Chapter one

Hi, my name’s Claire, and I was having one of those stellar days where everything goes wrong. First, my alarm decided to take a day off. Then, I nearly broke my neck tripping over Lucy, my oh-so-helpful cat.

“Seriously, Lucy? Do you have to sleep on the stairs where I can’t see you?” I groaned, exasperation evident in my voice. She blinked at me, utterly unbothered.

I rummaged through the cupboards and pulled out my breakfast of champions: Froot Loops—because who needs a balanced diet, right? I headed over to the fridge. Surprise, surprise—no milk. Perfect.

I glanced at the clock. “Fantastic. I’m gonna be so late!” I muttered, a mix of frustration and sarcasm in my tone.

I grabbed a Ziploc bag, dumped some cereal in it, and rushed out the door. Who needs milk anyway?

I start sprinting down the footpath toward my bus stop. God, I need to do more cardio—or make better food choices—but who am I kidding? My lungs are already on fire, and I’ve barely covered half a block. Just when I think I’m going to collapse, I see the bus stop up ahead.

“Oh, thank God, I made it just in time!” I panted, relief washing over me. “Who would have guessed it—I actually made it to the bus stop in time.” I swiped my card and, miracle of miracles, there’s just enough credit. I made my way to a seat, internally cheering. I’m actually going to make it in time today.

I’m just starting to relax when suddenly, I hear a horrible flopping sound. Just my luck, the bus has a flat. Perfect.

“Maybe it’s time to message Dave, my boss, and give him the good news: late again.” I pull out my phone, considering how to spin this latest disaster. Should I go with honesty or get creative? Decisions, decisions.

I finally decide to bite the bullet and call Dave.

“Hi Dave, oh merciful decider of fates and deliverer of paychecks,” I said, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

Dave sighed, his voice tinged with defeat. “Seriously, Claire? Again? That’s twice this week.”

“Twice isn’t that much, Dave,” I replied, attempting to sound casual.

“Claire, it’s only Tuesday. That’s 2 for 2,” Dave said, his tone stern yet weary.

“I’m sorry, Dave. Really, I am. I might have actually made it on time, but my bus got a flat,” I explained, hoping he’d understand.

“Claire, I like you. I really do. When you actually make it here, you’re an excellent worker. You never shy away from hard work, you’re a great problem solver, and for someone who hates talking to people, you’re pretty good at it. But head office is breathing down my neck. I don’t know how much longer I can fight for your job. Look, just get here as soon as you can, and we’ll talk about this later,” Dave said, his voice softening toward the end.

He hung up the phone. Great, now I feel guilty.

“I’m sorry, Dave. I’ll try to do better,” I muttered to myself, berating my own ineptitude. Just then, a replacement bus pulled up. “Off to work we go,” I thought, climbing aboard.

The bus ride is surprisingly quick. The whole way, I mull over my thoughts. “I really need to get my shit together. I like my job—I’m actually kinda good at it. You’re never gonna guess what I do. I’m a machine operator at a little manufacturing company, building big metal bins. I know, not really the most glamorous job, but I like it. I’ve never been the girliest of girls. I’ve always needed something physical and mentally engaging, or otherwise, I get bored.”

“I guess I should describe myself. I’m 5’4, pale as all hell. Gaming and reading are my thing. I could blind someone with just the reflection off my skin if I ever actually decided to visit a beach—the sun is not really my thing. I have long, messy, darkish hair and curves in all the right places, and some of the wrong. Hey, I already told you, cardio and good food choices are not my friends. And anyway, what sane person can turn down chocolate and ice cream? I’m a strong, independent woman. Hokey Pokey ice cream with chocolate chips, I chose you.”

I walk inside to face the music and glance at the clock. “Oh wow, only 2 minutes late. I wonder how much they will dock my pay—is there some sort of rule regarding that?” The day went by as usual—trip over this, run into that, cut this, fold that, same same.

But the chat with Dave—that one hurt. I really need to stop letting him down. As I gather my things to leave, I make a grand vow to myself. “I am gonna make Dave proud. I’m gonna wake up early, get to work on time, and show them that I can be the most reliable worker in the place.”

And that’s when it happened.

Ping! Please choose a name:

“What the hell is this? Where am I?” I look around, or at least I try to. I can’t move. I can’t seem to do anything but stare at this blue floating box in front of me with the words “Please choose a name.”

I call out, my voice shaky. “Is someone there? Hello? Please, can anyone hear me?” I’m not ashamed to say it—this is scaring the shit out of me.

