The was no rain, nor the smell of smoke except the amazing cologne that corrupted the surrounding.
A person was sleeping beneath the chandelier lights; she appeared to be a weary princess who had just returned from royal responsibilities. Of fact, she was not dressed like a princess, but the rooms appeared to belong to a person of high social standing rather than a rich money lord.
Outside the rooms, heels were audibly pounding the floor. The door abruptly snapped open, showing a well-dressed woman carrying a tray with a cup of milk.
The woman placed the milk on a bedside table and called out to the person on the bed, "Mrs. Eli."
Mom...
The individual on the bed woke up with the start of someone who has experienced a nightmare.
Is anything wrong, Mrs. Eli?
The person looked at the woman whose anxious face said it all. She raised her feet off the bed onto the perfectly polished tiles, had gorgeous eyes, bright black hair, and a composed expression that only the daughter of the Park family possessed. The beauty was still alive and appeared to be in good health, with no visible wounds or scars.
She arose with a minor headache and proceeded passed the woman who had bowed her head slightly in the direction of the enormous mirror on the wall. She was unharmed and did not experience any pain or burns on her person.
What happened?
The woman, who was obviously a servant, turned to look at the bewildered look on the little miss's face as it was mirrored in the mirror.
Miss Eli, are you okay?
Eliza snapped out of her trance, she said recognized the place she was in, and the name Mrs Eli was only used by her servants to address her. You can not find oneself in bed just after battling the devil, therefore she required an explanation, whatever it was.
" How did I get here? ". she asked softly.
The servant clearly was confused by the question.
What do you mean miss, you returned yesterday from a business trip, and today, you are supposed to head to Japan.
Returned, head to...?
What day is it?
May 18, Miss, 2024.
Eliza give her a narrowed glance, the corners of his eyes crinkling with with doubt. She was in Japan just yesterday 20th, then how come it was two days before her departure.
You can leave.
Eliza massaged her temples, attempting to understand what in the world was happening. What if she was driven into such a mess by fear? It was clear that this was not a dream and that everything was genuine, not only an illusion.
"Miss Eli," the servant said, stopping in her tracks. "Madam Ivana wanted me to let you know that she will be taking a few friends along on the trip."
She was now positive that something was wrong, and that Ivana was still alive. However, it appeared like nothing had occurred; they had never gone to that mission in Japan, and everyone was well.
The door slammed close.
Eliza let out a shaky breath, legs and hands shivering like a drunkard pulled out of a cold pool of water
She hadn't blinked in nearly a minute.
She stared at herself—or what should have been herself.
There she was.
Same silver-blonde hair, falling messily over one shoulder. Same sharp jawline, same pale violet eyes. And yet… something was wrong.
In the mirror, her reflection was soaked in blood.
A dark, gaping hole pierced straight through her chest—round, precise, like something had burned through her with a spear of molten steel. Red ran down her ribs, dripping onto bare feet, painting the white-tiled floor crimson.
She took a shaky step back.
But the reflection didn't move, it only smiled at her like a demon
Eliza screamed.
A raw, choked sound ripped from her throat —something inside her stirred violently,all of this was just too overwhelming.
The mirror cracked.
Then shattered.
Shards rained down around her like jagged snowflakes, clattering on marble and scattering into corners.
Eliza stood frozen, panting, chest heaving beneath her robe.
She looked down.
No blood.
No wound.
No hole in her chest.
Only smooth skin, untouched and alive.
she remembered the pain.
Her hand went instinctively to her sternum. The skin was cool. The scar was faint—so faint, she could almost pretend it wasn't there.
But it was.
She'd died.
She knew she had died.
Fifteen minutes passed before she moved again. The silence in the room wasn't comforting—it felt like a trap. Like the world was holding its breath, watching her.
The only sign that time was still flowing came from the sleek digital frame on the far desk.
MAY 18th.
Eliza narrowed her eyes.
That couldn't be right.
It had been the 20th when they entered the ruins.
She remembered it with perfect clarity. The oppressive underground temple. The markings no one could translate. The child.
She remembered Ivana's warrior screams as she called upon her comrades to lend her their strength in order to fight back. The sound of Harper's voice fading into silence.
She remembered the end.
So what was this?
Some simulation?
A resurrection?
Time didn't turn back without consequence.
And Eliza Virelle was no ordinary woman. The world didn't allow her to be.
---
Eliza park or Virelle —which was her mother's family name, had been born into power—but had grown into something more dangerous.
By twenty-three, she was the youngest chairwoman in East Asia's economic circle. She sat at the head of the Virelle Foundation, a global conglomerate with branches in bioweapon tech, spiritual energy research, and dungeon exploration.
Her private army, VEIL, had over three thousand contracted fighters across twenty-six countries.
Seven elite institutions used her name in their funding reports.
Two governments owed her favors they couldn't repay.
The media liked to call her The Immortal Heiress.
But they didn't know the half of it.
Behind her wealth, beneath the layers of business empires and public appearances, Eliza hunted the very limits of reality. Ancient ruins, sealed artifacts, forbidden tech—she funded and led expeditions herself, not out of curiosity, but out of obsession.
All for one goal:
To break the chain of death.
Maybe somehow, she can bring her mother back to life.
---
She sat now at the edge of the bed, hands curled around a tablet. It had powered on automatically the moment her biometrics were recognized.
A flick of her finger brought up a familiar interface: her combat dossier.
She hadn't checked it yet—not since she awoke.
The screen projected a holographic readout into the air.
> Combat ID: E. Virelle – Classification Update
Spiritual Energy Reserves:291,600 Units
Previous Base: 102,200 Units
Current Rank: Tier-9, Peak A-Class
Next Threshold (S-Class Ascension): 350,000 Units
Status: Awakening anomaly detected. Manual review required.
Her throat dried.
She reread the numbers twice. They didn't change.
She had quadrupled her energy base.
Impossible.
No one in the modern world quadrupled overnight. Not without ancient bloodline awakenings, or exposure to forbidden realms—and even then, such surges came with mental instability or cellular decay.
But Eliza felt… fine.
More than fine.
She inhaled slowly, then exhaled.
The air around her seemed to react.
Not air—pressure.
A subtle pulse radiated from her core, as if something deep inside her had awakened and now watched the world with quiet hunger.
Was this spiritual energy?
Or something beyond?
The unit system had become the global standard over the past decade. Rather than labeling someone as "gifted" or "high-tier," the Energy Unit System tracked exact spiritual output in measurable waves, like radiation.
Most civilians never broke 1,000 units in their entire lives.
Government operatives? Between 20,000 to 60,000.
Mercenary elites? 90,000 to 150,000.
At 300,000 units, one entered the whispered realm of S-Class. People like Commander Yue of Northern Wraiths, or the infamous Monster Surgeon of Italy even Ivana even though she was peak A +
There were less than thirty active S-Class individuals in the known world.
Eliza was now within reach of that threshold.
And yet I died.
This wasn't evolution.
Or maybe…
---
A gentle vibration pulsed from the tablet.
She had received a high-clearance request from her personal AI system.
"Would you like to begin diagnostic sync?"
Eliza hesitated.
No.
She needed more time.
More space to think, more clarity
Because she hadn't just risen stronger.
She had risen… changed.
And some part of her still remembered the smile in the mirror.
The one that had looked like her.
But wasn't.