The dining room hit me like the setup of a bad joke. A heavy, dark-wood table, big enough to host a war council, stretched almost wall to wall, with only one place set in the dead centre. My boots struck the marble with every step, sharp and hollow, the sound swallowed by too much empty space and cold polished stone.

Servants lined the walls like furniture, dressed in crisp black and white, their heads bowed so low they might have been praying. None dared lift their eyes, as if they even looked at me, something worse than dismissal might happen.

One of the maids darted forward as I neared the chair, fingers twitching to grab the backrest before I could reach it myself. The chair scraped back in one smooth motion.

I sat, forcing the tension out of my shoulders, biting back the sigh that tried to claw its way out. My spine sank into the wood with all the grace of a prisoner accepting her cell. Great. Next, they'd probably start spoon-feeding me.

What was the point of having this many people standing around if every single one looked like they'd rather eat glass than be within five feet of me?

A door creaked, followed by footsteps. I looked up just in time to see a servant approach, carrying a silver tray in their arms. She quietly approached the table and placed the plate in front of me.

One look at the plate and my appetite curled up and died. The eggs were limp and weeping, with yolks that had ruptured like a botched surgery. The bacon was charred to hell, curling at the edges like it had tried to escape. And the bread? Speckled with suspicious greens and blues like it was already halfway to penicillin. Yeah, no. I wasn't that desperate.

Time to see what these new skills were worth.

Analysis, I thought.

Text shimmered into view.

[LILIANE'S BREAKFAST]

Undercooked egg. Burnt bacon. Mould-contaminated bread.

Unsuitable for consumption. Risk of mild food poisoning.

So, no poison—just a biohazard. I jabbed the egg with a fork. It jiggled. It was definitely still breathing. I set the fork down. It was a hard pass.

"What do you call this?" I said, voice low and flat.

The maid flinched like I'd already thrown the plate at her. Her fingers strangled the tray until her knuckles went bone-white. "Y-your breakfast, my lady," she stammered, voice barely more than a squeak.

+5 V.P.

I shoved the chair back with a screech of wood against marble. "Tell the chef I'm not hungry."

"B-but the chef will—" she started.

I cut her off with a cold look. "Tell him if he wants me to eat his slop, he'd better learn how to cook." I stood without ceremony and walked out, ignoring the line of servants shrinking into the walls behind me.

+2 V.P.

Seren hovered just outside the dining room, wringing her hands like she was trying to hide them inside her sleeves.

"Get my coat," I said, not breaking stride.

Her head snapped up. "Coat?" she echoed, like she hadn't heard right.

"Yes. I'm going out." I didn't slow, already aiming for the door.

For a second, she hovered, mouth half-open like she might argue, but then snapped into a bow. "Yes, my Lady," she said, her voice rushing. She hurried off, feet skimming the marble, and reappeared moments later with a black coat folded neatly in her arms.

I stepped into the market square and shot Seren a sideways glance. "So, what exactly are you doing?"

She'd insisted on coming, hovering like I'd break without supervision.

"I'm here to serve you," she said more solidly than I expected.

"I don't need help," I muttered.

"I know that, my Lady," she replied. "But this is still my job. And I won't abandon you for anything."

I stared at her. After all the threats and the knife to her throat, I expected her to keep her distance, not trail after me like a loyal mutt waiting for a pat. What the hell was going on in that head of hers?

I shifted my focus to the market square. Stalls sagged at crooked angles, their faded fabrics flapping weakly in the breeze. Barrels overflowed with bruised fruit and tired vegetables, while gutted animals swung from rusty hooks and baskets of bread fought for space on battered tables. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat, sharp spices, horse manure, and the damp bite of wet mould fighting for dominance.

The cobblestones rattled under my boots. I fisted with one hand in the front of my dress, yanking it up just enough to avoid tripping and exposing my face to the ground.

Notifications flickered across my vision like a slow, mocking drumbeat.

+1 V.P.

+1 V.P.

+1 V.P.

+1 V.P.

I bit down a sigh. Was everyone so terrified of me that I earned points just for existing? Every time a merchant or townsfolk spotted me, they flinched, dropped their gaze, and hurried away like even breathing the same air might curse them.

