《Calamity Muse [LitRPG, Dark Fantasy, Steampunk, Villainess][Stub]》


 Prologue

    [The screen flickers to life, revealing a news studio. The camera zooms in on a well-dressed reporter, Alex Martin, standing in front of a large, vibrant concert stage inside an open stadium, now eerily quiet and empty. The reporter seems both shocked and excited, a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm in his voice. The banner at the bottom of the screen reads: "Breaking News: Rock Legend Aubrey Vanishes in Triple Lightning Strike During Concert."]


    Reporter: "Good evening, everyone. This is Alex Martin, reporting live from the Grand Arena, where just hours ago, an event unfolded that has left the world in utter disbelief. Fans here tonight witnessed what can only be described as a blend of a rock concert, a meteorological anomaly, and a fantasy novel all rolled into one.


    We''re talking, of course, about Aubrey, the global rock and punk sensation known for her electrifying performances. But tonight, ''electrifying'' took on a whole new meaning. During the climax of her world tour, right here on this stage behind me, something unprecedented happened."


    [The screen splits, showing footage of Aubrey on stage, mid-performance, her energy infectious, the crowd in a frenzy.]


    Reporter: "As Aubrey, clad in her signature leather and neon, struck a powerful pose at the apex of her hit song''s chorus, the unthinkable occurred. In a dramatic twist straight out of a special effects playbook, she was struck by lightning. Not once, not twice, but three times in rapid succession."


    [The footage shows the moment of the lightning strikes, each illuminating Aubrey in a blinding flash of light, the crowd gasping and screaming.]


    Reporter: "The crowd, initially thinking it part of the show''s pyrotechnics, soon realized this was no planned spectacle. The air was charged with confusion and panic as the stage went dark, and when the lights came back on, Aubrey... was nowhere to be seen.


    Initial reports suggested a tragic accident, but as investigators and emergency services rushed to the scene, they found no trace of the singer. No signs of burns, no remnants of her iconic outfit ¨C nothing. It''s as if she vanished into thin air at the moment of the strikes."


    [The screen shows a series of tweets and social media posts from fans, ranging from wild theories to concerns for Aubrey¡¯s safety.]


    Reporter: "Conspiracy theories are already swirling on social media. Some claim it was an elaborate stunt, a disappearance act to end her tour with a bang. Others are delving into more fantastical explanations, drawing parallels to stories where people are transported to other worlds. Of course, these are just theories, but in the absence of logical explanations, imagination runs wild."Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    [The screen shifts to show interviews with various fans, some tearful, others in disbelief.]


    Fan #1: "It was like something out of a movie, unreal. One moment she¡¯s there, rocking the world, and the next ¨C poof ¨C gone."


    Fan #2: "She¡¯s a legend, man. If anyone could ride a lightning bolt to another dimension, it¡¯s Aubrey."


    Fan #3: "I hope she''s okay, wherever she is. She''s too young to disappear forever."


    Fan #4: "I''m sure this is all part of her master plan. Just you wait ¨C she''ll reappear when we least expect it, and it''ll be epic."


    Fan #5: "So... I guess we can add ''Gods of Rock'' to the list of genres she defies."


    Perverted Fan: "They should call her ''Thunder Thighs.'' Damn, that outfit looked amazing on her!"


    Degenerate Heckler: "Wherever you are, Aubrey, give us a little shake so we know you''re okay!"


    Annoying Squealing Fangirl: "Omigodomigodomigod! AUBREYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!"


    Unfazed Producer: "Damn it, how are we going to recover from this PR nightmare? We''ve got press conferences to handle, lawsuits to deal with...hey, get that camera off of m¨C"


    Isekai Enthusiast: "Nooo! Aubrey! It should¡¯ve been me! REEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"


    Author: "Yeah, I could''ve used Truck-kun, but he''s booked til the Isekai genre finally falls out of trend."


    [The camera returns to the reporter.]


    Reporter: "What we do know is that Aubrey, a singer who captured the hearts of millions with her rebel spirit and powerhouse vocals, has become the center of a global mystery. Fans worldwide are holding vigils, singing her songs, hoping for any news of her whereabouts.


    As we stand here at the now-empty Grand Arena, it''s hard not to feel a sense of awe and wonder. Was this a freak act of nature? A planned disappearance? Or something more... otherworldly? The questions are many, the answers few.


    This is Alex Martin, signing off, but the story of Aubrey ¨C the punk rock icon who lit up the world and then seemingly left it in a flash of light ¨C is far from over. Stay tuned as we continue to follow this astonishing story."

 Chapter 1: Gravedigger

    Darkness¡ªcrushing, suffocating darkness. Then, a spark¡ªa flicker of consciousness igniting in the void.


    Where? What?


    Fragmented thoughts, like shattered glass, pierced her mind, sharp and disjointed. A stage... lights... the roar of a crowd... then nothing.


    Her body felt heavy, sluggish¡ªas though she''d been asleep for years. She blinked, but there was no difference¡ªthe darkness remained. Memories swam through her foggy mind, but they made no sense. A name. Aubrey. That was her, she realized. But who?


    She moved her arms, pushing against the weight of something. Her fingers scraped against something hard¡ªwood. Her legs kicked, and she felt the same resistance.


    Panic surged within her. Was she in a box? A coffin?


    Her chest heaved, a desperate gasp for air that wasn''t there. Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to block the scream building in her throat. Her fingers scraped against soft satin¡ªa shroud, she realized. She pulled it away, tearing at it in a blind panic.


    Air. She needed air. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred, and she lashed out wildly. Splinters tore at her skin as she pounded against the wood with her fists.


    Cracking, snapping¡ªsounds of wood giving way. With one final, desperate thrust, she broke through, splintering into the oppressive earth above.


    Dirt cascaded in, choking and cloying.


    She coughed, sputtering, but continued to claw her way up¡ªto where, she didn''t know. Anywhere had to be better than here. She writhed, struggling through the narrow opening she''d created.


    Can''t... breathe... need to get out!


    The earth clawed back, greedy fingers trying to drag her down. But the burning in her lungs, the raw need for air, drove her on.


    Gasping¡ªclawing¡ªthe earth gave way under desperate fingers which bled, unseen in the blackness, but she pressed on. The taste of dirt filled her mouth, gritty and bitter, as she scrabbled through the soil.


    Something brushed against her¡ªa root, maybe, or a worm. She shrieked, the sound muffled by the dirt clogging her mouth, and kept going.


    Cold, damp soil yielded under her frantic hands, and then¡ªher hand broke through the surface, grasping at the cool night air.


    She heaved herself up, clawing desperately, until her head emerged from the grave.


    The sweet, clear air of night washed over her face, and she gasped, sucking in huge, ragged breaths.


    She stumbled out of the dirt, her movements clumsy, her body feeling foreign and unwieldy.


    The moon cast a ghostly pallor over the graveyard, its light filtering through the gnarled branches of misshapen trees, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the rows of ornate tombstones.


    Why was I... in a grave? How did I...?


    Disorientation and confusion swirled in her mind. A rush of sensations hit her all at once¡ªthe touch of the wind against her skin, the smell of the earth, the rustle of leaves in the trees.


    Her legs trembled, buckling under her weight, and she sank to the ground, her head spinning.


    Lying on the cold earth, her breathing slowly returned to normal, but the panic had yet to subside. She lay still, waiting for her racing heart to slow, taking in deep lungfuls of fresh air. Gradually, awareness trickled back in, and her gaze shifted to take in her surroundings.


    A cemetery loomed around her, a silent witness to her macabre rebirth. An ornate mausoleum stood nearby, its crumbling fa?ade blanketed with dark moss. Ivy snaked up the walls, twining around the marble columns, choking the life from the stone.


    An owl hooted somewhere nearby, a lonely sound.


    Why am I here? How did I get here?


    She struggled to put the pieces together, but it was as if her memory was shrouded in fog. Names and images flickered in her mind, but nothing that made sense. Her hands shook, scattering clods of dirt as she ran them over her face and through her hair. The clumps fell to the ground, raining into the hole she''d just escaped.


    As the terror receded, clarity slowly returned, and her body began to feel more familiar. She raised a hand before her eyes, watching as she flexed her fingers, almost as if to reassure herself that they belonged to her.


    Yes. They were her own, though her skin seemed paler somehow, devoid of warmth. Her nails, long and sharp, glinted in the moonlight.


    Tentatively, she rose to her feet, testing her strength. It took a few steps to find her balance, but she managed to stay upright.


    Her clothes, tattered and dirty, hung loosely on her slender frame. She glanced down, noticing for the first time the sheer, lacy gown she wore¡ªand her exposed flesh.


    An involuntary shiver ran through her, and she instinctively covered her breasts with her arms. I''m practically naked. She gazed down at the torn, soiled garment. Is this supposed to be a burial gown?


    The thought made her stomach twist. Had someone tried to bury her alive?


    No.


    Memories of a distant life¡ªa stage, the roar of a crowd, flickered like a distant dream. But intermingled with those were flashes of another existence, a life of quiet affluence¡ªthe flash of jewels and crystal glasses, the whisper of silk and satin.


    She looked around for her tombstone, but found none. No flowers adorned her grave; no marker bore her name.


    Just an empty plot, marked only by upturned earth.


    She ran her fingers through her hair, raking out the twigs and dirt that had caught in its long black strands.


    Aubrey. The name came to her lips easily, as if she''d always known it. A name given by loving parents¡ªyet no faces came to mind when she tried to think of them.


    But one thing was certain¡ªshe wasn''t the sort of woman who would ever end up in a place like this.


    She took a step, then another, picking her way through the tombstones and markers. The graves lay in uneven rows, some marked by simple headstones, others by grand monuments of angels and weeping figures, their features worn smooth with age.


    The path wound between them, bordered by overgrown bushes and creeping ivy that clung to the old, weathered stones.


    Where am I supposed to go?


    She had no idea. The thought of wandering these winding paths, alone, in the dark...


    Her heart ached with an inexplicable sorrow, a mourning for a life she couldn''t fully remember.


    Why do I feel so... empty? So... angry?


    Anger... yes. It simmered beneath the confusion¡ªa smoldering ember that threatened to flare into a blaze. But anger at what¡ªor whom?


    Flashes of violence, a betrayal, a searing pain... a dagger... all rushed back in a sudden torrent. She reached down to her abdomen and her fingertips brushed against the thin scar there, almost hidden by the lace of the dress. The mark of the blade.


    A killer.


    I was killed... murdered... But by whom?


    Four faces slipped through her mind like shadows, murky and indistinct. Only one face came into focus¡ªone that sent a surge of rage rushing through her. The twisted visage of a man, his eyes cold and unfeeling, yet his mouth contorted into a cruel smile.


    She knew him¡ªsomehow, someway. She hated him.


    Revenge. That singular emotion burned bright, piercing through the cloud of confusion that hung over her.


    She grasped her head, digging her nails into her scalp. No, this isn''t right...this... this isn''t me! What the hell happened to me?!


    The stage... the music... the adoring crowds... her voice, rising in song... that was her life! That¡¯s who she was...If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Aubrey clenched her fists, squeezing her eyes shut, willing her memories to return. But only fragments came: the crowd cheering, the guitar strings under her fingertips, the feel of the microphone in her hand, the heat of the stage lights... and the exhilaration of performing, the thrill of connecting with an audience on such an intimate level.


    Yet, intermingled with these precious moments... blood, flowing between her fingers, hot and sticky; a blade slicing into flesh, bone crunching; screams and cries of terror ringing in her ears.


    Two lives, two voices, one soul... merged into a single, fractured person.


    Aubrey threw back her head and screamed, her voice echoing through the night like the cry of a wounded beast, shattering the silence of the graveyard.


    Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving streaks of mud on her pale skin. Her hair whipped around her head, tangled and unruly like a dark halo.


    Her voice tore through the air¡ªa primordial wail that rattled the bones of the dead. Trees bent and swayed, their branches twisting and cracking, as if in agony. Leaves ripped free, swirling in violent eddies around her. Gravestones quivered, and tombstones split and crumbled.


    As her scream tapered off, the graveyard fell deathly still once more. The echoes of her grief lingered in the air, fading to a murmur.


    Aubrey sank to her knees, gasping and trembling. The anger had fled, leaving behind only emptiness and exhaustion. Her gaze swept across the devastation around her¡ªthe broken tombstones, the disturbed graves, the upended plants and flowers.


    That... wasn''t normal. But then again, so was everything that she just went through.


    How did I do that?


    The question whispered through her mind, hanging in the air like a forgotten word. Her voice... something was different about it. A resonance, an echo... it carried a power she''d never felt before.


    She touched her throat, trying to understand. She hadn''t just yelled or shouted¡ªsomething had happened when she screamed. It was like... music.


    Yes, that''s what it was: a note, a pure, undulating tone...


    A shimmering light appeared, hovering in front of her face, interrupting her thoughts. With a gentle pulse, the light coalesced into a transparent, holographic screen, with text scrolling across its surface.


    [System Message]


    [Congratulations! You have survived the perils of your awakening!]


    [Name: Aubrey]


    [Race: Revenant (formerly human)]


    [Variant: Banshee]


    [Rank: Prelude]


    [Attributes: Grade]


    [Tempo: E]


    [Dynamics: C]


    [Timbre: D]


    [Pitch: C]


    [Harmony: F]


    [Resonance: E]


    [Cadence: D]


    [Riff: F]


    [You have 4 unspent Talent Points]


    [Notes: Please work on increasing your attributes in order to unlock further progression and abilities.]


    Aubrey stared at the screen, dumbfounded. What is this? Is this real? It felt like a dream, yet somehow more vivid, more intense. The words glowed faintly, pulsing with a steady beat, like a heartbeat.


    A sudden realization flashed through her mind¡ªshe was different. Banshee? Revenant? None of those names brought any clarity; They only increased the sense of surreality surrounding her.


    She touched her chest¡ªfirm, supple skin, the outline of ribs, a rhythmic pulse beneath her fingertips. The sensations anchored her, reminded her she existed in a tangible reality, not just a dreamscape.


    Revenant.


    A reaper.


    A harbinger of death.


