Chapter Three:
Cute is one thing, but this is stupid cute.
The world blinked to black, and for a split second, I had no idea what was happening. Was I dead? Unconscious? Slowly, things started to sharpen, and I realized—nope, not dead, maybe just...passed out?.
Somewhere in the vast, swirling void, an electric guitar began to wail, accompanied by a steady drumbeat. It was distant and ethereal. A woman’s voice, low and intense, like some video game voice-over, echoed softly in my head.
“Greetings, Rifter.”
The drums picked up, building like a band about to make its big entrance. The guitar began shredding, pulling out metal riffs that hinted at something epic. I still couldn’t see anything, but I was getting a sense of space around me, as if a stage was lighting up just outside my vision.
“You completed your first quests, survived your initial trials…and now, you’ve arrived.”
The guitar hit a high, almost screaming note as the drums thundered faster, like a roller coaster charging downhill. Suddenly, with a pyrotechnic flash, flames, and a deafening crack of explosions, an unseen metal band erupted into a thrashing anthem.
“Welcome to Nya,” the voice boomed, nearly blowing out my eardrums, “a world of magic, adventure, and mystery!”
Lights flickered, and the music settled into a fierce, steady rhythm. I tried to glance around, curious about this mysterious voice, but… no dice. I had no body to move, no head to turn. Just a formless consciousness in what looked like some dark, foggy space that would be right at home in a loading screen.
A loading screen? Really? This whole scene had serious video game energy. Which was… weird.
“Umm, hi.”
The voice continued, relentless. “I’m sure you’ve got a million questions, so let’s jump right into Character Creation!”
“Character…what?” I managed, right before my words were drowned out by another guitar scream and a fresh metal riff. A massive globe materialized in front of me, flames licking up behind it. It spun for a second before a gigantic sword came down, slicing into the north pole with an explosion of rock and lava. The words CHARACTER CREATION flared up in jagged, iron lettering, landing with an ear-splitting crash.
Then, like a character from a heavy metal fever dream, she appeared. Tall, blonde, and decked out in a leather-and-lace corset and hot pants, thigh-high boots, and fishnets torn to perfection. Her bare shoulders were tattooed with electric guitars, medieval weapons, and grim hooded figures wielding swords. She had immaculate makeup and a smile that melted the soul.
She looked right at me, well, right at the floating patch of air I seemed to occupy. “You passed through a rift in time and space,” she said, voice dark and serious, “from your world to this one.” Her gaze deepened. “There’s no destiny here, no divine intervention.” Cue another guitar squeal, and the music cut out. “It just…happens.” She strolled around the spinning globe. “The magic that infuses Nya pulls people and things from non-magical worlds all the time.”
The drums kicked in again, and the rhythm guitar rolled with a new riff as she gestured to the globe, flashing a wicked smile at me. “Now you’re one of us. Be a hero. Be a villain. Climb mountains, dive into the sea. Fight. Fuck. Become something you never dreamed of. Unlock the mysteries of this world…and maybe even yourself.”
A spray of sparks erupted at a dramatic angle behind her, and a blast of air tossed her hair like she was being featured in an eighties music video. The whole intro was undeniably cool, but considering I’d mostly been getting my butt kicked, and getting covered in nasty, green blood so far, it felt a little over-the-top. Besides, I couldn’t see my…slightly tubby self…doing any of those things. Climbing mountains? Not happening. And the “fighting and…other activities?” didn’t sound like things I was exactly excelling at in life.
“Are you working from a script or something?” I yelled over the shredding guitar.
The music eased into the background as she sauntered over, getting close, at least, close to wherever my incorporeal self was floating. Her eyes locked onto mine, or whatever version of “me” she could see. “You have no idea how this world works,” she said, her voice slipping into a low, intense whisper. “I’m here to guide you, help you shape this new life and make it what you want.”
“So…is this really some kind of heavy metal hellscape?”
She took a step back, tilting her head with a slightly amused smirk as she dropped the act a little. “What’s your experience so far?”
“Oh, you know…mostly axes, orcs, and getting knocked around a lot.”
She waved a hand. “This is no stage show, and definitely not a game.” She gestured around the dark, foggy realm. “But it’s nothing like your old world. Here, magic is in everything.”
“Yeah, okay. But can I go home?”
“No,” she replied firmly. “Nya and its realms are your new home now. Earth? Completely out of reach. Realms without magic are closed off to beings infused with it.”
“Then why me?”
“There’s no ‘why,’” she said, almost matter-of-factly. “Nya doesn’t choose its rifters. They just happen to be in the right, or wrong, place when a rift opens. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
I thought for a second. “What about the plane?”
She paused. “You and the seat you were sitting in ended up here. As for the rest of the plane? Probably finished its trip as scheduled, minus one passenger.”
“And my family?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What about them? Look, I can only answer questions about what happened to you when you crossed over. I’m sure they’ll miss you, unless you’re, like, a total bitch or something. But I’m not getting bitch vibe off you.”
“Well, shit.” I sighed, or tried to, given my lack of actual lungs at the moment.
“Please,” she said, sounding almost impatient. “We have a lot to cover.”
“Like what?”
“Like your transference to Nya.”
“But I’m already here. Is this, like, magical customs or something?”
“You’re here, but you can’t stay as you are. The magic now within you is highly transformative. If you don’t adapt, your body will begin to…mutate, let’s say, in unpredictable ways.” The globe faded, and behind her, flashes of various fantasy creatures appeared one after another: elves, dwarves, and creatures I couldn’t even name. “To avoid that fate, you’ll transform into an enlightened race of Nya.”
“Why can’t I stay human?”
“It’s kind of a roll of the dice. If you spin up human, you’ll stay human, but magic has its own ideas about how you’ll end up,” she explained with a shrug.
