[SP: F1] Skeleton Maiden (Arise)!

[Kisodeth 0]

Theme: Skeleton Maiden

Combat Data: Kisodeth LVL:6 | HP: 120/120 | EN: 30/30 | DMG: 9 | MIT:42

Skeleton Maiden (Arise!)

The dying sun's faint light seeped through openings in the wooden shutters of the inn, casting narrow golden designs on the dark room. One candle flickered on the bedside table, its flame valiantly battling the advancing darkness. Kisodeth stirred beneath the weight of the heavy blankets, let out a slow breath as the pull of consciousness drew her from the depths of sleep.

She despised waking during the day. The sun was an intruder, a trespasser that interrupted her solitude. But now the sun was dipping below the horizon, and the world outside would soon yield to the night's darkness. Just the way she preferred.

With a soft grunt, she tossed her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the icy wooden floor. The sensation sent a slight shiver up her back, but she embraced it, it kept her grounded, reminded her that she was, that she existed. Even in this artificial world, the sensations were too real to dismiss.

The candle’s feeble light cast long shadows as she reached for her armor.

Death's Embrace black steel glowed with an unnerving sheen in the darkness, throwing macabre reflections of her face. Piece by piece, she fastened it, the close hug of it more homey than any bed had ever been. The breastplate molded to her, accentuating just enough to invite lingering looks, but the dark glint in her own eyes made it clear, those who looked too long might well regret it, perhaps far too soon.

Then she picked up Winter's Discontent. The greatsword was a hauntingly lovely thing, a cold reaper's instrument forged from blue steel, its silver crossguard shattering into a jagged, frost-bitten pattern. Kisodeth trailed a gloved hand along its edge, feeling the chill of the metal against her fingertips. It was a grim reminder of her mission: to cut her way through this world, one death at a time. Lastly, she went to the little mirror in the room's corner. Her image gazed back…blue eyes, icy sharp; black-painted lips fixed in an inscrutable smirk; and the skull face paint that bordered her features in death's own derision.

She dampened her fingers in the bowl of white paint on the table with skilled dexterity, precisely outlining the lines and shading in the concavities beneath her cheekbones, determined that the face of the deceased would be the final vision her foes would have.

Satisfied, she gathered her braid over her shoulder, rolling it between her fingers before letting it drape against her chest. She was ready.

The streets of the Town of Beginnings had grown quiet, as daytime players retreated to their taverns and inns for warmth, food, and fleeting comfort. Kisodeth wanted none of them. Her boots rang on the cobblestones as she made her way to the city gates, the comforting weight of her sword at her back.

Night waited outside the walls. And she was hungry for the hunt.

WC: 477

[Kisodeth 0]

The cold night air greeted Kisodeth as she stepped beyond the great gates of the Town of Beginnings, the vast open expanse of the Beginner’s Field stretching out before her. The grass swayed gently under the pale light of Aincrad’s artificial moon, a silver glow casting long shadows across the terrain. Most players had long since retreated to the safety of the city, but out here, the mobs still wandered, waiting for some reckless adventurer to challenge them.

Her boots pressed into the soft earth as she strode forward, eyes scanning the terrain. Boars and Frenzy Wolves roamed the fields in lazy patterns, their dull red cursors flickering overhead. Nothing impressive. But for now, it would do. She needed the warm-up.

Kisodeth reached over her shoulder, fingers closing around the hilt of Winter’s Discontent. The greatsword slid free in a single smooth motion, its icy steel catching the moonlight. As she approached a lone Frenzy Wolf, the creature’s ears twitched, and with a guttural snarl, it turned to face her.

Without hesitation, she activated a vertical arc art. The sword’s edge gleamed with a blue light as she lunged forward, bringing the massive blade down in a crushing diagonal slash. The impact sent the wolf skidding back, its health bar plummeting into the yellow. Not dead yet.

The creature recovered fast, fangs bared as it lunged. Kisodeth barely tilted her head to the side, letting the beast’s maw snap shut inches from her throat. She pivoted on her heel, twisting her body as she activated another assisted sword art. Winter’s Discontent glowed a cold, violent blue as it arced in a controlled half-circle, cleaving through fur and muscle. The Frenzy Wolf let out a final pained yelp before its body shattered into fragments of light.

“One down.”

