The air was thick with the scent of blood and decay. The ground beneath them was slick, sticky, and warm, a grim reminder of the massacre that had taken place only moments ago. Lyra sat on the mound of corpses, her fingers idly tracing the dried blood splattered across her worn tunic. The battlefield was eerily silent now, save for the occasional groan of the dying and the distant murmurs of survivors processing the horrors they had just endured.
She exhaled sharply and opened the ranking board, eyes already drifting toward the bottom. I only killed six people. She wasn't expecting much.
Rank 24,978 – Lyra – 80 Points
Lyra huffed, neither surprised nor disappointed. At least she wasn't last.
"What rank are you?"
The voice startled her. She had completely forgotten about the girl she had saved. Slowly, she turned, her violet eyes meeting the noble girl's mint-blue ones.
Without hesitation, Lyra grabbed her knife and pressed the dull edge against the girl's throat. "I told you not to talk unless you wanted me to slit your throat," she said coldly.
The noble girl stiffened, her expression briefly flashing with fear before she let out a sigh. "You're really scary, you know that?"
Lyra studied her for a moment before sighing as well, pulling the knife away. "Tch. I forgot you were here," she muttered, slipping the weapon back into her belt.
The noble girl exhaled in relief. "Well, I'm still alive, so I guess you're not as cruel as you pretend to be."
Lyra ignored that comment. "What's your name, noble girl?" She injected the title with just enough irritation to make it clear she didn't care much for the upper class.
The girl smiled, amused. "Liora Maeve Nyla Odette d'Avrelle."
Lyra blinked, then snorted. "Wow, what a short name."
Maeve laughed, a bright sound that felt completely out of place among the corpses. "If that's too hard for you to say, just call me Maeve."
Lyra shrugged. "Fine, Maeve."
Maeve tilted her head slightly. "So, tell me, Lyra. Why did you save me? You didn't have to."
Lyra hesitated. Why had she?
She glanced at Maeve's face again, something unreadable flickering in her purple eyes. "Your face," she said finally. "It reminded me of one of my sisters… and the way you looked, I don't know, I just had to save you."
Maeve's expression softened. "Well then, thank you, friend."
Lyra froze. Friend?
She had never had one before.
"…Friend?" she echoed, confused.
Maeve smiled. "If you don't want to be my friend, you can just say so."
Lyra frowned. "No, that's not it. It's just—" She gestured vaguely. "I'm a commoner. You're a noble. It's weird."
Maeve chuckled. "Look around, Lyra. Do you really think any of that matters here?"
Lyra glanced at their surroundings—the bodies, the blood-soaked ground, the broken weapons scattered across the field. She has a point.
But before she could respond, Maeve changed the subject. "So, what's your rank?"
Lyra sighed. "It's low. Rank 24,978, 80 points."
Maeve's eyes widened. "Wow, that's low."
Lyra shot her a glare. "Wow, thanks."
Maeve winced. "I didn't mean it like that! I wasn't trying to be rude."
"Uh-huh. Sure." Lyra crossed her arms. "Alright, hotshot, what's your rank?"
Maeve grinned. "Rank 999. 30,000 points."
Lyra's jaw almost dropped. "What? And I saved you? You could've probably killed everyone here yourself."
Maeve waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no! I swear, if you hadn't saved me, I would have died! I owe you my life!"
Lyra studied her, then suddenly burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. "Pfft—You really don't have a poker face, huh?"
Maeve pouted. "Hey! I was being serious!"
Lyra smirked. "And I was joking."
Maeve shook her head, then smiled. "You know, you have a really cute laugh."
Lyra blinked, her face immediately heating up. Cute? No one had ever called her that before. "…Flattery ain't gonna get you anything."
Maeve laughed. "Even your blush is cute."
Before Lyra could retort, the voice returned, booming across the battlefield.
"We will now proceed to the next phase of testing."
A wave of tension rolled through the remaining participants. Some flinched, expecting another bloodbath, but the voice chuckled darkly.
"Don't worry. This part does not require fighting… Or does it?"
A few people laughed nervously. Others clenched their weapons tighter.
"Now, you will shed your mortal skin and receive your unique Blessing."
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Lyra frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"
Maeve shrugged. "Beats me."
Suddenly, the ranking board flickered and shifted. In its place stood a massive door.
It was enormous, towering over them like a gateway to something far beyond human comprehension. Its dark brown surface was wrapped in golden vines, delicate flowers blooming along them—bright red, soft white, deep purple… and pitch-black ones that seemed to swallow the light around them.
The voice spoke again, its tone dripping with mischief. "The selection will proceed in rank order. Highest to lowest."
The top five names were called.
One by one, the highest-ranked players stepped forward, passing through the door. The moment they disappeared, the door pulsed with a strange glow before settling again.
Maeve leaned closer to Lyra. "Looks like we'll be waiting for a while."
Lyra sighed. "Yeah."
Maeve smirked. "Hey, at least it gives us more time to talk."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Oh, joy."
Maeve nudged her playfully. "Come on, aren't you even a little excited?"
Lyra's expression turned serious. "I don't know if 'excited' is the right word."
Maeve studied her. "…Are you scared?"
Lyra hesitated, then nodded slightly.
Maeve smiled. "Me too."
Lyra glanced at her. "…You don't look scared."
Maeve chuckled. "I don't act scared. Big difference." She then turned, her mint-blue eyes glowing with determination. "But I was chosen for a reason. And I'm going to prove myself."
Lyra clenched her fists. I have to do this. For my mom.
Maeve grinned. "Let's make a promise."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "A promise?"
Maeve nodded. "We'll survive. We'll get stronger. And one day, we'll fight—not as enemies, but as friends."
Lyra stared at her, then slowly smiled. "…I promise."
The process continued, and soon, Maeve's number was called.
Maeve stood, dusting herself off. She turned to Lyra, flashing a confident grin. "Don't die out there, alright? We'll meet again, friend."
Lyra smirked. "You better not die either." She raised a hand. "See ya, friend."
Maeve gave a final wave before stepping through the door.
And just like that, she was gone.
Lyra exhaled. Now it's just me.
Time passed. More and more people disappeared through the door.
Then—
"Rank 24,978, Lyra."
Lyra's heart pounded. She stood, legs unsteady, and walked toward the door.
This was it.
Her first step toward godhood.
What lay ahead would be more than she ever asked for. A journey of suffering, power, and blood.
And she would either rise—
—Or be swallowed whole.