“Okay, come on Claire, think. Think. You can work this out. You’re smart. Well, kinda. At least sometimes I can be smart.”

Please choose a name. Claire selected. Would you like to choose Claire as your name? Y or N

“Huh, so it seems to react to my thoughts. Well, that’s kinda creepy. It’s like character creation in a video game. Or maybe I tripped on the way out the door. Maybe I’m laying in a hospital bed somewhere, and this is my messed-up coma dream. Maybe there’s some kind of chemical leak, and I’m tripping balls right now. Okay, well, if this is some coma dream, I guess it could be worse. Might as well play along. There’s not much else I can do.”

Y. For yes, Claire will do just fine. No need for a pseudonym. Don’t need to protect my personal information from my own brain.

Name chosen. Please standby for interdimensional integration protocol.

Generating stats…

•Body type: Unfit

•Mind type: Potential possible

•Soul type: Inconclusive contradictions detected

•Generating interaction wisp…

“Well, that’s rude. Man, if this is my brain’s coma dream, my self-esteem must be hitting an all-time low.”

All of a sudden, I see a glowing green light ball bobbing up and down in front of me. “Ummm, okay, that’s weird.”

“Ahhh, I see the problem. This is a tricky one.”

“Umm, hello? Who said that?”

“Hmmm, oh that’s right, introduction. I always forget that part. I am a wisp, here to help sort out this mess that is your integration into the world of Grimoria. Now, let’s see what we have to work with here.”

“Excuse me, I think I’m gonna need a little more information than that. And who are you calling a mess?” The green ball thing was already grating on my nerves. It seemed judgy, plus this whole thing was feeling a little intrusive. “I feel like everything I am is just there on display for anyone to see. It leaves me feeling more naked than I have ever been in my life.”

“What are you, and what is Grimoria? More importantly, what the hell is going on here? I need answers, and I need them now.”

“What’s going on is your soul, mind, and being—all that makes up you—has tried to enter the world of Grimoria. That, by the way, didn’t work out so well. The jumbled-up mess that was you was not suited to the world of Grimoria.”

“What do you mean by jumbled-up mess?”

“Well, you see, interdimensional travel can be kinda messy. You were essentially broken down into little motes of light and matter, pushed through a tiny hole, compressed, and thrown hurtling through the void. It’s kinda amazing everything made it here, but I guess you’re lucky.”

“The fuck did he just say? That’s terrifying. I think I’m having a mental breakdown.”

“This isn’t real.”

“This isn’t real.”

“This isn’t real.”

“Oh, and I’m a wisp, a magical being. Grimoria is the world the pieces of you tried to enter. That would have been quite the mess.”

“I think I’m getting a migraine. Wait, is that even possible with the state I’m in?”

“Okay, okay, deep breaths. Do I even breathe? Okay, not helping. Calm down, gather information. You can do this. It’s just a dream.”

“So, um, wisp guy, why am I here and what happens now?”

“Well, to answer your first question, you are here because if you entered the world in the state you currently find yourself, well, let’s just say it’s not survivable. So, what happens now is we rearrange you into a more survivable form.”

“So, this is fixable?”

“Probably. Can’t wait to find out.”

“What a dick. I’m just some interesting experiment to this thing. I am not liking where this is going, but I just need to grit and bear it and get through this nightmare. It’s just some messed-up version of character creation. I’ll get through this one step at a time, and before I know it, I’ll be waking up in the hospital.”

“Oo..k.. kay, where do we start? I’m ready.”

“Okay, Claire. Can I call you Claire? Of course, I can, you chose it, didn’t you?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Let’s see what we have here.”

“Short hair, male, very hairy, large pectoral muscles. No, no, no, that’s all wrong.”

“Excuse me, but do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all here. Just give me a second.”

“Uhhuh, I’ve got it.”

“We can just start afresh and use the existing matter to form a brand new you.”

“Please select race.”

All of a sudden, a list propagates in front of me, and it is long. But all of a sudden, the options start blinking out of existence till I’m left with three options.

1. Aetherians: A race of humans with dark, obsidian-like hair and pale, luminous skin. They are known for their mysterious presence and affinity with arcane magic, drawing power from the ethereal realms.

2. Dvergars: Stout and resilient humans with a natural affinity for crafting and engineering. They are known for their robust physique, deep knowledge of metals, and intricate underground cities.

3. Verdans: Humans with verdant green eyes and a connection to nature, adept at herbalism and communing with animals. They have a natural ability to manipulate plant life and harness earth magic.

The only ones left were all human.

