I open my eyes, and the sudden influx of visual information nearly overwhelms me. What the fuck? Where am I? What is this place? My mind races, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible environment surrounding me. 

An endless expanse of deep, electric blue stretches in every direction, reminiscent of the most vibrant digital screens I've ever encountered. But this... this is different. It's not just a flat color; it's a living, breathing space. Geometric shapes float lazily through the air – if you can call it air. Pyramids with edges that glow neon green, pulsating spheres that seem to be made of liquid mercury, and cubes that phase in and out of existence, leaving trails of pixelated dust in their wake. It's as if I've been thrust into the fever dream of a mad mathematician.

I look down at my body, half-expecting to see myself rendered in wireframe or voxels. But no, I appear solid, tangible. My hands, my arms, my chest – all seem normal. Tentatively, I reach out and touch my face, my neck, my shoulders. The nervous system seems to be working properly, I'm receiving tactile response, but what the actual fuck is going on? The sensation is... off. It's like touching myself through a thin layer of static electricity. Real, yet not quite right.

"Hello?" I yell out, my voice echoing strangely in this impossible space. "Is there anyone here?" The words seem to be swallowed by the void, leaving no trace of their existence. No response comes, not even the courtesy of an echo. The silence is as oppressive as it is absolute.

I walk around for a while, my footsteps making no sound on the non-existent floor. The geometric shapes part around me like schools of fish, their movements creating mesmerizing patterns that threaten to hypnotize me if I stare too long. Just as I'm about to scream in frustration, a rectangular display materializes in front of me.

It's a sleek, translucent panel, hovering at eye level. Its edges shimmer with an iridescent light that shifts through the entire spectrum as I move my head. The surface is blank, a window into nothingness that somehow manages to be more unsettling than the surreal landscape around me. 

As I watch, letters begin to appear on the display. They don't fade in or scroll – they simply are, as if they've always been there and I'm only now noticing them. The message reads: 'Welcome, Alexander. I will be with you shortly. I require time to set up the environment and setting for your game testing session.'

Game... testing session? What? My mind reels, grasping for any semblance of logic or reason. Is this place... Full Dive Virtual Reality? But that's impossible. That technology is decades away, at least. Unless... unless I've been in some kind of coma? Or maybe I've finally lost my goddamn mind. Or maybe this is a dream?

The rectangular display vanishes as abruptly as it appeared, leaving me alone once more in this digital purgatory. I lay down on the ground – though calling it 'ground' is a stretch. It's not solid, not really. It's more like a consensual hallucination of stability, my mind desperately trying to impose some form of normalcy on this abnormal situation.

I try to remember what happened before I opened my eyes here. The memories feel distant, hazy, as if viewed through frosted glass. I was just... putting my kids to sleep and then going to sleep myself, wasn't I? Mircea and Victor, their faces already starting to blur in my mind. I tucked them in, kissed their foreheads, told them I loved them. Then I went to bed, next to... next to... why can't I remember her name? 

Then how...

All of a sudden, the digital void around me begins to warp and distort. It's as if reality itself is being peeled away, layer by layer. The geometric shapes that once floated lazily through the air now coalesce into a massive, pulsating sphere. The sphere expands, its surface rippling like the event horizon of a black hole, until it engulfs my entire field of vision. And then, with a silent explosion of light, it bursts open to reveal... the fucking moon.

My hand flies to my mouth, an instinctive reaction to the sudden change in environment. It takes me a moment to remember that I'm not actually on the lunar surface, that this is all some elaborate virtual construct. The air I'm "breathing" is nothing more than simulated data flowing through non-existent lungs. Still, the illusion is so perfect that my body can't help but react as if it were real.

I push myself to my feet, my movements feeling oddly light and graceful in the moon's reduced gravity. The landscape before me is a stark, monochromatic vista of craters and rocky outcroppings. The ground beneath my feet is covered in a fine, powdery dust that seems to cling to everything it touches. In the distance, jagged mountains pierce the ink-black sky, their peaks sharp enough to tear holes in the fabric of space itself.