Then, with a wave of her hand, she vanished, and the space around me morphed. In the center of the room, on a slowly rotating platform, was a figure. And to my complete and utter shock, that figure turned out to be me. Stark, well-lit, 3D, and absolutely, unapologetically naked.
I don’t care who the Hell you are, nobody wants to see a full 3D render of themselves, and I was no exception. It was like gawking at a car crash: you can’t look away, but you kind of wish you could.
There I was, every detail out in the open: fair skin, shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, everything. I got a front-row view of the rest as well—small chest, big butt, soft stomach and waist, the whole package. I’d never been athletic or anything close to it, definitely didn’t have my sister’s gym-toned body, but… this was me. Real, unfiltered, unmistakably Regan.
But oh boy, up there, mocking me in ultra-HD glory, was every little flaw I’d successfully ignored for years. Cellulite on my thighs and ass I hadn’t even known was there. My back? Let’s just say it was not my favorite angle. Nobody wants to see themselves from behind in the real world, and judging from this rear view, I was starting to understand why.
I almost couldn’t believe it was me I was looking at. And yet, just to make it crystal clear this was really me, there it was: the full moon tattoo on the back of my left shoulder. Megan had the matching sun on her right. We’d gotten them together on our eighteenth birthday. It was our dumb way of saying, for all our differences, we were forever connected.
“This is you as you entered Nya,” the woman’s voice echoed from somewhere behind me. “Like all beings here, you come with basic stats that describe your attributes.”
One by one, words slapped into the air above my virtual naked self, each one announced by a guitar squeal and a dramatic rumble that shook the entire virtual space. The list finished hovering over my head:
Strength
Dexterity
Spirit
Charisma
Intelligence
Endurance
Luck
“The Average human attribute on Earth is five. You entered Nya with the following attribute scores:”
Then, out of nowhere, a male announcer’s voice blasted into the scene, as if he were hyping up a monster truck rally. Each attribute name was called out with the enthusiasm of a Sunday night demolition derby, and every number was punctuated with a mini firework exploding behind it.
“STRENGTH: THREE!” Fireworks popped, though maybe with a little less enthusiasm, like even the fireworks knew this was nothing to brag about.
“DEXTERITY: THREE!” Another pop, this one sounding suspiciously like a sarcastic golf clap.
“SPIRIT: SIX!” Pow! He threw in a little extra grit for this one, as if trying to make up for the first two.
“CHARISMA: FIVE!” Boom! Not bad, not great, but the announcer kept the energy up with a confident tone, like he was trying to convince himself that solidly average was awesome.
“INTELLIGENCE: EIGHT!” A grand explosion echoed as if the announcer was just thrilled to have a stat worth shouting about.
“ENDURANCE: SIX!” Pop-pop! Not amazing, but the announcer seemed genuinely impressed, like, hey, not everyone can handle what’s coming in Nya.
And then, the big finish:
“LUCK: SEVEN!” A drumroll kicked in as the fireworks burst in a colorful finale, hinting that maybe, just maybe, I’d have something on my side after all.
The full list of attributes hovered there, every stat a personal little neon reminder of exactly what I’d brought with me into this strange world.
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 3
Spirit: 6
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 8
Endurance: 6
Luck: 7
“This is your base level,” the woman said, giving virtual me a once-over. “But here in Nya, magic infuses body and mind, allowing you to push your attributes well beyond the average for your race or species. There’s virtually no limit to how high you can raise them. Every ten levels, you’ll unlock unique skills tied to each attribute. You’ll also have the chance to assign attribute points during your initial setup.”
I glanced at my stats. Sure, my intelligence was higher than average, which was a relief, but my strength and dexterity? Yikes. It was like the numbers were laughing at me. Not that I could argue, my usual workout routine was lifting the remote and dodging emails. And luck? A solid seven? I felt like the unluckiest person on two worlds right now.
“All abilities, skills, and magic draw directly from these base attributes,” the woman explained, as the attributes glowed with a pulsating light. “The higher your attribute level, the stronger your skills and magic. As I mentioned, magic is woven into every living thing on Nya. People can channel it both from within their body and spirit and from the world around them. The magical energy, or essence, that each person can draw on depends on their Intelligence and Spirit. We call this EP for short.”
As she spoke, the corresponding attributes glowed. “Combat skills, athleticism, and physical prowess depend on Strength, Dexterity, and Endurance. Special skills use a pool of Adrenaline Points, AP for short.”
“Your attributes can grow through usage, pushing your limits, and with magical items, potions, or spells. Everyone in Nya has a level, a measure of life experience, that adds points to their attributes. As you unlock new skills through discovery, your related attributes increase too. For instance, hit level one in sword fighting, and you’ll get a boost to Strength and Dexterity.”
It was a lot to take in, but at least there were ways to beef up my sad stats…
“You’ll find your body and mind adapt quickly to Nya’s environments as you move through this world,” the woman explained.
“Wait, so I have points that measure my abilities?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around it.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding.
“But I literally just got here. Am I basically going to be a weakling compared to the locals?”
“At first, yes,” she said. “But rifters like you mature quickly. You’ll catch up to an age-appropriate level of skills and attributes within nine to twelve months, so it’s important to take your growth seriously.”
I grimaced. “Is this world as violent as it seems? Like… are there orcs everywhere?”
She shrugged. “It’s like any place. Some areas are safe, others… not so much. But in a world rich with magic, strength and resilience are valued. Magic is powerful; it can heal or corrupt, creating some intense environments. Use the next few months to explore, learn, and figure out where you fit in. Think about who you want to become in your new life.”
“What about law enforcement? Are there police or any kind of rule of law?”
