In the dead of night, a young woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the heavy, stifling darkness that filled the room. As she drew in a few steadying breaths, her senses sharpened, and she began to take in her surroundings. Though the gloom obscured much of the detail, the faint outlines of vish decor hinted at the room's undeniable opulence.
Rising cautiously, the girl approached an ornate drawer, her hands steady as she opened it and selected clothes to wear. Once dressed, she checked her reflection in the mirror. The figure that gazed back was striking—a nineteen-year-old with dark purple hair cascading around her shoulders and eyes to match. She had traded her nightgown for more practical attire—simpler, yet better suited to her purpose.
With deliberate care, she lit a translucent crystal that emitted a faint, yellow glow. From beneath her bed, she retrieved a box and opened it, pulling out a notebook filled with meticulous instructions. She began to follow them, setting up what resembled an altar at the room's center.
The sight that took shape was chilling—an altar adorned with offerings, including dismembered animal parts and a pool of fresh blood.
As she followed each step, the girl handled each item with trembling hands, her stomach churning in disgust. The task felt utterly foreign to her—an unsettling departure from the sheltered, refined life she had known in her noble family.
With each new organ she touched, her sense of disgust deepened. Her hands trembled as she carefully pced each piece in the arrangement outlined by the notebook. The repugnant nature of the task was almost overwhelming, but she forced herself to continue, determined not to let her nausea overcome her.
After carefully arranging the altar, the girl began to trace intricate symbols around the offerings with the pool of fresh blood. The symbols, strange and incomprehensible to her, were exact replicas of those in her notebook.
Each pattern was essential to the ritual she was about to perform.
Her movements were precise, though shaky, and with every stroke of her bloodied hand, a sense of unease deepened within her.
With the preparation complete, she took a moment to survey her work, then gnced down at her trembling hands. A powerful wave of nausea struck her, and she fought the urge to vomit. She managed to hold it in, swallowing back the rising bile, determined not to taint the painstaking setup she had created. Despite her efforts, her hands shook uncontrolbly, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. She struggled to stifle her sobs, her body wracked with silent cries of distress.
"I-I don’t want this. I’m scared. It’s so disgusting. I can’t do it. I just can’t... Cal, I can't..."
Her tears flowed freely, her cries of frustration echoing in the darkened room. But after a few minutes, she took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. Resolutely, she began to speak again, her voice steadier now, tinged with a fierce determination.
"This is my only way—my only chance. They’ll all see me, recognize that I’m more. Cal... he’ll see it too. I can’t always be a burden to him."
With renewed resolve, she turned her gaze back to the altar.
"I am Sophia Kovalevska, the sole daughter of the Kovalevska Household. This is nothing."
With her resolve hardened and her fears set aside, Sophia prepared to proceed with the ritual.
***
Sophia began to chant in a strange, incomprehensible nguage, each word an alien echo in the silence of the room. The chant consisted of three phrases, and as she completed the first, an unsettling quiet descended.
It was a profound silence, unlike any she had ever experienced—absolute and suffocating, as though the world itself had been sealed off.
Despite her mounting fear, she knew she had no choice but to proceed. As she recited the second chant, the room was engulfed in an unnatural darkness.
It was a darkness so absolute it defied her understanding.
Swallowing hard, she braced herself and began the final chant. As the st words left her lips, the darkness receded, and the room appeared to return to its previous state. A fleeting sense of relief washed over her, but it was short-lived.
A strange sensation swept over her, like a wave of pressure pressing against her mind. It was as though a presence was communicating directly with her thoughts, bypassing both sound and nguage.
The communication was silent, a rush of incantations that seemed to seep into her very being. She couldn’t make sense of the words, but the presence's anger and intent were undeniable. It disapproved of her actions, and its displeasure radiated through her, unmistakable and intense.
Fear surged through Sophia, a raw, primal terror unlike anything she had ever experienced. Her mind raced, spiraling in confusion, unable to grasp a single coherent thought—let alone complete the ritual’s final steps, where she was meant to forge a binding contract with whatever she had just summoned.
The crushing dread immobilized her, and as the sense of impending danger reached its zenith, something inside her seemed to break.