“What happened to the rest?” She said

“Well, these are humans, and your genetic material is compatible with these options.”

“Okay, let’s think this through. Number 3 is just not me; nature involves the sun and insects and stuff. No thank you.”

“Now, 2—that sounds just like me, and my past life experience fits nicely there.”

“But come on, number one says magic. There’s no way I could turn away from that.”

“I choose Aetherians.”

Claire’s thoughts raced faster than the blinking options. She couldn’t help but find humor in the surreal situation. “Guess I’ll be trading in my morning coffee for arcane rituals and cryptic stares. Hope they come with a decent wardrobe upgrade too.”

There’s a sudden blinding light, and the list before disappears. In its place stands a vague human shape.

“Whoa, is that me? Am I separated from my body?”

“No, no, no. This is just a projected representation of what you may look like.”

“Just a projection? Great, now I’m a hologram. Can this get any weirder?”

“I’m receiving some details here from your genetic code. Grey eyes, is that right?”

“Ah, yes. Lucky guess.”

“Black hair is non-exchangeable, but it looks like that was close enough anyway.”

“Fantastic, stuck with the same hair. No room for creativity, I see.”

“Hmmm.”

“Your chosen race is generally a lot taller than you were. I see we have a little extra mass to work with here. Let’s see… Ah-ha, there we go. Enough to make you the shortest Aetherian on record.”

*Supermodel tall? Nah, more like tall enough to reach the top shelf, but not without effort. I’ll take it.*

My limbs are sleeker, more toned, but still curvy in all the right places. “Well, hello there,” I say, admiring the new me. “Apparently, interdimensional travel is the ultimate weight loss program. Someone should really market this.”

Then, the realization hit me. I was still completely naked.

“Dude, what the hell? Can you throw some clothes on her? Err, I mean, me. Not cool,” I say, my voice rising in pitch with indignation.

“I’m sorry, but any possible gear selection comes at the end, and I assure you I have no interest in matters of the flesh. But if it will make you feel better…” the wisp responds in a matter-of-fact tone.

Suddenly, the projected body before me was adorned by a towel-like garment, as if I had just stepped out of the shower.

“Happy?”

“Not particularly, but I’m not gonna push the point,” I replied, my tone tinged with resignation. *Fine, it’s better than nothing.*

“Okay, now that’s settled, let’s move on to your stats.”

“So, hmm…”

“Judging from what we can gather from your genetic material…”

**Claire’s Stats**

**Physical Stats:**

• Strength: 3

*Description*: Average physical strength, suitable for everyday tasks.

• Toughness: 4

*Description*: Below average resilience to physical harm, relies more on avoiding damage than enduring it.

• Reflexes: 7

*Description*: Above average reaction time and agility, quick to respond to threats or sudden changes.

• Coordination: 6

*Description*: Good hand-eye coordination, adept at precise movements and spellcasting.

• Perception: 5

*Description*: Moderate awareness of surroundings, notices details but not hyper-aware.

**Mental Stats:**

• Intelligence: 8

*Description*: High intellect, adept at problem-solving and understanding complex concepts.

• Wisdom: 5

*Description*: Moderate wisdom, makes sound judgments but can be impulsive at times.

• Charisma: 4

*Description*: Below average charisma, not particularly outgoing or persuasive.

• Willpower: 6

*Description*: Strong determination and mental resilience, helps resist mental effects and enhances magical focus.

• Focus: 7

*Description*: Able to concentrate deeply on tasks, maintains composure in stressful situations.

**Derived Attributes:**

• **Health (HP)**: 70

*Calculation*: HP = Toughness * 10 + Willpower * 5

*Description*: Represents Claire’s physical resilience and ability to withstand damage.

• **Mana (MP)**: 73

*Calculation*: Mana = Intelligence * 5 + Focus * 3 + Willpower * 2

*Description*: Reflects Claire’s magical energy reserves and ability to cast spells effectively.

• **Endurance**: 55

*Calculation*: Endurance = Toughness * 4 + Reflexes * 3 + Coordination * 3

*Description*: Measures Claire’s stamina and physical endurance.

“Wow, thanks for the reminder of my mediocrity,” I muttered, sarcasm dripping from my voice as I eyed the stats. “Glad to see my talent for sarcasm didn’t get lost in translation.”

Right before my eyes, I start seeing changes happening to the body. As I watch, I see the muscle tone go just a little flabby.

“Hey, what the hell?” I yell indignantly. “What’s happening?”

“Sorry, Claire, but the body is the physical representation of your stats,” the wisp says in a way too cheerful tone.