    Someone who brought calamity wherever they went. The label felt wrong¡ªtoo heavy, too much. Like a suffocating burden bearing down on her. Her confusion grew as the reality of her situation sunk in.


    I''m... a monster?


    Her hair draped across her face, and she absently brushed it aside. Dark, silken strands...with streaks of red? Since when did that happen? Aubrey sighed in frustration as she untangled the messy locks, scowling as she removed the twigs and dried leaves.


    Sharp gusts of wind whistled through the trees, carrying a chill that penetrated her thin garments. She shivered, hugging her arms close to her chest, then noticed more changes in her appearance. Pale, white skin, the texture of velvet¡ªnot even a hint of a freckle or blemish.


    She frowned, touching her cheek, feeling its smooth, creamy texture. Had she always looked like this? And her nails¡ªlong and sharp, more like claws than anything else. Not the well-groomed and polished nails she remembered having.


    Maybe it''s a side-effect of...whatever happened to me.


    No. That wasn''t true. It went deeper than that. In a way she couldn''t explain, she felt as if her entire body had been altered¡ªalmost as if it weren''t hers.


    Another system message blinked at the corner of her vision. She focused her attention on it, and the text became more visible and legible.


    [New Quest: Discover Your New Powers!]


    [You''ve awakened as a new race and class. Explore your new capabilities and discover how you can use them to achieve your goals!]


    [Objective: Unlock and rank up each of your new attributes, and learn new skills and abilities!]


    [Reward: ???]


    Quest... powers... attributes... It was getting harder and harder to convince herself that this wasn''t a dream. But it felt too real to be one, and she had no idea if she should dismiss it as insanity either. What on earth is happening to me?


    Aubrey leaned against a large gravestone, rubbing her temples, trying to make sense of everything.


    Some of it... made sense, somehow, though she struggled to pinpoint why. Music... her singing... that part felt right. But this System¡ªwhat was it? And where did it come from?


    She closed her eyes, letting her body relax and her mind wander. Memories and feelings trickled in¡ªmusic notes, lyrics, rhythms...they played in her mind, accompanied by melodies only she could hear.


    In those songs, she sensed the answer to her questions, but she couldn''t articulate it in words. Instead, a feeling of assurance settled over her. As if she were in the presence of an old friend, offering support and guidance.


    Was it the System itself? No, that didn''t seem right... it felt more like... her own inner strength. That her subconscious somehow understood and accepted what had transpired, while her conscious mind was still reeling.


    With a long sigh, Aubrey opened her eyes, then nodded toward the screen hovering before her. "I''m listening."


    [System Message: Attributes]


    [Your attributes will shape who you become.]


    [They describe aspects of yourself: your identity, personality, and role. Attributes define how the System sees you, and as they grow, your capabilities will evolve to match them.]


    [Do you wish to know more about your attributes?]


    Aubrey mulled it over a moment. "Yeah, tell me."


    The screen rippled, responding to her mental query.


    [Tempo: (E): Tempo measures the speed and rhythm at which you can act, affecting reaction times, movement speed, and the rate of skill execution.]


    [Dynamics: (C): Dynamics governs the intensity and force behind your actions, influencing the power of attacks, the strength of defenses, and the potency of abilities.]


    [Timbre: (D): Timbre refers to the color, quality, and uniqueness of your abilities, affecting how skills interact with different environments or targets.]


    [Pitch: (C): Pitch determines the range and reach of your abilities, determining the physical and auditory range of skills.]


    [Harmony: (F): Harmony reflects your ability to synchronize with both allies and the environment, enhancing cooperative efforts and environmental interactions.]


    [Resonance: (E): Resonance measures your ability to amplify your actions and those of others through the power of rhythm, essentially enhancing the ''volume'' and impact of actions.]


    [Cadence: (D): Cadence represents your ability to maintain and manipulate the flow of actions and reactions, controlling the pace of encounters.]


    [Riff: (F): Riff embodies your ability to introduce variability and improvisation into your actions, making your movements and decisions less predictable and more adaptable.]


    Aubrey chewed on her lip, scrutinizing the information. These terms were familiar to her, though the context was foreign. There was music in these words... though she still couldn''t quite grasp how it all related to her.


    She scrolled through the attributes again, trying to find an explanation for the letters attached to them.


    "What do the letter grades mean?" she asked. "Are they good or bad?"


    The screen wavered, its edges blurring slightly as a new prompt appeared.


    [Grades are an assessment of capability: F for low, E for average, D for above-average, C for high, B for very high, A for exceptional, S for preeminent, SS for peerless, and SSS for supreme.]


    Aubrey scanned the screen again, raising an eyebrow at the "peerless" and "supreme." That seemed a bit much, even for a world that was obviously more than the regular kind she''d known. She chuckled ruefully at herself as she considered that she''d probably consider SSS an overestimation of her own capabilities back in her original world as well.


    "So, my attributes determine how powerful I''ll become?" Aubrey contemplated what she''d learned so far, still puzzled. "Well, I''m not exactly a fighter..."


    She was a musician. At least, that''s how she felt, deep down. But her lack of solid memories, the jumble of conflicting experiences, made it difficult to know where that impulse came from. Still...her fingers itched to hold an instrument¡ªto strum chords, pluck strings, and caress keys. It was an instinctual compulsion that defied her memories...but resonated with her emotions.


    A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I bet I can really belt out a tune now," she murmured. "I wonder if I could hit a mean falsetto if I wanted to?"


    She started to hum, softly at first, but then her voice rose, weaving a haunting melody in the night air. She let the music carry her away, ignoring the oddity of the world around her. For a brief moment, it was as if nothing else mattered.


    As if on cue, her voice swelled into a crescendo, then stopped. The world paused along with the music¡ªfor just a moment, the rustling of leaves stilled, and the moon hung motionless in the sky.


    And then it continued¡ªas if nothing had changed.


    Aubrey furrowed her brow, frowning. Did... did I just imagine that?


    "What was that?" she gasped, her voice catching in her throat. The world seemed to tremble for just a second¡ªbut perhaps it was just her imagination.


    What... did I just do?


    She stared at the screen, waiting for answers, but none came. Another gust of wind rushed through the trees, sending dry leaves swirling around her, and she shuddered, rubbing her arms to fend off the cold.


    "Right, now''s not the time to stand around thinking. I need to figure out what to do next." Aubrey ran a hand through her tangled hair. "First things first¡ªclothes. Can''t really wander around dressed in this..." She wrinkled her nose at the ragged state of her attire, and then grimaced at the dirt still clinging to her arms and legs. "And a bath¡ªthat too."


    Cleaning herself up would hopefully help clear her mind, too¡ªhelp her see the situation with fresh eyes and a calm head.


    The clank of metal and hushed voices snapped Aubrey''s attention away from the floating screen.


    She whirled towards the sounds.


    In the moonlit gloom, figures emerged from across the cemetery¡ªfour men, clad in mismatched garb of black coats and pants, the glint of steel at their belts. One of the men carried a lantern, its faint yellow glow casting a dim pool of light as they trudged through the rows of tombstones. The others bore shovels and sacks, slung over their shoulders.


    Are they... graverobbers?

 Chapter 2: Unhallowed

    Aubrey ducked behind a tall tombstone and narrowed her eyes, watching them warily as they approached the freshly dug grave she''d climbed out of. They muttered amongst themselves, their voices low and indistinct, but as they neared the grave, the words became clearer.


    One of the men stepped up, holding the lantern over the gaping hole in the ground.


    "This ain''t right¡ªthe dirt''s all turned up," he said, his voice rough and raspy. "Someone''s been here."


    The others glanced at each other, their expressions guarded and uneasy.


    "Look, there''s footprints. Someone''s been walking around here," the shortest of the four men said, gesturing at the ground.


    The four men peered around nervously, their gazes darting from the ground to the darkness beyond the flickering circle of light. Aubrey held her breath, pressing herself tighter against the tombstone, praying that they wouldn''t look in her direction.


    "Come on, we can''t let them get to the loot first!" the fourth man hissed. "Whoever it is, they can''t be that far ahead."


    "What ''bout that deathly wail we heard earlier? Might''ve been this ''someone'' they''re talking about!" the short one added in a whisper.


    Aubrey winced as she recalled the cry of anguish that she''d released earlier¡ªthe one that had seemed to shake the whole graveyard.


    "It''s just the wind¡ªthere''s nothing to worry about!" The largest of the four waved off the suggestion impatiently. "Now stop dawdling, and let''s get this done before someone else does!"


    "Maybe we should wait and come back later¡ª"


    "Don''t be a coward!" The big man pointed his shovel at his companion. "We can take ''em if it''s just one guy." He hefted his shovel in one hand and gestured at the others to follow his lead. "Let''s move!"


    The shorter man cursed, then followed, clutching his own shovel tightly. The other two glanced at each other, hesitating, but then trailed after them with reluctant nods.


    Oh no...


    They''re coming.


    Aubrey''s mind raced. Should she flee? Hide somewhere else? Or stand her ground and fight? Her earlier outburst seemed to show that she wasn''t entirely helpless... but something told her that going toe-to-toe with armed thugs might not end well for her.


    Too late.


    The light from their lantern shone on her hiding spot, illuminating her in the moonlight.


    The men froze in their tracks, their eyes wide as saucers. One of them dropped his shovel in shock, the heavy tool clattering to the ground. The other two staggered back, their faces pale with terror.


    "Oi! That lass ain''t right, look at her eyes!" the one with the raspy voice holding the lantern muttered, taking a step back.


    "Blimey, she''s an unhal¡ªunhallowed!" The bald one stumbled over his words in panic, pointing a shaking finger at her.


    "We should get out of here!" The shorter one yelped, fumbling to turn back.


    "No, no," the big man with a scar across his cheek, argued. "Might just be some poor lass lost ''er mind, wandering ''bout." Despite the tough demeanor he tried to put on, the edge in his voice betrayed his fear.


    "Yeah? Well, looks like we got us a live one!" the bald one jeered, waving his shovel at her. His confidence returned, bolstered by the presence of the others.


    Aubrey swallowed hard. Her gaze darted from one man to another, her mind still scrambling for a plan. Maybe she could reason with them... play up the distressed maiden card, act confused and innocent...


    She stood up, doing her best to compose herself.


    "Um... hello?" she greeted them, raising her voice loud enough to be heard clearly. "Can you tell me where I am¡ªI think I''ve lost my way." She gave them her best lost-and-confused-girl impression, with a shaky smile and a quiver in her voice. "I''ve... I''ve gone a little mad, I think... from grief... but I don''t want any trouble." She fidgeted with her torn, stained skirt, trying to appear as helpless and vulnerable as possible.


    "See, it''s nothing. She''s just some poor soul who''s cracked her gourd, is all." The scar-faced man barked out a harsh laugh, though the sound trembled and cracked. He shot a dark glance at his companions, who looked back with dubious expressions.


    "Just some crazy bint, wandering around a graveyard... and that unholy cry we heard earlier... yeah, right." The raspy-voiced man sneered, spitting into the dirt. "Methinks she''s the one who disturbed the corpse. Don''t like the sound of this, mate."


    "Aw, quit yer bellyachin'', ya bloomin'' gutless chickenshit!" The big man snarled at the other three. "No crazed lass coulda'' raised that hellish screech! Yer just trying to scare yerselves, ye bunch of ninnies." He snorted with disdain. "Ain''t gonna make me lose none of my sleep!"


    His words didn''t convince anyone, especially not himself, and Aubrey saw him clutch the handle of his shovel tighter.


    This isn''t working... they''re not buying it...


    Aubrey backed away a few steps, eyeing the four of them warily. The short one picked up his fallen shovel, brandishing the tool with a determined look. The one with a raspy voice held the lantern high, squinting at her in the weak, flickering light.


    "Hold on, mate¡ªshe looks different..." he murmured, peering at her as he rubbed his chin. "The unhallowed I''ve seen don''t look so... decent."


    The men exchanged glances, then moved closer to her. The one holding the lamp turned back to the grave she''d clawed her way out of. "Somethin''s definitely off here. Still looks like she just crawled out of her grave, dunnit? Can''t be a livin'' girl, no sirree! We should get her in chains, quick-like... there''s bound to be a pretty penny for her catchin''."


    "Aye. Could be worth a fortune, she could. Heard the Twilight Cabal be payin'' good coin for unhallowed of her sort. They''ll be ''appy to get their hands on her, sure ''nuff." The bald one who had been quiet for a while finally chimed in with a snaggletooth grin, licking his lips.


    Twilight Cabal... I don''t like the sound of that... and neither did the other two, judging from the way they bristled at the name.


    "But what if she''s cursed?" the short one whispered, his shovel shaking in his grasp. "We should call the Knights of the Cogsworn Order, let them deal with it."


    "Gah, who''s more likely to end up cursed¡ªthem sanctimonious poncey knights or us?" the bald one spat. "Only chance we got is to sell her off to the highest bidder, before she turns into some ghoul or wraith. An'' if it means a hefty pile of coin for the lot of us¡ªthen we''re gonna keep our mouths shut an'' pray for luck. Aye?"


    The short one shook his head, unconvinced, but the big one grumbled in agreement, stepping forward.


    "All right, lovey¡ªyou''ll come nice and quiet with us now, won''tcha?" His crooked, leering grin gave her goosebumps.


    Aubrey backed away faster as they drew nearer, holding out her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Stop¡ªdon''t come any closer! I¡ªI... please, leave me alone!"


    The men fanned out, their movements now cautious, as if stalking prey. Aubrey''s mind spun as she tried to decide what to do¡ªfight or run? Her gaze flicked around, searching for any avenue of escape¡ªbut no matter what, there was always someone blocking her path.


    The distance between her and the group of men shrank.


    Damn it... If only she had her guitar¡ªeven a staff or a club of some sort. Hell, she''d settle for a nice rock to throw¡ªor even a stick. Even just a distraction, a chance to get away...


    Aubrey''s mind scrambled for options as she glanced around furtively. Her gaze slid over the shovels that they wielded, noting the coarse, rusty iron heads, the chipped wood handles, and the layers of dirt and grime caked on them.


    The short one had a small knife on him¡ªthat she could snatch and stab... but it was tucked in the belt at his waist¡ªeasy for him to draw if she got close.