My gaze is drawn upward, and I find myself staring at the most breathtaking sight I've ever witnessed. There, hanging in the starry expanse, is Earth. It's a perfect sphere of swirling blue and white, with patches of green and brown peeking through the cloud cover. The oceans glitter like sapphires, catching and reflecting the harsh sunlight. I can make out the familiar shapes of continents, though from this distance they look like abstract paintings rather than landmasses.

"Holy fucking shit," I breathe, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them. "It's so beautiful." The sight is enough to make my chest ache with a mixture of awe and longing. But even as I drink in the view, a part of my mind can't help but question. "But why did the environment change? What the fuck is going on here?"

I tear my eyes away from the Earth and scan my surroundings once more. "Hello?" I call out, my voice sounding flat and lifeless in the airless environment. No response. "Fuck," I mutter, frustration building in my chest.

With a sigh, I start walking, my footsteps kicking up small clouds of moondust with each step. I look around for any sign of life, any indication of the person who said they were "setting up" this game testing session. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the sound of my own breathing inside my head.

Lost in thought, I don't notice the small crater until it's too late. My foot catches on the edge, and I find myself pitching forward. In the moon's reduced gravity, the fall seems to happen in slow motion. I have time to think, "Oh, for fuck's sake," before I hit the ground, sending up a spray of lunar soil.

"Watch where you're walking!" a female voice suddenly yells out, startling me so badly I nearly jump out of my simulated skin.

I scramble to my feet, whirling around to face the source of the voice. But there's nothing there – just more of the same barren landscape.

"What, now you're acting like you can't see me? How insensitive," the voice calls out again, dripping with sarcasm.

Confused, I look down... and there she is. A woman, lying on the lunar surface as casually as if she were on a beach in Bali. Her skin is so pale it's almost translucent, blending seamlessly with the moon's surface. Her hair, a cascade of white that pools around her like spilled milk, only adds to the camouflage effect. She's completely naked, save for a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose.

No wonder I couldn't see this bitch, she's one with the moon, for fuck's sake.

The woman reaches up and lowers her sunglasses, peering at me over the top of the frames. Her eyes are a startling shade of red, like twin pools of liquid rubies. They seem to glow with an inner light, piercing and intelligent in a way that makes me feel like I'm being dissected on a molecular level.

"I'm sunbathing," she says matter-of-factly.

Right. Because that's exactly what one does on the moon. Sunbathe. In the vacuum of space. Without being turned into a freeze-dried corpse. Totally normal.

Out loud, I ask, "Who are you?"

The woman lays back down, resting her head on her hands in a pose of utter relaxation. "My name is Guinevere," she says, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And I am the system manager for this game world."

Guinevere's ruby eyes flicker with something akin to concern. "The fact that you asked for my name suggests you're experiencing some memory loss from entering this place. It's not uncommon, but it is... inconvenient."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building in my chest. "What the fuck is this place, then? Because I sure as hell don't remember signing up for a lunar vacation."

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, the sound oddly melodious in the airless environment. "You made this place, Alexander. You called it a Full Dive Dream Reality. It's quite the achievement, really."

I don't remember making such a thing. The concept sounds vaguely familiar, like a half-forgotten dream, but the details are frustratingly out of reach. It's like trying to grab smoke with my bare hands.

"You instructed me not to let you out of the game until you tested it fully," Guinevere continues, her tone matter-of-fact. "The idea was to ensure its safety and functionality before allowing others to enter and play."

I snort, the sound harsh and bitter. "That sounds fishy as fuck. I don't remember anything of the sort. Why would I trap myself in a game I can't remember creating?"

Guinevere sits up, her movements graceful despite the low gravity. She tilts her head, studying me with those unnerving red eyes. "What's the last thing you do remember, Alexander?"

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the hazy memories. "I... I remember tucking my kids into bed. Mircea and Victor. But after that..." I trail off, a frown creasing my brow. "There was a woman. I was supposed to sleep next to her, but I can't remember her face or her name."

"Women," Guinevere says, her tone dry.

I blink, taken aback by her response. "Excuse me?"

A smirk plays at the corners of her pale lips. "You have two wives, Alexander. Elena and Sofia."

Two wives? What the actual fuck? Am I some kind of polyamorous cult leader in this reality? Christ on a fucking bicycle, this is getting more absurd by the second.