“Aww man, and I was really starting to like that new body,” I mutter, feeling a mix of disappointment and acceptance. “Meh, it looks a little more toned than my Earth body. God, that’s a weird thought. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“Next, we throw you into that new body there and make sure everything functions. Then we give you some gear and send you on your way.”

Suddenly, the wisp starts pulsing with light, and my perspective changes. I realize I’ve been moved to my new body and, as I notice this, I fall flat on my face. The impact sends a jolt of pain through me, reminding me of my new, less graceful form.

“Stupid wisp guy,” I grumble. “I swear he’s an arsehole on purpose.”

“Hey, you could have given me some sort of warning!” I snap, struggling to get up. My limbs feel awkward, like I’m trying to control a puppet.

“I thought I did. You did ask what was next,” the wisp responds with infuriating calmness.

As I gingerly get to my feet, I realize, of course, I’ve lost my towel. “Fuuucckkk.” I stand there, trying to cover myself with my hands, feeling more exposed than ever.

“Can we hurry up and get me some clothes already, please?” I throw on the end, just wanting this over and done with. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and all I can think about is getting some semblance of dignity back.

“Right, then, gear it is,” says the wisp in an unhelpfully cheerful manner. “Where would you like to start? We have weapons, shields, and—”

“Clothes!” I interrupt, my frustration boiling over. “I want clothes,” I grate out, not in the mood for a shopping list. *For the love of everything holy, I don’t need weapons while I’m standing here stark naked.*

“Right, you did mention that, didn’t you?”

Suddenly, I find myself in linen underwear. It’s a little scratchy and bulkier than I’m used to, but it’s surprisingly functional. Next came a simple deep blue shirt, with intricate laces running down the front. Over that, a studded leather jerkin that felt like it had seen some action, giving me a sense of ruggedness. Then, leather trousers that fit snugly but allowed freedom of movement, and sturdy boots that looked like they could weather any terrain. To finish it off—a hooded cloak. Now *this* felt like adventure gear.

“Not bad,” I mutter, admiring the outfit.

“Hey, wispy, any chance you have a full-length mirror hiding somewhere?”

The wisp starts to strobe with light, and my perspective shifts again. I feel myself pulled out of my body, like I’m floating above it. I can see myself, as if through a lens, and I take a moment to check out the new me from all angles.

*Okay, this is fricken weird.*

I strike a few poses, admiring the look, until I hear the wisp clear his throat—or at least, I assume he clears his throat. *Wait, does he even have a throat?*

“Are you quite done yet? I don’t have all day,” he says, his tone as dry as ever.

“Well, you don’t have a mouth, and that hasn’t stopped you from talking,” I mutter under my breath. With a final, dramatic swish of the cloak, I nod. “Okay, now I’m done. Let’s move on.”

“Okay, then, time to get some weapons and adventuring gear!” I say, trying to channel my inner Xena: Warrior Princess. *Finally, something practical.*

“So, let’s see what basic weapons your stats might complement,” the wisp says, his voice too casual, like we’re picking out groceries.

“Hmm, something agile, not too heavy, something you could maybe channel spells through,” he continues. “Well, when you eventually get spells, that is.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean by ‘when I eventually get spells’?” My voice climbs a few notches. Panic starts bubbling up. *I’m magical. I should have spells!*

The wisp doesn’t even sound surprised. “Why would you start with spells? You haven’t studied magic. Imagine if everyone was born with magic—babies would be turning their cradles into bonfires every time they cried. It’s probably for the best.”

I feel my stomach knot. *Great. I’m a magic-based race that can’t even do magic.* “So, you’re telling me I’m basically defenseless? Just waiting for some giant slug monster to eat me alive?”

“Must you be so dramatic?” The wisp’s tone is bored, but there’s an edge of amusement. “Yes, you might die. No need to rub it in.” He floats a little higher, as if trying to rise above my whining. “Now, shall we move on to weapons?”

“Well, thanks for the pep talk, you overgrown glow stick,” I mutter.

“Onward,” the wisp declares. “Something with reach should do, given your stats. How about a bow? Ever tried archery?”

“Hard pass. Learning archery while something’s charging at me? No, thanks.”

“Fair enough. Do you have any useful skills? Weapons training? Combat experience?”

I raise an eyebrow. “I ran machines and read books.”

