"You asked for a second chance… Queen. Welcome back."
The voice echoed like wind inside her head, soft and distant, but it hit Eleanor like a slap.
She blinked at the river's surface again.
"What in the Moon's hairy behind is this?!" she snapped, splashing the water.
The face looking back at her wasn't hers. Not even close.
Eleanor had once been a vision—golden hair that shone like firelight, cheekbones sculpted by the gods, a stare that made Alpha warriors tremble.
But this?
This girl in the river had muddy brown hair, pale green eyes like moss, and a scared little face. She looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Or smiled in years.
"You've got to be kidding me," Eleanor muttered. "Is this a joke?"
No answer.
"Oh, I see how it is," she shouted at the moon. "You hate me! Admit it, Moon Goddess! I was loyal! I built temples in your name! And now you shove me into this—this noodle-bodied peasant like I'm leftover stew?!"
She splashed water in frustration.
"I want my real body back! Or at least something hotter! You can't do me like this! I was a legend! A queen! And now I've got twig arms and a crooked tooth?! Are you drunk up there?!"
Silence.
"Fine. I'll drown myself. Let's see if that sends me somewhere better."
She leaned forward, half ready to sink her head under, when—
"Bad idea," the voice said again, calm and smooth. "This is your only chance."
She froze. "Who's talking? Show yourself, coward!"
"I am MoonCore. A gift from the Moon Goddess. A system. Very rare. Very powerful."
She narrowed her eyes. "A system? What the hell is that?"
"I am your guide. Your tool. Your power. But I'm not fully active yet. You must awaken me."
Eleanor groaned. "Of course I must. Nothing ever comes easy."
She pushed herself out of the water, dripping and furious. Her thin dress clung to her, bloody and muddy. "Alright then, mysterious voice. How do I activate you?"
"You must find a sword."
She snorted. "A sword? If I was in Auralis, I had a whole damn vault of them. Swords from every Alpha I ever beat! I even had one made from dragonbone!"
"I cannot assist until I'm fully awakened."
"Of course you can't," she growled. "Figures. Moon Goddess sends me here with a smart-mouth system and no weapons. She really wants me to suffer."
A sound broke the quiet. Footsteps. Fast. Rustling leaves.
Then a voice.
"Daria!"
Eleanor turned, squinting. A girl ran toward her, breathless, her eyes wide with worry.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere!"
Before Eleanor could react, the girl pulled her into a hug.
"Oh, you're soaked! And bleeding—what happened to you?!"
Eleanor blinked. "Uh… I don't remember?"
The girl pulled back, shocked. "You don't remember?! Daria, everyone's been panicking! We have to get back before the ceremony starts!"
"What ceremony?"
"Your sister's engagement!"
The girl grabbed Eleanor—no, Daria's—hand and pulled her toward the trees. The forest gave way to a small village, huts made of stone and wood, people hanging glowing lanterns, tying ribbons to doors.
Eleanor noticed the stares first. Whispers followed.
Her bloody dress stood out like a wound. Some villagers looked worried. Others… disgusted.
A tall, beautiful girl approached them, hair silver-blonde, lips tight with annoyance.
"Where have you two been?" the girl snapped.
"We—uh, I found her by the river," the first girl said. "She was confused."
The silver-haired one looked at Eleanor with a careful smile. "Go get changed, Daria. I won't have my sister looking like a ghost at my engagement."
They walked past her. Eleanor leaned in. "Who was that?"
"That," the girl whispered, "was your evil mate-snatching stepsister. Elyndra."
Eleanor choked. "Seriously?"
"Dead serious," the girl grinned. "Don't tell me you forgot her too."
Eleanor just blinked. "...Who are you?"
The girl stopped, then laughed. "You're serious?! I'm Brina. Your best friend. And technically your slave. Though I prefer 'assistant with attitude.'"
Inside the small hut, Eleanor scrubbed herself in a wooden tub, scowling. "This is how you bathe? Where's the gold tub? The rose petals? The warm handmaidens with oils?"
Brina snorted. "What kind of life do you think you live?"
Eleanor sighed. "The one I want back."
After cleaning up, they stepped outside. Eleanor scanned the village, eyes searching.
She needed a sword.
But none of these people looked like warriors.
Then she saw him—an old man sitting near a fire, carving wooden sticks.
Not sticks. Swords.
She rushed over. "What are these for?"
The man smiled, toothless and gentle. "Props for the play. Part of the ceremony."
Her eyes lit up. "Can I have one?"
He shook his head. "Only if you join the play."
Eleanor groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."
Minutes later, the ceremony began. Elyndra stood beside a tall, handsome Alpha dressed in deep blue armor. The villagers clapped, ancient music played, and dancers twirled in the square.
But where was Daria?
Backstage, Eleanor stood in a rough witch's costume, holding a wooden stick and muttering curses under her breath.
"This is beneath me. I am a queen. A conqueror. Not a clown!"
"Places!" someone whispered.
The play began. The crowd watched as villagers pretended to be wolves and nobles. Then came the funny witch scene.
Eleanor stepped out.
And something happened.
She wasn't Daria anymore. She wasn't Eleanor either. She was the witch—and she was funny. Her voice boomed. She limped and cursed fake spells. She pointed at villagers and shouted things like, "You! Yes, you! You look like a burnt squirrel!"
The crowd roared with laughter.
Everyone but Elyndra.
Even the Alpha chuckled.
….
After the play, Eleanor quickly slipped away while the crowd cheered. Her fake witch's cloak dragged behind her as she darted through the back of the stage toward the fire pit.
The old man was sitting alone again, whittling another piece of wood.
"I kept my end of the deal," she said, panting. "Now hand it over."
He raised a brow, then chuckled and handed her one of the wooden swords. "You're a strange one. Take it."
Eleanor's fingers curled around the wooden sword.
A pulse. A hum. A heat that slid into her skin like a forgotten melody returning to her soul.
The wooden blade shook in her grip, glowing faintly. Cracks spread along its surface as if something inside wanted out. Then, in a flash of silver light, it changed.
The toy was gone.
In its place stood a real sword—dark silver with glowing blue runes carved along its blade. It felt familiar, like a part of her had come home.
"System Activation Complete."
The voice returned—clearer, stronger, echoing in her mind.
[MoonCore: Omega System Online]
Welcome, Eleanor of the Moon.
Eleanor stared at the sword, lips parting in awe. A strange warmth ran through her chest. It wasn't just metal—it was hers. It knew her.
"You are now bonded to the Omega System."
[Status: Weak]
[Power: Locked]
[Skills: Locked]
[Soul Memory: Fragmented]
[Class: Wolfless Omega]
"Wolfless Omega?" she muttered. "Seriously? I was a queen! A walking apocalypse!"
"Mission: Reclaim your power. Rewrite fate. Fulfill your purpose."
Eleanor grinned, tightening her grip on the hilt. "Good. Now can I go take my revenge?"
A beat of silence.
Then—
"No. You must reach Level 100 first."
Her jaw dropped. "Level—what?!"
"Until then, you'd die faster than a pup in a dragon pit."
Eleanor groaned and stared at the glowing sword, her new system buzzing like fire in her veins.
"Moon Goddess… you really love making me work for it."
But somewhere deep inside her, something sparked—hope, maybe. Or madness.
She smirked.
"Then let the games begin."