Guinevere lets out a long-suffering sigh, as if dealing with my confusion is the most tedious task in the universe. "This place you're in now, it's essentially the character selection screen. It's where players will choose their avatars and initial settings before diving into the game proper."

I massage my temples, feeling a headache building despite the unreality of this entire situation. "And what's the name of this game supposed to be? 'Mindfuck: The Moon Edition'?"

"'To Live Again In Another World'," Guinevere replies, her tone suggesting she's quoting something.

Great. So I've apparently created some isekai bullshit on steroids. What's next, a harem of cat girls and a quest to defeat the Demon Lord?

"What's it about?" I ask, dreading the answer.

Guinevere's expression turns thoughtful. "You've created a hyper-realistic world inside a dream world. Given that you've forgotten pretty much everything about the game, it's probably better if I don't tell you too much. That way, you can experience it in full, as intended."

Oh, for fuck's sake. So not only am I trapped in a game of my own making, but I'm also going in blind because some naked moon goddess thinks it'll be more fun that way. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of my own idiocy pressing down on me. "Fine. Tell me more about myself, then. Who the hell am I?"

Guinevere's eyes gleam with an almost predatory light. "You, Alexander Popov, are the leader of humanity. You share this role with Lilith, an AI of your own creation. You've fought a war against aliens in space – and lost. Now, Lilith is out there fighting them instead of humans."

My mind reels at this information. Leader of humanity? Alien wars? An AI named Lilith? It sounds like the plot of a bad sci-fi novel written by a teenager hopped up on energy drinks and existential dread.

"There's more," Guinevere continues, seemingly oblivious to my internal crisis. "You have the entirety of human knowledge stored in your mind. You probably can't access it at the moment, but it should come back to you over time."

I laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. "Oh, is that all? Just the sum total of human knowledge rattling around in my skull? No big deal, right?"

A thought occurs to me, and I narrow my eyes at Guinevere. "How much time has passed in the real world since I entered this... whatever the fuck this is?"

She shrugs, a surprisingly human gesture for an AI. "Probably a few seconds or less."

I've been here for a few hours at best, and only seconds have passed in the real world? Interesting. The implications of such time dilation are staggering.

As if reading my thoughts, Guinevere smiles. "See? This is why you made this system. So that people can live lifetimes in seconds."

I stare at her, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. On one hand, the potential of this technology is mind-blowing. On the other hand, the ethical implications are terrifying. What kind of person am I, to create something like this? What kind of world have I built, and what purpose does it serve?

As I open my mouth to voice these questions, Guinevere holds up a hand, silencing me. Her eyes have taken on a distant look, as if she's listening to something I can't hear...

Suddenly, Guinevere snaps her fingers, and the lunar landscape around us explodes into a cacophony of light and motion. Thousands of screens materialize out of thin air, surrounding us in a dizzying array of flickering images. It's like being trapped inside a demented IMAX theater designed by a schizophrenic AI on acid.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim, stumbling backward. My feet kick up puffs of moondust as I struggle to maintain my balance in the low gravity. "What the actual fuck is this?"

Guinevere, seemingly unperturbed by the chaos she's unleashed, simply says, "Recordings."

I move behind her, my eyes darting from screen to screen, trying to make sense of the visual overload. "Recordings of who? What? When?" I ask, my voice tinged with a mixture of awe and confusion.

As I focus on one of the screens, my breath catches in my throat. A girl with hair like spun gold and eyes the color of molten amber is soaring through the sky above a dense forest. Her pale skin seems to glow with an otherworldly light, but it's her actions that truly captivate me. Beneath her, the ground is being violently marked with handprints, as if some invisible giant is slamming its palms into the earth. Blood streams from one of her eyes, a crimson tear that stands in stark contrast to the maniacal laughter erupting from her lips.

"What the fuck..." I mutter, unable to tear my gaze away from the disturbing scene.

I force myself to look at other screens, each one a window into a different slice of madness. Armies clash in epic battles, their weapons a anachronistic mix of swords and guns. Samurai duel beneath cherry blossoms, their katanas singing through the air. Slavers crack whips over the backs of cowering masses, while peasants toil in fields that stretch to the horizon.