Another growl rumbled nearby…two more Frenzy Wolves had caught the scent of battle. Their cursors flickered orange as they prowled closer, emboldened by numbers.

Kisodeth smirked. “Bad call.”

She shifted her stance, gripping her greatsword tightly as she prepared to strike. The first wolf lunged, but she was faster, ‘Fatal Reaver’ flashed to life as she swung Winter’s Discontent in a brutal, two-handed upward slash. The sheer force of the impact scent the creature airborne before it burst into polygons midair.

The last wolf hesitated, its primal instincts warning it of certain death. Kisodeth lifted her sword, pointing the tip at the trembling creature, daring it to make a move. It bolted forward, crisscrossing in the blades of grass. She hunched and lunged, the blue arc winding up and then down then left. *shatter* 

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. The night was young, and she was just getting started.

Gripping her sword, she turned deeper into the Beginner’s Field, hunting for the next unlucky creature to cross her path.

WC: 467

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth prowled deeper into the Beginner’s Field, her boots crushing the grass beneath her as she scanned for her next target. The cool night air hummed with the distant sounds of combat, low-level players hacking away at boars and wolves, their shouts punctuated by the dull clang of weak weapons meeting hide.

She was about to move on when a voice rang out behind her.

“Hey! You there—the hell do you think you’re doing out here alone?”

Kisodeth slowed to a stop, turning her head slightly. The voice belonged to a young man, his tone brash, but laced with a nervous edge. She rotated fully, eyes falling on a small group of players…four of them, all dressed in mismatched leather armor, their weapons the kind of cheap trash sold at the starter vendors. They weren’t strong.

But that wasn’t why they were nervous.

*It was her.*

She let them get a good, long look. The eerie glow of her skeletal face paint, the way the shadows clung to her black armor, the massive greatsword resting easily in her grip. Winter’s Discontent gleamed under the moonlight, its icy blue steel reflecting off their wary faces.

The one who had spoken, a scrappy-looking kid with a flimsy rapier, hesitated but squared his shoulders. “You’re taking all the mobs,” he accused, though there was no real bite behind the words. “This is a beginner zone, you know. Other people need EXP, too.”

Kisodeth tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes cold and unreadable. “And?”

The single word was enough to send a visible shiver through the group.

The rapier-wielder glanced at his companions. A short, stocky guy with a mace, a girl with a dagger, and some lanky kid clutching a spear like he had no idea what to do with it. They weren’t a threat. Not to her.

But they weren’t backing off yet.

“You could at least party up,” the girl suggested, though her voice was uncertain. “You’d get more EXP that way.”

Kisodeth took a slow step forward. The group tensed.

“No,” she said simply.

The stocky one clenched his jaw. “What’s your problem?”

Kisodeth let a smirk tug at the corner of her lips. Then she lifted Winter’s Discontent just slightly, resting the broad, heavy blade across her shoulder. The weight of it made the air feel heavier between them.

“My problem?” she murmured, voice a slow, dangerous drawl. “I don’t like weaklings slowing me down.”

The words struck like a hammer blow. The rapier-wielder flinched, his grip on his weapon tightening. The others exchanged uneasy glances.

“Wh—weaklings?” the lanky one stammered, his spear dipping slightly.

Kisodeth let her gaze sweep over them, slow and deliberate. “Tell me something,” she said, stepping closer still, watching as they instinctively took half a step back. “If we weren’t inside a game…if this was real…do you think you’d be standing here right now? Or would I have already cut you down?”

The silence stretched thick and heavy between them. She could see it in their faces…the creeping, gnawing doubt. The realization that, even in a game, there were people who could be terrifying.

Finally, the rapier-wielder swallowed hard and let out a forced laugh. “Tch. Whatever. You’re nuts.” He jerked his head toward his party. “Come on, let’s go.”

The group shuffled away quickly, not daring to turn their backs on her until they were a safe distance away. Only then did they break into murmurs, throwing nervous glances over their shoulders before disappearing into the darkness.

Kisodeth watched them go, her smirk widening just a fraction.

Cowards.

She adjusted her grip on her greatsword and turned away, stepping deeper into the night. Let them run their mouths. Let them talk about her in hushed, fearful tones.

She had mobs to kill.

WC: 629

[Kisodeth 0]

An hour into mob slaying and Kisodeth felt the need to protein up after a good workout. As the midnight moon cast over the field, she headed back with a slow easy gait. Passing by, players watched her move like a wraith in the fog scared out of their minds sensing something not quite right with this individual. The cursor read green, but she looked orange.
 