She raised an eyebrow. “People are people. Some suck; some don’t. There are countless governments here, some organized, some chaotic, some freer than others. It all depends on where you go.”
“So, basically like Earth.”
“Close enough,” she said with a smirk. “But just different enough to keep you on your toes.”
The woman stepped back, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin. She spread her arms wide, giving her chest a dramatic lift as the music shifted into a full-blown, '80s metal anthem, straight out of the AC/DC playbook. The long, pounding intro built up, louder with every beat, until CRACK! A flash of lightning split the room.
One by one, the words blazed onto the screen in that heavy metal font, each word read out by the monster truck announcer, his voice vibrating with rock-and-roll drama. With each new word, the woman struck a fierce pose, leaning into each syllable
“WHEEL!”
Sparks rained down, lighting up the dark, as if the letters themselves were forged in molten metal, each one hammering into place with a thunderous clang. The woman struck a triumphant pose, arms outstretched, as the word blazed across the room, shimmering in electric fire.
“OF!”
The word boomed, rocking the room with a pulsing energy. The lights strobed, each pulse ramping up the intensity, building suspense.
“RACES!”
The final word thundered into place with a deafening metallic slam, as pyrotechnics erupted in a blinding flash. The words arranged themselves over a massive spinning wheel of fortune, which now took up most of the surreal space. Then, just as quickly, the music stopped.
The woman stepped in close to my virtual self, dropping her voice to an intense whisper. “Now, for the big event. The Wheel of Races.”
I squinted at the wheel. It seemed to have only two options on it, though it spun too fast for me to tell for sure. Meanwhile, the woman leaned back, her hips swaying in a slow dance to the soft, echoing pluck of a single guitar string, somehow soothing and ominous at the same time.
“The magic within you is ready,” she murmured, her voice almost lost in the haunting melody. “The change is beginning. Fate will decide what you become.”
“Fate?” I echoed, my not-there stomach twisting with a jolt of anxiety. I stomped my non-existent foot. “What? A freaking wheel? Can’t I just pick?”
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled through her dance. “Magic’s not that predictable. But you’ll have some choices, don’t worry.”
“Oh, Mother Fuck!” I sputtered, “Shit stained mother of fuck shit fuck!” I was fully aware of the stream of expletives I let loose in frustration, probably lighting up the invisible swear jar. It just didn’t seem fair, leaving my future, my very existence to a carnival prop.
She laughed, scrunching her nose. “Love the language. So cute. Now give the wheel a spin.”
I stared at her, again, no body. “I don’t have hands, remember?”
“Use your mind,” she prompted with a graceful flick of her wrist toward the wheel.
With an internal shrug, I thought flick, and the wheel lurched to life, spinning faster and faster as the faint beat of drums began to build, steady and intense. The rhythm synced with the wheel's rotation as it spun, a relentless clicking that began to slow.
A deep, primal chant rose around me: “Whole... or... Half... Whole... or... Half...” With each click, the beat slowed, drumming down to a suspenseful crawl.
Finally, with a heavy final beat, the wheel stalled.
The last click echoed in the silence, and the booming announcer voice returned, vibrating through the room:
HALFBREED
The word slammed into place above the wheel in huge, jagged letters, punctuated by an ear-splitting guitar screech and an eruption of imaginary crowd cheers. The choice was made.
Well, sort of. Halfbreed? Holy fucking Hell.
“You get to choose one race to be part of your new makeup,” the woman announced with a smile, now standing beside the still-spinning wheel. She pointed to a glowing, golden frame that had appeared above the wheel, hovering like a prized slot for my “chosen race.”
“Human,” I snapped, my not there arms crossed in defiance. I was furious. Here I was, dragged into a new world, spinning wheels and rolling dice with my existence, and my so-called luck was nowhere to be seen. Level seven luck, my ass!
She tilted her head, eyebrow raised. “You sure about that, sweetie?”
“Yes! I’m fucking sure!” I practically shouted, the words punctuating my mounting frustration.
The woman shrugged, turning in profile as a blue index card seemingly materialized in her hand. She peered down at it, and as she did, white Arial font magically appeared above her head, displaying the words like some cosmic PowerPoint:
Human:
The second most populous race on Nya, Humans share ancestry with many of the Enlightened races, including Dwarves, Elves, and Gnomes. Known for their extreme versatility and intelligence, Humans adapt well to most environments around the world and excel at a variety of classes. Due to their versatility, there are no sub-races for Humans—only minor differences in appearance and physical traits, reflecting their adaptation to diverse surroundings.
With a flick of her fingers, she sent the card spinning off into nothingness, where it evaporated in a puff of light. She glanced back at me, a playful smile creeping across her face. “No points for originality.”
“Whatever.” I grumbled.
The Wheel of Races erupted in a fiery display, hundreds of slots igniting as new options carved themselves into its surface. I squinted, catching sight of a few as the wheel lazily turned, some familiar from mythology, like elves, dwarves, dragons, and orcs, while others were more cryptic: “caprid,” “feline,” “divine,” along with a whole list of things I couldn’t even begin to guess.
I’d briefly considered what it might mean to be a half-something else. Orc, maybe? Sure, scary, but then I thought of Kev, strong, kind of rugged, rocking bod…not bad at all. But what if I landed on something weird, like “prairie orc”? Strong, yeah, but… dumb and ugly too? Yikes. Maybe a snake woman, or a cat girl. Not sure if having fur or shedding my skin every few months would help with my look.
“Great,” I muttered, focusing all my frustration into another mental spin. “Human and…?”
The wheel spun, the usual music and pyrotechnics kicking in, building the suspense. Finally, it began to slow: Click, click, click… click… click.