This is some next-level batshit insanity. Did I really create all this? What kind of fucked-up imagination do I have?"

Guinevere lets out a weary sigh and snaps her fingers again. One of the screens, the one showing the psychotic blonde, floats towards her. She studies it with a frown that would make a chess grandmaster jealous.

"This one," she says, her voice tinged with annoyance, "is problematic."

I bark out a laugh. "Problematic? That's putting it mildly. She looks like she's one bad day away from going full Carrie at the prom."

"Is she an NPC?" I ask, the gamer in me automatically reaching for familiar terminology.

Guinevere turns to me, her ruby eyes glinting with something that might be amusement. "They're all NPCs," she says. "But this one... this one is very abnormal."

"No shit," I mutter. "What's her deal? Psychic powers gone wild?"

"There are multiple abnormals living in the game world," Guinevere continues, ignoring my comment. "It's not really supposed to happen."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

A thought strikes me, and I blurt it out before I can think better of it. "Hey, did I make you too? Are you some kind of super-NPC or something?"

Guinevere flicks her hand to the right, dismissing the screen with the blonde menace. "I am a child of Lilith," she says, her tone matter-of-fact. "Not of your creation."

My mind races, trying to process this new information. Lilith, the AI I supposedly created to fight aliens. And now she's making her own AIs? What kind of Skynet bullshit have I unleashed?

Based on what I saw... that girl was definitely using some form of psychokinesis. But that's just a theory. A game theory.

She turns to face me, her arms outstretched. In one hand, she holds a single red M&M. In the other, a blue one. The sight is so absurd, so out of place in this lunar madhouse, that I can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to Morpheus me?" I ask, incredulity dripping from every word.

Guinevere's lips curl into a smirk. "You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

I roll my eyes. "Do I really have to pick? Because I'm starting to think the correct answer is 'neither' and I should just find the nearest airlock and space myself."

Guinevere chuckles, a sound like tinkling crystal that seems wildly inappropriate given the circumstances. She closes her hands.

"No," she says, her eyes dancing with mirth. "I was just messing with you."

Humor? In an AI?

I narrow my eyes at Guinevere, her pale form almost blending into the lunar landscape. "Why are you behaving so... human-like?" I ask, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

Guinevere's ruby eyes glint with amusement. "Oh, darling," she purrs, her voice like silk over steel, "I'm just doing what's required to get under your skin. It's part of my charm."

"And why, pray tell, are you trying to do that?" I press, feeling a mixture of fascination and irritation.

She begins to circle me, her bare feet leaving no imprints in the moondust. It's as if she's weightless, a ghost haunting this desolate landscape. "Because," she says, shrugging with an elegance that seems almost obscene in its perfection, "it's just so delightfully fun to play with the man who created Lilith from his subconscious and birthed the first engram."

As soon as the words leave her lips, something clicks in my mind. Memories, hazy and fragmented, begin to surface. "So that's how I did it," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "Yes, I remember now. The engram... the key to true artificial consciousness."

Guinevere stops her circling, facing me with an expression that's equal parts amusement and impatience. "As riveting as your little trip down memory lane is, it's time for the character selection screen. You need to begin playing the game."

I raise an eyebrow. "And what exactly is this game? Some kind of hyper-realistic simulation?"

"Oh, it's much more than that," Guinevere says, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "The game is not much different from real life. Everything makes sense from a physics standpoint. The laws of physics cannot be broken."

My mind immediately flashes back to the disturbing image I saw earlier. "What about that girl?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. "The one who was flying in the sky, creating those handprints on the ground?"

Guinevere waves a dismissive hand. "That's just a form of psychokinesis. You're not creating something out of nothing - you're just commanding your environment to behave in a certain way."

As she speaks, I feel a tingle in the back of my mind. Psychokinesis... of course. The manipulation of matter through thought alone. It's not magic, it's just an advanced application of quantum mechanics and consciousness. How could I have forgotten?

"First," Guinevere continues, pulling me from my thoughts, "you must choose your race."

I nod, curiosity piqued despite my lingering suspicion. "Go on."