The Town of Beginnings was never truly silent. Even at this late hour, the streets still bustled with night owls, merchants, and the occasional “drunk” stumbling out of a tavern. Lanterns flickered against the cobblestone roads, casting long, wavering shadows that stretched and twisted between the towering buildings.

Kisodeth strode through the main square, her heavy black armor clanking with each step. Most players avoided her on sight…some recoiling, others quickening their pace to get out of her way. It was a reaction she had grown to enjoy.

She wasn’t looking for a high-end meal. Just something cheap, something hot. She could’ve bought a loaf of bread and called it a night, but there was something about sitting down with a real meal, even in a game, that satisfied a deeper instinct.

She was just about to push open the door to a small, hole-in-the-wall tavern when a sharp voice cut through the hum of the square.

“I said—get your hands off me!”

Kisodeth turned her head, scanning the street until she found the source of the commotion. A cluster of players had gathered near a shopfront, murmuring amongst themselves. In the center of the attention, a young woman with short brown hair was glaring up at a broad-shouldered man in heavy iron armor. His gauntleted hand was clenched around her wrist, keeping her from pulling away. Two other players flanked him, both similarly armored. 

“What’s the problem here?” Kisodeth muttered to herself, stepping closer, arms folded for sheer intimidation values.

The man sneered down at the girl. “You think you can just walk away after stealing from us?”

“I didn’t steal anything!” she snapped, jerking against his grip. “I just took a drop from a mob…my kill!”

One of his companions, a wiry-looking guy with a sneer that screamed “lackey,” laughed. “You really think some lowbie like you gets first dibs? We were right there, if we wanted it, it was ours.”

Kisodeth exhaled slowly through her nose.

Ah. One of those types.

She could already see how it had gone down. The girl was probably soloing, managing to take down a mob, only for these jackals to come along, try to intimidate her out of her reward, and then cry thief when she didn’t cave. It was pathetic.

The onlookers whispered, but no one moved to intervene. No one wanted trouble.

Kisodeth, however, had never once shied away from trouble.

Her boots hit the cobblestone with deliberate weight as she closed the distance, her greatsword resting casually against her shoulder. The low murmur of the square dimmed.

The man gripping the girl barely had time to turn before Kisodeth was upon them. She didn’t stop walking…just kept moving until she was right there, so close he had to take a step back or be bowled over.

“Let her go,” she said, voice low and devoid of amusement. 

The armored man scowled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he took in her appearance. The skeletal face paint. The black steel of her armor. The sheer presence she exuded…cold, implacable, predatory.

His grip loosened slightly, but he forced himself to sneer. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Kisodeth tilted her head slightly in mock chalance, “That’s not your concern.” She let Winter’s Discontent slip from her shoulder, the blade’s tip tapping lightly against the ground. A small, meaningless movement but it made all three of them flinch.

The wiry lackey tried to recover first. “Tch. What, you gonna fight over some random newbie?”

Kisodeth’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No need.” Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a razor. “Because if you don’t let her go, I’m going to make you wish player-killing wasnt an option.”

That did it.

The man’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to his companions. No one wanted to be the first to back down, but neither did they want to see what would happen if they pushed her.

Finally, with a growl of frustration, he wrenched his hand away from the girl. “Whatever. She’s not worth it.”

The three of them turned, skulking away into the crowd, muttering curses under their breath.

Kisodeth exhaled slowly, watching them go before shifting her gaze back to the girl. “You good?”

The girl rubbed her wrist, blinking up at her. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.”

Kisodeth grunted. “Then get stronger. Next time, don’t let scum like that push you around.”

She turned without waiting for a response, stepping back toward the tavern. She still needed to eat, after all.

And if those bastards were smart, they’d stay out of her way from now on.

 

WC: 848

[Kisodeth 0]

The small restaurant wasn’t much, just a handful of wooden tables, a counter, and an open kitchen where the smell of sizzling meat and fresh bread filled the air. A few late-night stragglers sat hunched over their meals, but as Kisodeth stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation stilled.

She ignored it. She was used to it.

Her armor clanked as she made her way to the counter, where the lone chef; a nervous-looking player in a white apron was already standing stiffly behind the counter. They were a younger player, maybe late teens, with short, messy hair and wide eyes that flickered between Kisodeth’s skeletal face paint and the massive greatsword on her back.