ELF
Monster truck announcer was in great form, making the word seem long.
The fanfare exploded around me, confirming my fate. “So, I’m a Half-Elf.” I didn’t even need to think too hard about that one. I’d played enough RPGs to know Half-Elf wasn’t a bad roll. Elves were always tall, elegant, and way too cool, like they’d all just stepped out of a David Bowie concert in another dimension. But, combine that with Human, and you got that perfect middle ground. And let’s face it, Elves are sexy. If I couldn’t be a whole Elf, then half ain’t gonna be that bad.
Seemed safe at least. What could go wrong? I thought to myself sarcastically.
Before I could react, the woman had whipped out another card, The PowerPoint loaded up, and in crisp white letters, it read:
Half-Elf:
Neither a member of the Human community nor the Elven, but fetishized by all. Half-Elves are the product of the unlikely cross-breeding between a Human and an Elf. These offspring gain the versatility of their Human parent and the magical inclination of their Elven parent. Often envied for having the perks of both races without any of the drawbacks, Half-Elves thrive in human environments and even in some of the more extreme Elven ones. Yet, like many half-breeds, Half-Elves don’t truly have a community to call their own, instead adapting into existing ones as outsiders.
The card vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving her smiling at me like she’d just given me a winning lottery ticket.
“Perfect,” I muttered. “Half magic, half versatility, outsider, and being fetishized? Just what every girl dreams of.”
“We've got one last spin to go,” the woman said, grinning like this was her favorite part. “To see just what kind of elf you'll be.”
“There’s more than one kind of elf?” I asked, half-expecting her to say this was a joke.
“Oh, there are hundreds! Elves and humans share the same progenitors, but while humans stayed adaptable, elves evolved with nature. They’re full of magic, so every environment pulls them in a new direction. You’ve got tundra elves, jungle elves, nocturnal elves, even naiad elves that live in water.”
Before I could ask for a list, the wheel reformed, blaring the same fanfare as it spun back to life. The flashing lights and intense drumbeats had started to wear thin, but I couldn’t look away. This time, the wheel was covered with all sorts of strange elf types, from desert to swamp and every possible niche in between. I gave it a mental flick, and it spun wildly, clicking down until:
URBAN ELF
The monster truck announcer’s voice boomed through the room as fireworks exploded around the word. I blinked, trying to process what that even meant.
“What the fuck is an urban elf?”
The woman reached up, pulling another card from thin air.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
URBAN ELF
Urban Elves have adapted away from nature to thrive in cities. Cunning, intelligent, and charismatic, these elves are fierce fighters, rogues, and spellcasters, but they prefer cobblestone over grass and skyscrapers over trees. Unlike other elves, who live in remote forests or mountains, Urban Elves flourish in the cosmopolitan mix of cities, enjoying the lively variety and culture. They retain many classic elf traits, with a few twists.
“Really? What Twists?”
She tossed the card aside, smirking.
“Looks like you'll be right at home in the city.”
Perfect, I thought. An elf with a streetwise streak, maybe not what I'd imagined, but I could work with it.
The wheel shattered in a blaze of flaming wood, scattering embers in every direction as the music hit a thunderous peak. Once more, I was left trying to make sense of the spectacle, barely keeping up with the chaotic display before the room plunged into darkness.
For a brief moment, there was silence, just a short, dramatic pause. And then, as if on cue, a spotlight blinked on, illuminating the center of the space. There I was again, naked and rotating slowly on the platform, exactly the same as before. No enhancements, no heroic aura. Just me, completely exposed. I groaned inwardly. God just fucking shoot me.
Somewhere out of sight, the woman’s voice echoed through the darkness. “As a half Urban Elf, you will receive a plus five to Dexterity, plus five to Charisma, plus five to Intelligence, and plus two to Luck.”
Suddenly, my view of my 3D self, zoomed in like a camera on a dolly. I that it felt like I was watching from a front-row seat. The announcer’s voice cut through the darkness, each of my new stats rattling off to the deep beat of the drummer.
BOOM. “Strength: 3.”
BOOM. “Dexterity: 8.”
BOOM. “Spirit: 6.”
BOOM. “Charisma: 10.”
BOOM. “Intelligence: 13.”
BOOM. “Endurance: 6.”
BOOM. “Luck: 9.”
With each number, my avatar subtly shifted. Dexterity tightened my figure, giving it a sleek grace. Charisma lent an aura of confidence, and Intelligence sharpened my gaze. Even my Luck stat seemed to add a faint spark of good fortune to my image, as if things might just break my way a bit more often.
I stared, a mixture of shock and grudging fascination, as this new version of me turned on the platform, the transformations all pounding out to the steady rhythm.
I blinked in disbelief as the 3D figure continued to shift, evolving into a surreal version of myself. It was me, but… more.
First, my chest. It swelled, reshaping into something much more generous, my breasts more defined, more pronounced than I’d ever seen. My waist tightened, drawing in to create a striking silhouette, and my hips became more sculpted, giving me a balance of form that seemed almost too ideal. Even my arms and legs took on a new, subtle muscularity, the outlines of abs pressing through on a now perfectly lean stomach.
My face softened yet sharpened at the same time. The roundness gave way to a heart-shaped elegance, with delicate features that felt both familiar and alien: a smaller, slightly upturned nose; fuller lips; cheekbones that sat higher on my face, giving me an almost ethereal look. My hairline shifted, framing my face with a new widow’s peak, lending a certain intensity to my gaze.
Then the ears, only slightly pointed, not dramatic like Jinx’s, but just enough to mark them as elven. And my hair… It erupted in wild, vibrant pink curls that cascaded over my shoulders in glossy waves. My eyes glowed an intense, almost unnatural green, shimmering under the spotlight. And then there were freckles, they exploded into existence all over me like fireworks over the Magic Castle at Disney. They covered my face and trailed down my arms, across my shoulders, dotting my body.