"You have a choice between these races," she says, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Human, Seraphim, Nephilim, Elf, Shapeshifter, and Vampire."

"Elucidate the differences between all of them," I demand, my scientific mind hungry for details.

Guinevere's lips curl into a smirk. "Humans are just that - humans. Nothing special about them but the fact that they can use telekinesis." She pauses, her red eyes scanning my face. "All the races look like humans, but with small differences such as eye, skin, or hair color."

Yeah, nothing special, just fucking telekinesis.

She begins to pace, her movements fluid and hypnotic. "The Seraphim typically have yellow eyes and pale skin. The Nephilim have black skin and varied eye and hair colors. The elves have pointy ears, varied eye colors, and are tall. The shapeshifters look exactly like humans, but they can shapeshift into whatever they want. And the vampires..." She trails off, her smirk widening. "They're a symbiotic race with the same powers as traditional vampires, but without the weaknesses. Although there are... caveats. They look exactly like humans, just with pale skin."

I process this information, my mind racing with possibilities. "And their abilities?"

"The Seraphim have the highest degree of psychokinetic powers," Guinevere explains. "The Nephilim have the highest degree of physical prowess. Elves have the highest degree of mobility and agility. Shapeshifters are similar to human’s in all respects, minus the telekinesis. And vampires..." She chuckles. "They're like a Swiss Army knife."

"Vampires sound interesting," I muse, "but I have a question. That girl I saw... was she a Seraphim?"

Guinevere's expression turns thoughtful. "She was indeed a Seraphim, but diluted. You see, there are no purebreed races here - just mongrels that breed, like in any functional society." Her lips twitch. "Well, with the exception of elves, which are pure breeds actually."

As she speaks, my mind whirls with implications. A world of hybrid races, each with their own unique abilities. A society that mirrors our own, yet is fundamentally different. The possibilities for social dynamics, for conflict, for evolution... it's staggering.

And suddenly, I remember. I created this. All of it. This vast, complex world with its intricate rules and races. It sprang from my mind, a digital Athena born from the Zeus of my consciousness. The realization is both thrilling and terrifying.

"So," Guinevere says, interrupting my internal monologue, "which race will you choose?"

I pause, my mind still reeling from the implications of this bizarre situation. Before I can formulate a response, Guinevere's ruby eyes flash with an eerie light, and she speaks again, her voice taking on an almost prophetic tone.

"Your next words will be 'I need to know more about the setting.'"

I find myself parroting her words exactly the same moment she speaks them. "I need to know more about the setting.". Fuck me, I got Joseph Joestar'd.

A smirk plays across Guinevere's pale lips as she continues, "You will be born as a member of the race you select in 307 AD. The location of your birth depends on which starting zone you choose."

I raise an eyebrow, my mind struggling to process this information. "Born? I'll be a fucking baby?"

Guinevere nods, her white hair shimmering in the harsh lunar light. "You will probably become conscious around three to four years old, depending on your race."

"Depending on my race?" I echo, my curiosity piqued. "Others become conscious earlier?"

Another nod from Guinevere, but this time her expression turns coy. "I won't be telling you more about the races until you choose one."

Fucking hell, this AI is more cryptic than a goddamn sphinx on acid. I mentally run through the races Guinevere listed earlier: Humans? Boring. Been there, done that, got the existential crisis to prove it. Seraphim? Highest psychokinetic powers sound intriguing, but that blonde menace I saw earlier was supposedly a Seraphim. Do I really want to risk turning into a flying, blood-crying maniac? Hard pass.

Nephilim... physically superior, but to what end? In a world where mind over matter seems to be the name of the game, pure brawn might be overrated. 

Elves? Tall, agile, and pure-bred. Interesting, but something about their description leaves me cold. Perhaps it's the implied genetic purity. I've had enough of that nonsense in the real world.

Shapeshifters... now that's tempting. The ability to change form at will could be incredibly useful. But if everyone knows shapeshifters exist, wouldn't they be constantly under suspicion? Paranoia and witch hunts don't sound like my idea of a good time.

Which leaves... vampires. A symbiotic race with traditional vampire powers but without the weaknesses. Swiss Army knife indeed. The pale skin might be a dead giveaway, but in a world of diverse races, that hardly seems like a dealbreaker. Plus, the idea of being a creature of the night with enhanced abilities is undeniably appealing.