Kisodeth leaned one arm against the counter, scanning the menu board mounted on the wall. The silence dragged. She could feel the player watching her, the way their hands fidgeted like they weren’t sure whether to greet her or run.

“…Uh,” the chef finally spoke, voice wavering. “W-Welcome. What can I get for you?”

Kisodeth hummed, still reading. “Something cheap. Meat, preferably.”

The chef swallowed. “We have… grilled boar skewers for 50 col. Or, uh, a beef stew for 80 col.”

She considered it. The stew would probably be better for restoring health, but she wasn’t in the mood for something soupy. “Skewers,” she muttered.

The chef nodded so quickly it was almost comical. They turned to start prepping, but hesitated, glancing back at her. Their fingers twitched against the countertop before they finally blurted, “Why do you look like that?”

Kisodeth’s gaze flicked up from the menu, slowly locking onto them.

The chef visibly tensed, as if regretting the question immediately. “S-Sorry! I mean…um, the face paint. You look like a skeleton. Is it, like… a guild thing? Or…”

Kisodeth sighed through her nose, reaching up to rub her temple. “It’s cultural.”

The chef blinked.

She rolled her shoulders, deciding she might as well answer properly. “It’s for Día de los Muertos…Day of the Dead. It’s a celebration of the dead, honoring ancestors, remembering the people we lost. Most people celebrate it once a year.” She exhaled, a dry smirk pulling at her lips. “I celebrate it every day.”

The chef’s expression softened with curiosity. “That’s… actually kinda cool.”

Kisodeth huffed. “Yeah, and it’s a sick aesthetic. Most people just get scared and avoid me.” She tapped her gauntleted fingers against the counter. “Which is fine. I don’t exactly need company.”

The chef gave a nervous chuckle, the tension in their shoulders easing just a bit. “Well… I think it suits you.”

Kisodeth smirked, but didn’t respond. She just watched as they turned back to grilling her food, the smell of sizzling meat filling the small space.
 

WC: 453

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth settled into a corner booth, away from the few other diners. The wooden chair creaked under the weight of her black steel armor as she leaned back, exhaling slowly. She grabbed a skewer, biting into the grilled meat with deliberate slowness. It was good better than expected, even. Smoky, well-seasoned. She chewed, lost in thought as she pulled up her menu screen.

Her inventory flickered to life in front of her, neatly listing the spoils of the night’s hunt. A few low-tier drops; wolf pelts, a couple of fangs, and some col not much to get excited over. Her gaze drifted to her XP bar in the corner of the screen. She was close to leveling up, but not quite there yet. She’d need to push further, take on harder prey.

“Maybe it’s time to head for the upper floors.”

The thought lingered. The first floor was getting stale…too many weaklings, too much wasted time. If she wanted to get stronger, she’d have to push ahead alone. She scoffed to herself. It was better that way. No one to slow her down. No one to betray her.

As she finished the last of her food, voices at the front of the restaurant pulled her from her thoughts. A group of players had just walked in, chatting excitedly.

“Man, I can’t believe we actually did it! That boss was insane.”

“We finally unlocked our guild’s emblem! We’re official now!”

Kisodeth glanced up just enough to see them. A trio of fresh-faced players, their gear a mix of mid-tier upgrades. The leader, a swordsman in steel-blue armor, was grinning, clapping his comrades on the shoulders as they ordered their meals. Their camaraderie was warm, loud, obnoxious.

Kisodeth scoffed, low and sharp, shaking her head.

Guilds.

Nothing but people clinging to each other out of fear. She had no patience for it. She’d seen what happened when people got too comfortable, too trusting. It always ended in betrayal, in someone getting left behind.

She sat back, arms crossed, watching from the shadows as they laughed and congratulated each other.

They wouldn’t last.

She’d seen too many players like them before.

WC: 358

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth was just about to rise from her seat when the restaurant’s door swung open again. The atmosphere shifted instantly. A group of four strode inside, dressed in darker, more battle-worn gear. They didn’t carry the nervous energy of casual players…no, these ones owned their space. They moved with confidence, the kind that made others shrink back.

The leader, a sharp-featured woman with piercing eyes and a cocky smirk, immediately honed in on Kisodeth.