    She stole a peek at her own fingernails¡ªlong and claw-like¡ªthen at the fine, pale skin of her bare hands.


    Am I... actually considering fighting them?


    Aubrey scowled, dropping the damsel-in-distress act. "Seriously, guys¡ªgo away...or... or else." The words tumbled from her mouth before she could think twice.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The four men snickered, glancing at each other in disbelief. "Or else, she says!" the big, scar-faced man mocked. "Ye gonna scream us ta'' death, sweetie-luv?"


    His eyes leered down her body, lingering on her curves, exposed by the sheer, diaphanous gown she wore. He licked his lips, then grinned.


    "Hey, lads, think she''s got enough meat on her to keep us warm ''n fed for a couple o'' nights, eh? Might even break some of our celibate streak, if ye know what I mean."


    ¡°I ain¡¯t touchin¡¯ no Unhallowed, no matter how bewitchin¡¯ they is.¡±


    Aubrey shivered at the revulsion that came with the disgusting words. She''d dealt with her fair share of creepy fans and rude paparazzi in her career... but the unbridled, lecherous intent in that gaze and smirk was like nothing she''d ever experienced.


    That was a side of human depravity that she''d never known before... but she knew it now.


    What could she do? Maybe she could let out that scream again¡­ the one that cracked the gravestones. That should deafen them enough for her to slip away¡­


    [The free one-time use of the Bashee ability ¡°Final Dirge¡± has been expended. You must acquire the ability normally from here onward.]


    Aubrey nearly jumped at the System''s notification¡ªthen inwardly swore at the implication.


    So, that was the equivalent of a freebie...?


    The men pressed closer, spreading out to surround her. Aubrey shifted her stance, moving onto the balls of her feet. Her breaths came faster, and her heart pounded in her chest. She clenched her hands into fists, readying herself.


    "Stay away from me!" Aubrey''s voice sounded stronger in her ears, no longer the pleading tones of a frightened girl. Instead, the words rang out like a battlecry.


    The four men hesitated, caught off guard by her sudden change of attitude. The lantern-bearing one laughed nervously, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.


    "Heh, listen, lass¡ªwe ain''t lookin'' to hurt yer none; we jus'' wanna talk..." He took a step forward, the lantern bobbing in the air as he lifted it higher. Its wavering light cast shadows across their faces, leering at her through the gloom.


    Aubrey retreated until her back pressed up against the gravestone. Her fingers grasped the cool stone as her skin prickled with awareness of the approaching men. Their stench filled her nostrils¡ªthe rancid smell of unwashed bodies, filthy clothes, and rank breath.


    The first shovel swung through the air at her head.


    It came so fast that she barely had time to react¡ªjust a split second to lean back, and the dull metal blade clanged against the tombstone with a spray of sparks.


    Aubrey pushed away, avoiding a second blow that hit the gravestone where she had stood a heartbeat ago.


    The third swing came too swiftly to dodge. The crude weapon glanced off her shoulder, drawing a sharp line of pain across her skin. She hissed, wincing as blood trickled down her arm, then leapt to the side to avoid the next attack.


    She cried out, ducking as a fourth swing sliced through the air where her head had just been. A fifth strike¡ªaimed lower¡ªgrazed her leg, tearing the thin fabric of her dress and biting into her thigh. Aubrey shrieked, falling to one knee, and narrowly evaded a final, overhead swipe that sent dirt flying.


    "Shit! I cut her!" The bald man panicked, staring at the blood-covered shovel.


    The scar-faced man cursed, kicking her in the ribs as she knelt, sending her sprawling onto her side.


    Pain flared through her body. Aubrey gasped, clutching her side.


    "She''s bleedin'' red, not black! She ain¡¯t an Unhallowed?"


    "Don''t care! Get the restraints!"


    Aubrey scrambled back as they closed in on her, the short one reaching for a coil of rope hanging off his belt. She grabbed a fistful of loose dirt and flung it at their faces, causing a few to flinch and falter, covering their eyes.


    "Get her, damn it!"


    A fire of defiance burned inside her, ignited by disgust and hatred. She didn''t care¡ªshe was tired of feeling afraid, tired of trying to be reasonable. It felt like she was already on the verge of losing it, anyway¡ªof completely flipping her lid and just snapping.


    Fuck it, I''ve had it!


    Amidst the shouts and curses, music began filling her ears¡ªa wild, frenzied tune that filled her with a strange, feverish energy. Aubrey could almost see the notes dancing in the air¡ªtiny, glowing, twinkling dots of light.


    [Harmonic Synesthesia initiated]


    The next moment, visual cues started to manifest, as if in response to her internal rhythm. Aubrey''s vision swam with color and texture; the colors shifted and blended into patterns of hues and tints¡ªalmost like a psychedelic trip.


    What the...


    She saw the wide arc of a shovel blade¡ªits trajectory traced by a shimmering, ghostly line that trailed in front of the swing as if predicting its path. A pulsing icon led her eye to a potential dodge point, where a soft, glowing blue circle floated in the air.


    Acting on instinct, she threw herself sideways towards the glowing circle. The shovel blade passed harmlessly through the space where she had stood.


    [Successful Evasion: Con Brio!]


    She blinked, dazed, but the rhythm and beat of the music remained. Her mind latched on to it, syncing to the cadence. It felt natural¡ªeffortless, almost.


    The next moment, more visual cues manifested. The time and place where each shovel blow would land, along with the timing and point of impact. They flickered, then coalesced into visible traces that she could easily discern.


    Aubrey thrust her hand forward, into a bright orange target marker that shone brightly. A sound¡ªa dissonant buzzing noise¡ªrang out, and the tip of her finger glowed, becoming outlined with an eerie, reddish light. It slammed into the scar-faced man, staggering him and making him drop his shovel.


    A momentary flash of golden light glimmered where she''d struck him, accompanied by the sound of a cymbal crash.


    [Successful Counterattack: Con Brio!]


    What the actual...


    The rhythmic music flowing through her mind became louder, more insistent, and the visual cues and patterns strengthened with it. The next series of attacks flowed like a choreographed dance, perfectly aligned with the beat and tempo of the music.


    She twisted and danced among the shower of swings and strikes, ducking under a horizontal chop, and leaning back as a vertical blow swept past her face. She rolled to the side to dodge the next attack, then sprang back to her feet.


    Another sequence of rhythmic visual cues flashed around her¡ªcues for her counterattacks. She didn''t question it¡ªinstead she just let the music guide her.


    The red-and-orange glow of an incoming strike lingered in her vision. Aubrey kicked off the ground, driving her heel into the bald man''s nose with a crunch and a burst of bright crimson blood.


    [Successful Counterattack: Con Brio!]


    She planted her hand against a gravestone as she spun past it, using it to propel herself back. A moment later, one of the other men ran into it with a grunt, a hollow thump accompanying the collision.


    As she completed the acrobatic maneuver, she flicked her wrist and raked her claws across the neck and face of the one with the lamp, sending him reeling back and collapsing in a screaming heap.


    "My eyes!" he cried, dropping the lantern, and blindly stumbled away. The glass cover shattered, and the wick snuffed out, plunging everything into darkness. "I can''t see¡ªmy eyes!"


    Aubrey felt a sense of vindication at the sight, and a cruel grin crossed her lips.


    The big man roared and charged, swinging his shovel wildly. The ghostly trace of the next swing warned her in time to roll to the side, and the dull iron head struck a gravestone.


    In the sudden darkness, she couldn''t see well¡ªbut the patterns of color and movement around her, overlaid by the music, guided her.


    Another series of visual cues appeared¡ªa set of attacks from the big one and the bald one, with overlapping timing.


    She tapped her foot, testing the timing, then sidestepped to let one man collide with the other, knocking them both off-balance.


    "Oof¡ªget the fuck off of me, you bastard!"


    Aubrey seized the opportunity and lashed out with her own strike. Her claws tore into the bald man''s chest, opening bloody gashes with a wet, tearing sound. He screamed and clutched at his wounds, stumbling back into a gravestone.


    [Successful Evasion and Counterattack: Con Brio!]


    Strike, evade, counter, duck, weave.


    Over and over, Aubrey fell into a trance-like state, reacting instinctively to the visual cues and rhythmic patterns presented by the music. Was this some sort of foresight?


    It was like seeing a second or two into the future¡ªexcept it wasn''t quite that¡ªmore like... the music played her fate and she simply danced to the tune.


    Every parry, every counter, and dodge¡ªit all fell in sync with the music in her mind, guided by the rhythmic cues. And each successful strike or dodge was accompanied by the melodic sound of a musical note or an instrument playing in the background, layered over the ongoing flow of music that dominated her thoughts.


    The grave robbers'' confusion mounted as she fought back¡ªand her advantage grew. Aubrey unleashed a relentless barrage of vicious attacks, raking her claws across limbs, faces, and chests. Each slash was followed by the meaty, tearing sound of flesh parting, and the hot, thick scent of fresh blood.


    Screams filled the air, growing increasingly desperate and frantic.


    Aubrey''s skin grew slick with blood, her hands covered with gore and viscera, her nails clogged with scraps of cloth and chunks of flesh.


    Through it all, Aubrey never felt the slightest hint of mercy or hesitation. Instead, her fury¡ªthe sheer hatred and disgust she felt for these men¡ªonly seemed to grow.


    With a snarl, she drove her elbow into the jaw of the short one, sending him reeling, and then delivered a devastating kick to the groin of the one with a raspy voice as he crawled along the ground.


    Their cries of agony mixed with the constant cadence and rhythm of the music. A sick, sadistic joy coursed through her at the sight and sound.


    "N-no! M-mercy! Please!" the raspy-voiced man sobbed, writhing in pain on the ground as he curled into a ball, one hand grasping futilely at a bloodied mess between his legs. The other hand waved frantically in front of him, as if to fend her off. "S-stop! I beg you, please¡ªno more!"


    Aubrey paid no heed to the pitiful, wheedling words, instead bringing her foot down upon his back and stepping on him as he writhed beneath her.


    Her long, black hair fell across her eyes, obscuring her vision. She paused to brush it back, tucking a few stray strands behind one ear. Her other hand, soaked with crimson gore, left streaks of sticky wetness across her cheek, but she hardly noticed.


    As the battle slowed, so did the music. The rest of the graverobbers lay crumpled and bleeding, moaning and whimpering incoherently, as they struggled to crawl away.


    Aubrey turned her gaze to the scar-faced man who''d first confronted her. His breathing came in ragged, gasping gulps. His teeth chattered from fear and pain as he cradled a broken, mangled arm.


    Aubrey took a single, measured step toward him.


    "W-wait¡ª" The words came out in a gurgling rasp as a bubble of blood swelled from between his lips.


    She paused, tilting her head as she stared at the man with cold, unsympathetic eyes.


    Suddenly, she felt an unfamiliar pull towards that fear, a hunger she hadn''t recognized until now. Her pulse raced as she heard his racing heart, pounding wildly, throbbing inside her head. Like a feast of delicacies spread before a starving woman, all her senses focused on it with rapt intensity.


    [Variant: Banshee]


    [Description: A type of psychic vampire capable of feeding on intense emotions. You rely on your appearance, voice, and personality to provoke strong emotional responses from others. By heightening your prey''s emotions, you create a mental link that allows you to feed on your victim¡¯s energy. Emotions of euphoria or terror provide the most nourishment, while emotions of moderate intensity provide less so.]


    What? What in the ever-loving fuck...

 Chapter 3: Banshee鈥檚 Harvest

    Aubrey stared at the screen with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. The words "psychic vampire" stood out in particular. She brushed her tongue across the tips of her fangs.


    Yeah... That... sounds about right.


    The knowledge settled within her, a missing puzzle piece clicking into place. That sensation from earlier, the way she had somehow latched onto those men''s feelings of terror¡ªthat must have been it.


    And if that were true...


    Her eyes wandered to the scar-faced man. Hunger rumbled not just in her stomach, but across her entire body. She felt her senses drinking in the aroma and essence of his emotions¡ªterror, horror, desperation... all so tempting... so delicious... so... necessary.


    Aubrey reached down to grip his collar and pull him closer. The scar-faced man moaned weakly as she drew near. She felt his breath¡ªhot and damp on her cheek. Felt his eyes staring into hers, unblinking... full of dread.


    With her free hand, she wiped away some of the blood on his face, revealing the long, deep claw marks across his features.


    She touched the cuts gingerly, savoring his reaction, the way he shuddered and flinched with every trembling, quivering breath.


    Then she leaned in and whispered softly, "Now, let''s try this again... shall we?"


    She watched as his pupils dilated, his eyes widening further, and his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. "S-spare me! P-please..." he begged, his voice cracking.


    Aubrey licked her lips, a slow smile creeping across her face. "Can you tell me where I am?" The whispered words slipped from her lips by two layered voices¡ªhers... and... another woman''s that sounded eerily like her own¡ªharmonizing together. It made her pause in surprise for a moment.


    No. Not just any woman''s. The dead girl''s.


    And from the shocked look in the scarred man''s eyes, it was clear he had heard it, too.


    "P-please... just let me go. I swear, I''ll never tell anyone who or what you are," he pleaded, his voice quavering.


    Aubrey ignored him, asking again, "Can you tell me where I am? I think I''ve lost my way." She took hold of his chin, forcing him to stare into her eyes. "I''ve... I''ve gone a little mad, I think... from grief... but I don''t want any trouble."


    The scarred man let out a gasp as she repeated the words from earlier, exactly as she had said them. Then he stammered through a series of unintelligible syllables and stutters before finally managing to utter, "T-the C-Caldecott Cemetery. O-outside of Mordenstradt..."


    "Thank you. So nice of you to answer me..." Aubrey smiled gently, stroking his cheek with one finger. She tilted her head as she gazed at him. "I''m sorry for how... ugly... things have gotten tonight."


    Aubrey relished in the rush of exhilaration as she fed off his emotions¡ªas his despair and terror transformed into a subtle, pleasurable warmth that filled her.


    Her other hand held a firm grip on the back of his neck. Her claws dug into his skin, piercing it easily and drawing fresh blood. She inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating smell, the salty-sweet tang of it tickling her nose and filling her mouth with drool.


