The walls were too white. They were smooth, cold, and sterile as if their entire purpose was to drain the existence of anything remotely alive.


    A single dim light flickered overhead, its glow humming with the faintest buzz, a noise that had long since become part of the background. It was a small room, barely large enough to fit the single bed, as well as the bolted-down desk and chair. No mirrors, and no loose objects to be found anywhere. A woman sat on the bed, her gray eyes half-lidded, staring at nothing. Then, the door clicked.


    She didn’t react at first, not until she heard the steps of someone entering. A woman in medical scrubs stood in the doorway, clutching a clipboard.


    "You have a visitor," the worker said, her tone flat. The woman on the bed tilted her head slightly, her long dark hair shifting over her shoulders. "Is it her again?" The worker’s lips pressed together, an exasperated sigh slipping past. "Yeah."


    The woman’s smirk widened. "Persistent, isn’t she?" The worker crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway. "You’d think she would’ve given up by now."


    The woman swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching lazily. "Yeah, Normally you’d think that," she mused. Then, followed up with a low chuckle, "But that’s what happens when you’re delusional. I have said it many times, she should be locked up here with me."


    The worker scoffed. "You’re not funny." The woman grinned at the comment. "A shame. I think I’m hilarious." The worker rolled her eyes before motioning to the two men standing behind her. Unlike the nurse lady, these two weren’t like the rest of the nurses.


    They were built like security guards, their expressions unreadable and neutral. The woman’s smirk didn’t waver, and she didn’t miss the caution in their posture.


    They weren’t here just to escort her. They were here to contain her if necessary. The woman stood slowly making sure her movements were calm, and calculated.


    She wasn’t stupid. They weren’t cautious of her because she was physically imposing. They were wary because they knew what she had done. And what she was capable of. One of the men stepped forward, gesturing for her to move. "Let’s go."


    She sighed dramatically. "You guys really don’t trust me, huh?" Neither of them answered.


    With an amused shake of her head, the woman walked ahead, letting them position themselves behind her. She could feel their eyes on her back as they moved down the narrow hallway.


    The walk was short but tense. They passed other rooms, some occupied, others empty. A few of the other patients glanced out of the vision-lighted doors as they walked by, some blank-faced, others muttering to themselves. The woman paid them no mind.


    She had seen far worse than whatever vacant stares they threw her way. When they reached the meeting room, she was quickly guided inside. Like the times before, the first thing she noticed was the thick, transparent plastic sheet separating the room in two. The guards did not follow her further into the room remaining by the door, arms crossed. She walked forward without hesitation, sitting in the plain metal chair on her side of the barrier.


    And there she was, sitting across the partition, her mother. The older woman shared her dark hair and sharp features—but that was where their similarities ended.


    Where the woman had sharpness, her mother had a softness, an aura of someone desperate to keep up appearances.


    “How many times do I have to tell you?” the woman started, her voice mocking. “Stop coming here, Mother.” Her mother’s expression tightened. “I had to see you.”


    The woman rolled her eyes. “Of course, you did.” Her mother ignored the jab. “I tried calling your brother again.” At those words, the woman''s bored demeanor shifted. A slow smile crept across her lips, her gray eyes glinting. "Oh? And?"


    Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “He still won’t answer, no matter how many times I call him.” The woman let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “I wonder why.” Her mother’s expression hardened. “This is all his fault, the least he could do is pick up.”


    The woman’s smile vanished. Her mother continued, voice tinged with defensiveness. “Even after everything, even after his bad influence on you—” The woman’s head tilted. "Bad influence?"


    Her mother pressed on, either ignoring or oblivious to the shift in tone.


    “I tried to correct his behavior when he was younger. I sent him away to discipline him, and the moment he came back, he put you in here.” The woman stared at her, listening. Not interrupting. Not saying a word. Just watching.


    When her mother finally fell silent, the woman exhaled. "Tell me something, Mother." Her mother frowned. "What? And stop calling me mother in that tone, you know I don''t like that."


    The woman leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the thin metal table between them, ignoring the request. "When do you think I first met him?" Her mother blinked, caught off guard. “What?”


    "The first time I truly met my brother," the woman clarified. "Do you know when that was?" Her mother’s brows furrowed in confusion. "What kind of question is that?"


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The woman’s smile returned, but it was different now. It was sharper. Much colder. "It was also the last time I saw him," she said simply, hearing that her mother stiffened.


    "It was the day he came back. And it was the first time I really saw him as my brother."


    She let the words hang in the air, watching as her mother’s face paled. "For the longest time," the woman continued, "I thought he wasn’t even completely related to us. That he had to be the child of an affair you had or something." Her mother visibly stiffened. "How dare you imply—"


    "Oh, relax." The woman waved a hand dismissively. "I don’t care, or think that anymore."


    She tilted her head, studying her mother’s reaction. "But I did wonder for a long time. He was nothing like me, nothing like the eldest. Other than the features we shared, we had nothing in common."


    Her mother opened her mouth, but the woman kept talking. "Unlike our older brother, who was weak-minded—resentful and small in his anger—he was different."


    A glint of something dangerous flickered in her gaze. "That day, when he came back from wherever he had been sent to, I saw it in his eyes." She exhaled, voice dropping to a whisper. "Hatred. Pure, undying hatred. It burned like a star." She leaned back, exhaling softly.


