Violet used to be a fitness instructor on Earth. A 26-year-old woman with an ordinary life, ordinary exhaustion, and an ordinary apartment filled with cheap furniture and late-night loneliness.
That night, she had returned home after ten. her body sore, her mind restless. She didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to think.
So she did what she always did when life felt dull.
She turned on her laptop.
And playing an RPG called the Alchemists of Nymira. It wasn't some popular game enjoyed by millions or something, but for her, it is comforting to her soul.
When she entered the game, the familiar menu loaded up, the music playing like an old friend. She leaned back in her chair, clicked through monsters, watched health bars vanish, letting the mindless slaughter wash away her frustration.
Then she frowned.
Her Book of Town Portal was empty.
"Seriously?" She muttered at the screen. "Again?"
She could've gone to town and bought scrolls.
But she didn't.
She opened a modifier instead, which is basically a cheat code program developed by a hacker.
She smirked, satisfied, feeling that small, cheap thrill of cheating the rules.
Just then, light exploded outside her window.
For a second, she thought it was thunder.
But thunder didn't sound like that.
The next moment, the building shook.
Electricity surged through wires and metal like a living beast, hunting for a path. The laptop, plugged into the wall, became the bridge.
Violet didn't even have time to curse.
The current slammed into her hands.
Her body convulsed.
Her vision turned white.
And then…
Nothing.
Everything became blank.
After an unknown amount of time, when she opened her eyes again, she wasn't in her apartment anymore.
Forget the apartment, she wasn't even on Earth.
Instead, she found herself inside a stone castle.
Inside a child's body.
In a medieval-fantasy world where knights carried mana in them, and monsters roamed beyond the mountains.
In a world where women can be rulers, knights, and even dominate men as long as they work hard to break past their limits.
She had panicked at first.
She had denied it, convincing herself that this was just some dream.
She had stared at her small hands and screamed until her throat hurt.
But reality didn't care about denial.
Reality didn't care about panic.
Reality only gave her one choice.
Survive.
And in this world, survival wasn't bought with money or intelligence. It wasn't earned with degrees or clever words.
It was earned with power.
*
Back to the Present;
Violet slowly sat up, wincing as pain exploded through her arms and shoulders. Her muscles screamed at her, but there was something else underneath the exhaustion.
A pressure.
A heat.
A strange heaviness coiled inside her body like something half-awake.
She swallowed, breathing carefully.
Her heartbeat felt louder than usual.
Stronger.
She grabbed the greatsword and forced herself to stand. The armor clinked with every movement. She dragged the blade behind her, the tip carving a thin line in the dirt as She walked toward the castle.
Tonight felt different.
Her body was exhausted, but not empty.
It was like something inside her was gathering.
Like the first spark of a fire about to catch.
Violet's eyes narrowed. "Maybe…" She whispered.
Maybe tonight, she would finally feel it.
The first Mana pulse.
She stepped through the castle gate, the stone archway swallowing her in shadow. A servant passed by carrying a bucket of water and glanced at her with tired eyes.
The servant hesitated, then asked quietly, "Young miss… you're training again?"
Violet nodded.
The servant didn't say anything else. She just kept walking, as she'd already learned not to question it.
Violet moved through the corridors toward the armory. Torchlight flickered against stone walls, throwing long shadows that crawled beside her.
She reached the corner where the armor belonged.
Slowly, she removed it piece by piece.
The metal was hot from her body heat, damp with sweat. She wiped every plate carefully, rubbing away dirt and moisture, cleaning each seam as it mattered more than her own comfort.
Rust would ruin it.
And the Ravens couldn't afford to ruin anything.
When the plates were clean, she rubbed oil into the iron until it gleamed faintly under the torchlight. Only then did she move to the greatsword, wiping the blade and checking the edge.
Not because she enjoyed chores.
Because that was discipline.
And in the world of knights and monsters… There is no distinction between a man and a woman. Everyone is a knight in the eyes of knights, and everyone is treated as an enemy or food in the eyes of monsters.
And this cruel world rewards carelessness with death.
When she finished, Violet finally allowed herself a slow breath.
She bathed quickly, scrubbing away sweat until her skin stung, then changed into clean clothes.
By the time she stepped into the dining hall, warmth hit her like a wall.
The smell of cooked food filled the air, rich and comforting, wrapping around her like a blanket. Firelight danced across the wooden table, and the sound of quiet movement made the castle feel alive again.
Her family was already there.
Yet no one spoke.
Across from Violet sat her father.
Her father's back was straight, his shoulders wide, and his face was carved into its usual stern expression. His eyes stayed calm and cold, like a man who had spent too many years dealing with war, hunger, and responsibility.
Violet had lived in this castle for a year now, and she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen her father show any emotion.
But she still remembered the first day she woke up here.
The first day she opened her eyes in this body and saw Valerius Raven leaning over her. That hard face had cracked open then, just for a moment. Joy had flashed in her father's eyes like sunlight breaking through clouds.
Violet never forgot it.
That was how she knew this man wasn't heartless.
He was just trained to bury everything.
Beside her father sat Rowena, already eating with the easy confidence of someone who had always belonged at this table. She held her knife correctly, cut her meat cleanly, and chewed like she had done this a thousand times.
On Violet's other side sat her mother.
Penelope Raven.
She was the warmest thing in the room, even without trying.
Her hands were gentle, her expression soft, but there was a quiet sharpness in her gaze, the kind that came from being the wife of a knight. She didn't speak much either, but Violet had long realized that silence didn't mean weakness.
This woman watched everything.
And she cared far more than she showed.
Before anyone ate, Valerius Raven lowered his head slightly.
The rest of the family followed immediately, like it was as natural as breathing.
Violet did too, even though it still felt strange.
She had lived thirty years on Earth as an atheist. Prayers had been nothing but empty noise to her. But this world was different. Here, people believed in the Holy Light the way farmers believed in rain. It wasn't a choice. It was simply the way life worked.
Violet folded her hands like she had been taught and kept her face calm.
The words were spoken softly.
Then the meal began.
The beef had been cut into four portions.
Not evenly, though.
Rowena and her father had the largest pieces, thick slabs with fat and meat layered together. Violet and her mother had smaller portions, enough to eat but clearly less.
It wasn't favoritism. Violet understood that much.
Knights needed food the way fire needed wood. The more they ate, the stronger their bodies became, and the stronger their bodies became, the more Mana they could forge.
A formal knight like her father and a fourth-level trainee like Rowena already strained the castle's resources. Feeding two warriors was expensive. Feeding four would crush them.
Violet stared at her portion.
A pound of beef would've been a luxury back on Earth, for a fitness instructor like her. She used to count calories, measure protein, and complain when her clients skipped meals.
Now she was twelve years old, and the plate in front of her looked like a feast.
She ate without hesitation, chewing carefully, swallowing slowly. The porridge was thick and warm, filling her stomach like a stone.
No one spoke.
The only sounds were knives scraping plates, the occasional clink of metal, and the steady chewing of men trained to eat efficiently.
Then Penelope's hand moved.
Violet's eyes flicked toward her.
She didn't ask permission. She didn't hesitate. She simply cut most of her beef into neat slices and slid them onto Violet's plate.
Her voice was soft.
"Eat more."
Violet froze for half a breath.
She looked at her plate, then at her mother. She didn't smile dramatically or act like she had done something noble. Her face remained calm, like feeding her daughter was the most natural thing in the world.
Violet swallowed.
"Mother…"