    "But sometimes... a girl just needs a good meal," she purred, and lowered her face to his. She extended her tongue, slipping it between her fangs and tasting the hot, metallic liquid that streamed down from the cuts in his forehead and cheeks. "Mmm..."


    Aubrey drank his fear¡ªdrained every last drop of his despair. And once she''d sucked him dry, she leaned in close and whispered, "But don''t worry¡ªit will be over soon."


    Aubrey drew his head back, exposing his throat. He tried to struggle, but he had no strength left, and his struggles proved futile. She placed her mouth against the soft skin just below his chin, opening her jaws wide. She sank her teeth deep into his flesh and tore out a chunk, spitting it aside.


    Then she bit down again¡ªand again.


    Until his screams stopped and the body went limp in her arms.


    She licked her lips with a satisfied sigh as she tossed the corpse away.


    The three remaining graverobbers¡ªwell, two since she left one blind¡ªscreamed in terror after witnessing the gruesome scene, scrambling away from her as fast as their battered bodies could manage.


    The aura of fear and panic that poured out from the three was as potent as it was succulent, sending a thrill through her body and urging her to follow in pursuit.


    Aubrey sauntered towards the fleeing men, keeping them within reach of her senses, all the while humming a tune that mimicked the fading music in her head. Her long black hair fell about her shoulders in wild, tangled waves, framing her pale white skin with a tattered, crimson-streaked curtain.


    ? ? I¡¯ve got a cup drained dry, and I¡¯m raising a blade to you, ah-oh ? ?


    She trailed her fingertips lightly over the rough, weathered surface of the tombstones she passed.


    ? ? I¡¯ve found a path of bones at the end of the moonlight too, ah-oh ? ?


    As she approached the short man, his terror hit a peak, prompting her to surge forward and pin his ankle to the ground with her foot. He let out a shrill cry and clawed desperately at the dirt, trying to drag himself away from her.


    She giggled as she reached down, grasping the man''s face with one hand and digging her long, claw-like nails into his scalp.


    With her other hand, she caressed his throat with tender, loving care.


    He screamed as she slowly dragged her fingers across his skin, slicing a deep, bloody gash from ear to ear. As his lifeblood spurted forth in gushing torrents, she consumed the terror pouring off him, reveling in its salty flavor until his death closed the door to its delights.


    ? ? Oo-oo, oo-oo, this is purgatory on a thorned stick ? ?


    Next came the bald man. His frantic attempt to crawl away from her ended with him trapped in a corner of the cemetery, hemmed in by a wall of graves and headstones. She caught up to him quickly, stepping on his back to stop him from squirming away any farther.


    He choked out a wordless cry as she flipped him over onto his back. She crouched down on top of him, straddling his chest. He flailed about wildly, attempting to buck her off, but she held him firmly in place with ease.


    ? ? Oo-oo, oo-oo, life¡¯s a bittersweet flick¡­ ? ?


    With a casual, almost lazy motion, she brought her clawed fingers down across his face, slashing open a jagged wound across his nose and right cheek.


    "Please... God..." he pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "P-please... don''t..."


    His pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears as she continued to mutilate his features, leaving trails of bloody scars crisscrossing his face and neck while inhaling the fragrance of his terror.


    Finally, she clamped her hands around his neck and squeezed, crushing his windpipe as she drained his fear. When the life faded from his eyes, she gave one last tug, breaking his neck with a sharp, brutal twist of her wrists.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    She stalked back to the blind raspy-voiced man who had collapsed to his knees with a sob. He covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth.


    "Oh god¡ªoh please... have mercy! No more! I''m begging you... no more!" He broke down, his body convulsing as he wept uncontrollably.


    Her soft footfalls must be like thunder to him, booming in his ears. And even though he couldn''t see her, he trembled violently, knowing that she approached.


    "P-p-please..."


    She stepped closer, lowering herself and letting her hair fall forward, framing her face, so she could gaze at the weeping man. She then walked around behind him and laid a hand on his back, running her fingers gently up and down his spine. He jumped when her fingers reached the nape of his neck.


    "No... no, no!" he shrieked. "D-don''t! Don''t do it!"


    "Don''t what?" she murmured innocently.


    "D-don''t... don''t k-kill me!"


    "Mmm... Why not?"


    "Please!" he begged, turning to face her with tearful eyes. "I have a wife, a little girl¡ªshe''s only three years old! My family¡ªthey need me!" He crawled closer, grasping at her dress as his hands searched for something to cling to.


    His hands found her leg, gripping it tightly, pleading with her. His fear, desperation, and sorrow washed over her, and Aubrey relished it.


    "They love me¡ªmy family¡ªplease..."


    Her hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him back down into the dirt. She moved in and lowered her head so that her lips brushed against the shell of his ear as she whispered, "Shhh... it''s okay... it''ll all be over soon."


    "NO!" he screamed in anguish, his voice raw and strained. "NOOOOOOOOOO!"


    With one swift, smooth motion, she slashed his throat wide open, ending his miserable existence with a gurgling gasp.


    Aubrey let out a long exhale as she rose to her feet. The soft notes of music played out in her mind, then faded away to silence. The effects of whatever trance had taken her over had evaporated, leaving her with a slight headache, but she felt energized in a strange, jittery manner.


    She raised her arms towards the moon as if trying to embrace it.


    Her skin was no longer deathly pale. Instead, she radiated with a rosy complexion, glowing in the moonlight. Blood splatter had stained her clothes and caked on her skin, but underneath it, the porcelain skin of a beautiful young woman still shone through.


    She arched her back and stretched lazily, then grinned in delight at the sudden realization. She wasn''t hungry anymore¡ªat least, not for food.


    "Ah... Now, that hit the spot. Heh." She laughed¡ªa genuine, sincere laugh¡ªthe first since waking up in a grave.


    It felt good to laugh again.


    The fog of anger and hunger had cleared, and Aubrey felt lucid for the first time.


    "Holy shit, did I... actually just kill four people?" Aubrey muttered, dumbfounded. Yet, oddly, she wasn''t horrified. Well, maybe a little bit, yeah, but not in the way that normal people probably would''ve reacted.


    Instead, she just felt a strange, detached indifference¡ªlike watching a particularly disturbing movie.


    But still, her actions surprised her¡ªhow savagely she had behaved, without a shred of remorse or regret.


    Sure, the graverobbers were complete assholes, no doubt¡ªhell, worse than that¡ªbut still... killing someone should have left a bad taste, at least, shouldn''t it?


    Yet, the memory of ripping the scar-faced guy''s throat out... didn''t disturb her. Nor the sight of the blind-eyed, raspy-voiced guy, gurgling and drowning in his own blood...


    Aubrey supposed it could have something to do with the banshee-thing, and the System-whatever...


    Well, whatever. Aubrey shrugged. Can''t say they didn''t have it coming.


    She shook her head, clearing her mind from the disturbing thoughts.


    After a short period of self-reflection, she turned her gaze towards the city looming past the cemetery gates¡ªa glittering sprawl of buildings and spires, lit up with an array of colored lights. From a distance, it looked pretty, even peaceful.


    The faint scent of smoke, dust, and industry tickled her nose. That must be the place: Mordenstradt.


    Aubrey grinned.


    There was no point in feeling lost, confused, and scared anymore. She may not remember much of her previous life, but she sensed the echoes of her former self: an outgoing, optimistic, vibrant starlet with a reputation for defying authority¡ªsomeone who refused to take any shit from anyone, especially not from people who deserved it.


    Not that she wouldn''t enjoy playing the helpless, innocent, lost little waif, if the situation called for it...


    The other part of her who had lived here before¡ªin this world¡ªseemed to agree, albeit somewhat reluctantly. But the burning desire for vengeance... the rage... that emotion blazed brighter than ever, and that passion flowed through her, fuelling her resolve.


    There were a lot of things she had to do. She needed to figure out why she had awakened in this world in the first place... then find the people who murdered her.


    All the answers were out there... somewhere.


    One way or another, Aubrey promised herself, She''d find the truth.


    Suddenly, a message window popped into her peripheral view.


    [You''ve acquired a small amount of experience]


    [You have 4 unused Talent Points still remaining]


    She raised her eyebrow, pondering the prompt.


    So, killing and feeding on those scumbags had provided her some... experience points¡ªsomething like a game mechanic? Well, if a system wanted to quantify and reward her kills, who was she to refuse the acknowledgment?


    Hmm... Talent points. Well, since I''m starting a new life, maybe I should invest these somewhere useful. What are my options?


    [There are six skill trees to choose from: Sonata Path, Rondo Route, Fugue Journey, Adagio Avenue, Allegro Street, and Ritmo Road.]


    [Sonata Path: This skill tree is structured around the principles of a musical sonata, emphasizing balance, structure, and adaptability in combat. This path allows for a versatile approach, enabling practitioners to seamlessly switch between offense and defense, adapting their strategy to the flow of battle.]


    [Fugue Journey: This skill tree is inspired by the complexity and interwoven melodies of a fugue, focusing on intricate, multi-layered skills that confuse and outmaneuver opponents. This path specializes in deception, agility, and strategic use of the battlefield to gain an advantage.]


    [Rondo Route: This skill tree is designed around the principles of endurance and repetition, making it ideal for sustained engagements and battles against multiple foes. Skills are focused on durability, resource management, and the ability to maintain a consistent level of performance over long periods.]


    [Ritmo Road: This skill tree offers a unique journey for those who perceive the underlying rhythm of combat, a path for tacticians who can read the ebb and flow of battle as easily as a conductor reads a score. Skills cultivated here enable a practitioner to disrupt, synchronize, and ultimately control the battlefield, turning the chaotic clamor into a harmonious symphony that plays to their tune.]


    [Adagio Avenue: This skill tree is centered around the concept of control, emphasizing a patient, methodical approach, and strategic foresight. Skills developed here focus on turning the tide of battle through calculated defense, powerful counterattacks, and the ability to withstand onslaughts until the perfect moment for retaliation reveals itself.]


    [Allegro Street: This skill tree beckons to the spirited and swift, those with the zest to dash into the fray and the agility to emerge unscathed. Skills developed here focus on mobility, the speed of strikes, and the ability to evade and dodge danger. Those who walk this path must not blink, and certainly not stutter.]


    Wow, that''s a lot... Where do I even start?


    Aubrey scratched her head. It was overwhelming, having the choice of six different paths available. How could she decide which skill tree to pick, when they all sounded intriguing in their own ways?


    After spending what seemed like hours examining each skill tree in detail, she managed to pick the four skills that spoke to her the most.


    [Introit of the Valiant Heart (Sonata Path, Tier 1, Passive Skill): Enhances basic attacks with a rhythmic flow, increasing your speed and precision.]


    [Cadence Amidst Counterpoints (Fugue Journey, Tier 1, Passive Skill): Increases evasion, allowing you to gracefully sidestep attacks, mirroring the counterpoint in a fugue where two melodies play off each other.]


    [Staccato Step (Allegro Street, Tier 1, Passive Skill): Enhances agility, allowing for quick, short bursts of movement to close distances and evade attacks.]


    [Shove of the Heartbeat''s Force (Ritmo Road, Tier 1, Active Skill): A skill that creates a shockwave timed to the combat''s rhythm, pushing back and damaging nearby enemies. Cooldown: 8 seconds.]


    Those will do, for now.


    "Well... it''s time to get going.¡± She cracked her knuckles and stretched her neck.


    With a jaunty step, Aubrey headed towards the wrought-iron gates that marked the entrance of the cemetery. She wondered if the gate would even open, or if the graverobbers had locked it from the outside... but with a bit of effort, she managed to shove them apart enough to slip through the gap.


    Once on the other side, she glanced back one last time towards the mound of earth where she''d crawled out from. The grave bore no marker or sign¡ªjust a crude rectangle of disturbed soil.


    Whoever had buried her there... it wasn''t the one who killed her. She''d learned enough to understand that much.


    Aubrey blew a kiss to the pile of dirt and grinned. She didn''t know who put her in that grave¡ªbut she had a sneaking suspicion that she''d be meeting them again sooner or later. She''d make sure of that.


    After a brief, melancholy moment, she turned and walked away, sauntering down the main road towards the city while humming a cheerful tune. Not exactly the song that she would belt out at a concert... but it was still appropriate enough.


    ? ? Oh, wa-Oh,


    on the dark side,


    oh, uh-Oh,


    the dark side,


    dum, de-dum, dum,


    on the dark side,


    oh, wa-Oh,


    the dark side¡­ ? ?

 Chapter 4: Gravekeeper

    The outskirts of the cemetery, with its looming wrought-iron gates and the ever-present mist, felt like a boundary between worlds. Like she''d crossed through the veil from a liminal, lonely place of death into a new land where the living dwelt.


    A dirt road stretched ahead, empty and barren under the pale, waning moon. A chill breeze blew through the tall grass on either side of the path, stirring the vegetation as she passed. Her black gown, tattered and soil-stained, clung to her form, fluttering in the wind as she strode forward.


    Off the beaten path, nestled amongst a copse of gnarled oaks, stood the caretaker''s dwelling¡ªa quaint, two-story cottage with steam vents curling up into the sky and the warm glow of lamplight flickering through the windows. The porch had several wicker chairs strewn across the front. A stone path led up to the door.


    Aubrey wandered over to investigate. Upon reaching the steps, she hesitated. Should she knock? If someone came out, would they invite her in? Would they ask questions? Offer her help?


    Do they have phones in this world? Or like... a hotline number for an insane asylum?


    She frowned. She couldn''t trust anyone... but what choice did she have?


    The front door creaked open slightly. Aubrey froze, her heartbeat quickening. Had someone seen her approaching?


    A man poked his head out, looking around cautiously.


    He wore simple brown robes with a hood pulled up over his head. A pair of spectacles rested on his nose, reflecting the light of the candles burning inside. When his gaze fell upon her, his eyes grew wide. "Y-you...! G-get away, I buried you...!"


    The caretaker yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed back into the house.


    Aubrey stood rooted to the spot, unsure whether to run or stay.


    A few seconds later, the man reappeared, clutching a rusty pistol.