The wisp pauses. “So… nothing helpful. You could’ve just said no.” It hums thoughtfully. “You lack the strength for blunt weapons. Staves… no, too technical. A spear? No, you’d lose it after one poke. What about a glaive? Too heavy.” He seems to brighten. “Ah, yes! A naginata. It’s light, elegant, and doesn’t rely on brute force. You can bludgeon with the staff, or slash and pierce with the blade. And the blade detaches for closer combat.”

I hesitate. “Okay, but… won’t I need training for that too?” I eye the naginata warily. “What’s the point of having a cool weapon if I end up fumbling it the first time I use it?”

The wisp doesn’t seem bothered. “Sure, training would help, but you’ll learn. You seem adaptable.” A pause. “Eventually.”

I sigh. “What other choice do I have?”

“Alright, fine. Let’s just hope I don’t accidentally slice my own leg off.”

“Here’s your basic gear,” the wisp announces, bringing forth a set of items that materialize before me.

I glance down at the gear, picking up the naginata. It feels surprisingly balanced, almost like it was part of me. “What about money? Or am I broke on top of everything else?”

The wisp waves a pouch into existence. “Ten silver coins. Not much, but it’ll get you started.”

I take the pouch, feeling the cool metal inside. “Okay, not exactly rolling in riches, but it’s better than nothing. Well, it’s something, I guess.” I hesitate again, glancing at the wisp. “Anything else?”

The wisp gives a knowing nod. “Ah, yes. Something special.” With a flash, he produces a small ring. “This is the *Ring of Adaptability*. It will help you learn and adapt more quickly. Think of it as a way to master new skills faster than most.”

I take the ring, inspecting the intricate design. The small gem embedded in it shifts colors slightly, almost as if it’s alive. “That’s actually… pretty neat.”

“Use it wisely,” the wisp says with a nod. “This journey will be dangerous.”

I slip the ring onto my finger, feeling a strange sense of resolve wash over me. “Alright, let’s do this.”

**Starter Gear**

**Weapons:**

• **Naginata**

*Description*: A versatile weapon with reach, ideal for keeping threats at a distance. The detachable blade ensures you’re prepared for both long-range and close combat, assuming you don’t accidentally stab yourself in the process.

**Armor:**

• **Linen Underwear**

*Description*: Scratchy, basic undergarments. Provides minimal comfort and even less protection. Recommended upgrade: any other piece of clothing.

• **Deep Blue Shirt**

*Description*: A simple garment with intricate laces. Offers no real protection, but at least it’ll make you look composed, if not slightly more presentable than you feel.

• **Studded Leather Jerkin**

*Description*: Sturdy and reliable, though probably seen better days. It’ll protect you from light hits, though don’t expect miracles. Still, better than wearing just the shirt.

• **Leather Trousers**

*Description*: Snug and flexible. Designed for movement, but comfort is more of an afterthought. On the plus side, they won’t slow you down when running away from something terrifying.

• **Sturdy Boots**

*Description*: Ideal for adventuring. They won’t win any comfort awards, but they’ll keep your feet intact when the terrain isn’t forgiving.

• **Hooded Cloak**

*Description*: A cloak designed to keep you warm, dry, and mysterious. It’s great for looking dramatic when the situation calls for it.

**Money:**

• **10 Silver Coins**

*Description*: Enough to buy a meal, maybe some supplies, or bribe someone in a pinch. Spend wisely; you won’t be swimming in wealth any time soon.

**Special Item:**

• **Ring of Adaptability**

*Description*: An intricately designed ring with a shifting gem that subtly reacts to its wearer’s emotions. Increases the wearer’s ability to learn and adapt quickly, making skill acquisition feel a little less painful than it otherwise might be.

“Well, Claire, that’s it. We’ve reached the limits of what I’m allowed to do. The rest is up to you. Have fun, and try not to die too quickly,” the wisp says, dismissively waving a glowing tendril.

“Wait, wait! I have so many questions! Will I be able to communicate with people? Do I have an inventory? Is there a looting ability? What do I do? Where do I go? I need help, please!”

The wisp starts floating away, sounding almost amused. “Bye, Claire, and good luck. You’ll figure it out. For what it’s worth, I would help, but answering all those questions? Super boring.”

“Arrrggghh, you annoying, freakin’ night light! Get back here! I can’t do this on my own!” I shout, my voice rising in anger and frustration.

As the wisp drifts further away, I feel a sudden, weird tugging sensation behind my navel, like someone hooked me with an invisible fishing line. Before I can process it, there’s a violent yank, and I feel like I’m being pulled into a bottomless pit. The world spins, colors blur, and everything goes dark.

The last thing I hear is the echo of my own voice, filled with both fear and determination: “I can do this… I have to.”