The darkness in the cell was not just an absence of light. It was a physical presence. It was a thick, cold, wet blanket that smelled of rusted iron, human misery, and the cloying sweetness of old blood. It clung to my skin, filled my lungs, and tried to seep into my soul. The resounding CLANG of the door and the slam of the bolt were the period at the end of a death sentence.
Then, through the oppressive black, came the sound that cut through everything. A voice, fragile as spun glass, yet so deeply ingrained in the core of my being that it was the only anchor I had left.
"Kalyth…? My child… is that… is that you?"
The sound of my mother's voice, broken and weak, shattered the cold, hard shell I had built around my heart. The strategist vanished. The warrior faded. For a single, gut-wrenching moment, I was just a seven-year-old girl who had been thrown into a hole to die with her mother.
Tears I didn't know I was holding back pricked at the corners of my eyes. I scrambled across the damp, uneven stone floor, my hands scraping against the rough surface.
"Mama?" I whispered, my voice trembling for real this time. "Mama, it's me."
My hand brushed against something soft—a thin, rough-spun blanket. Underneath it, I felt a body that was far too thin, radiating a feverish heat. I found her hand. It was frail and cold, her fingers barely having the strength to curl around mine.
"Oh, Kalyth," she breathed, and even in the dark, I could hear the tears in her voice. "No… no, not you. Why would he… why would he bring you here?"
"Papa… Papa said…" I had to force the words out past the lump in my throat. I delivered the line I had prepared, the one Liana had so gleefully given me, but now it felt like swallowing glass. "He said they're going to execute us tomorrow, Mama."
A choked sob escaped her lips, a sound of such profound, hopeless despair that it was a thousand times more painful than any whip. "My baby… my poor baby… This is my fault. I was weak. I couldn't protect you from this house. From him."
Her body trembled with ragged, silent sobs. She tried to pull me closer, a weak, protective gesture that spoke of a love so fierce it defied the cold, the pain, and the death sentence hanging over our heads.
I huddled against her, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. She was bone-thin, and I could feel the unnatural heat of a festering infection radiating from her back even through her thin shift. She was dying. The quest timer wasn't a game mechanic; it was a horrifyingly real countdown.
But as I held her, as I felt her despair wash over me, the actress in my soul took a bow and exited the stage. The cold, calculating mind of the new Kalyth von Eldoria returned, its gears grinding with chilling precision. My tears stopped. My trembling ceased. The scared little girl was gone, replaced by the predator I was becoming.
'This isn't the end,' I thought, my mind a shard of ice in the darkness. 'This is the beginning. This is the staging ground. He made a mistake. He put the key right next to the lock.'
I gently disentangled my hand from hers, my face still buried in her shoulder to maintain the illusion of a weeping child.
'Akira. Do it now.'
There was no need for further command. The system understood.
'Scan my mother. Every detail. Every secret. I want to know everything.'
[Acknowledged, Master. Initiating deep-level analysis on target 'Anastarka von Eldoria.' This will require more processing power than a standard scan due to multiple layers of dormant and sealed abilities. Please stand by.]
For a few seconds, the only sounds were my mother's quiet weeping and my own soft, fake sniffles. Then, in my mind's eye, a single, incredibly complex status window bloomed into existence. It was different from the others. Its border was a mix of ethereal violet and crackling blue, shimmering with a power that was sleeping, but immense.
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STATUS (SEALED)
Name: Anastarka von Varkova
Level: 25
Class: Unknown (Unawakened)
Race: Human (Varkova Bloodline - Latent)
Title: The Disgraced Duchess, The Last Varkova
HP: 95/650 (Condition: Critical - Sepsis, Malnourishment, Mana Exhaustion)
MP: 10/800 (Mana Core: Green - Suppressed)
--ATTRIBUTES--
STR: 18
VIT: 22
AGI: 25
INT: 35
WIS: 40
LCK: 5
--SKILLS & BLESSINGS (DORMANT/SEALED)--
[Blessing of the War God, Ares] (Divine, Sealed): A divine pact bestowed upon the Varkova bloodline. If unsealed, grants unparalleled combat intuition, mastery over all conventional weaponry, and the ability to enter a 'Battle Trance,' drastically boosting physical abilities in exchange for tactical reasoning.
[Blessing of the Storm Lord, Zeus] (Divine, Sealed): A divine pact bestowed upon the Varkova bloodline. If unsealed, grants high-level affinity for Lightning and Wind magic, a powerful aura of command that can influence weaker minds, and resistance to electrical attacks.
[Blessing of the Frost Heart, Boreas] (Divine, Sealed): A divine pact bestowed upon the Varkova bloodline. If unsealed, grants high-level affinity for Ice magic, extreme resilience to cold and mental attacks, and the ability to create 'Frost Armor' from ambient mana.