    "Stay back! Stay back, Unhallowed!" he shouted as he waved the gun in her direction. "I said, stay back!"


    Aubrey raised her hands in a placating gesture, trying her best to appear unthreatening. "W-wait! I¡ªI can explain!"


    The man faltered. For a moment, he seemed unsure whether to press forward or retreat. Finally, he steadied his hand and leveled the barrel at her. "You¡ªyou shouldn''t have returned! The ground isn''t yours; your place is in the grave!"


    The muzzle of the weapon shifted slightly from side to side as he tried to decide what to do with it. It probably wasn''t loaded, but it might contain one round, and even a single shot could likely end her.


    "Look, I know this is hard to believe, but¡ª" she began, taking a cautious step backward, hoping that he didn''t shoot her just yet. "¡ªbut I woke up in that coffin... and I don''t remember anything. Please, I don''t mean you any harm, I promise. I just... I don''t know where to go."


    The man scoffed at that. "As if I''d believe you! I''m not a fool, Unhallowed!"


    Aubrey grimaced. So far, her plan to convince the guy not to shoot her wasn''t working. "Wait... Listen... If I wanted to hurt you, don''t you think I''d have attacked you already?"


    That earned her a moment''s consideration. The man lowered the gun slightly. "You... wait... I¡ªI did bury you myself! Three days ago. How''d you...?"


    "Yeah. Uh, about that. I¡ªuh, well... I dug my way out? Pretty much¡ªyeah, I did that, I guess? Ha, ha..." She trailed off weakly, feeling her words stumble as she struggled for a more convincing explanation.


    The caretaker''s expression grew wary, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Then you are an Unhallowed! You must die!"


    Aubrey put on her best smile. "Oi! Wait¡ªwhat¡ªI''m not Unholy! That''s, like, totally unfair, dude! Just listen, alright? Let''s talk it out¡ªcatch ourselves a beer or two¡ªwork things out like civilized folk, yeah?"


    She tried to laugh off her fear, but it came out as a nervous giggle.


    The man reached for something in his pocket and retrieved a small bottle filled with teal-colored fluid. Without hesitating, he flicked the cork off and splashed her with its contents.


    She flinched as the liquid splattered across her arm, causing her flesh to sizzle and burn. With a yell of alarm, she stumbled back, clutching at the wound.


    It didn''t hurt too badly, but it stung like hell, and her skin felt uncomfortably warm where the stuff had landed. The man immediately doused her with another splash, but she managed to dodge this one by spinning to one side, causing it to miss her and hit the ground.


    "Holy water!" the caretaker snarled. "You are an Unhallowed! A foul spawn of darkness¡ªa damned soul! For this crime, I banish you from the light and cast you back to the Nether!"


    He pointed the gun directly at her head and fired.


    Click. Click.


    Aubrey winced as the hammer clicked impotently against the firing pin.


    "Um... nothing happened. Are you sure it''s loaded?" she asked, watching the man with a quirked brow.


    He stared at the gun for a long moment. Then he smacked the cylinder open and checked the chambers.


    Now''s my chance!


    Aubrey lunged forward and grabbed the man''s wrist with one hand, pulling herself closer as she reached for the weapon with the other. She ripped it from his grasp and hurled it into the brush before he could react.


    "Damn you, demon!" the caretaker screamed, struggling wildly against her grip.


    "Goddamn it¡ªshut up, already! Will you just¡ªlet me fucking talk!" She punctuated the exclamation with a hard shove, sending him stumbling back into the living room, where he collapsed in a heap.


    She advanced on him with deliberate strides, her footsteps creaking softly against the floorboards.


    The man whimpered, his hands trembling as he tried to scrabble away from her, but she caught hold of him by the shoulder and yanked him upright. She shoved him roughly into a wooden chair next to a table and stood before him, glowering.


    "Calm the fuck down and listen to me, okay?" Aubrey glared down at him as she spoke.


    She saw her reflection in his glasses¡ªtwo blazing crimson eyes, framed by her long, raven-black hair. She realized she must make quite a frightful sight¡ªclad in the tattered and bloodied remains of her funeral dress, her skin smeared with gore from the battle at the cemetery.


    No wonder the man thought she was a monster.


    The man quivered in terror as he stared up at her, eyes wide with fright.


    "Alright, I admit¡ªI might be a bit of a weird case. But I swear to you, I''m not an undead of any sort¡ªI''m very much alive¡ªI have a heartbeat, a pulse, and all that." She gestured to the side of her neck. "Feel free to check it yourself. Right here, see?"


    She leaned close to give him a better view, her voice low and husky, as if inviting him to touch her.


    His eyes flicked down to her neck. He swallowed hard.


    "And¡ªand look! See? I''m breathing¡ªlisten closely; I breathe like you do¡ªonly faster because I''m angry and exasperated with you right now. Alright?"


    The man blinked rapidly, a few beads of sweat trickling down his face. "N-not all Unhallowed are walking dead¡ªthere are also demons! Y-you... y-you could be one of those instead!"


    Aubrey groaned. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. This could take a while to work out. She really should have practiced a few excuses or stories beforehand, but alas.


    "Okay... Alright, let''s start over. Look, I''m telling the truth, alright? Here, why don''t I just¡ªfuck¡ªI don''t even know¡ªaargh!" she yelled in frustration as she ran a hand through her hair. She turned away from him and stomped over to the far wall, where an ornate mirror hung above a mantelpiece.


    She picked up a candle off the table and held it in front of her, so she could see her reflection clearly.


    Sure, the dark shadows, combined with the blood and gore on her face, made her look a bit macabre... but other than that, she looked fairly normal, with the exception of her glowing red eyes. She also had fangs now¡ªsmall, sharp ones, but they fit nicely in her mouth.


    The face staring back at her, the one that belonged to the girl who''d been murdered, was the same face from her memories as the rock star Aubrey... just... slightly different.


    Same facial structure, same cheekbones, same jawline... except instead of hazel eyes, she had crimson eyes.


    Even the hair¡ªalthough the ends were split and damaged from all the fighting¡ªlooked mostly the same as her own hair. Long, straight, glossy black¡ªwith crimson streaks.


    As for the rest of her appearance... the girl¡ªthe Aubrey from this world¡ªhad a similar frame and build as her. An athletic, slender, and curvaceous figure. Her bust size... well, it actually looked like she got an upgrade, to be honest.


    But overall... it felt like she just got a total makeover, with a supernatural edge to it.


    I mean, hey... if reincarnating into a sexy, dark Gothic fantasy version of my own body doesn''t scream, ''lucky you,'' then I don''t know what does.


    She heard the sound of wood scraping across the floor behind her. When she glanced over, she saw that the man had managed to get onto his feet and had drawn a heavy iron poker from beside the fireplace.


    "Hey! What''re you doing with that? Put that down!" she scolded, glaring at him.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The man staggered backwards a few steps, but didn''t lower his makeshift weapon. "W-why¡ªso you can suck my blood and steal my soul?!"


    Aubrey narrowed her eyes and stalked towards him. "Put. The goddamn. Poker. Down. Do NOT tempt me to punch you in the face."


    The man gritted his teeth and swung at her wildly. She stepped back, narrowly avoiding the strike. The music from before didn''t return to guide her this time¡ªmaybe because he wasn''t much of a threat without a gun.


    "Demon!" the man shrieked. "Hellspawn! Evil spirit! Despicable creature! You have no place in this realm! Begone from this house and leave us mortals alone!"


    Aubrey snatched the poker away from him before he could react, slamming the blunt tip into the ground, right between his legs. She smirked as he squeaked in alarm.


    "Alright... how about we play a game?" Aubrey''s voice held a note of danger to it now¡ªdark and ominous. "Every time you say the words "Unhallowed, damned soul, evil spirit," I''ll hit you with this thing. Sound good?"


    The man let out a weak gurgling noise in response. The fear emanating from him grew stronger and stronger the longer she remained nearby. She sensed a slight pang of hunger¡ªbut she''d fed well enough that night to quell her craving.


    "I... I... don''t want to kill you," Aubrey said after a long pause. "But... I think it''s obvious I can if I want to. So let''s try this again: I''m not some damn monster... but I''m not a human, either. Not exactly, anyway. I don''t remember exactly who or what I was before... but I can tell you¡ªI have a conscience. I don''t want to kill unless I have no choice."


    Aubrey stared into his eyes as she said that, searching them for any hint of understanding.


    "Do you... do you know what I am, caretaker?" she asked quietly, leaning in closer.


    The man swallowed visibly, his Adam''s apple bobbing as he gulped.


    "D-do you know what I am?" she repeated, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Because... I certainly don''t... and it''s driving me crazy not knowing. All I know is that my name is Aubrey... and that someone had murdered me and put my corpse in the ground. But... earlier you said that you buried me... which means you must have known who I was then¡ªbefore my murder. So talk."


    She placed the point of the poker beneath the man''s chin, pushing it upwards and forcing him to lift his face to meet hers.


    The man gulped audibly once again, his whole body trembling. He shut his eyes, seeming to gather himself, before speaking in a low, shaky voice. "I... I don''t know about any murder," he said, shaking his head. "I swear it... I don''t."


    Aubrey sighed and released his chin, letting the poker clang to the floor.


    He flinched but didn''t move, his gaze fixed upon her.


    "Alright... So then tell me what you do know. Tell me everything," Aubrey said firmly.


    He hesitated for a moment, licking his lips nervously before replying. "I-I did bury you, but... there was a man. Paid a good sum to have you interred properly. Said he was a patron of yours, though he never mentioned his name or address. Said he couldn''t stand seeing you left abandoned on the streets for dogs or monsters to feed upon."


    Someone had paid him to bury me? Was it her killer? But he said the man was a ''patron'' of mine. I must have performed music or acted¡ªperhaps both?


    "Did he say anything else? Give a name?" Aubrey pressed, leaning forward eagerly.


    The caretaker shook his head. "Just that he owed you, for the music and the joy you brought him. Seemed a decent sort, if a bit... eccentric. Kept calling you... um..."


    "Yes, go on?" Aubrey prompted, impatiently.


    "His¡ªhis lovely Nightingale..."


    Aubrey shivered at that. She bit her lip as she recalled a snippet of memory: sitting on a balcony with a handsome gentleman, gazing up at a brilliant starry sky while sharing a drink.


    "... And he paid me extra to make certain that the churchmen didn''t learn about the, uh, circumstances of your death..." the man trailed off, glancing aside.


    "What circumstances?" she demanded. "I was... stabbed, wasn''t I? Somebody murdered me..."


    The man''s mouth fell open slightly, and he stared at her with wide eyes. He quickly raised both hands in a pacifying gesture as she drew closer. "P-please! I¡ªI honestly don''t know! I just... I just followed orders and kept my mouth shut, that''s all!"


    Aubrey scowled at him, but then let out a tired sigh, shaking her head slowly as she backed away from him. "Fine... Fine."


    She paced restlessly in front of the fireplace. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together everything that she knew thus far. Four people were responsible for her death. She remembered them as little more than vague shapes and shadowy forms, but the hate she felt towards them burned deep inside her heart. Only one of them had a face that she could recall¡ªthe one who had stabbed her. The others had simply appeared in flashes, like distant dreams half-forgotten.


    She needed to find answers, but this man didn''t seem to know any more than what he had revealed already. She rubbed her temples wearily, letting out a frustrated growl.


    "Okay... what else did that man tell you? Did he give any indication as to who may have killed me or why?" Aubrey inquired. "Think carefully... any detail could be important. There''s a lot you aren''t saying. Maybe you''re just scared, or maybe you really don''t know¡ªbut I can sense you''re hiding something from me."


    The man squirmed under her glare, averting his gaze and wringing his hands anxiously.


    "Please... I don''t think he meant you harm. He only wished for you to have a proper resting place. That''s all. Truly," he stammered, glancing nervously between her face and the ground.


    "So he''s probably not the one who murdered me." She threw her arms up in the air in a gesture of surrender. "Wonderful. One less lead. Still, something tells me he knows more about it than he''s letting on... I wish I could remember exactly what happened..."


    She placed a finger to her lips thoughtfully.


    This man had told the truth so far, but he might still be withholding information. If so, she had no way to coax it out of him without resorting to violence or some form of torture.


    "Let''s change subjects, shall we? Tell me more about... this world," Aubrey stated after a long pause, staring intently at him. "You said I''m called an Unhallowed¡ªis that because I rose from the dead?"


    He nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.


    "So, how come I''m not... you know... rotten or maggot-infested... or... or some kind of ghoul or zombie or whatever the fuck. Why am I different?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Some call it the Blasphemy, or the Cursed Blessing. No one fully understands it, but we believe the taint spreads outward from within." He shuddered visibly, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he looked away. "Those that die and rise are Unhallowed... but the living can also become tainted by the Nether if they allow themselves to... through dark magics or acts of heresy. Those... those who do so willingly... they turn into true demons..."


    "Interesting..." Aubrey mused, her fingers tracing the surface of the dining table as she pondered over his words.


    Demons... so, those exist too? What did they look like? Were there vampires, too? Witches? Werewolves? Frankenstein''s Monster? I imagine the whole ''unnatural horrors'' scenario might be a bit more commonplace in this world.


    She drummed her fingers on the wood absentmindedly. "And what about me? I don''t seem too cursed or blasphemous or demonic¡ªexcept for the red eyes and fangs, I guess," she said, flashing him a brief smile that revealed those dangerous teeth.


    He gulped heavily, shrinking away from her.


    Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Relax. I''m just curious."


    "I... I suppose you don''t seem too bad for a fiend," he said timidly. "But there''s no telling how long it will take for the taint to spread through you and bring forth the madness... You... You don''t feel... insane or corrupted, do you?"


    "Hmm... not particularly. Other than wanting revenge for having died violently and waking up buried in a coffin, I''m peachy. And the hunger... well, I fed it earlier, so it''s dormant."


    "Hunger...?"


    "Yeah. Hunger. Like, the need to consume the emotions of living creatures. Mostly negative, scary ones, I think," Aubrey admitted nonchalantly. "For instance, the delicious feelings you''re currently exuding."