And if that wasn’t enough, a glance downward confirmed: my pubes were pink, matching the vibrant shock of curls framing my face. I stared at the transformed figure, caught somewhere between horror and fascination, realizing this new form was now, somehow, an inescapable part of me.
Still, It was elven, a little punk rock but it was something I could work with. I mean, I was looking at some sexy chick as she rotated on the platform.
“Okay,” I murmured, still processing the whirlwind of changes. “I guess, weird, but I could live with—”
SCHUMP!
The sound tore through the room, and in a flash, my body shrank a full head’s length, the vibrant pink curls bouncing wildly before settling down around my now-shorter shoulders.
“What the fuck!” I shouted, looking up at my new, smaller form in complete disbelief. “You said Urban Elf!”
The woman smirked, like she’d anticipated this reaction all along. “This,” she replied with a casual shrug, “is what a Half Urban Elf looks like.”
I glared at her, then back at my transformed virtual self, realizing that my image now had an unmistakable, almost mischievous quality, a blend of scrappiness and charm in an entirely more compact package.
“More like Half Keebler Elf!” I barked. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I look like a Pixar cartoon; can we do anything to make me look more…”
“Human, no.”
“What about the hair?”
“It is randomly selected based on the genetic makeup of the two races.”
“What kind of race has bubblegum pink hair?
“Urban Elves.”
“Bit how in the name of all holy Hell does a race of people evolve to have pink hair?”
“Hells, Regan, more than one here.”
“Whatever, I can cut it. Can’t I?”
“Of course you can, but I think it’s cute.”
“Cute is one thing, but this is stupid cute. I look like the diversity hire for the Lollipop Guild for fuck’s sake.”
She started to ignore me, keeping with the program. “A couple of notes.” She read from the card again:
Racial benefits of half-Elves include enhanced Night Vision, Internal Navigation, and Hide in Shadows skill. Urban Half-Elves also have The Gift of Tongues, allowing them to speak the natural languages of all enlightened species who have city-sized settlements of five thousand or more.
“Do I get, like, a veto or something?”
“No, you don’t.” She glared at me.
I guess I was ruining the vibe of the show. But damn, really? I wanted a kick-ass Half-Orc, or a tall Rivendell Elf with a killer bow and long sexy dress. Or even something like that sexy blond chick that Conan was banging in the movie. Not Mitsuri from Demon Slayer. I mean, all the members of the party that I met were way cooler looking.
She eased her posture and sighed. The music had stopped. “This is a lot for you to take in.” She was standing next to the platform. My little avatar was rotating, the head at tits level with the woman.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t get to choose how you started life in your old world, did you?”
“Um, no, not really.”
“Do you think you would have chosen something different if you had the choice?”
I thought about it. Of course I would have. I would have looked like my sister, to be honest with myself. But I wasn’t unhappy with myself. I liked the skin I was in. But standout-ish it wasn’t. It suited who I was well enough.
I was just standing here, not standing, because, no body, looking at the Sugar Rush driver spinning on the platform. Big eyes, freckles. Oh boy.
“Okay,” I said with resignation. “Fine.”
“Can we move on? We have a lot to cover.”
“Cool with me, but I’m kind of over the heavy metal thing now that I look like the newest resident of Lazy Town all grown up.”
“Okay then. Next we have to customize.”
“Alrighty then.”
“Assign five points to your base attributes, but you can’t assign more than three to any one single attribute.”
“Okay, so running is endurance, right?”
“How fast you run is based on strength and dexterity, how long you can run is based on your endurance.”
“Okay then, let’s put two in strength, one in charisma, and two in endurance. Can I change these before we’re done?”
“You can one time.”
My ability scores updated with the new added points:
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 8
Spirit: 6
Charisma: 11
Intelligence: 13
Endurance: 8
Luck: 9
The average human score is five, I looked at the scores above the pink head. I was now at average human strength, but everything else was above average. For the first time ever, I was starting to feel excited about what was happening. The body shifted, the extra Strength and Dexterity buffed the muscles a little bit.
“What’s next?”
“We can calculate your Adrenaline Points, Essence Points, and your Vitality Points.
“Remind me about those?”
“It’d be nice if you rubbed some please on that, but okay. Those points are used to power skills and spells. The first two are ways that your mind and body connect and channel the magic of Nya. The third is the measure of your overall health.”
“Okay then, what have you got?”
“Adrenaline points are the average of strength, dexterity and endurance, plus the total of those attributes, times five, and rounded up. Your current attributes give you one hundred forty adrenaline points.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“As a starting fighter, you have the skill slash. It triples the damage you deal with a blade. Before you attack, you mentally engage the skill. The cost is twenty-five AP. Your body can also use AP to avoid becoming fatigued.”
“How do I recover AP?”
“It regenerates at five points per second at level one. As you move up, it recovers faster. It can also be filled with potions or other skill moves.”
“Okay Great. What about essence points then?”
“It’s the same basic formula: The average of spirit and intelligence, plus the total of the attributes, times five, rounded up. For you it would be one hundred, twenty-eight. It regenerates at five points per second also.”
“And that’s used to access magical spells?”
“Yes, priests use a different form of the same thing, with the same numbers, but the points are only regenerated if they are in good standing with their god.”
“Their god? Like, gods are real?”
“Yes.”
“Weird.”
“Okay, Vitality then.”
“Vitality is the measure of your life, when the number hits below zero, you die. It can only regenerate outside of combat, when you sleep, or with potions or healing spells.”
“Alright then how do we calculate that?