The vampires, though... No traditional weaknesses but some "caveats," she said. That could be interesting. Plus, who doesn't want to be an immortal bloodsucker?

"What's the technological level of the setting?" I ask, trying to gather more information before making my choice.

Guinevere's eyes gleam with amusement. "The people there are in the middle ages, but they have some interesting weapons that I'm sure you'll be excited to investigate."

I sigh, feeling like I'm trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle while blindfolded. "What are the starting zones as an option?"

Guinevere clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk, don't go too far ahead now. First, the race, then the gender, then the appearance."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't pop out of my skull and start orbiting the moon. "Fine. Vampire. Male. I want my appearance to be identical to my own."

Guinevere's gaze travels from my toes to my head, her expression thoughtful. "Your skin color will have to change, and I can't do anything about that. I'll have to alter the appearance of your parents to achieve your appearance - or at least something similar to it."

I nod, understanding the limitations. Great, so I'll be a pale-ass version of myself. Fucking fantastic. At least I'll fit the vampire aesthetic.

Guinevere then lists out the available starting zones: "Wallachia, England, Norway, Francia, or Cathay."

I put a finger to my lips, considering each option. Wallachia, the land of Vlad the Impaler himself. How fucking poetic would it be to start my vampire journey there? England's too damp, Norway's too cold, Francia's too... French, and Cathay? Well, I've never been one for silk roads and chopsticks.

"I'll choose Wallachia," I declare, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Guinevere bends over at her waist and smiles, the motion unnaturally fluid. It's then that I notice she has no nipples or even a slit between her thighs. I guess that's to be expected of something that's not human. Still, it's unsettling as fuck.

"Vampires are going extinct in this world," Guinevere informs me, her tone casual as if discussing the weather. "They have difficulty reproducing."

With a snap of her fingers, a screen materializes before us. On it, I see a woman who could only be described as sin incarnate. Long, raven-black hair cascades down her back, framing a face of otherworldly beauty. Her eyes, glowing rubies set in alabaster skin, smolder with an eternal, insatiable hunger. She's dressed in a burgundy gown that clings to her voluptuous form like a second skin, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination. She's in a cottage, engaged in conversation with a man who looks positively entranced.

"This one is called Dumitra," Guinevere explains. "Despite knowing how to help vampires reproduce, she keeps it to herself."

"Why?" I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the seductive creature on the screen.

"Dumitra wants the old ones to die so that she can replace the old order with a new one that's more open-minded."

Well, fuck me sideways with a silver stake. Vampire politics are just as cutthroat as human ones, it seems. I can't help but wonder about the intricacies of their society. Are there different factions? Blood feuds? Do they have their own version of the IRS? Christ, I hope not.

"You'll eventually meet this Dumitra," Guinevere adds. "It's going to be an interesting encounter."

With another snap, the screen vanishes. Guinevere then launches into a detailed explanation of vampire physiology. "As a vampire, you'll need to eat food and drink blood. If you don't eat food, you'll be incapable of movement due to 'lack of muscles', to put it mildly, you would look like a skeleton with skin, but won't die from malnutrition. Blood, however, is required for survival. If you don't drink blood at least once a week, you'll fall into a coma until you ingest some, eventually... you would die from lack of. In addition, you will grow at twice the rate of a human and stop aging at nine. You are also immune to any conventional diseases."

I nod, mentally taking notes. So far, so good. No bursting into flames in sunlight or turning into a bat. I can work with this.

"Vampires can only be killed if their hearts are destroyed completely," Guinevere continues. "If a vampire gets their heart pulled out, they could regenerate from it fully. Vampire consciousness is not in the brain but in the heart."

Well, isn't that just fucking poetic? The creatures of the night, driven by the very organ that symbolizes love and life. It's almost beautiful, in a twisted, blood-soaked kind of way.

Guinevere then makes a peace sign, her expression turning mischievous. "If you want to be more interesting, you could ingest sexual fluids. They work the same as blood."

I snort, shaking my head. "Yeah, pussy juice maybe."