    The man stiffened, his expression growing fearful once again.


    "Don''t worry, I''m not planning on eating you. Unless... Do you want me to?" Aubrey teased, giving him a playful wink. "Kidding, kidding... mostly. Anyway... Moving on. I have one last question..."


    She moved closer and sat down beside him, fixing her piercing crimson gaze directly onto him. He tried to avoid eye contact, but she grabbed his chin and turned it towards her, locking their eyes.


    "I have to say, it''s not pleasant, waking up like this. I feel like a walking corpse. Ugh, it''s gross, even if I do look good, comparatively speaking..."


    Aubrey brushed some hair from her face with a huff and ran a finger over her cheek, examining it. Her nails were still caked with the dried blood of her victims. She pulled her hand back and regarded them with a grimace.


    "Is there somewhere I can wash up around here? Bathroom? Shower? Anywhere with soap?" she asked, tilting her head towards him.


    The caretaker slowly shook his head.


    "Not here, no... this isn''t... that sort of place, unfortunately." He paused, pursing his lips. "Although... the water pump behind the shed works well enough for washing..."


    Aubrey frowned and let out another sigh. "Awesome."


    She rose to her feet and stretched her arms above her head, arching her back as she let out a yawn. After a moment, she noticed the man watching her, and she smirked mischievously.


    "Enjoying the show?" she whispered teasingly, bending over at the waist so that her face hovered just centimeters away from his. "Or would you prefer that I gave you a private performance?"


    The man gasped as Aubrey began to remove her dress. He averted his eyes but peeked back several times as she peeled the bloody garment off her body, leaving it discarded on the floor.


    She let out another loud yawn and stretched languorously, arching her back, letting him admire the swell of her bosom. The scars and cuts from her encounter with the graverobbers still lingered along her flesh, although they healed remarkably fast compared to what she expected from the injuries inflicted on her.


    [Passive Trait: Minor Regeneration (Banshee) ¡ª Allows you to heal from wounds at an accelerated rate.]


    Ah. Thanks for that...


    She felt a burst of terror ripple through his emotions¡ªthough she sensed another emotion lurking beneath it... desire? Curiosity? Fear of arousal? Probably the latter.


    Well, well, well¡ªare you interested in the goods, mister caretaker?


    Aubrey twisted around, letting him admire her rear as she sauntered over to the window, brushing the curtains aside to peek out.


    The backyard contained an old oak tree, an assortment of garden tools and equipment, and a decrepit pump with a rusted handle. The shed itself looked like it had seen better days¡ªits doors were broken in half, hanging crookedly from their hinges, and its roof sagged dangerously, threatening to collapse altogether at any moment.


    "Yup... definitely looks like an ideal bathing spot to me. Which is to say¡ªabsolutely horrible," she grumbled to herself.


    Turning back toward the caretaker, she grinned at him lasciviously.


    "Now then, how about I show you some gratitude for letting me bathe in your filthy little dump of a yard, huh?"


    Before the man could respond, Aubrey reached down and took hold of his wrists, dragging him off the chair and up onto his feet.


    "W-what?! What are you doing?" he stuttered, panic and confusion filling his voice as she manhandled him over towards the stairs leading up to the bedroom.


    "Well, first I''m going to throw you in a closet and bar the door, and then I''ll wash myself. Once I''ve finished, I''ll let you out."


    "But¡ª!"


    "Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already, right? Also... if you can keep your cool, I''ll even make you a deal. A fair one," she promised.


    The man watched her warily. "What sort of a deal...?"


    "A deal where you live and we get to part ways in peace... with the caveat that you don''t tell anyone about me, ever." Aubrey stopped and tilted her head to the side, looking at him curiously. "How does that sound? Seems pretty reasonable to me."


    "You¡ªyou won''t hurt anyone here if I agree, will you? Please..."


    Aubrey patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, smiling reassuringly at him as she did so.


    "I only hurt bad guys, those who deserve punishment for their crimes. As for innocent people... I would never hurt them, okay? But I can''t have any witnesses or rumors spreading about me. People would freak out. Got it?"


    She smiled wider as the man nodded weakly in agreement.


    "Perfect. Now go on... into the closet." Aubrey gave him a gentle push, guiding him over to the nearby door. Once she opened it, he reluctantly went inside, his movements slow and unsteady. She then moved a chair, propping it up against the door as a brace.


    "See? You''ll be nice and safe in there. Just keep calm. I promise you''ll survive this day."


    Aubrey gave the door a final tap before heading back downstairs and outside into the night air.


    It was probably a fifty-fifty chance that the caretaker would keep his word... but it felt better to believe he would. It wasn''t like she wanted to kill him. Besides, she did owe him for the whole ''burying her properly'' thing, even if she''d only received that treatment due to money being tossed at him.


    But he did also almost shoot her, and tried to burn her with holy water... and tried stabbing her with an iron poker¡ªbut hey! Water under the bridge, right?


    She''ll just take some fresh clothes with her when she leaves. Payback.

 Chapter 5: Gallows Row

    Aubrey¡¯s boots clicked against the cobblestones, each step a sharp note echoing through the stillness of the early morning. Her crimson eyes darted about, taking in the sights of Mordenstadt as it loomed before her.


    As she approached the outskirts, she couldn¡¯t help but notice the shift in the atmosphere. Gone was the quiet, rural air of the countryside, replaced by the din of the city. Sounds drifted toward her, carried on a brisk breeze¡ªthe clattering of carriage wheels, the murmur of conversation, the whining of stray dogs.


    The scent of smoke and soot tickled her nostrils, accompanied by the tang of oil and metal. Buildings loomed overhead, their facades grimy and worn, their windows dirty and cracked. The streets were crowded with vendors and beggars, their stalls and their rags adding to the chaos and the stench.


    Aubrey wrinkled her nose, suppressing the urge to gag as she pushed her way past a group of ragged urchins, their cheeks hollow and their eyes dull. Several reached out to her with thin, trembling hands, begging for coins or scraps.


    "Sorry, kids. Nothing to spare." She patted her pockets apologetically, revealing the lack of any valuables.


    She treaded the cobblestones in borrowed clothes¡ªan oversized shirt clinging to her like a sack, and trousers too loose despite the belt cinched tight. She had washed her body the night prior, using water from the backyard''s rusty pump. It had been a cold, sobering experience. The caretaker had provided her with the clothes, albeit reluctantly.


    In addition, Aubrey now sported a new accessory¡ªa crude messenger bag consisting of burlap sacking, roughly sewn together with hemp string, and fastened shut with a length of rope. It held the essentials: A pocket watch, a canteen, a few pence and shillings, a comb, and a nail file.


    She had also ordered the caretaker to bury the corpses of those graverobbers. Better to hide evidence of her existence for a little longer.


    Aubrey continued onwards, weaving her way through the throng, ignoring the stares and whispers directed her way.


    Rundown buildings leaned into one another for support, their facades a patchwork of peeling paint and exposed brick, while shanties cobbled together from scrap wood and metal huddled in their shadows. The air carried the weight of coal smoke and the tang of iron, mingling with the less identifiable but equally pungent odors of crowded life and decay.


    Despite the filth and poverty surrounding her, Aubrey couldn¡¯t help but appreciate the energy of the place¡ªthe hustle and bustle, the vitality. A surge of excitement bubbled up within her as she drank in the sights and sounds.


    This feels like a proper shantytown of a fantasy gothic city. I have to admit... I love it.


    The streets narrowed as Aubrey ventured deeper into the slum, forcing her to squeeze past clusters of people gathered outside ramshackle storefronts and dingy taverns. Groups of men loitered on corners, smoking and gambling, occasionally breaking into fights over trivial matters.


    Children dashed to and fro, their bare feet padding lightly against the cobblestones. Dogs scavenged along the gutters, sniffing at piles of refuse and chasing after rats. Women perched on stoops, chatting and gossiping, their hair loose and their dresses revealing.


    Eventually, Aubrey found herself standing before a dilapidated building¡ªa three-story edifice of crumbling brick and decaying mortar, its facade covered in graffiti and stained with years of accumulated grime and soot. Above the entrance hung a faded sign bearing the image of a raven and the words "Black Feather Inn".


    She hesitated briefly before stepping through the doorway and into a dimly lit lobby. Within, she could barely discern the shapes of tables and chairs scattered throughout the space, surrounded by clusters of figures hunched over their drinks and meals.


    Dim lanterns glowed feebly upon the walls, their flames sputtering weakly in the drafty air. Music played faintly from a battered fortepiano in one corner, the melodies distorted and the notes sour, though the melody did carry a faint, nostalgia-inducing charm.


    The patrons turned to watch her enter, their gazes lingering upon her. Whispers filled the room, the voices muffled and the words indistinct. Aubrey met their stares unflinchingly, a smirk playing upon her lips as she surveyed the crowd.


    Most were dressed poorly¡ªtheir clothes threadbare and patched, their boots scuffed and worn. Many bore tattoos or scars, and a variety of weapons hung openly upon their belts and waists. Others had the look of laborers, their faces and hands rough with calluses, their posture slouched and weary.


    Amongst the crowd, Aubrey spotted a few women¡ªgowned and powdered, their makeup garish and their hair coiffed elaborately. These women clung to the sides of burly men or flirted brazenly with patrons, their laughter high-pitched and artificial.


    At the back of the room, Aubrey noticed a bar, tended to by a heavyset man dressed in a stained apron. Behind him, rows upon rows of dusty bottles and kegs lined the shelves, their labels obscured in the gloom.


    With a confident stride, Aubrey made her way over to the counter, earning an array of glances, ranging from disinterest to overt lust, along the way. She climbed up onto a stool and tapped her fingertips impatiently upon the wooden surface, waiting to catch the bartender''s attention.


    Finally, the man ambled over and acknowledged her, regarding her suspiciously as he wiped his hands upon a greasy rag.


    "What''ll ya have?" he grunted.


    "Just water, thanks." Aubrey flashed a polite grin.


    The bartender eyed her for a moment longer before fetching her a glass and filling it with a dubiously clean liquid. As he handed it to her, she noticed his knuckles bore the telltale signs of broken bones and numerous scars, and a tattoo of a dagger marked his forearm.


    "Cheers," Aubrey declared, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a tentative sip.


    She wrinkled her nose slightly at the bitter flavor but forced herself to swallow. Setting the glass aside, she swiveled upon the stool to survey the room, her crimson eyes scanning the crowd.


    "You ain''t from around these parts, are ya, girl?" the bartender asked gruffly, leaning across the counter and eyeing her warily.


    "Guilty as charged," Aubrey responded with a wry smile.


    "Aye. Figures. You stick out like a sore thumb," the bartender commented, gesturing at her with his chin. "Too clean-lookin'', and ya walk funny. Nobleman''s daughter or somethin''? But yer clothes''re cheap and yer shoes''re worn. Can''t figure ya out."


    "Just a traveler passing through," Aubrey corrected him, swirling the remaining water idly in the bottom of her glass. "Thirsty from a night of travel."


    "Hmm." The bartender grunted skeptically. "Best finish yer drink, then. Best head back home."


    "Soon enough," Aubrey replied, waving him away.


    She ignored his disapproving stare as he ambled off to tend to the other customers. Taking another sip from her drink, Aubrey shifted her focus to the fortepiano. A gaunt, middle-aged man hunched over its keyboard, plucking the strings with spidery fingers as he coaxed the discordant melodies from its battered innards.Stolen story; please report.


    Aubrey furrowed her eyebrows as fragments of memories surfaced within her mind¡ªa polished stage, an audience applauding, bright lights illuminating her from all angles. Fingers dancing across ivory keys, accompanying her melodious voice.


    "Sing for me, Nightingale."


    Aubrey blinked, shaking her head. Who said that? Whose voice was that...?


    The memory must''ve belonged to the Aubrey from this world¡ªugh! No, no! Stop thinking like that. YOU are Aubrey! Both versions. Just merged together... right?


    She grimaced. This whole identity crisis thing was a real headache, and she''d only been ''alive'' for a day.


    Setting the water aside, Aubrey hopped down from the stool and strode over toward the musician, sidestepping through the crowd until she stood directly beside the piano. Up close, the instrument looked even more battered, its lacquer scuffed and scratched, its strings frayed and dull.


    The man didn''t pause in his playing, his fingers continuing to pluck at the keys, producing a lively, if uneven tune. Aubrey listened for a moment, letting the song fill her ears, stirring up further fragments within her thoughts.


    Another fragment¡ªperforming before a rapturous audience, her voice soaring to the rafters.


    Aubrey hummed the melody, testing it silently within her throat, trying to recall the lyrics. To her surprise, the song came naturally to her, the words flowing easily and effortlessly from her lips. She began singing along, her voice rising and falling in tune with the man''s playing, blending seamlessly with the piano''s dissonance.


    The music swelled, its notes resounding loudly within the confines of the tavern. Aubrey''s voice grew stronger, becoming bolder, filling the air with its power. Soon, heads began turning toward her, attention shifting away from their conversations.


    The pianist glanced up at Aubrey, his brow furrowed. She winked in response, flashing him a devilish grin. He returned the expression, nodding appreciatively.


    Together, the two performers continued their duet, Aubrey improvising her lyrics where she couldn''t recall the original lyrics. Slowly, patrons began swaying to the rhythm, clapping and stamping their feet.


    Aubrey basked in the rush of the performance, losing herself within the flow of the music. Time seemed to blur, the minutes slipping away unnoticed. Before she knew it, the song was drawing near its end, the notes fading into the ether, the applause ringing throughout the tavern.


    She bowed dramatically, her grin widening. Beside her, the pianist chuckled and took a dramatic bow of his own, eliciting cheers and whistles.


    "Thanks, pal," Aubrey whispered to the pianist, giving him an acknowledging nod.


    She then raised a hand and offered a theatrical farewell wave, before sauntering back to the bar and reclaiming her seat.


    [You''ve gained a small amount of experience.]


    Huh...? Experience for what? Singing? Performing?


    "You''ve got a voice on ya, missy. Never heard the song sung so smooth." The bartender remarked.


    "Thanks," Aubrey replied, flagging him over. "I''ll have some more water, please."