“Well, well,” she mused, stepping right up to her table. “Now this is a sight.” She gestured vaguely at Kisodeth’s armor, her sword, the skeletal face paint. “You look like a killer. But looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”

Without waiting for an invitation, she slid into the seat across from Kisodeth, lounging back as if she owned the place. Her crew lingered behind her, silent but unmistakably watchful.

Kisodeth didn’t acknowledge her right away. She took another look at her menu, then exhaled through her nose. “Something you want?”

The woman smirked. “More like something you want. See, people like you? Solo players? You think you’re different. Stronger alone, better off without ties.” She leaned in, her voice dropping just a notch. “But you know this world isn’t built for lone wolves. You might last a while, sure. But eventually, the system gets you.”

Kisodeth finally looked up, her piercing blue eyes glinting under the dim lights. “And let me guess,” she drawled, voice dry. “You’re here to save me?”

The woman laughed, a low, knowing chuckle. “I’m here to offer you something better than just scraping by. A guild where people like you don’t have to play by the rules set by weaker players. You think the game’s about clearing floors?” She scoffed. “It’s about control. Power.”

Kisodeth leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. “You recruiting or just stroking your own ego?”

The woman’s smirk twitched. “I’m offering you a place among real players. People who fight on their terms, not the system’s. You’ve got the look, the presence…hell, you probably have the skills to back it up. So why waste all that on hunting mobs and living like some back-alley merc?”

Kisodeth let the words settle for a moment before she sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t dress like this to be a PKer,” she said bluntly. “It’s for something else.”

The leader tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “That so? Huh.” She leaned forward again, resting her elbows on the table. “Well, here’s the thing I don’t think you mind scaring people. I think you like the way they look at you. That edge of fear, the respect. You know that power. And I’m telling you…you could own it.”

Kisodeth exhaled, staring her down with an unreadable expression. Then, with slow deliberation, she set her utensils down and met the woman’s gaze dead-on.

“I don’t need to own fear,” she said, voice cold. “It already follows me everywhere.”

The woman regarded her for a beat, then smirked, pushing back from the table. “Suit yourself.” She flicked open her menu, and Kisodeth’s HUD pinged; an unsolicited friend request. “You change your mind, you know where to find us.”

With that, she turned on her heel, her crew following her out without another word.

Kisodeth didn’t move. She stared at the notification for half a second before dismissing it without hesitation.

Let them think what they wanted. She had no interest in playing their game. Everyone had an opinion on how to game the system. It just wasn’t her thing.

 

WC: 591

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth exhaled sharply through her nose as she dismissed the friend request with a flick of her wrist. What a waste of time.

Her fingers tapped against the table as she pulled up her inventory, selecting the col needed to cover the meal. She tossed in a small tip not because she was feeling generous but because the chef had at least kept their questions to a minimum. After the transfer, she pushed herself up from the chair, rolling her shoulders until her armor shifted and creaked ominously.

The chef flinched slightly as she turned toward them. Kisodeth smirked, saluting lazily with two fingers before heading for the exit.

The cool night air greeted her as she stepped onto the quiet streets. Midnight had long since passed, and yet the town still held a handful of stragglers, players lounging near the teleport gate, trading goods, or simply wandering like lost souls. Too many of them had approached her tonight. Too many words.

She wasn’t playing this game to be social.

As she stalked toward the city gates, she decided it was time to crank up the intimidation.

Her stride slowed, becoming more deliberate. The heavy clink of her black steel armor echoed off the cobblestone, each step measured, weighted. She let her hands hover near the hilt of Winter’s Discontent as if itching to draw it at the slightest provocation. She let her posture sink just a little, shoulders sloping forward in a way that made her silhouette predatory.

And then, of course, there was the face paint.

She reached up, running two fingers along her jaw, smudging the edges of the skeletal markings. The imperfections made it look more like the natural decay of a corpse, uneven and eerie. Her blue eyes burned beneath it, catching the glow of the scattered street lamps.

As she passed a small cluster of low-level players, she barely turned her head…just enough to let her gaze linger.

They went stiff. One of them, a fresh-faced newbie still wearing beginner’s gear, gulped audibly.

Kisodeth suppressed a smirk. Good.

Another few steps, and she brushed past a merchant setting up a late-night stall. The man hesitated, fingers pausing over his menu screen. He looked ready to ask if she wanted to browse, then thought better of it.