I strode straight down the centre of the square, shoulders squared, boots striking hard against the stone path with each step. I didn't flinch, slow, or even spare a glance at the way the crowd peeled away like I carried the plague.

If they wanted to scurry and cower like frightened mice, fine. Every flinch and look of fear fed the system—and if it earned me points, why would I care?

A tightness twisted in my chest that I didn't ask for. Even the children scrambled away at the sight of me—eyes wide, lips wobbling, clutching at their mothers' skirts like I was a monster from a bedtime story that forgot to stay in the dark.

I didn't realise anything was wrong until Seren slammed into me, sending us crashing to the cobblestones. My palms scraped raw against the stone. I twisted, jaw already tight with the words I was about to hurl at her, but my words faltered as an explosion shattered the silence of the market square.

The stall I'd been standing beside shattered in a roar of flame and splinters. Canvas and timber burst apart, debris clattering around us. The air thickened with the stench of burned meat and scorched wood. Smoke curled through the gaps in the stalls like fingers reaching for the sky.

I turned to Seren. Blood streaked from a cut above her brow, a crimson trail winding down her cheek. My lips parted, but she got there first.

"My Lady, are you all right?" Her voice shook, eyes locked on me like nothing else mattered.

I shoved myself upright, yanking my dress out from under my boots. It tangled anyway. "Should you really be concerned with me?" My voice came sharp, clipped.

"This is nothing," she said without hesitation. "As long as you're safe."

I stared at her. This was the same girl who'd trembled at my shadow yesterday. I didn't bother answering. Something else demanded my attention.

The thing tearing through the stalls wasn't just big—it was monstrous.

A wolf, twice the size of a warhorse, with fur so matted it looked sculpted from wet earth and blood. Its jaws were lined with yellow fangs, thick ropes of saliva swinging from its mouth as it snapped and snarled. One eye was glazed white, scar tissue twisting it shut; the other, black and bottomless, gleamed with something far too intelligent. Around its neck, a rusted iron collar sat half-buried in fur. And in the centre of its forehead, a jagged crystal pulsed a sickly yellow, like it was feeding off the violence.

I didn't have time to blink before the wolf lunged.

A man, mid-sprint, disappeared mid-scream—snatched clean in the creature's jaws. His lower half dropped, twitching to the ground in a wet heap. Blood sprayed in arcs. Screams filled the market. And then the stampede began.

People bolted. Stalls collapsed. Bodies fell beneath the crush of panicked feet.

"My Lady, we need to go," Seren said. She grabbed my arm and pulled.

I didn't move.

A flicker of motion caught my eye—a child, no more than six, sprawled in the dirt. People trampled past her, kicking, pushing, stepping on her without even seeing her. She screamed, arms flailing.

I tore my arm free from Seren and ran. The crowd battered me from all sides, elbows and shoulders driving into my ribs. I didn't stop. I reached the girl, hauled her upright with both arms and shoved her toward an opening in the stampede.

I didn't even get a thank you.

Instead, the system chimed.

[NON-ALIGNED BEHAVIOUR DETECTED]

-5 V.P.

Sensory Penalty Applied: Loss of Hearing (30 Minutes)

Pain punched through my skull like a spike. Then silence. I couldn't even hear my heartbeat.

I blinked. The world kept moving—but the sound was gone. I turned just in time to see the girl stagger back, stare up at me with wide, glassy eyes—then scream.

I couldn't hear it.

But I saw her mouth twist and her lips form something ugly. She tore herself from my grasp and ran without looking back.

No gratitude. Just fear.

Figures. That little brat didn't deserve saving.

I scanned the chaos. Seren fought her way through the crowd, her mouth moving fast—probably yelling my name—but her voice was lost in the dead silence pressing against my ears.

Didn't matter. Because the wolf had turned its head, its single black eye fixed on me. Drool hung in glistening ropes from yellowed teeth as it snarled in my direction.

Right. Time to see exactly how screwed I was.

Analysis.

Blue light flickered behind my eyes. Words snapped into place like a verdict:

[THUNDER WOLF]

Tamed monster sent to kill Liliane Viermont.