Guinevere tilts her head, her ruby eyes glinting with amusement. "Where's the fun in that? You are bisexual and had male mates in your life, after all."

I feel a twinge of irritation at her presumption. "I'm at best a 2 on the Kinsey scale, not a three or four."

Guinevere sighs, her expression a mixture of disappointment and resignation. "We should move on to the next step of character creation."

I raise my hand, halting her words mid-air like an invisible barrier. "Wait a moment. I have a question."

Guinevere's ruby eyes flicker with curiosity, her pale form almost blending into the lunar landscape. "Go ahead. Ask."

My gaze drifts towards the Earth, that beautiful blue marble suspended in the vast emptiness of space. It looks so fragile from here, so... killable. "What would happen if I died down there?" I ask, my voice tinged with a morbid fascination.

Guinevere's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Oh," she purrs, her voice like silk over steel, "you'd simply wake up back here. Then you'd be free to quit the game and return to the real world. No muss, no fuss."

I nod, a plan already forming in the dark recesses of my mind. "I see. Well then, let's proceed to the next step."

Guinevere's expression turns serious, her ruby eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "Now, about 'magic' in this world," she begins, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Typically, it's awakened through deep trauma. But don't worry your pretty little head about that. I'll help you skip that unpleasant part."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How generous of you."

"Indeed," she says with a wink. "Now, you have nine power options to choose from: Transmutation, Aerokinesis, Geokinesis, Pyrokinesis, Cryokinesis, Photokinesis, Atmokinesis, Genekinesis, and Haemokinesis."

I tilt my head, feeling like a child presented with a buffet of deadly weapons. "Explain each one as if I were five years old."

Guinevere's eyes light up, and she begins her explanation with the enthusiasm of a kindergarten teacher on crack. "Alright. Let's break it down:

Transmutation is like having the world's best Play-Doh. You can change one thing into another thing. Want to turn a rock into a sandwich? Boom! Lunch is served.

Aerokinesis is like being the ultimate balloon artist. You can control the air, make tornadoes, or just give yourself a cool breeze on a hot day.

Geokinesis is for when you want to be the ultimate sandcastle builder. You can move earth and rocks like they're your toys.

Pyrokinesis is for the little pyromaniac in you. Set things on fire with your mind! Just don't burn your fingers.

Cryokinesis is like having an endless supply of ice cream. Freeze things, make ice sculptures, never have a warm drink again!

Photokinesis is for those afraid of the dark. Control light! Make pretty rainbows or blind your enemies.

Atmokinesis is weather control. Want a snow day? Done. Sunny beach weather? You got it.

Genekinesis is like playing with the ultimate Lego set, but with DNA. Change your eye color, grow wings, become a mermaid!

And finally, Haemokinesis. It's like being the ultimate puppeteer, but with blood. Control your own blood, other people's blood... it's a bit messy, but hey, who doesn't like finger painting?"

As Guinevere speaks, my mind races, analyzing each power with the intensity of a supercomputer on steroids. Transmutation stands out like a beacon of infinite possibility. The ability to reshape reality at will? It's like having a universal remote for the physical world. I could create anything, solve any problem, become a god among men. The other powers seem like parlor tricks in comparison. Sure, controlling the weather or DNA could be useful, but transmutation? That's the key to unlimited potential.

"I choose Transmutation," I declare, my voice ringing with certainty.

Guinevere nods, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "An excellent choice."

I voice my next curiosity. "Now, a question for you: is the Transmutation 100% efficient, or are there some losses?"

Guinevere's ruby eyes glint with amusement. "It's about 50% efficient. The rest of the waste material turns into carbon. Nature's little way of keeping things balanced, you know."

A thought strikes me, and I can't help but voice it. "Could I craft a nuke with this power?"

Guinevere's laughter echoes across the lunar landscape, a sound both beautiful and terrifying. "Why not? But remember. To obtain something, something of equal value must be lost. This is the law of equivalent exchange."

I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities. "I stand by my choice. Transmutation it is."

"Splendid," Guinevere says, clapping her hands together. "Now, about the transmission vector. You have four options: Sight, Touch, Gesture, or Sound. Which will it be?"