Better.

By the time she reached the main gates, she could feel the weight of the silence behind her. No comments. No invitations. No small talk.

Finally.

With a final glance over her shoulder, she turned toward the open fields beyond the town, darkness stretching before her like an invitation.

Time to get back to work.
 

WC: 438

[Kisodeth 0]

The ding of the system alert cut through the quiet of the plains, just as Kisodeth drove Winter’s Discontent through the final pixelated remnants of the boar. She barely had time to inspect the loot drop before the challenge window popped up in front of her…an invitation to a duel.

Kisodeth exhaled slowly through her nose. Another one?

She flicked her gaze toward the source, already expecting some cocky low-level trying to prove himself. Instead, she found a hooded figure standing a short distance away, wrapped in a dark cloak that concealed most of their form. Their face was obscured beneath the hood, but the indicator floating above their head confirmed their status as a green player.

Not a red. Not a PKer. Just… silent.

She let the duel window hover for a few seconds, studying them. No words, no taunts, not even a motion for attention. Just the request.

Kisodeth sighed, rolling her shoulders as she selected Accept.

The system responded immediately, throwing up the countdown timer between them.

3…

She took a step back, adjusting her grip on Winter’s Discontent. The air around them seemed to cool ever so slightly, the weight of the duel settling in.

2…

Her opponent shifted, their stance subtly lowering, still saying nothing.

1…

Kisodeth smirked, her boots digging into the earth.

Begin.

Her cloaked opponent shot forward the instant the system declared the match. Kisodeth barely had a moment to raise Winter’s Discontent before they were on her, moving with a speed that didn’t match their unassuming posture. A gleam of steel flashed from beneath the cloak…a dagger user.

Kisodeth pivoted, raising her greatsword in a defensive stance. The impact of the first strike rattled up her arms, her opponent’s dagger scraping against her blade in a shower of sparks before they twisted away, already repositioning.

Fast.

She exhaled through her nose, adjusting her stance. This wasn’t some reckless player flailing around. They were testing her.

Fine. Let’s see how much pressure they could handle.

She stepped forward with a brutal downward swing, Winter’s Discontent humming as she activated a sword skill. A blue arc of light traced the motion of her blade as it came crashing down.

The cloaked player barely avoided the strike, rolling to the side just as her greatsword slammed into the ground. The impact sent out a shockwave of dust and shattered stone, but she was already pivoting into another strike, aiming to catch them in recovery.

But they weren’t there.

She felt the air shift behind her.

A dagger shot toward the exposed section of her side.

 

WC: 429

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth twisted at the last second, shifting her weight to deflect the dagger with the flat of Winter’s Discontent. The clash of metal rang out, and the impact sent vibrations up her arm. The cloaked player had aimed well, right at the gap in her armor but she wasn’t about to let them slip through that easily.

She shoved forward, using her brute strength to force space between them. They staggered back but recovered quickly, their footwork light, almost effortless.

“Tch.” Kisodeth rolled her shoulders. “You’re slippery, I’ll give you that.”

Her opponent said nothing, merely flipping the dagger in their hand as the faint glow of an activated skill flickered along its edge.

Alright, time to change the tempo.

Kisodeth didn’t wait for them to make the next move. She lunged, swinging Winter’s Discontent in a wide arc, the sheer force of the motion kicking up dust around her. The cloaked player ducked low, narrowly avoiding the blade as it roared past them, but Kisodeth wasn’t done.

The moment her sword met empty air, she wrenched it back, reversing her grip mid-motion and bringing the massive blade around in a brutal backswing.

This time, she was too fast for them to slip away entirely.

The tip of Winter’s Discontent clipped their side, sending them skidding across the dirt, their health bar dipping slightly.

Not much damage, but she had drawn first blood.

Kisodeth smirked and rested her blade against her shoulder. “Hope you weren’t expecting me to go easy on you.”

WC: 251

[Kisodeth 0]

The cloaked player steadied themselves, exhaling a sharp breath. Their health had barely dipped, but Kisodeth saw the way they flexed their fingers, recalculating. Good. They knew now she wasn’t some easy target.

But something felt… off.

They weren’t reacting like someone who had just been caught off guard. No frustration, no hesitation…just eerie, calculated focus.

Then they moved.

The moment was a blur. one second they stood across from her, the next they closed the distance with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible at this level.

Shadowstep?

