I like you already."
The voice boomed across the space, loud enough to vibrate through the ground itself.
Scarlett didn't look impressed.
"My successor will not be weak," the voice continued grandly. "Regardless of adversary. And oh yes—you will meet them. Many of them. Clans, sects, monsters, old freaks who refuse to die. You must be strong."
The declaration echoed like a proclamation carved into fate.
Then the voice paused.
Scarlett could almost feel it looking at her.
Assessing.
Measuring.
Judging.
"…Sigh," the voice finally said. "I suppose it will take some time."
That did it.
Scarlett's jaw tightened.
She hated this feeling—being talked down to by something she couldn't see, couldn't measure, couldn't challenge. The imbalance grated against her nerves like a poorly set bone.
Did this thing even know how old she was?
Or rather—
How long she had already lived?
Before she could object, something floated toward her.
A round, translucent thing—soft, glowing faintly, like a soap bubble formed from light rather than air. It drifted lazily, almost playfully, before suddenly expanding.
And then—
It enveloped her.
"What—?!"
The bubble sealed around her body instantly. Light pulsed through it, sweeping over her skin, into her flesh, sinking deep into her bones. It felt invasive, intimate—like being stripped layer by layer under an impossibly detailed gaze.
Scarlett stiffened.
The sensation reminded her uncomfortably of high-end medical scanners from her former life.
A full-body examination.
'Mmm,' the voice hummed thoughtfully.
"Damaged meridians."
Scarlett clenched her fists.
"Clogged vessels."
Her breath slowed.
"Collapsed mana core."
She swallowed.
"Poisoned blood."
She exhaled carefully.
"And…" the voice paused. "Your heart?"
The word landed heavier than the others.
Scarlett's eyes widened slightly.
"…Holy."
The voice sounded genuinely surprised now.
"How are you still alive?"
The bubble shimmered brighter.
"Your body looks completely dead."
For the first time since waking in this world, something cold slid down Scarlett's spine.
"Tut tut tut," the voice clicked. "It really is your lucky day."
The bubble dissolved, releasing her.
She stood very still.
"It seems you managed to remain alive because of the mana water you used," the voice continued casually. "But that was only temporary."
Scarlett's fingers twitched.
"You would have died in less than seven days."
Seven days.
Scarlett blinked once.
Ah.
So she really had been on track to break a record.
First transmigrator to die less than a week after transmigrating.
Her short second life was truly full of dramatic rises and falls.
Internally, she laughed bitterly.
Externally—
She remained calm.
Composed.
Almost bored.
She waved her hand lightly, as though brushing away a swarm of flies.
"All right," she said evenly. "Cut the long story short."
The voice paused.
Scarlett tilted her head.
"You cheap master," she continued without hesitation, "since you claim to be some 'Venerated Queen' something, you should be able to handle my small issue."
Silence.
"As proof," she added mildly.
Her gaze sharpened, eyes narrowing toward the empty air.
"After all, who knows where you even sprouted from?" she said coolly. "Maybe you're stranded in this ring and just looking for a way to trick me into freeing you."
The accusation hung in the air.
"Or," she continued, "maybe you're not even as powerful as you claim."
She crossed her arms.
"Mmm," the voice murmured slowly.
Scarlett felt something shift.
"Suspicion and doubt," the voice said approvingly. "Good. Good, good, good."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Since you will be my successor," the voice continued, "I must treat you well. Can't have you go out there and embarrass me."
Scarlett relaxed slightly.
Perhaps she had—
WHAM.
Something invisible struck her from the side.
The impact was sudden and violent, slamming into her ribs like a freight train.
"—!"
She flew.
Her body arced helplessly across the space before crashing into the stream with a heavy splash.
Pain exploded through her chest.
She coughed violently, blood erupting from her mouth as icy water flooded her lungs.
"What—?!" she choked.
"Here is your baptism," the voice crackled cheerfully.
Scarlett's heart dropped.
Baptism?
Her back pressed against the riverbed as dread seeped into her bones.
Had she—
Had she gone too far?
Before she could push herself upright—
The sky above the space darkened.
Scarlett looked up.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Fireballs.
Massive, roaring spheres of flame streaked downward like a meteor shower.
"No—!"
The first one struck.
Heat swallowed her whole.
Her clothes ignited instantly, fabric disintegrating into ash. Her skin blistered and peeled, blood evaporating before it could even spill. The pain was indescribable—pure, consuming, relentless.
She screamed.
The sound tore from her throat, raw and animal.
Scarlett thrashed in the water, instinctively diving deeper as flame rained down around her. Steam exploded upward as fire met water, yet the heat followed her, searing flesh, burning nerves alive.
She couldn't think.
Couldn't curse.
Couldn't beg.
Didn't want to…
There was only pain.
Then—
"Here comes your second baptism!" the voice sang, delighted.
CRACK.
Lightning split the sky.
A bolt struck her directly.
Her body convulsed violently as electricity tore through her, charring her skin black while leaving her insides screaming, alive, aware.
"'Mmm,'" the voice giggled. "Smells like roasted meat."
Scarlett's scream broke into hoarse sobs.
Her vision blurred.
Her consciousness wavered.
She clung to that fact with everything she had.
She had to live, she can't die…at least not too soon.
Her body sank beneath the water, smoke rising from her skin. The stream hissed and boiled around her, yet somehow—somehow—it didn't let her die.
The water healed as fast as destruction came.
Bone knit.
Skin regrew.
Meridians screamed as they were torn apart and forced back together.
She realized it then.
What the voice was doing.
This wasn't punishment.
This was reconstruction.
Brutal.
Merciless.
Effective.
"What kind of twisted—" she sobbed internally.
Her thoughts fractured as pain washed over her again.
"Here comes your third baptism," the voice said calmly now.
Comfortingly.
That was somehow worse.
Scarlett didn't register the shift in tone.
She only laments her misfortune or is it?
This must be the legendary path to power. Not enlightenment. Not sudden strength. Just being roasted alive.
How long has it been? I've lost track. Time probably gave up too.
This "Queen Venerated" is definitely unhinged. Absolutely insane.
Sure, I understand—it's "for my own good." That's what everyone says right before you die horribly.
So this is cultivation, huh?
No wonder the weak don't survive.
It's not about talent or destiny—
it's about how much suffering you can endure without dropping dead.
She is really exhausted but she had to live, she needs to see what this world has to offer, she can take the next baptism.
She braced herself…