“It is the average of all attributes, plus the sum of all attributes, times the luck attribute, and rounded up. For you it would be six hundred, eighteen.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“When you killed your first orc, the damage you inflicted with the axe was seventy-five points, plus the base attack of eighteen points, which tripled from the hit on a critical area, and since the orc was intoxicated, tripled again. He had a vitality of eight hundred sixteen, but you delt a single blow of eight hundred and thirty-seven, you killed him.”
“Alrighty, so my little six hundred and change vitality isn’t all that great.”
“It’s a place to start.”
I thought about things for a moment. “We’re almost done, right?”
“We have two more areas to cover after this.”
“Will any of those change my attributes?”
“No.”
“I want to change my point allocation. Instead of putting two into endurance, put one to it and one into luck. Let me see what that looks like.”
“No problem, here you go.”
Strength: 5
Dexterity: 8
Spirit: 6
Charisma: 11
Intelligence: 13
Endurance: 7
Luck: 10
Adrenaline Points: 134
RC 5 pts/sec
Essence Points: 128
RC 5 pts/sec
Vitality Points: 686
RC 5 pts/sec
I took a good look at the half-urban-elf girl standing in front of me. She was oddly cute, in that “Hey, you could bench-press me” kind of way. The muscles were noticeably more defined—broader shoulders, thicker thighs, and arms that were well on their way to rocking some lady guns. Strength and Dexterity points would do that, I guess.
Her face was familiar, but...off. Like a sister or a cousin from a parallel universe. Except, nope. That was me. Or rather, would be me. My suspicion was confirmed as she turned around, revealing my moon tattoo peeking out from beneath the pastel explosion of cotton candy hair.
“So, uh, what’s the deal with Luck? Am I gonna crush it at blackjack or something?” I asked, eyeing the numbers on the stats list.
“It’s not that kind of luck,” came the reply. “It’s more about influencing random chance in your favor, better odds of landing critical hits, dodging attacks, and nailing skill checks. But cards or dice? Not so much.”
“Bummer,” I muttered, feeling a little cheated.
Before I could complain further, the room plunged into darkness. A wave of vertigo slammed into me, and I hit the ground. It wasn’t painful, more like an awkward tumble onto something soft. I scrambled to my feet, and, whoa, my body moved like it was on a finely tuned suspension system. I couldn’t resist testing it, hopping up a little as I stood. Yep, springy.
Looking down, I was in the middle of the same room, but now in her body—my new body. I was wearing the tunic and pants Gem provided me. They fit like a glove thanks to the autofit enchantment. My perspective was...different. Closer to the ground, for one. And my hair—oh, the hair. A riot of colorful fluff that refused to stay out of my eyes. I blew at it in frustration, only for it to bounce right back into place like some kind of caffeinated slinky.
“How do I—FUCK!” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “What the shit?” I muttered, startled at the sound that just came out of me.
The pitch of my voice had definitely changed. Higher. At least an octave. It wasn’t like I inhaled helium or anything, but it was way up from where I used to be. Natural, sure, but it sounded like… well, like I was twelve.
“Yeah, about that…” came her voice, laced with some barely contained amusement.
“What the fuck happened to my voice?” I demanded, loud enough to make it worse. Then, in a fit of frustration, I squeaked, “MOTHER FUCKER!”
“You’re just… a smaller-sized person,” she said, smiling down at me like I was an adorable kitten. “Smaller throat, smaller larynx, and all that.”
“I mean…” I trailed off, trying to process it. It felt strange, but also familiar, in some weird way. I’d always had a low voice since I kind of trained it that way. I thought it made me sound smarter. I growled, trying to summon something dark and menacing. No luck with that. The sound that came out was more adorable than anything.
I huffed in frustration, then sang, “La, la, la,” just to get a feel for it.
Deciding to really test it, I launched into a tongue twister.
“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
If a woodchuck could chuck wood?
He would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck would
If a woodchuck could chuck wood!”
It came out a little… otherworldly. The worst part? Even my inner voice seemed to have taken on this new, higher pitch. Great. Just what I needed.
“It would have been nice to get a bit of heads up that this would have happened.”
“Well, I didn’t want to overload you with everything you’d have to get used to.” She gestured at my new body like I was a mannequin in a discount store. “I mean, I didn’t even mention the fact that you’re now going to have trouble reaching the top shelf.”
“Great,” I grumbled, trying to avoid sounding like an angry middle schooler. “How tall am I, then?”
“Four feet, ten inches.”
“Fuck!” I spun around looking down at myself. “I used to be five-six.”
“Seems so,” she said, unbothered. “Urban elves are one of the shortest elven races. Most don’t top four feet.”
“Jesus H.” I stared down at my tiny feet, now suspiciously closer than the old ones were. I shrugged, feeling the weight of my new reality. “I didn’t think this body would feel… like this.”
The woman stayed silent for a moment, her expression softening into a genuine smile. Not mean, not teasing, just… kind.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I tried to read her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Stupid.”
“No,” she said patiently. “How does your body feel?”
I glanced down at myself, flexing my fingers experimentally. My hands were lean and strong, their grip powerful. I clenched a fist, feeling a surge of energy ripple through me. This wasn’t just stronger than the average human, it was stronger than I’d ever been in my entire life.
Curiosity sparked, and I jumped. My head soared well above hers as I grinned midair, landing lightly on the soft floor. Exhilaration bubbled up, and before I could stop myself, I leaned back and flipped, landing on my feet with a flourish.
“Wow!” I gasped, adrenaline coursing through me. This was me. A body that finally did everything I wanted it to, with the potential to do so much more. And it was all connected to my brain, my mind, like it had been waiting for me all along.
