The ethereal voice, devoid of human inflection yet undeniably present, resonated within Anya's mind, a stark contrast to the mundane sounds of the Volkov household. "Ascension System activated. Welcome, Host. Commencing initial calibration."
Seraphina, now Anya, blinked. A system? Her vast knowledge of cultivation, accumulated over centuries, contained no such concept. Was this some advanced magical artifact, or perhaps a unique spiritual manifestation of this new world? Curiosity, a trait she had always possessed in abundance, momentarily overshadowed her despair.
"Calibration complete. Host: Anya Volkov. Status: Weak. Potential: Unlimited. Current Objective: Survive the Night."
Survive the night? Anya scoffed internally. As if a mere night posed a threat to the Empress of Aethel, even in this pathetic body. But then, a flicker of memory, Anya's own, surfaced. The cold, empty room. The gnawing hunger. The subtle threats from her stepmother and stepsisters. The constant fear of being cast out. This 'Anya' had indeed been in a perpetual state of survival.
"Quest: Survive the Night. Reward: Basic Cultivation Technique, 10 System Points. Failure: Death."
Death. The word sent a shiver down her spine, not of fear for herself, but of indignation. To die again, in such a pathetic state, before she could even begin her retribution? Unacceptable. She would not allow it.
A translucent panel shimmered into existence before her inner eye, visible only to her. It displayed a series of options: 'Status,' 'Inventory,' 'Skills,' 'Quests,' 'Shop.' Her gaze immediately went to 'Quests.'
"Survive the Night," she murmured, her voice raspy, a stranger's voice. "What does that even mean?"
"Objective: Avoid fatal harm until dawn. Current time: 22:00. Dawn: 06:00."
It was simple, yet vague. Fatal harm could come in many forms. A sudden illness, a deliberate attack, or even starvation. Anya's stomach rumbled, a pathetic reminder of her current weakness. She hadn't eaten properly in days, a fact that Anya Volkov had grown accustomed to, but Seraphina found utterly intolerable.
She tried to sit up again, this time with more determination. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she pushed through the weakness, a faint tremor running through her limbs. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cold, polished floor. The room was sparsely furnished, a single, flickering glow-lamp providing meager illumination. It was a prison, not a bedroom.
Her eyes, now accustomed to the dim light, scanned the room. A small, rickety table, a single chair, and a wardrobe that likely contained nothing but threadbare clothes. No food. No water. This was indeed a challenge. Survival, for Anya Volkov, was a daily struggle against neglect.
Suddenly, a faint scratching sound came from the window. Anya's senses, honed by centuries of combat, immediately sharpened. It wasn't a rodent. It was too deliberate, too rhythmic. Someone was outside.
Her heart, or rather Anya's heart, began to pound with a familiar fear. Her stepmother, Lady Volkov, often sent her personal maid, Elara, to torment Anya in the dead of night, denying her food or forcing her to perform humiliating tasks. Elara was a cruel woman, her eyes always gleaming with malicious pleasure.
Anya moved silently, her movements still clumsy but imbued with a newfound caution. She pressed her ear against the cold glass. Faint whispers. Two voices. Elara's, and another, deeper, male voice. This was unusual. Elara rarely brought company.
She peered through a crack in the curtains, her breath catching in her throat. Elara stood outside, her face contorted in a sneer, speaking to a burly guard. In his hand, he held a small, dark vial. Her eyes widened. Poison. They were going to poison her.
"Threat detected. Hostile intent: High. Recommended action: Evasion or Counter-attack."
The System's voice was calm, almost detached, but its words confirmed her worst fears. This wasn't just about surviving neglect. This was about surviving murder. A cold fury, familiar and comforting, began to simmer within Seraphina's core. They thought her weak. They thought her an easy target. They were about to learn the true meaning of fear.
[End of Chapter 2]