At the deepest point of the vast, ominous complex known as the Great Tomb of Nazarick stood the Throne Room—a symbol of absolute power.
The air here felt as if it had been frozen for a thousand years, carrying a mingled scent of ancient stone, chill metal, and a faint dusting of magic. The soaring vault vanished into shadow.
Only a few threads of ghostly green or corpse-pale light leaked from wall-set windows carved with eerie reliefs or from crystals that hovered in the air, barely lighting the expanse below.
Totems and sigils unknown to any living civilization crawled across the walls, silently proclaiming the ambition and might of their creators.
The floor was paved with a strange stone polished to a mirror-black sheen, cleanly reflecting the twisted, grotesque—yet strangely beautiful—silhouettes of the sculptures above.
Footsteps upon it swelled and rang, an ethereal echo that set the heart on edge.
At the absolute center rose a colossal throne, forged from interlaced black metal and pale bone. It was cold and unyielding, all hard, sharp lines that pressed on the senses; its mere presence seemed to drink in every scrap of light and warmth around it. The throne was empty, and even so it radiated a majesty one dared not meet head-on.
In its shadow a woman stood in quiet attendance.
Her beauty was enough to rob living beings of breath. Lustrous black hair, like the finest silk, was smoothed back to reveal a flawless brow and a face so stunning it verged on the otherworldly.
Her eyes were a pure amethyst violet—yet hollow at the depths, unfocused, like the eyes of a perfect doll. Beautiful, but soulless.
Her figure was extravagantly voluptuous, sheathed in an intricate black armor that balanced elegance with exposure, tracing out dangerous curves.
A pair of black-feathered wings folded behind her, adding a wicked, perilous allure.
She was Albedo, an NPC personally created by Tabula Smaragdina, one of the Supreme Beings—given the settings of a succubus and appointed Overseer of the Guardians of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.
This was only a game world.
For countless days and nights she had kept this perfection, this absolute standard, standing loyally by the vacant throne exactly as she was programmed to do. No questions. No self. No sense of truly being alive.
And then, in a single instant—an infinitesimal flicker in Nazarick's otherwise unchanging flow of time—something beyond this world's rules slipped in, like a pebble dropped into a still lake: an unobservable, inexplicable variable.
Deep in Albedo's empty violet eyes, it was as if some ancient, slumbering circuit suddenly came alive. A spark of motion—of depth—of a light that belonged to life itself, flared to life. They were no longer crystals merely reflecting external light, but a glow welling up from within: the light of consciousness.
There was a newborn confusion in that light, yes—but more than that, a mind rapidly unfolding, and a faint, elusive ripple of feeling that was hers and hers alone. Curiosity. Inquiry. Perhaps even the subtlest hint of… defiance?
Her body—the perfect shell that had until now held its pose only by strict design—trembled, so faintly it could hardly be seen. It was not a programmed motion, but an unconscious adjustment from within.
Her stance remained elegant, yet it had shed the statue-stiff rigidity, replacing it with a slight ease, a natural poise—the alert readiness of something living.
"…"
She tilted her head, just a little. Her gaze no longer stared blankly into the void ahead, but took stock of the unmoving hall around her.
The corners of those sculpted lips lifted by a fraction, wholly outside any preset routine. It was not a standard smile. It was the curve of someone who has just found something interesting.
Then—a cold, mechanical chime that did not belong to this world sounded directly within the fragile, newborn core of her awareness, each syllable razor-clear:
[Ding! A qualified individual with an anomalous change at the level of consciousness has been detected. Invitation to join the "Trading Chat Group." Accept?]
The voice held no emotion, yet it was a key that opened a door onto endless possibility.
"?"
Surprise flickered in Albedo's eyes and vanished almost too quickly to catch, replaced at once by a deeper, fiercer curiosity—excitement like a beast long caged catching sight of a way out, and the keen delight of a new toy discovered.
Trading Chat Group?
For someone newly awakened, the words themselves were a tantalizing unknown.
She did not hesitate. If anything, she answered with impatient clarity, by thought alone—[Yes].
[Ding! Albedo, welcome to the Trading Chat Group!]
As the prompt faded, a sleek, translucent interface unfolded within her mind. Like a consummate observer she began to scan and parse the streaming data at speed: unfamiliar names, symbols that meant nothing at first glance, and a motley of trivia from entirely different worlds.
Almost the instant she arrived, another ID—"Aqua"—burst into the feed with noisy enthusiasm that clashed hilariously with Albedo's silence.
Aqua: "Hey, hey, hey! What is this place?"
Aqua: "Which idiot dared to disturb this goddess's nap with some weird trick?!"
Aqua: "Get out here and explain yourselves to this goddess! (bangs table angrily.jpg)"