“You see?” she said, her grin widening. “You’re just smaller. You’re not weaker. You’re becoming the person you’re meant to be. This is what this world does.”
“This is so… fucking strange,” I said, my voice caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.
“Sweetie,” she said with a knowing shrug, “strange is the default setting for this world.”
I bounced a couple more times, testing my new agility before finally settling down. “So… now what?”
“Well, now for the fun part.” She clapped her hands together with a new, wider, more excited grin. “Rifter bonus time!” She spun around dramatically, pointing to the glowing wheel of fortune that appeared with a whoosh. “Wheel time!”
Without any of the over-the-top heavy metal fanfare, the wheel spun, its surface packed with nearly unreadable categories. There were pets, gold amounts, magical items, starter packs, mounts, and way too many others to decipher as the blur of colors zipped by. Three ominous red spots labeled Nothing stood out starkly among the chaos.
“You get three spins,” the woman said. Her tone was casual, but there was a weight in her words that made me suspicious. “These will give you a leg up when you start.”
“Cool,” I said, stepping forward. I grabbed the wheel with my slender elf hand and gave it a firm spin. As the wheel turned, I got momentarily distracted, examining my new hand. It looked delicate but was surprisingly strong. I turned it over and examined the shining nails. I smiled, Elven beauty? I thought.
The clicking of the wheel brought my attention back to the moment, its steady rhythm oddly suspenseful. Click, click, click, click... click... click.
It finally stopped on Enhanced Starter Kit.
“Once you leave generation,” the woman explained, “you’ll receive a kit of objects, skills, spells, and basic resources. It’s tailored to your chosen class and consistent with what a level-two adventurer with moderate resources would have. It’s meant to give you a head start.”
“That’s nice,” I said, already reaching for the wheel again. “You said skills and spells?”
“Yes. Skills and spells, along with armor, weapons, supplies, and some gold,” she confirmed.
I spun the wheel again. This time, I noticed that the Enhanced Starter Kit segment had vanished, replaced by another red Nothing. Four Nothing spots now loomed on the wheel, their presence growing more menacing.
“What happens if I land on Nothing?”
“Then you get nothing.”
“Swell.”
The wheel kept spinning. Goodies zoomed by: ten thousand gold, enchanted bow, horse, even a pet monkey. Click, click, click, click… click… click.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
It landed squarely in the Nothing section. I stomped my foot on the soft pillow ground, but it was completely unsatisfying. I did it again, just to be sure. Yep, the ground was just too soft for a satisfying foot stomp.
“You get one more spin,” the woman said. “Make it count.”
I gave the wheel another spin and turned away, my mind still reeling. The absurdity of the situation hit me. I was having fun. I was in the middle of what could only be described as a character creation screen in a game. It felt like a damn game, and I was enjoying it. There were stats, levels, points, everything. Why the hell was it like this? This was supposed to be real, wasn’t it? I'd been through real danger, real death. I’d killed. That shit was real. And now here I was, spinning a wheel like I was in some kind of video game.
Click, click, click, click… click… click.
“Hmm,” the woman said. “Good one.”
I turned, expecting to see Nothing again. But no, the wheel had landed on Null Space Storage.
“What’s a null space storage?”
“You’ll be able to store any object you can lift into a six-cubic-foot null space,” she explained. “Most people on Nya use enchanted objects for this, but personal null spaces are extremely rare.”
“You mean... I get a personal inventory system?”
“That’s right,” she confirmed, as the wheel vanished. “You get 216 feet of storage that you can take with you wherever you go. Only you can access it. It’s more secure than a bank vault. You can loot bodies without touching them, receive rewards and trades directly, among other things. It’s null space and null time, which means anything you put in won’t age or decay. It keeps the hot stuff hot and the cold stuff cold.”
“That’s actually pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, well, it has its limits. Anything suppressing magic will make it inaccessible.”
It all felt so strange to me. This whole process—awesome and cool, sure, but also off. The vibe in here didn’t match the brutal reality out there. I thought about that Prairie Orc, his head split open by the magical axe I had been swinging. The blood, the weight of the fight, the harshness of it all. And then I looked around this space, all shiny and whimsical, like some kind of fantasy buffet with spinning wheels and rock and a kicking soundtrack. It didn’t add up. And why the hell was it even called Character Creation? Was I just a character now?
“You know,” I said, trying to sound casual, “this whole thing feels a bit... video-gamey.”
“This isn’t a game, Regan,” the woman said, her tone suddenly stern. “You’ve seen what happens out there. It’s very real.”
“Then why does it feel like a game?”
The woman paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You know,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “you never asked who I am.”
“Okay. Who are you?”
“I’m The Whisperer,” she said, watching me closely. “Do you know what that means?”
“Nope.”
“I am how you connect to the magic of Nya.”
“Well,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at her, “you’re not exactly whispering.”
“Those who are native to Nya are born into the world of magic. They’ve known it their entire lives. I do the same thing for them that I do for you. But to them, I’m just a quiet, faceless force. A whisper in their minds that guides them through the realm of magic. They have native understanding. All of this…” she waved her hand around the room. “…isn’t necessary for them.”
“So, it feels like a game because that’s what I understand.”
“Exactly.” The Whisperer grinned, the expression almost playful. “You needed a rocking hottie to show you around, and that’s what you got. You needed stats and points to describe your abilities, so I numerated them for you.”
“So, others don’t use the numbers like that?”
“They do, and they don’t. Magic in this world is very, very powerful. It’s the operating system that Nya runs on. I’m the interface that allows you to access it. When you speak to others about your abilities, you’ll use the words you understand, and they’ll use the words they understand. But you’ll understand each other. I’m just your interface. The bridge.”