    "Didn''t scare ya away none, eh?" he replied, pouring a refill into her glass.


    Aubrey shrugged. "Nah. Actually, I feel energized."


    She took a long, satisfying gulp, savoring the coolness of the liquid sliding down her throat.


    "Care for somethin'' stronger? On the house, since ya sang so nice." The bartender gestured at the rows of liquor behind him. "Plenty''a rum, whiskey, brandy, ale... Name yer poison."


    "No, thanks. The water''s perfect," Aubrey replied, setting the empty glass back onto the counter. "Say, got a question for ya: Where might a traveler like myself find some temporary employment around here?"


    "Employment?" The bartender eyed her incredulously, scratching his beard. "Depends what kinda work yer lookin'' fer. Gallows Row ain''t exactly known fer its opportunities. Too poor a neighborhood fer that."


    "Hmm, Gallows Row... Interesting name. And no, I''m not looking for charity, or a handout. I''m willing to do work¡ªmenial labor, cleaning, cooking, serving tables, laundry... Anything respectable that pays a fair wage."


    The bartender let out a grunt of amusement, shaking his head slowly. "Respectable work, huh? Yer gonna have a hard time findin'' it round these parts, girl."


    Aubrey flashed him a charming grin. "Worth a shot, though, yeah? Know any places hiring? Any place needing a cute, talented performer, perhaps? Perhaps a theater, or a restaurant?"


    "Ain''t no theaters nor restaurants in Gallows Row. Place like that would hafta be somewhere higher class, in a nicer part''a the city."


    "Figures..." Aubrey muttered, running her fingers through her hair. "Any idea where I could find a job, regardless? Maybe a list of establishments that hire the desperate and the destitute?"


    "There''s always a demand fer labor in the factories," the bartender suggested, pointing a meaty thumb over his shoulder. "They''re always lookin'' fer folks ta fetch materials, scrub boilers, sweep floors, and the like. Good way ta earn a livin''. Hard work, though¡ªlong hours, low pay. Accidents happen. Lotsa folk wind up dyin'' or losin'' limbs ta the machines."


    "Factories, huh?" Aubrey mused, contemplatively tapping her fingernails against the wooden counter.


    "Aye. Plenty''a factories in the Ironworks district, north''a here. Big ol'' smokestacks, lots''a metal."


    "Ironworks district, got it."


    "If ya ain''t the factory sort, then yer best bet would be ta hire yerself out as a maid or a servant," the bartender stated, pouring himself a drink and taking a long gulp. "Noble folk''re always lookin'' fer cheap help. Most willin'' ta pay fairly dependin'' on the task. Course, nobles''re also a bunch''a stuck-up bastards, so ya gotta watch yerself or risk gettin'' treated like dirt. Them rich folk think everyone''s below''em."


    "Rich bastards, gotcha. Places to apply?" Aubrey questioned, quirking an eyebrow.


    "Sure. Them nobles got a bunch''a houses throughout Mordenstadt. Goes fer the merchant types, too. Ya could start checkin'' the bulletin boards fer advertisements. Should find plenty''a job postings."


    "Bulletin boards... Thanks, mister barkeep. I appreciate the intel." Aubrey gave the bartender a playful salute, hopping off her stool and dusting off her clothes.


    "Leavin'' already? What''s the hurry, missy?"


    Aubrey cast a sweeping glance about the tavern, noting the increasing number of patrons filing inside, many casting her curious glances and appraising stares.


    "Getting crowded, and I''d rather not become the entertainment for the evening. Call it an occupational hazard of being a performer," Aubrey explained, offering the bartender a noncommittal shrug.


    "Fair ''nuff, missy." The bartender snorted. "Take care, then. Try not ta get robbed, or worse. Gallows Row ain''t a friendly part''a town."


    "Will do, thanks. Take it easy, bartender."


    She tipped an imaginary hat in farewell and turned on her heels, making her exit amidst the swelling crowds.


    Out on the street, Aubrey strolled leisurely down the narrow avenue, dodging puddles of gutter runoff and the occasional pile of horse dung. Her eyes roamed over the buildings surrounding her, each a mix of timber and stone, most built directly upon one another with barely a finger''s width of space separating them.


    The architecture varied, though each structure shared a distinct similarity; they all seemed to lean precariously, tilting slightly to the left or the right, threatening to topple at any moment. Roofs sagged dangerously, their tiles cracked and crumbling, while gutters flowed freely with runoff from leaking pipes.


    Wooden balconies jutted outward, many supported by a single rotting beam, and clotheslines stretched across alleyways, festooning the skies with a chaotic mess of garments and linens.


    Overall, the neighborhood possessed a ramshackle quality, as if it had been constructed hastily and maintained haphazardly.


    Despite the rundown aesthetic, she found the vibe to possess a sort of grimly picturesque charm, especially the quaint row houses and shanty-styled shacks that lined the main road, each displaying a plethora of signs advertising services and goods.


    ''Madame Lilura''s Love Potions and Poisons.''


    ''Shamanistic Remedy and Medicine.''


    ''Tailor and Cobbler Services!''


    Aubrey''s wandering feet brought her to a crossroads, and she halted, inspecting the three paths stretching out before her. Directly ahead, a busy thoroughfare extended through a looming tunnel carved within a towering wall of mortared stones. Carriages and carts rattled down the cobblestone path, drawn by horses and oxen.


    To her right lay another congested avenue, though this one appeared to lead toward a market, judging by the sounds of hawkers and the aromas of produce wafting from its direction. To her left, a quieter street led into a maze of narrow alleys and shaded passages.


    Hmm, which way to go next?¡­

 Chapter 6: Damsel in Distress

    Aubrey contemplated her options, weighing the merits of each route. Ultimately, she decided to head straight, figuring the busier road would likely lead her out toward the wealthier districts of Mordenstadt. With purposeful steps, Aubrey plunged ahead, joining the sea of pedestrians as she marched underneath the stone archway.


    Passing through the tunnel, the urban scenery transitioned abruptly. The ramshackle dwellings and businesses faded, replaced by a sprawling expanse of factories, warehouses, and smithies. Giant stacks belched smoke and ash, casting a perpetual pall across the district, while the air rang with the din of machinery and labor.


    She pressed onward, her boots splashing through muddy puddles and kicking up clouds of soot. The factories surrounded her on either side, their walls slick with condensation and their windows fogged with grime.


    Here and there, she saw workers moving to and fro, their clothes stained gray, their expressions weary and distant. Occasionally, a carriage or a wagon laden with crates and barrels would rattle by, driven by a stooped-backed driver and guided by a team of snorting horses.


    [Ironworks District entered.]


    Ironworks District, huh?


    As Aubrey wandered further, she couldn''t help but marvel at the sheer scale of the factories, each towering over her, their chimneys reaching skyward like petrified columns.


    Signs posted on the gates and doors displayed names and symbols, indicating the owners and their industries.


    ''Lord Wilhelm Steel Works.''


    ''Von Schmidt and Sons: Machine Manufacturers.''


    ''Culver Textiles: Tailor and Linen Services.''


    Worker drones scuttled about, toting wheelbarrows and pushing carts laden with ore or scrap metal. Steam and smoke spewed ceaselessly from pipes and vents, shrouding the streets in a thick haze.


    Aubrey coughed, waving a hand in front of her face futilely.


    Damn, it''s filthy here. I guess pollution is a universal issue, even in a fantasy world.


    She navigated her way through the industrial hellscape, the din of machinery and labor drowning out her footsteps. Workers paid her no heed, their gazes fixed upon the ground or their minds focused on their tasks.


    After a time, she ventured past the factories and found herself walking along a quiet street lined with boarded-up stores and abandoned shops. The pavement here was cracked and uneven, dotted with patches of weeds and wildflowers.


    Up ahead, Aubrey spotted an abandoned carriage, its doors agape, surrounded by a scattering of bodies. The guards¡ªor what remained of them¡ªwere clad in uniforms she didn''t recognize, their armor rent and their throats slit. Blood pooled around the corpses, seeping into the gaps of the cobblestones.


    "Holy shit... Was there a robbery? Assassination attempt?" Aubrey murmured to herself, slowing her pace as she cautiously approached the wreck.


    Other bodies littered the area, slumped over crates, sprawled across the sidewalk, and crumpled against the walls of nearby buildings. Those corpses weren''t wearing uniforms, but instead a sported hodgepodge of leather armor and motley clothing¡ªbandits.


    Looks like a nasty fight happened here.


    She crouched beside a slain bandit, nudging his body with a foot. His face was frozen in a grimace, his mouth agape and his eyes glassy. Crimson flecks marred his teeth and trickled from his lips.


    Aubrey gingerly inspected the corpse, her gaze trailing over his weaponry. Aside from a rusty shortsword, he wore a worn-out dagger strapped to his waist, a ratty cloak, and a pair of badly tarnished leather gloves.


    "Jackpot. Fresh loot." Aubrey grinned.


    She unfastened the dagger and the sword, setting them aside. Patting the body down, Aubrey found a coin pouch and an item pouch, containing a handful of copper pieces and a few random objects.


    "Sweet. Thank you, dead bandit," Aubrey chirped gleefully, pocketing the loot.


    Aubrey headed to the carriage, finding more bodies strewn about the vicinity. Judging by the wounds and the placement of the corpses, it looked like the soldiers put up a fierce struggle, taking a few bandits down with them.


    Peering into the cabin, she spotted another slain guard slumped upon a bench, his weapon¡ªa rapier¡ªlying discarded beside him. His throat was likewise slit open, and his uniform sported a gaping wound where something had evidently pierced his chest.


    Blood stained the seats and the floorboards, forming a dark, sticky pool that reeked faintly of copper.


    "Wonder who these guards served... Must have been a pretty important target, given the escorts and the carriage. Looks fancy," Aubrey wondered aloud, glancing at the ornate details decorating the vehicle''s interior.


    A sudden scream shattered the stillness¡ªa woman''s voice¡ªhigh-pitched and panicked.


    Startled, Aubrey whirled around, her crimson eyes darting in the direction the sound had come from. Another shriek echoed from the distance, followed by shouts and cries.


    From that alley over there...


    "Sounds like a damsel in distress," Aubrey uttered, taking off at a sprint. "Time to investigate."


    <hr>


    Reaching the alleyway, Aubrey slowed her pace and crept forward cautiously, following the trail of bodies. Bandits lay sprawled upon the pavement, their chests slashed and punctured.


    Following the carnage, Aubrey rounded a bend and emerged into a small courtyard. Standing amid the corpses were two figures¡ªa woman and a man.


    The former appeared young, dressed in a simple yet elegant gown. Her auburn hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, framing a youthful face smudged with blood and soot. Beside her, the man loomed protectively, his muscular physique clad in a suit of armor.


    He clutched a broadsword, its blade dripping with blood, while his free hand rested upon the woman''s shoulder, steadying her.


    The man''s face was obscured by a full-face helmet, adorned with a crest depicting a winged dragon. A tabard emblazoned with a familiar symbol¡ªthree golden roses entangled within a circular device¡ªclung to his armored body. Though he sported multiple cuts and a few arrows protruded from his arm and thigh, he held his stance, unflinching.


    Six bandits surrounded them, wielding daggers and shortswords, their expressions nervous and their stances defensive. One of the bandits didn''t look like the others¡ªhe was garbed more like a middle-class man, sporting a tailored suit and an ostentatious hat.


    Kinda looks like a carriage driver...


    "Surrender peacefully, and I assure you, milady, no harm shall befall you," the man hissed, leveling a rapier at the noblewoman. "We can negotiate ransom terms later, once safely escorted from the premises. Your knight will not last much longer, I''m afraid, so yield now, or your demise will not be pleasant. I give my word, milady, you will not be harmed."


    "Sod off and die!" the armored knight growled, stepping forward threateningly and raising his broadsword. "I''ll gut every one of you bastards!"


    "My, my... such vulgar language. Is this the manners your station has taught you?" the suited bandit chided mockingly. "Though I suppose, coming from a commoner, foul-mouthed rhetoric is expected."


    "Scoundrel! Traitor!" The woman spat, her fists clenched tightly, her emerald eyes blazing defiantly. "My father will hear of your treachery! How dare you stain the Von Claires'' good name and honor!"


    I knew it! The guy was the carriage driver! Bet he was working with the bandits and betrayed the passengers.


    "Yes, yes... Lord Von Claire, the famed businessman and aristocrat. How sad," the suited bandit tutted, clicking his tongue. "Alas, once news reaches him that his darling daughter was kidnapped by a gang of wicked brigands, oh the horror! What a scandal, indeed! He''d pay handsomely to retrieve his precious flower, wouldn''t he?"


    Aubrey studied the five adversaries, gauging their capabilities. Despite their crude weaponry and motley outfits, they looked like they could put up a fight¡ªat least more than the graverobbers that she''d fought.


    The one with the rapier seems skilled¡ªfast and precise. The others are just bruisers, brutes swinging sticks. Easy targets, but the armored knight needs help.


    Should she butt into their business?


    Hell, yeah.


    "Oh my, I seem to have stumbled upon a crime scene," Aubrey announced her arrival, sauntering casually forward. "Are these ruffians bothering you, fair maiden?"


    Everyone turned to look, the bandits startled while the duo''s expressions transitioned from shock to hope, then ending with apprehension.


    "Who the fuck are you, bitch?!" a bandit snarled, his grip tightening around his dagger.


    "Language, asshole. There''s a lady present." Aubrey retorted, pointing a thumb at the noblewoman. "Now... the gentleman over there mentioned negotiations and ransoms. Sounds interesting, can I join in on the fun?"


    "Get lost! This ain''t got nothin'' ta do with the likes of you!" a bandit yelled, brandishing his shortsword. "Walk away now and no one will get hurt! Or join in, and we''ll gut you and leave ya fer the birds, girlie!"


    "Ooh, scary. Listen, boys, let''s try a little compromise," Aubrey proposed, wagging a finger chidingly. "Give the nice maiden over there to me, and I''ll let you guys run away."


    "Wha¡ª" the armored knight sputtered.


    "Shut yer trap, bitch! Like hell, we''ll hand her over to some crazy strumpet!" a bandit roared angrily, waving his weapon.


