After the intense clash with Archibald, Sigurd stood amidst the aftermath, his heart pounding with the thrill of victory. The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the air and it mixed with the scent of sweat and leather from his armor-clad soldiers fellows. Cheers erupted like a wave, washing over the army as they prepared to march back toward their Central Command.
Many of them were overjoyed by the victory alone, but the ones who appeared to be closer to Sigurd showed astonishment and awe at the man’s sudden spring into action. Rick, the medic, was even more blown away at seeing the man he knew had died on the gurney in the medical tent rise from the dead and overtake the enemy’s forces.
“How in the world did you recover so fast? And where did that disproportionate strength and bravado come from?” He asked Sigurd.
Knowing it would be impossible to explain she had revived in Sigurd’s body, Joyce answered, “Maybe it was a... second breath,” chucking nervously.
“I’ve never heard of someone being so invigorated after such a traumatizing experience...” the medic scratched his chin, adding, “But I suppose anything can happen in the heat of war.”
He then darted his eyes, half expecting his next words to be kept confidential, as he whispered, “You didn’t sneak any strength potion out from storage, right?” He locked his nervous eyes with Sigurd’s. “You know we’re not supposed to!”
Not having to feign ignorance, and replying in the most serious tone possible, Sigurd replied, “No, I would never.”
Sighing in audible relief, Rick dismissed his concerns and shelved his questions for another day as the group encroached on Central Command, their armed forces’ makeshift headquarters that had been set up for the war.
Despite expecting rest after the exhausting ordeal that the skirmish had been, Joyce was caught off-guard by the missive her group received upon arriving. Her superiors there stated they were to leave at once for the capital; a celebration was in order, advised by the highest of authorities. With no time to catch their breath, Sigurd and the rest of his battalion boarded covered wagons and departed.
In a stroke of apparent luck, every other carriage went packed to the brim except the one Sigurd rode in – the honor of having beaten the enemy champion giving him a personal ride to depart in.
Setting the scabbards down beside her leg, Joyce sighed. She relaxed her shoulders and peered out the open part of the tarpaulin at the blue sky above. The notion of a new world was still catching up with her and she wondered about the inconsistencies she’d encountered so far.
Reviewing what she had experienced so far, she thought, ‘So there’s magic and potions, and Sigurd was supposed to know not to take them, not that he did...”
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She thought that last part without actually checking. Panicking at the prospect that Sigurd had been dumb enough to disobey the command, she checked her pockets and bags for any signs of foulness but found nothing.
‘Let’s see, what else? Rick laughed when I implied it was a miracle I’d revived, but why?’ She further pondered, ruminating on the possibilities.
She tapped on the man’s temple, eyes closed, lost in concentration; she scoured Sigurd’s memories once more and came to a frustrating realization, ‘Damn it, Sigurd, you really were an oaf! I’m not seeing anything here about...anything at all!! Were you just asleep anytime anyone mentioned anything important?!’
Despair began to kick in the more Joyce combed through Sigurd’s memories. From the looks of it, he was but a humble, uneducated farmer boy from the inner country before being drafted for the war. The most vivid of memories was of his first time, although Joyce was remiss to revisit that particular one. Other than that, she saw nothing of value in the visions. There was Rick and a few other fellows, times they went out drinking, and a few instances of being tired and pouting at the intensity of the training he had gone through.
But for the things Joyce was interested in knowing – namely about her new world – the inner workings of politics and magic, the hierarchies of power, or even countries and place names, Sigurd was at most a blank slate. He was a buff, good-looking simpleton with naught to his name except his family’s farm.
Joyce yelled internally, clasping her head, ‘Stupid goddess, you put me in the body of an oblivious fool!
This isn’t any better than being reborn from scratch...’ Resigned, she audibly sighed and relaxed her shoulders once more, ‘...but I’m no stranger to adversity. I was taught to adapt or die. Speaking of..!’
She recalled the main method of interacting with her new body courtesy of the goddess and tapped on the air in front of her face. Again, tinged in turquoise blue, a translucent screen appeared like a pop-up window before her eyes.
Reminiscent of video game screens from her old world, Joyce inspected each tab, title, and scrawl of text. The first one to catch her eye was the ‘Status’ tab. In it, she perused Sigurd’s level, abilities, and general statistics. It was surreal seeing an actual person – let alone the body she inhabited – classified and analyzed in such a cold, numerical way. At the same time, everything there displayed caught her eye.
Next to the level indicator, which only displayed an ‘8’, there was a widget. Upon pressing on the button-like icon, a secondary window popped up informing her of a power-up waiting for her; it was locked behind ‘level 10’. An additional bit of text accompanied it.
It read, “So, if you’ve gotten this far, then congrats! Applause and prizes for you. I’m sorry I won’t always be there to instruct you on certain things, but I thought you might appreciate this RPG-styled setup window. Consider it your main safe space to help learn, or at least feel a bit more organized, about your new life. As you can see here, your level is a more acceptable one (unlike that power-up from before), but don’t fret! You’ll be able to unlock more of them the more you level up! Cheers, your favorite goddess.”
Joyce read it in the goddess’ voice even before reading her signature sign-off. Still angry at the goddess for all the screw-ups, she also partially thanked the goddess for doing the bare minimum to help her out.
Under the level indicator were a couple of skills. The first was “Goddess’ Breath”, and hovering over it she saw a description that advised her of its use once per month. There were additional notes that were hidden, implying there were more conditions to using it.
Already feeling drained by everything, Joyce didn’t bother to check her other abilities or tabs and closed the window. Resolved to find out more about the world on her own – and not of her own volition – she rested her eyes whilst waiting for the carriage to take her to their destination.