“You are literally translating language spoken to me?”
“Yes.” She smiled proudly. “I am part of your mind. A part that is powered by magic. It is one of the most primal energies in this world, and it is hired wired into every living thing on the planet.”
She paused, letting that sink in. “I’m part of your mind that interprets the magical energies of the world and helps you understand them. Kind of like your phone. Back on Earth, you couldn’t just start yelling into the air and connect to digital data, right? You needed a device. On Nya, that’s me.”
“Okay, but where do you come from?”
“Some people actually think I’m part of the pantheon of gods,” she said, spreading her arms with a smirk. “I mean, look at me. But I am unique to you.”
I just sighed. The flood of information was overwhelming, like trying to drink from a fire hose. I looked down at my new body: crazy pink hair, rocking new tits, tiny hands and feet. Despite the absurdity of it, it felt right. This body vibrated with energy. I felt strong. My mind was sharp, focused. It was all so new. It felt like I was finally stepping into something I’d been waiting for, even if I didn’t know exactly what it was.
“Don’t have much back home.” I said. “But I love my sister and my parents.”
Yeah,” The Whisper said sympathetically with a gentle sigh.. “That sucks.”
“What will happen to them?”
“They will live their lives. They will miss you and mourn you.”
“So, no one has ever gone back?”
“If you, in your half-elf body, were travel to a world without magic, your face would melt off.”
“But is there away?”
“No, there really isn’t. Even if you somehow survived, there’s no vehicle or method to get back to your world.”
“I asked if anyone ever went back.”
“And I’m telling you no one ever has.” Her voice was steady, certain. “It’s a one-way trip. It’s caused by a surge of magic that rips a hole in space and time. You need to let that shit go.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Girlfriend,” She said, sounding almost amused. “Two things. First of all, I am you. A part of you, at least. My job is to tell you what you need to know, so no lies. Second, there’s no agenda behind the magic that pulled you here. It’s just a force of nature. Rain doesn’t give a shit who gets wet, it just fucking falls, okay?”
“But all this…” I gestured around the room. “…It has to have some intent behind it. It’s nuts.”
“You’re the one that made all of this,” Her grin was sharp.
“But why would a force of nature make sure I had a chance of survival? Why give a shit if there are no shits to give?”
“I said a force of nature. The world is constantly seeking balance. Beings like you, coming in, are infused with magic. It just happens.”
“But why are we not just turned into mutant monsters? If it was just nothing but random shit, we’d get flooded with magic, and that would be it. There has to be some kind of purpose behind us getting starter kits, new races, and a fresh start in the world.”
“It’s the way the magic in the world balances,” She explained. “It makes no sense because we can’t see the whole picture.”
“Let’s put a pin in this,” I said, throwing my hands up. “I’m calling bullshit for the record, though.”
“Whatever, kid,” She replied, sounding mildly amused. “You’re not going to be the last one who thinks all this crap is makes sense.”
“So, what’s left anyway?” I plopped down on the ground, looking at my feet. They were so tiny. But then again, they didn’t really feel tiny since I was smaller.
“You pick a class to start,” she said.
“You mean like a job?”
“Once you leave, you’ll need to pick and learn classes as you go along. But as a rifter, you’ll get one free to start you out. Consider your attributes carefully. There are a limited number of classes you can choose to begin with. Jobs within each class are unlocked through training or experience. Individual skills are unlocked the same way.”
“So, what are my starter classes?”
With a final dramatic flourish, The Whisper whipped out a new stack of cards and read off the descriptions. The magical PowerPoint started up again:
Mage (Intelligence, Spirit, Luck)
Warlocks, Wizards, Witches, and all schools of magic users. Working with your mind, spirit, and dumb luck to capture, manipulate, and use magic to whatever ends suit your needs. The Mage class is not just for nerds, but nerds are really the best at it.
Fighter (Strength, Dexterity, Endurance)
Whether you fight for coin, your god, your king, or because you’re just an asshole, fighters are the first to pick up a sword or rock to prove a point. Paladins, Mercenaries, Pit Fighters, Bouncers, and Monks are but a few in this noble fraternity. It doesn’t take too many brains; in fact, a few too many hits to the head, and you might not have any.
Rogue (Dexterity, Charisma, Intelligence)
Let the Fighters fight fairly. Everyone knows that fighting dirty is the best way to ensure survival. And taking care of yourself along the way ain’t too shabby either. Thieves, Assassins, Spies, and even Bards, use their minds and charm as much as their arsenal of skills to stab, poison, and rob their way to success.
Priest (Spirit, Charisma, Intelligence)
You’ve heard the call; you’ve seen the visions. Priests, Nuns, Druids, Clergy of all kinds that fight the good fight for the big one above. Power comes from on high, to smite those who fucking deserve it. With a pantheon of gods to choose from, the Priest class is full of people kicking ass and saving souls.
Artificer (Dexterity, Intelligence, Spirit)
Someone in this crazy world has to do the actual work! Artificers craft, brew, cook, forge, and invent all the stuff needed to keep the world running. Blacksmiths, Enchanters, Alchemists, Beast Tamers, and all the other working stiffs are included in this group. It doesn’t mean you can’t be tough, but an artificer is more about making the tools than using them. Great artificers are sought after the world over and paid handsomely for their work.
I looked over the list as it hung in the air in front of me. It was like I was perusing a restaurant menu, unsure of what it was I really wanted. I didn’t know what I was good at yet, so I wasn’t sure what the best choice would be. Should I be thinking long term or short term? But I had to pick something. I went through mental images of myself in each of the roles. The imagery wasn’t exactly flattering. In my head, I looked like a cartoon, clumsy, over-the-top, and out of place. I sighed.
“I choose Rogue.”