    "Crazy, am I?" Aubrey smirked.


    Already, the music began to swell within her mind¡ªthe faint, distant notes gathering strength and momentum. Aubrey closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, allowing her instincts to take over.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    [Harmonic Synesthesia activated.]


    Her senses heightened, Aubrey could see the invisible threads connecting her foes, their auras pulsing with a distinct cadence and tempo. The knight''s aura shone bright, his melody powerful and unwavering. The noblewoman''s was softer, but steady. The bandits, however, possessed a chaotic, disjointed rhythm like a frenetic percussion section gone rogue.


    A lattice of colored trails flickered into existence, weaving between the combatants, highlighting their potential movements and intentions. Aubrey''s crimson eyes followed the trails, mapping the flow of the battle to come.


    Showtime.


    Aubrey rushed forward, her motions synchronizing fluidly with the music, her body adapting instinctively to the changing tones and rhythms.


    Before the bandits could react, she unsheathed the stolen dagger and lunged, closing the distance in an instant. Darting under a clumsy slash, Aubrey drove the blade upward, sinking it deep into her attacker''s exposed armpit.


    Blood spurted, and the bandit screamed, recoiling. Aubrey twirled and swept her leg outward, striking him squarely in the knee and sending him stumbling.


    [Succesful Strike: "Staccato!"]


    Not pausing, Aubrey whirled and spun, ducking and weaving through the colorful trails and threads, evading blades and thrusts. A dagger sailed past her face, missing narrowly. Another thrust sought her chest, aimed at the heart.


    Stepping smoothly to the side, Aubrey avoided the lethal blow, catching the bandit''s arm and redirecting his momentum. Flipping the dagger within her palm, she stabbed downward, piercing his neck.


    Blood erupted, and the bandit crumpled, collapsing limply onto the cobblestones.


    [Critical Hit: "Sforzando!"]


    Retracting the blade, Aubrey parried a blow, sparks flying as her dagger locked with an incoming shortsword. Twisting her wrist, she redirected the bandit''s weapon, then countered with a vicious kick, aiming for his crotch.


    Her boot connected, and the bandit doubled over, wheezing. Following through, Aubrey slammed the hilt of her dagger against the back of his skull, sending him crashing senselessly into a heap on the ground.


    "Behind you, stranger!" the armored knight shouted.


    Twirling on her heels, Aubrey ducked, narrowly avoiding a rapier thrust. Spinning her dagger within her grasp, she reversed her stance, lunging upward and striking at the pulsing mark hovering near her foe.


    Aubrey''s dagger struck true, hitting the mark precisely. A shockwave rippled outward, buffeting the traitorous driver and hurling him backward, bowling him over.


    [Skill: "Shove of the Heartbeat''s Force" Activated! Cooldown: 8 seconds]


    Two other bandits rushed Aubrey simultaneously, blades swinging. Aubrey retreated, her feet gliding smoothly across the cobblestones. Parrying a dagger, Aubrey pivoted and blocked a shortsword, sparks spraying.


    Shimmering lines and threads outlined her attackers, showing their patterns and intent, the music providing a rhythmic guide¡ªbut the visual cues seemed to tangle and overlap, confusing Aubrey momentarily.


    Shit, the harmonics'' accuracy decreases the more adversaries that approach.


    Taking advantage of the opportunity, a bandit feinted, then jabbed with his shortsword, his blade slicing her forearm shallowly.


    Aubrey winced, recoiling, as another bandit took a swing at her ribs. Dodging desperately, Aubrey backstepped and parried the shortsword, narrowly blocking the strike.


    The suited bandit clambered to his feet, clutching his rapier, his gaze furious as he leveled his weapon at her.


    Shit... can''t have him stabbing me in the back.


    "Hey! A little help here, knight-boy?" Aubrey cried out, parrying a bandit''s slash.


    "Busy!" the knight snarled, his broadsword clashing violently against another bandit''s shortsword.


    Gritting her teeth, Aubrey darted forward, engaging the two bandits.


    Keep the harmony''s range at maximum. Fight defensively.


    The cooldown for her ability has elapsed, but Aubrey held it in reserve, saving it for when an opportunity arose. Instead, she relied upon her eyes and instincts, evading and parrying, keeping track of her opponents'' threads, trails, and marks.


    Meanwhile, the knight battled fiercely, trading blows with his opponent, his armor sparking from repeated impacts. The noblewoman cowered behind him, flinching at each clash of steel.


    Blocking a bandit''s thrust, Aubrey parried, slamming the hilt into the mark, activating her ability.


    Another shockwave burst outward, and the bandit flew backward, slamming into a wall and crumpling.


    [Skill: "Shove of the Heartbeat''s Force" Activated! Cooldown: 8 seconds]


    Spinning, Aubrey deflected a strike and danced away, maneuvering closer toward the suited bandit. Meanwhile, the knight''s opponent scored a hit, his blade slicing his armor''s shoulderplate and penetrating, eliciting a shout of pain.


    Damn, the knight''s struggling.


    Activating her ability again, Aubrey knocked the last bandit away. She flipped the dagger within her grasp and threw, the blade spiraling through the air and spinning hilt-over-blade¡ªdirectly at the knight''s foe.


    [Successful Strike: "Con Brio!"]


    The thrown dagger pierced the bandit''s shoulder, burying deep. Crying out, the bandit dropped his weapon. Using the opening, the knight swung his broadsword, cleaving his stunned opponent across the abdomen.


    His foe fell, and the knight whirled, his blade seeking the suited bandit who retreated, parrying frantically.


    "Help me, you imbeciles!" the suited bandit howled, his rapier ringing with each impact.


    The two remaining bandits staggered back onto their feet, charging Aubrey and the knight.


    Seeing the bandits regroup, Aubrey sprinted toward the knight, closing the gap. Vaulting upward, she kicked off his back, launching into a somersault, flipping through the air gracefully.


    Mid-spin, Aubrey activated her ability, the shockwave propelling her forward, accelerating her aerial trajectory.


    Descending, Aubrey drew her stolen shortsword and landed lightly upon the cobblestones, her blade slicing into one of the bandit''s marks.


    [Critical Hit: "Sforzando!"]


    The wounded bandit cried out and collapsed, and Aubrey twirled to see the knight facing off against the other bandit. Their swords clashed, and the knight pushed his opponent back.


    The knight''s broadsword caught his opponent''s weapon, and with a decisive twist, wrenched the shortsword from his hands.


    Roaring, the knight decapitated him, the blade hewing flesh and bone. Crimson sprayed outward, and the bandit toppled, his severed head rolling away.


    From the corner of her eye, Aubrey spotted the suited bandit rushing towards the noblewoman, his rapier poised.


    Shit!


    Aubrey dashed, intercepting him, her shortsword lashing out. Her blade impacted his, and the suited bandit retaliated, his rapier flicking and stabbing rapidly, forcing her to retreat.


    Deflecting an opportunistic thrust, Aubrey sidestepped and parried, her shortsword locking briefly with the suited bandit''s rapier, their blades quivering from the strain.


    Pushing his weight forward, the suited bandit attempted to force her back, but Aubrey countered, her foot shooting out. She slammed a boot into the suited bandit''s ankle, causing him to stumble.


    Backstepping, Aubrey freed her shortsword, and, activating her ability, she delivered a swift strike to his mark.


    Another shockwave rippled outward, and the suited bandit screamed, tumbling away.


    Before he could recover, Aubrey closed the distance, her blade hacking into his rapier hand.


    Screaming, the suited bandit recoiled, dropping his rapier. Aubrey kicked the weapon aside and slammed her fist into the suited bandit''s face, knocking him out cold.


    Around her, the colored threads dissipated, and the music within her mind faded. Aubrey exhaled, lowering her shortsword.


    Mission accomplished, and no experience points earned, damn.


    [You''ve gained a small amount of experience.]


    Oh! There it is. Spoke too soon.


    She looked down at her hand, clenching it a few times. No matter how fit her body felt, this definitely was not something a normal human would be able to do¡ªfight off five armed bandits, dodge attacks, perform acrobatic maneuvers, and win.


    Perks of being a Banshee... or Revenant, I guess.


    More importantly... just what exactly was this Harmonic Synesthesia that enabled her to analyze her enemies and manipulate her fighting rhythm? It almost seemed like some kind of precognition or foresight...


    The system notification appeared again.


    [Harmonic Synesthesia is a unique passive trait inherent to you. It enables you to sense the melody and rhythm of combat. The actions and intentions of your foes, as well as your own, manifest as visual and auditory cues within your mind. Timing your actions to certain cues can amplify their effectiveness and produce dramatic effects. Use your instinct and training to harness these clues and flow with the music.]


    Huh, neat. So basically, it''s a rhythm-based perception thing? Cool.


    Aubrey straightened her posture, glancing at the knight, who stared at her warily, his broadsword lowered. The noblewoman cowered behind the knight, her eyes wide.


    "Stranger," the knight acknowledged stiffly. "Appreciate the assistance. Seems we owe you a debt."


    "Yeah, you sure do," Aubrey replied, sheathing the shortsword. "Nice swordwork, knight. Pretty impressive, considering you''re sporting some serious injuries."


    "It matters not, protecting milady is my sworn duty," the knight responded, his tone curt. "Stranger, I ask: Who are you, and what''s your objective?"


    "Objective, huh? Hmm... I guess saving fair maidens is an acceptable goal. As for the who, I''d rather not say right now. Call me... um... Nightingale."


    The knight hesitated, then nodded. "Very well, Nightingale. Again, you have our gratitude. Milady and I were ambushed, and I fear things could have ended tragically, had you not intervened. You possess a strange fighting style and techniques, Nightingale. Pray tell, where did you learn such arts?"


    "That, my metal friend, is a long and complicated tale." She approached the unconscious suited bandit, crouching and patting him down, checking his pockets and his person.


    "Searching him for coins?" the knight observed.


    "Yeah, looking to acquire some scratch, ya know," Aubrey quipped. "Money makes the world go ''round."


    Finding a coin pouch, Aubrey stood. "Ah, jackpot."


    "Robbing a defeated enemy, Nightingale?" the knight remarked.


    "Hey, it''s the cost of doing heroism, yeah? Besides, he tried to kill milady over there, remember?" Aubrey pointed out.


    "Indeed. Regardless, Nightingale, I offer you our deepest appreciation. Mayhaps there''s a way I can repay the favor? Repaying kindness with kindness and all."


    "Hmm, what''s Milady''s name anyways?" Aubrey inquired, turning her attention to the cowering noblewoman.


    "Milady Erika Von Claire, daughter of Lord Wilhelm Von Claire," the knight supplied.


    "Erika, huh? Hiya, Erika. Nice dress. Love the color," Aubrey greeted, giving an exaggerated curtsy.


    "Th-thank you," Erika replied timidly, her voice barely a whisper. The noblewoman clung tightly onto her protector, trembling.


    Aubrey approached them cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away and studying the duo. "So, knight-boy, why was the carriage ambushed anyways? Were they after the noble''s riches, or were they targeting the fair Erika?"


    "Bandits, Nightingale. That man over there," the knight gestured with a gauntlet-clad finger, "was the driver. Turns out, he betrayed us. Led his accomplices to our location and ambushed Milady and her guards. Once the ambush commenced, Milady and I escaped, only for the traitors to chase us here."


    "Wow. Harrowing. So, Erika, are you okay? No injuries, scratches, cuts, or bruises?" Aubrey questioned, her gaze scrutinizing the noblewoman''s condition.


    "Y-yes. I-I''m unharmed." Erika replied, hugging herself, her face pale.


    "Good, glad to hear. Knight-boy, how about you? Multiple injuries, but it seems you''re standing firmly. Armor''s taking a beating, though. Not the fanciest gear, but certainly durable."


    "Armor''s enchanted. Resists cutting and slashing. Still, I''ll need tending to, Nightingale, lest Milady and I return in this state."


    "True," Aubrey conceded, crossing her arms. "Hmm, now about that reward..."


    "Name your price, Nightingale. Coin? Items? Surely, milady can compensate for our debts."


    "Well, if you insist." She eyed the noblewoman¡ªparticularly her dress. The garment looked lovely, finely crafted and exquisitely detailed, clearly tailored by a master tailor.


    It was much more fashionable compared to the loose shirt and trousers Aubrey took from that caretaker.


    "Tell ya what... Milady''s dress¡ªcan I have it?" Aubrey requested, flashing the duo her most innocent smile.


    "What?! My dress?!" Erika gasped, her jaw dropping, a hand clutching her bosom.


    Silence settled over the courtyard, and the knight''s response came¡ªbrusque and indignant. "Milady''s dress?! Nightingale, have you gone mad!?"


    "She can wear mine. The tunic and pants. Fair trade, yeah?" Aubrey proposed, gesturing at her current attire.


    "No, Nightingale. Milady will not exchange her dress for peasant''s rags. Pick something else."


    Before he could utter another response, Aubrey dashed forward as a new tune began to play in her mind, the music intensifying and energizing her.


    She raised her hand and flicked the mark by the knight''s helmet.


    [Skill: "Shove of the Heartbeat''s Force" Activated! Cooldown: 8 seconds]


    A shockwave rippled outward, buffeting the knight and sending him flying, crashing onto the cobblestones heavily. A faint groan emanated from his prone form before falling silent.


    Erika squeaked, covering her mouth, her eyes bulging in shock. Aubrey sauntered over to her, smirking mischievously.


    "Milady, I''m gonna need to borrow your dress, please," Aubrey sang sweetly, grabbing the noblewoman''s arm. "Now, if you''d be so kind¡­ strip."

 Status Update!

    Hey folks! I should have put the news out a couple of weeks ago but I''ve published volume 1 of Calamity Muse on KDP</a> so I''ve stubbed the chapters after Chapter 6. I apologize for not announcing the stubbing ahead of time and I''ll make sure to give readers a heads-up from now on.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The version on KDP has some small narrative edits in the early chapters but otherwise it''s relatively the same. I''d appreciate it if those who have Kindle Unlimited could read, borrow, or lend the story and give a rating or review.


    I''ll be continuing the story in the latter half of the year. Look forward to it!


    Zanafar