Threat Level: Run like hell.

What the actual fuck?

Wasn't I still in the tutorial phase? Who sends assassination monsters in the tutorial?!

I didn't get the luxury of spiralling. The wolf charged.

I tore the dagger tucked into my dress from the sheath, the blade flashing in the morning light.

Okay. Step one: don't die.

It hit me in two bounds, jaws snapping for my throat. I slashed sideways, aiming high, but the blade bounced off its hide like I'd swung at reinforced steel.

"Shit," I hissed, feet stumbling.

Then came the tail, thick and fast, slamming into my side. I flew.

I slammed into the cobblestones, knocking the wind out of me. Before I could pull in a gasp, the wolf was on me again—huge, rank-furred, pressing down. Its breath reeked of meat and rot. I threw my arms up just as its jaws came down, steel teeth snapping inches from my face.

I grabbed its snout, shoving back with everything I had. My fingers scrabbled for the dagger, found the hilt, and rammed it into the soft flesh beneath its jaw.

The blade drove up, through skin and muscle. The beast jerked, head rearing.

I didn't let go in time.

It whipped back, dragging me with it.

My fingers slipped. I crashed into the ground in a blur of blood and sky. Pain exploded in my back. The dagger skittered away across the stones.

Get up. Move.

I shoved off the ground, boots skidding in blood—his, mine, didn't matter. My eyes locked on the dagger, glinting just ahead. I lunged and snatched it up, fingers closing around the hilt like it was my only lifeline. But my legs tangled in the dress, every step tripping over the fabric. Snarling, I grabbed a fistful of silk and sliced it from hip to knee, the blade ripping through the fabric, freeing my legs. Cold air hit my skin. Didn't care. I could move again.

The wolf's crystal flashed. Yellow light glowing from within.

I dove aside.

A bolt of lightning exploded the stall behind me. Shrapnel slammed into my back, wood splinters biting into my skin.

No time to cry.

It fired again. I ducked under the next bolt, my heart trying to tear itself free from my chest. My limbs were shaking now—knees unsteady, lungs burning. The world blurred at the edges like my body was about to shut down.

The wolf lunged.

Too fast.

It hit me squarely, knocking me flat. Its weight pinned me. Teeth snapped inches from my face, spit flying, its hot breath slick against my skin.

I grabbed the dagger, still slick with its blood, and slammed it into its gut—the soft spot beneath the ribs. Then I twisted.

The beast let out a high, broken howl and thrashed.

I kept twisting.

Blood poured down my arms. Its body jerked, spasmed, then collapsed on top of me.

I was pinned beneath its dead weight. Crushed. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't even scream.

I shoved at the corpse with everything I had left. Arms burning. Ribs shrieking. My hands slipped on the bloodied fur again and again until, finally, the weight shifted.

The body rolled off me with a wet thud.

I lay there, blood-slicked and shaking, eyes burning with cold fury. I'd survived.

+30 V.P.

I staggered to my feet, limbs trembling, fingers curling tight around the dagger. Blood slicked the handle. My eyes swept the square.

Silence.

The market had frozen like a scene in which someone had hit pause. Dozens of faces turned toward me—blank, wide, pale. Mouths moved, shaping words I couldn't hear. Didn't need to.

The first stone cracked against my shoulder. The second caught my hip. A third grazed my thigh, sharp and accusing.

I didn't flinch.

I didn't ask what they were shouting.

I already knew.

Witch. Demon. Monster.

Like hell, I cared about what they think. I forced my lips to curl into what I could only hope was a cruel smirk as I lifted the blade to my lips and dragged my tongue just above the blood. Not really touching, but I didn't need to. The action was enough to get the response I wanted.

+15 V.P.

They fled from me like rats from flame, leaving only Seren, panting, eyes wide, mouth moving in frantic, soundless questions.

I didn't answer.

Didn't stop.

I turned my back on the wreckage, on the people, on the blood still drying on my skin. "I think I need a bath," I muttered, voice flat.

Seren fell into step beside me. I didn't look at her. Didn't slow.

The only thought that cut through the ringing silence was this: I needed to get stronger. Fast. Or, next time, I wouldn't be walking away.