[Varkova Bloodline] (Unique, Latent): The inherited potential of a fallen lineage of warrior-mages. Grants natural aptitude for both Aura and Magic, creating the potential for a powerful Hybrid class. Currently dormant due to generations of disuse and suppression.
[Chosen One] (Mythical, Sealed): A designation of fate applied by a higher power or world principle. The nature and effect of this skill are unknown until unsealed, but its presence signifies a destiny of world-altering significance.
------------------------------------
I stared.
My mind, which had been a cold, logical machine, simply stopped working. The sheer weight of the information was staggering. I had to read it again. And a third time.
Level 25. Pitifully low for an adult noblewoman. Her stats were barely better than my own Level 5 self. Her HP was critical. A Green Mana Core, suppressed and nearly drained. This was the woman I knew. Weak. Beaten. Broken.
But underneath that… underneath that was a sleeping god.
Three divine blessings. Not from some minor local spirits, but from names I recognized from my past life's mythology—Ares, Zeus, Boreas. They were clearly the Veridian equivalent of major gods. Skills that granted mastery of war, storms, and ice.
A unique bloodline that made her a natural hybrid of the two main power systems.
And a skill labeled Mythical. The same rarity as a White Mana Core. Chosen One.
'Akira…' I managed to think, my mind reeling. 'Explain. What… what is this?'
[Master, the subject Anastarka von Varkova represents an anomaly of unprecedented potential,] Akira's voice was stripped of its usual calmness, tinged with what I could only describe as digital awe. [Her base level and current state are deceptively low. The Duke's household, likely through systematic emotional and physical abuse, has suppressed her natural growth. Her Mana Core, which should be a vibrant Green, is dimmed and barely functional. However, her latent potential is among the highest I have ever been configured to analyze.]
'Varkova… her name isn't Eldoria?'
[Correct, Master. Eldoria is the surname of Duke Valerius. Your mother's maiden name is von Varkova. My historical archives are limited, but cross-referencing noble lineages indicates that the House of Varkova was once a powerful County to the north. They were known for producing legendary warrior-mages who could command both Aura and the elements. The house fell into ruin approximately two decades ago under… suspicious circumstances.]
Suspicious circumstances. A cold dread settled in my stomach.
'The Duke,' I realized. 'He didn't just conquer them. He took the last heir as his wife. Not for territory. He married her to possess her bloodline. To own it. And then he crushed it. He broke her so thoroughly she never Awakened, never realized what she was.'
The sheer, calculated cruelty of it was breathtaking. He hadn't just abused a woman. He had caged a goddess and spent twenty years systematically breaking her wings to ensure she never knew she could fly. All so her power could never challenge his own.
A new, different kind of rage ignited within me. It wasn't the hot, vengeful anger for the whipping. It was a cold, righteous fury for the theft of a destiny. He hadn't just hurt my mother. He had stolen her entire life.
My mind snapped back into focus, sharper than ever before. The shock was gone, replaced by a crystalline plan that formed almost instantly.
'I see it now. My path was never to be the solo hero breaking out of prison. That's a fool's plan. I'm a Level 5 child. Even with my potential, I'm a glass cannon. But her… she's a nuke waiting for a launch code.'
The corners of my lips twitched in the darkness, a grin that my mother blessedly could not see.
'Operation: Make My Mother Stronger. It's perfect.'
My mind raced, laying out the steps with vicious glee. 'Let's be real, a seven-year-old who suddenly manifests the strength of a trained knight and the tactical knowledge of a general? It's unbelievable. The Duke, the guards, everyone would know something was wrong. They'd suspect possession, divine intervention, a forbidden artifact. I'd be dissected. But a broken, abused woman, pushed past her absolute limit on the eve of her execution? A woman who experiences a desperate, miraculous Awakening in a moment of ultimate crisis? That's not just believable. That's a goddamn fantasy trope! It's a story they'll tell for generations!'
I had to suppress a manic giggle. This was better than any isekai I'd ever read. I wouldn't be the protagonist. I would be the producer. The hidden mastermind pulling the strings. I would be the catalyst that unleashes a storm upon this house, and I would do it all from the shadows, wearing the perfect disguise of a terrified, helpless child.
I could still have my childhood, in a twisted sort of way. A childhood of plotting, manipulation, and orchestrating the glorious, bloody revenge of my mother. I would enjoy every second of it.
I snuggled closer to my mother, letting out a convincing whimper.
'Alright, you magnificent supercomputer,' I beamed the thought at Akira, my mind buzzing with excitement. 'Your time to shine. Forget escaping. Our new mission is to turn this gentle, broken woman into the War-Storm of the North before sunrise tomorrow. Give me a plan. A step-by-step guide to forging a goddess in a dungeon. Let's GOOO!'
[Acknowledged, Master. Recalibrating strategic priorities. Formulating "Maternal Empowerment Protocol." The timeframe is extremely limited, and the subject's physical condition is the primary obstacle. The protocol will consist of three distinct phases.]