Unable to withstand the fear and the presence’s ire, Sophia's consciousness slipped away. In her unconscious state, she soiled herself, an involuntary reaction to the extreme terror and distress.
***
After being summoned into this world, I could immediately sense that something was fundamentally different. Crystals that emitted yellow light, an extravagantly decorated room—all around me, it screamed medieval fantasy.
Am I jumping to conclusions too fast?
No, this kind of trope wasn’t foreign to me. I’d read about these scenarios long ago, in stories where characters were transported to another world.
I gnced at the altar, noticing the empty spaces where offerings should be, and the girl colpsed in front of it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this altar and the girl were at the heart of my summoning.
Though a simmering anger churned within me, I kept my composure. I had spent a lifetime, well into old age, reguting my emotions with precision. Managing my feelings had become second nature—effortless, like breathing.
Even now, as the remnants of my frustration simmered beneath the surface, I couldn’t afford to act on it. Every step I was about to take was in unknown territory.
***
There were a few possibilities.
The person who summoned me could be powerful, and I might have been brought here to serve them—or worse, ensved. On the other hand, they could be weak, summoning me out of desperation, hoping I’d aid them in some way.
I needed to be cautious.
My first impression could be critical, especially since I had no knowledge of the rules of this world, the hierarchy, or what was expected of me. One wrong move, and I could either find myself shackled or in a position of power. I couldn’t afford to misstep, not now, when everything was uncertain.
However, the response I got from the person who summoned me was... unexpected.
Despite the fact that I had shown anger, hoping to gauge her reaction, it seemed like I had overestimated her resilience. She was lying on the floor, unconscious, and there was a distinct wetness beneath her.
'Did I scare her too much?'
No, it couldn’t be that simple. If she had the power to summon me, then she had to possess some level of strength—at least enough to summon and perhaps, bind an otherworldly creature.
Still, the scene was amusing.
She had clearly lost consciousness after completing the summoning, and as for the wet floor... let’s just assume it was a side effect of the ritual. Regardless, I didn’t know this girl, nor did I understand the world I had been pulled into. With so little information, caution was my only option.
Then, out of nowhere, a translucent window appeared before me.
'Was this what I thought it was? A status window, like in those mainstream RPGs?'
I gnced at it, and sure enough, it dispyed details about the girl in front of me:
---
Sophia Kovalevska
Level: 3/5 Mana Capacity: 4/23 Occupation: The only daughter of the Kovalevska Family (Maurya Empire)
Strength: 3 Intelligence: 1 Agility: 3 Dexterity: 13 Vitality: 2
Skills: None
---
Her stats were shockingly low, even by basic RPG Game standards. Aside from her strength, agility, and vitality, her dexterity was barely average, and her intelligence was nearly nonexistent. Honestly, her stats were lower than what I would expect from a goblin of the MMORPG I used to py. But then, how had she managed to perform a summoning of this magnitude?
'Something didn’t add up.'
Before I could ponder it further, a sudden curiosity struck me. Almost as if responding to my thoughts, another status window appeared—this time, it was my own.
---
?
Level: 1 Mana Capacity: 10 Occupation: Beast
Strength: 1 Intelligence: 1 Agility: 1 Dexterity: 1 Vitality: 1
Skills: Transmogrify Essence, Veil of the Abyss, Essence Devour
---
'I was weaker?'
The sense of disappointment hit me like a punch to the gut. I had expected to be summoned as something powerful, but instead, I was just as weak as her—or even weaker?
'But now it made sense.'
If this girl, Sophie, was that weak, I could assume she was only capable of summoning something at or below her own level. My summoning was clearly limited by her abilities.
Still, I had these skills: Transmogrify Essence, Veil of the Abyss, and Essence Devour—each one sounding more intriguing than the st.
'Maybe there was more to this situation than I’d realized.'
As if reading my thoughts, the status window expanded, revealing more about my skills in surprising detail.
---
Transmogrify Essence Type: Transformation Css: High-tier Attribute: Cosmos Effect: Allows the user to alter their form according to their will and mastery of the skill.
---
Veil of the Abyss Type: Aura Css: High-tier Attribute: Abyss Effect: Envelops the user in an aura of the abyss.
---
Essence Devour Type: Absorption Css: Camity-tier Attribute: Abyss Effect: The user consumes the essence of the target.