Kisodeth barely had time to twist as the dagger lashed out again. She managed to angle Winter’s Discontent in defense, but the impact sent a sharp jolt through her fingers. Not because of the strike itself…no, it was the effect.

Her movement slowed.

A debuff.

Her eyes narrowed. That skill wasn’t common at this stage in the game. Where the hell had they gotten their hands on something like that?

A system notification flashed in the corner of her vision: “Paralysis Resistance: Insufficient.”

Shit.

The cloaked player struck again, this time a sweeping kick to her ankle. Kisodeth stumbled, the sluggish effect of the debuff making it worse. The moment she hit a knee, they pressed in, blade hovering just near her throat.

“Good,” they finally spoke, their voice calm, but with an edge that made her hackles rise. “You’re strong. That’s exactly why we’ve been watching you.”

Her blue eyes snapped up at them, heartbeat steady but mind racing.

“We?” she repeated coldly.

They smiled under the hood. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Then, without warning, they canceled the duel.

Kisodeth barely had time to register the notification before her opponent blurred backwards, retreating into the darkness of the plains. No teleport crystal, no menu navigation…just… disappearing.

A sharp exhale left her lips. She stood, rolling her shoulders, but her mind was already working overtime.

That duel wasn’t random.

And neither was that player.

She wasn’t just a solo fighter carving her own way through Aincrad anymore.

Someone had marked her.

And that meant something big was coming.
 

WC: 348

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth stood motionless for a moment, her breath steadying as she weighed the encounter in her mind. It didn’t sit right with her the way the cloaked player had moved, the strange, unsettling calm in their voice. Something about the duel felt like a test, and she hated tests. She wasn’t someone who waited around for answers; she made her own. But for now, there was no sense in dwelling on it.

She rolled her shoulders and glanced around the plains, shaking off the remnants of the unnerving encounter. The sound of a boar grunting nearby caught her attention, and she unsheathed Winter’s Discontent, the cold steel glinting under the moonlight.

Mobs.

That’s what mattered right now. Whatever that player had wanted, whoever they were, would have to wait. She had a job to do. She needed to get stronger, and quickly.

“Level up, become a force, stand on your own. Don’t rely on anyone else.” Like a mantra repeated through her head, “Level up…”

With a growl under her breath, Kisodeth set her sights on the boar. It snorted and stomped around, unaware of her presence. She wasn’t about to let it get too comfortable. Her fingers tightened around the sword’s grip, and with a savage swing, she sent it crashing through the creature’s defenses. The boar staggered, and before it could retaliate, Kisodeth brought the blade down with a clean, decisive strike.

The beast dropped, its health bar vanishing into the ether.

Another one down.

She took a deep breath and scanned the horizon, eyes sharp. The forest was still dark, and the quiet was almost oppressive. But it didn’t matter. She was used to being alone.

What had just happened…it didn’t shake her. It didn’t stop her. But it had made her realize something: if she was going to survive in this hellhole, she couldn’t stay stagnant.

She couldn’t keep just fighting.

She needed to dominate.

And that meant leveling up faster than she ever had before. That meant finding the right mobs, the right grind, and the right strategy to get stronger.

And then, when the time came, she would find whoever that player was. No matter who they were or what they wanted, they wouldn’t get away with making her feel small.

No one had ever gotten the drop on her before. She wasn’t about to let it happen again.

With a muttered curse under her breath, she flourished her blade and turned toward the next challenge.

 

WC: 407

[Kisodeth 0]

Kisodeth perched herself on a small rise just beyond the chaos, arms crossed over her armored chest as she watched the battle unfold. The <Nepent Variant> lashed out with its razor-leafed tendrils, each swipe carving through the air with deadly precision. The party of players, five of them, by her count moved in frantically, their coordination sloppy, their attacks desperate.

She narrowed her eyes. They weren’t bad, but they were predictable. Too reactive, too focused on what was in front of them instead of what was coming next. And the Nepent Variant knew it. The damned thing fought like a seasoned predator, weaving its vines through gaps in their formation, forcing them to break ranks again and again.

One of the players, a spear-wielder, tried to strike at its core, but the boss coiled a vine around his weapon and yanked it out of his hands, sending him staggering backward. Another swung wildly, only to be caught mid-motion and thrown into a tree, their health plummeting into the red.

Kisodeth exhaled through her nose.

