes. It only took one soul in the village to possess the skill, perhaps a local pastor of sorts, for her to acquire it after absorbing the soul amalgamation. Sweat was replaced with a faint layer of vaporising moisture, the mineral salts from perspiration were removed so the skin didn't feel sticky. The black threads from her unnamed skill had reformed her clothes from abandoned rags to proper garment, mixed with what was left of the fabric in the destroyed village, her outfit was starting to resemble her magical girl form.
In an auburn shade, her top wrapped around her neck like a sweater, her sleeve reached to a stop at her elbows. Unlike her combat dress, it was split into a top and a pair of jeans, it wasn't as thick as her combat dress either. Over her navy jeans was an auburn cape skirt and a pair of black high boots. She looked unarmed at first glance...