I stood atop the crumbling tower of Astora, the cold wind whistling through the gaps in the stone. Before me, a semi-transparent mirror display was split into sixteen panes, each locked onto the desolate graveyard below.
"System, deploy the first batch of 'Soul Projections'," I commanded softly.
As soon as the words left my lips, the mist in the graveyard surged. A dozen ethereal white orbs fell from the void, slamming into the scattered, sun-bleached piles of bone.
I settled into my seat before the display, tapping my fingers on the stone ledge.
In the mirror, a skeleton missing several finger bones bolted upright, deep blue soul-fire flickering wildly in its sockets. That was "BlackWhale," a top-tier pro from some hardcore action game back on Earth.
As he awakened, a semi-transparent panel popped up in his field of vision:
```yaml[Player Personal Panel]ID: BlackWhaleTier: T0 (Mortal)Race: SkeletonLevel: LV 1 (Exp: 0/100)---Stats: STR 4 / AGI 4 / CON 4 / INT 4 / SPI 4Status: Soul-fire 100% / Frame Integrity 95%Pain Setting: 30% (Adjustable)```
"Sss—! This wind... why does it feel so real?" BlackWhale rasped in a dry, skeletal voice. He tried to stand, but his left fibula was clearly misaligned. With a sharp *crack* at the ankle, he face-planted into the mud.
[Notice: Left fibula misaligned. Reconnection recommended. As a **T0 (Mortal)** being, your vessel is currently extremely fragile.]
"Devs! Get out here!" BlackWhale growled, clutching his cracked ribs as he lay in the muck. "I'm a skeleton! Why does a broken bone feel like a drill to my soul? Is this 'Suffer Simulator'?"
Watching him struggle in the dirt, I couldn't help but let a small smile tug at my lips.
As a "Demon Lord" who has crossed into this world, my current true individual tier is also merely **T0 (Mortal)**. My power ceiling is locked by the territory level; only as the territory expands and the echo of civilization grows stronger can I truly unlock higher-tier power. Although within the territory, the system automatically cloaks me in a mist of majesty that prevents players from seeing through my tier, I am essentially a glass cannon in this high-magic world ruled by the Holy Church and the Empire. My only trump card is this group known as the "Fourth Calamity"—the players.
"Because only through pain will you lot learn to cherish every single rib," I whispered to the empty air.
On the other side of the graveyard, a few players had already begun a series of insane "self-explorations."
"Holy crap! This game is insane!" A skeleton with the ID [IronButt] was face-down on the ground, frantically rubbing a broken finger bone against a chunk of granite. "Guys, look! The Mohs hardness of this stone is at least 6.5. Look at those sparks! If we use this to build a latrine, it'll be a five-star experience, easy!"
"IronButt, have some damn dignity!" nearby, a skeleton named [Dr_Boom] was trying to pry off one of his own ribs, his soul-fire twitching in pain. "I'm testing the flammability of bone meal. If I can channel soul-fire energy into the marrow dust, can we become 'human suicide bombs'? This is the undead version of explosive reactive armor. I bet the devs never even thought of this!"
"Sss... Doctor, calm down. You just blew your left hand off. Now it's trying to choke BlackWhale's ankle."
[System Notice: Player [Dr_Boom] has suffered frame damage due to self-mutilation. Soul-fire stability decreasing. Warning: **T0** skeletons do not possess auto-repair functionality.]
BlackWhale looked down with a dark expression (though he only had a skull), kicking away the crawling hand. "Stop messing around! Haven't you noticed? The pain feedback isn't just 'pain.' It changes in real-time based on where the frame is damaged. When I stepped on that sharp pebble, I felt a jolt of soul-vibration in my foot... The system is forcing us to adapt to these bodies."
He stood up, attempting a standard tactical roll, his joints creaking and snapping.
"And look at the environment." BlackWhale pointed to the ash floating in the air. "It's not just a texture. These ashes have physical collision. They get into your bone joints. If we don't clean them out, our mobility will drop. Guys... this game is hardcore to a fault."
I glanced toward the crimson glints igniting in the darkness of the forest—Corrosive Wolves, drawn by the scent of living souls.
I casually swiped open its attribute panel:
```yaml[Target Intel]Name: Corrosive WolfTier: T0 (Mortal)Level: LV 4Threat Level: Yellow (Slightly Challenging)Attribute Bias: High AGI, Mid STRSkills: [Bite], [Call Pack]Status: Hungry, Berserk```
"Playtime is over, 'Heroes'."
I swiped my finger across the air, issuing the first territory quest:
[Main Quest: The First Step of Survival][Description: Clear the Corrosive Wolves near the Starting Graveyard (0/3). Note: Although the wolves are also **T0**, their hunting instincts are far superior to newborn skeletons.][Reward: CP (Contribution Points) +10, Bone Repair Fluid x1.]
"...Due to vessel compatibility, all initial forms are 'Skeleton'. But this is not the end."I left a blurred preview at the bottom of the quest panel:[Evolution Path Preview (Unlocks at LV 20, Promotion to T1 Soldier):]1. [The Bone-Keepers]: Become the iron shield of the territory.2. [The Flesh-Seekers]: Walk in the sunlight as a pretender.3. [The Soul-Drifters]: Shadowy masters of soul manipulation.
"Level up, my little skeletons. Only those who survive have the right to choose their future," I whispered, my voice dissolving in the wind.
In the mirror, BlackWhale finally snapped his leg bone into place. He heard the distant howling, his blue soul-fire freezing for a second before exploding into a fierce glow.
"Wolves? We've got mobs?" He grabbed a rusted iron shard from the ground, his frame creaking ominously. "Boys, stop stripping! Boss is here!"
I leaned back in my chair, watching the skeletons scrambling in the mud. They might look ridiculous now, but in this decaying world, they would be the sharpest blades in my hand.
"Welcome to Astora," I murmured. "May your soul-fires never fade."