    "It was the most beautiful thing I''d ever seen." Her mother’s face twisted with anger. "Stop talking like that!" The woman grinned. "Why? Does it bother you? It''s not like we are the most mentally balanced family in the world. Take a look around where you are." Her mother looked horrified as if she couldn''t believe what she was hearing.


    Then, the world shook. The lights flickered and went off, and soon after everything disappeared. The woman gasped, finding herself floating in a dark nothingness. All around her were countless faces, and among the closest ones some were even familiar to her. Not long after arriving in this strange place, she saw a fantastical vision of Earth changing and merging with other things, soon followed by an all-encompassing voice.


    "Inhabitants of this new world. You, along with your old worlds, have been integrated into the greater whole of the multiverse."


    As the voice continued speaking, the woman''s lips tipped upwards. "Well now," she muttered. "What the hell is this?"


    <hr>


    Integration? Was she having a fever dream from bad medication?


    She had stopped taking that crap a while ago, but maybe the doctors had found out and slipped something into her food. And she was unlucky or lucky to get the bad batch.


    Before she could dwell on it, something shifted. A rush of energy flooded her veins like molten fire, igniting every nerve in her body. Her breath caught, and her fingers started twitching as her body convulsed from the overwhelming sensation. Along with the bodily sensations, numbers, symbols, and unreadable text flashed in her mind.


    But she didn’t scream. She embraced it. Let it consume her. Then—just as suddenly as it came, the sensation vanished. She gasped, inhaling sharply, her body no longer weightless. The void around her collapsed, and reality returned.


    Now different than before. A thick, wet fog clung to the air, coiling through the trees in heavy tendrils. The ground beneath her was damp, covered in decaying leaves and sickly looking plants.


    The trees themselves were wrong. Their trunks were warped, and their bark split open in places, revealing sickly pus. The woman exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air. Then, the screaming started.


    Distant voices, scattered through the fog. Some shouting for help others crying in confusion. A few sounded desperate, their voices barely above whispers. She turned her head, scanning the area, trying to make sense of what was happening.


    It didn''t take her long to notice, lying on the damp ground, looking terrified, was her mother.


    The older woman was pale, her wide eyes darting around the foggy surroundings, her hands trembling as she struggled to push herself up. The woman tilted her head slightly, observing.


    For a brief moment, she wondered if this was a dream. And if it was, it was the most vivid one she had ever had. Her mother’s panicked gaze locked onto her.


    "What’s happening?!" she shrieked, her voice high-pitched with fear.


    The woman took a single step forward. "I don’t know," she mused. "But… if this is a dream, I think, I’ll enjoy it." Her mother didn’t seem to hear her. She was too busy looking around wildly, trying to make sense of things. The woman crouched, lowering herself to eye level with her mother.


    "Mom." The word came out in a much more familiar tone than the normal overly formal, passive-aggressive mother she usually addressed her as. Her mother flinched, surprised, then looked at her.


    "You know, I’ve been thinking about this for a while." Her mother’s face twisted in confusion. "W-what?" The woman reached out, gripping her mother’s throat. She then squeezed. Hard.


    Her mother’s eyes bulged, hands immediately flying up to remove the woman''s wrists. But she struggled, thrashing in the dirt, her feet kicking hard against the damp ground. The woman watched her, unfazed. "That you’re pathetic."


    Her mother let out a choked, strangled gasp. She tried to pry the fingers from her throat, but she was too weak to do so either. "It''s from you Devin inherited that weakness, to take the coward''s way out of things," the woman whispered, leaning in closer.


    "But you never take responsibility for anything, do you?" Her mother’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes pleading, but the woman’s grip only tightened. Unyielding. "You let everything fall apart around you, then blame it on everyone else." Her mother’s movements slowed.


    "I am tired of being you’re delusional attempt to prove to people, how you haven''t utterly failed as a wife twice, and as a mother three times over." The woman sighed. "I am who I am, Kael knew that. That''s why he had me be put in the institution. Even if I am not happy with that arrangement, at least he did something. Instead of pretending like I was some good girl, and that nothing was wrong like you did Eleanor."


    Eleanor''s body convulsed once, twice, then stilled. The woman held her throat a little longer, just to be sure. Then, she let go. The lifeless body slumped into the damp earth. At the same time, a soft chime echoed in her ears.


    [ Experience Gained: +18 EXP ]


    [ Title Acquired: Early Murder ]


    Awarded for delivering your first kill on a humanoid after System integration.


    Effect: +5% increased damage on the first attack against Humanoids.


    The woman blinked. "...Huh." Her gaze flickered to the floating texts, lingering in the air like an afterthought. She tilted her head. "That’s new."


    However, the moment was short-lived. A sound cut through the fog, low, deep, and unmistakable. At the same time silencing all the cries coming from people in the fog. A howl. Long and drawn out, filled with hunger. The woman slowly turned her head toward the noise. The fog shifted, parting just enough for her to see the vague outline of something moving.


    Large. Four-legged. Lurking just beyond the mist. Another howl followed, this time closer. Then—glowing yellow eyes pierced through the fog, locking onto her. "Oh."