A new series of neat, organized windows appeared in my mental space.
PHASE 1: STABILIZATION & HEALING (Estimated Time: 8 Hours)
Objective: Reverse the effects of sepsis and restore basic physical integrity.
Method: The subject lacks the conscious control or mana to cast healing spells. However, her suppressed Green Mana Core and latent Varkova bloodline means she possesses a significant, albeit dormant, life force (Aura). You must guide her to circulate this energy. It will be painful and inefficient, but it will be enough to fight the infection and restore a baseline of health. I will provide you with a simplified circulatory map and verbal instructions to relay to her.
Warning: This process will feel like fire ants crawling through her veins. She will require immense willpower to endure it.
'Pain. Of course. There's always pain. What's Phase 2?'
PHASE 2: THE CATALYST (Estimated Time: 1 Hour)
Objective: Trigger a Forced Awakening to unseal her Blessings and Bloodline skill.
Method: An Awakening requires a moment of extreme emotional or psychological pressure. Her current state of despair is a foundation, but it is passive. A trigger is required—a sudden, sharp shock that forces her will to live to erupt. This must be orchestrated by you, Master.
Recommendation: Once she is stabilized, you must create a scenario of immediate, credible threat to your own life. Her maternal protective instinct, combined with her stabilized life force, is the most likely candidate for a successful trigger. You will have to make her believe you are about to die.
My heart clenched. I had to terrify her. I had to push the woman who loved me more than anything into thinking she was about to lose me. It was cruel. It was manipulative.
It was absolutely necessary.
'I can do it,' I thought, my resolve hardening. 'What's the final phase?'
PHASE 3: ACCELERATED TUTORIAL (Remaining Time)
Objective: Familiarize the newly Awakened subject with her powers.
Method: Once Awakened, her abilities will be raw and uncontrolled. Her mind will be flooded with new instincts and knowledge from her Blessings. You, with my guidance, will act as her first tutor. You will teach her how to summon her Frost Armor, how to channel her Battle Trance, how to shape a basic lightning spell. We will not create a master. We will create a weapon capable of surviving the initial confrontation and escaping the estate.
Conclusion: This plan is high-risk, high-reward, with a projected success probability of 68.4%. The primary variable is the subject's will to live and fight. You must become that will, Master.
Sixty-eight percent. It was better than zero.
I had the plan. I had the tools. Now, I had to be the actress of a lifetime.
I pulled away from my mother slightly, looking up into the darkness where I knew her face was. I let my voice fill with the most convincing, heartbreaking terror I could muster.
"Mama," I whispered, my voice cracking, "I don't want to die."
I felt her hand tighten on mine. "Oh, my sweet girl. Neither do I. Neither do I."
"We… we have to fight," I said, planting the first seed. "Like… like the Star Knight in the stories you told me. He never gave up, right?"
I could almost feel her sad smile in the dark. "That's just a story, my love. We are not knights."
'Not yet,' I thought. 'But you will be.'
"But… my back hurts, Mama," I whimpered, playing my next card. "It's hot. And it's hard to breathe." I was describing her symptoms, but attributing them to myself.
Her own pain was instantly forgotten, her focus entirely on me. "Your back? Did they… did they hurt you too, Kalyth?"
"I don't know," I lied, a masterstroke of childish ambiguity. "It just burns. From the inside."
This was the opening Akira had given me. The entry point for Phase 1.
"Mama," I said, my voice small and pleading. "In the stories… you said the knights could use magic to make themselves strong. Can you do that? Can you make the burning stop?"
I felt her hesitate, a wave of her own inadequacy washing over her. "I… I can't, my love. I don't have that kind of power. I'm not…"
"Please, Mama," I begged, putting a universe of pain and fear into the words. "Please try. I don't want to hurt anymore. Please."
I was asking her to do the impossible. To save me. And I knew, with every fiber of my being, that this gentle, broken woman would tear the world apart with her bare hands if she thought it would help her child.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. I could feel the shift in her. The despair was still there, but it was being pushed aside by a desperate, fierce determination.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice gaining a thin thread of steel. "Okay, my love. I will try. I will try for you. Tell me… tell me what to do."
I leaned in close, my lips near her ear, and began to speak, my childish voice reciting the strange, arcane instructions fed to me by a supercomputer from another world. The first phase of forging a goddess had begun.
I laid my head on her chest, a child seeking comfort. I felt the weak, fluttering beat of her heart. I felt the feverish heat of her skin. The actress was back on stage, and she was giving the performance of her life.
My mind was a cold, silent void, watching the quest timer tick down, counting the seconds until my mother's rebirth. But on the outside, I was nothing more than a lost little girl, clinging to the only warmth left in her world.
I buried my face in her tunic, my small body trembling, and whispered the words that were both a perfect lie and the truest thing I had ever felt.
"Mama, I'm scared."