---
I stared at the window, trying to process the information. While 'Transmogrify Essence' and 'Veil of the Abyss' were intriguing, the differences in attributes raised some questions.
But 'Essence Devour'?
The Camity-tier css stood out like a gring warning.
It's good to know that I’m not entirely powerless in this world. I could experiment ter with these skills, figure out how they work, and what limits they have. For now, though, I needed more information—anything to help me understand where I was.
I started pacing around the room, examining the extravagant surroundings, trying to find some clue as to where I might be. But as I approached a rge mirror on the wall, something caught my attention—my reflection.
It was bizarre.
My form was hazy, difficult to define—like I was present, yet not fully real. That’s when I remembered the skill 'Transmogrify Essence'. This might be the perfect opportunity to experiment with it.
Perhaps it could give me a more solid, defined shape.
Unsure how to activate the skill, I simply focused on its name. Then, a surge of heat wrapped around me, reshaping my form. Slowly, the reflection in the mirror solidified, revealing a man staring back at me—myself, or at least a version of me. The body looked familiar, yet… better. My hair and eyes were obsidian bck, deeper than I remembered, almost void-like. My face, though still mine, was unnervingly handsome—I'd never looked this good, not even on my best day. My body had changed too, lean muscles repcing the softer, less defined shape I was used to.
It felt as though I’d become the idealized version of myself, a version shaped by someone who knew exactly what "perfect" looked like.
I stared for a moment, conflicted.
'Is this how I would’ve looked if I had taken better care of myself?'
It felt strange, standing in front of the mirror, gazing at a reflection that looked like me but also… didn’t.
Then an idea struck me, almost as if the skill was whispering its potential into my mind. I let the form shift again, and as I watched, my reflection began to change. My face softened, my features grew more delicate, and before I knew it, I was looking at a woman—a version of myself that resembled my mother, but far more beautiful. My hair was longer, cascading down my back, and my body had taken on an hourgss shape, complete with modest but perfectly proportioned curves.
The resembnce was uncanny. I couldn’t help but smile.
'This was… amusing, to say the least.'
A skill that could reshape me at will—there were endless possibilities to explore.
Still in my female form, I noticed a slight shift in my mana. It had decreased to six.
'So, each transformation costs two mana.'
I’d have to conserve it for future use; wasting it now would be reckless.
As I continued to explore the room, something else caught my eye—a crystal that emitted a soft glow. It had an otherworldly quality that fascinated me. When I touched it, an instinctive understanding hit me. I could use 'Essence Devour' on this crystal, but I hesitated. The word "camity" in the skill's description wasn’t something to take lightly.
'Better not to use it carelessly.'
Turning my attention away from the crystal, I found a notebook lying on the floor—the one the girl had been holding before she passed out. It appeared to be a manual of something, most likely the source of whatever ritual had brought me here. I flipped through it, but none of the characters made any sense. The nguage was completely foreign, a frustrating realization. In this world, there seemed to be a nguage barrier for outsiders like me.
'This complicated things.'
Without understanding the local nguage, I couldn’t gather information, read their texts, or communicate effectively. Many of the pns I had considered would be useless without nguage—negotiation, manipution, or even basic survival depended on being able to communicate. I felt a growing sense of frustration.
'I am stuck.'
Suddenly, as if to ease my frustration, a notification appeared before me, hovering in the air like a translucent screen.
---
Do you accept Sophia Kovalevska as your master?
---
The word "master" made my eye twitch.
I couldn’t help but frown at the idea. I have always valued equality in partnerships and fair exchanges. The notion of submitting to someone as my master left a bitter taste in my mouth.
After weighing my options for some time, I realized I didn't have many. Given my low stats and the nguage barrier, rushing into the unknown recklessly could easily lead to being scammed—or worse, killed.
In fact, being summoned into this opulent room had spared me from immediate danger. I could have materialized in a deadly forest, or worse, a dungeon, forced to fight for survival with every step.
More than anything, I despised unnecessary struggle. Now wasn’t the time to make impulsive decisions driven by emotion. The truth was clear—there was no other path forward, at least not yet.
With a grim sense of resolve, I made my choice.
"I accept Sophia Kovalevska as my master."