They were going to lose.

She didn’t owe them anything.

This wasn’t her fight.

But she wasn’t about to let some overgrown weed get stronger while she stood around doing nothing. Level up. Dominate. The words whispered through her mind, tightening her grip on Winter’s Discontent.

Then she saw it…one of the players, a short swordsman, taking a vine square in the chest. The impact sent them sprawling, their body skidding across the dirt. Their HP flickered. One more hit, and they’d be gone.

Her decision was made before she even realized she’d moved.

“Tch.” Kisodeth clicked her tongue, rolling her shoulders as she strode forward, her heavy boots crunching against the dirt.

The <Nepent Variant> shuddered as it turned, as if sensing something new, something worse approaching.

It wasn’t wrong.

Kisodeth’s fingers flexed around her hilt, and her voice dropped into a low, growling whisper.

“Level up. Dominate.”

Then, with a sharp inhale, she moved.
 

WC: 330

[Kisodeth 0]

 

Spoiler

Kisodeth: LVL:6 | HP: 120/120 | EN: 30/30 | DMG: 9 | MIT:42

Nepent Variant: HP: 138/200 | MIT: 10 | DMG: 25 | ACC: 1 |  EVA: 0

• Plant Frenzy | On MD 9-10, the Nepent will strike all party members for 35 DMG.
• Photosynthesis | On CD 9-12, the Nepent will restore 15 HP and gain 5 MIT until its next turn.
• Weapon Lock | Only Sword Arts of Rank 2 or lower may be used against this boss.
• Tier Lock | For the duration of the fight, all of the participants’ stats that scale with Tier are calculated as though they’re Tier 1. [DMG/MIT/BLEED enhancements etc.]

Combat:

ID	Battle	Craft	Loot	MOB	Character	Link	Purpose
241764	4	10	11	9	Variant Nepent	http://www.cydel.net/images/saorpg/diceroll/Msg_hover2.png	Nepent Variant vs Kisodeth
241763	7	6	11	4	Kisodeth	http://www.cydel.net/images/saorpg/diceroll/Msg_hover2.png	ST-I vs Nepent Variant

Kisodeth DMG: 9x8=72-10=62 

N.Variant DMG: 35-42=-7 (No DMG)

Kisodeth surged forward, her boots kicking up dirt as she activated her Sword Skill. A streak of pale blue light trailed behind her greatsword as she swung it in a brutal downward cleave.

CRASH!

Winter’s Discontent bit deep into the Nepent Variant’s twisting mass of vines, splitting through its core with a satisfying crack. -62 HP. The health bar above its grotesque, writhing form dropped, leaving it at 138/200 HP.

The boss recoiled, its vines convulsing in anger. Then, with a violent shudder, it twisted its entire body, flinging its tendrils outward in a sweeping arc! AoE attack!

Kisodeth braced.

WHIP—SHRAAAAK!

Razor-edged leaves screeched against her black steel breastplate, but her Damage Mitigation rendered the attack worthless. -35 HP mitigated to 0. The impact barely budged her.

The same couldn’t be said for the rest.

Panicked cries filled the air as the party scattered. One was struck clean across the chest, their health plummeting as they hit the ground hard. Another barely dodged but had lost their nerve.

“Shit, we have to go!” one of them shouted.

“Run for it! It’s too strong!”

One by one, the surviving players bolted, some vanishing into the darkness beyond the battlefield.

Kisodeth exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Cowards.”

The last player, a young man barely holding his sword upright, lingered for a second too long, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes.

“You—y-you’re staying?” he stammered.

Kisodeth shifted her weight, raising Winter’s Discontent with one hand, its steel gleaming under the pale moonlight. She tilted her head just enough for the eerie glow of her blue eyes to catch the trembling player’s gaze.

“Get lost,” she muttered. “You’ll only get in my way.”

The player swallowed hard, his courage evaporating. With a strangled noise, he turned and ran, disappearing into the night.

Kisodeth rolled her shoulders, rolling her neck with a soft pop. Finally, some real combat.

The Nepent Variant quivered, vines curling as it prepared to attack again.

Kisodeth adjusted her stance, dragging her greatsword along the ground, its steel humming with a faint glow as she prepared another skill.

A smirk ghosted across her lips.

“Just you and me now, cabrón.”
 

WC: 359

Edited 5 hours ago by Kisodeth