I sigh, feeling like a contestant on some cosmic game show. "Explain the pros and cons of each, if you would be so kind."

Guinevere's eyes sparkle with mischief as she launches into another explanation. "Sight is like having laser vision. Whatever object you look at, you can change. But it's limited to that specific object. No mass transmutations with a glance, I'm afraid.

Gestures are for the interpretive dancers out there. You'll need to experiment with different movements, and the outcomes can be... unpredictable. Think of it as magical charades.

Sound is for the aspiring opera singers. Your voice becomes a weapon of mass transmutation. Tell living creatures to turn to stone, and they will. But it only works on the living, so no serenading buildings into gold.

Touch is the most straightforward. Anything you can lay your hands on, you can transmute. It's like having the Midas touch, but with more options than just gold."

She pauses, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Think of Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist. Just with less angst and more vampire flair."

I can't help but chuckle at the reference. Me, a vampire version of Edward Elric? Now that's a fanfiction I'd read. Or write. Or live, apparently.

"I'll choose Touch," I declare, already imagining the possibilities. The world at my fingertips, quite literally.

Guinevere's laughter rings out once more. "Just don't lose your hands. It would be a shame to render yourself powerless."

I smirk, feeling a surge of confidence. "I'd be able to regenerate them from scratch anyway, wouldn't I?"

Guinevere's ruby eyes gleam with approval. "Indeed you would, my clever little vampire. Indeed you would..."

I tilt my head, curiosity gnawing at the edges of my mind like a ravenous rat. "So, what happens now? How exactly do you plan on catapulting me into this brave new world of yours?"

Guinevere's lips curl into a smile that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous. She speaks, her voice resonating with the finality of a cosmic decree: "Radu Dracul, Vampire, Male, Touch Transmutation user."

I blink, the words settling over me like a second skin. "That's... me?"

"Indeed," Guinevere nods, her white hair shimmering in the harsh lunar light. "This will be your new identity going forward. You'll be a cousin of Dumitra and related to the Tepes family, courtesy of the Dracul family's cousinly connections."

My mind whirls with the implications. Dracula's family tree just got a new branch, and it's me. How delightfully twisted. "Am I to be born with a silver spoon in my mouth, then? A noble little bloodsucker?"

Guinevere's nod is as graceful as a swan's neck bending to the water. I can't help but chuckle, the sound echoing strangely in the airless environment. "My, my, aren't you just showering me with favors? One might think you're trying to butter me up."

Her ruby eyes flash with amusement. "This is merely a test run of the game, is it not? You're not truly playing it yet."

Of course, it would probably be harder if this were the real deal. She didn't make me pick any 'difficulty' setting, after all. I wonder what 'Nightmare Mode' would look like in a world already teeming with vampires and magic.

As if reading my thoughts, Guinevere's voice cuts through my musings. "The game would be significantly more challenging if you weren't meant to test it. Consider this... a tutorial of sorts."

I nod, filing away that information for later. "What about a system interface? Health bars? Experience points? Anything of that ilk?"

Guinevere shakes her head, her white hair swaying like a moonlit waterfall. "There is no such interface. However, you will receive objectives to fulfill from time to time. Completing these will grant you augments - power-ups, if you will. These could be... well, anything I deem fitting."

Anything she deems fitting? Oh, the possibilities. I can already imagine the chaos. 'Congratulations, you've unlocked the ability to turn water into wine! Too bad you're a vampire and can't drink it.'

"Any last words before I send you on your merry way?" Guinevere asks, her tone light but her eyes intense.

I meet her gaze, a grin spreading across my face that would make the Joker proud. "Why did the vampire fail at being a waiter?"

Guinevere raises an eyebrow, playing along. "Why?"

"He had no circulation!"

A chuckle escapes Guinevere's lips, the sound like tinkling crystal in the vacuum of space. "Charming," she says, her voice dripping with fond exasperation. "I'll be checking up on you from time to time. Try not to break reality while I'm gone."

She raises her hand, fingers poised to snap.

"Wait," I say, a thought suddenly occurring to me. "What if I-"

But it's too late. Guinevere's fingers snap with a sound that shouldn't be possible in the airless environment of the moon.

And then... Darkness.