First, there was pain.
Then silence. Cold and complete.
Liora Vance remembered the moment clearly now. The charity gala, the roaring applause, the clink of crystal glasses, and the sudden crack of a gunshot. She had thrown herself in front of the briefcase filled with donation money—ironically the same one she had planned to skim from later. A rival, perhaps one who knew too much, had made her the centrepiece of her own downfall. Her final act had been both selfish and noble.
How fitting.
Then the board. The grand chessboard is surrounded by divine statues and floating figures. She had stood among thirteen strangers, each radiating uncertainty and something more—power. A divine voice had named them proxies. Champions of sins and virtues. And before questions could be asked, they were cast from the board.
Now she lay in a field of golden grass, under a lavender sky. Wind carried the scent of ripe fruit and sweet spice, and the clouds shimmered as if infused with magic. Trees with silver leaves lined the distant hills, and the hum of mana was a subtle vibration beneath her skin.
She stirred, her hand brushing the soft earth.
The body was not hers—not the one she knew. Rising slowly, she caught her reflection in the water pooled between stones. Her skin was smooth and radiant, sun-kissed with a natural lustre. Her eyes, once hazel, now glowed faintly like molten topaz. Her long auburn hair fluttered in the breeze, more vibrant than ever before. She wore robes of rich jade and ivory, embroidered in symbols she didn't recognize but felt connected to.
Her ears were softly pointed. Her posture is straighter, and more graceful. She had become a Fae.
A race is known for their beauty, trickery, and affinity with charm-based magic.
It made sense.
She had used charm to sway donors, empathy to mask her ambition. She had lived a double life. Now her very form reflected it.
"You're awake," said a young man standing nearby, dressed in simple robes and carrying a basket of herbs. He looked like a villager—a local. Not a proxy.
She blinked. "Where... am I?"
"Western Olarin. You're lucky. Most who appear in the mana bloom groves are dazed for days. Must be the goddess's blessing."
Liora smiled politely, brushing off her robes as she stood.
He offered her water and fruit, and she accepted. All the while, her thoughts turned inward.
She tried to speak of the divine board, the voice, the proxy game.
Nothing.
Her lips moved, but the words melted before they were born. Divine energy shimmered in her throat, severing the thought like a blade of silk. The gods had sealed the truth. It was not hers to share.
She laughed softly, startling the villager.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she said. "Just remembering something important."
He nodded, unconvinced.
As they walked together toward the nearby village, she kept her smile. But her mind was moving.
Her power—Transference. The ability to absorb and redistribute wealth, energy, life force. Greed and charity bound together. It was a dangerous gift. Tempting.
She would have to be careful.
She had no doubt the gods wanted entertainment. Drama. Victory at a cost. But she wasn't here just to be their puppet.
In the world of privilege and power back on Earth, she had played both sides. Now, in Auron, she would do the same. She would learn the world, navigate its courts and cultures, and rise.
Not just for survival.
But to win.
And maybe this time... she would give as much as she took.