The Beginning of Bad Luck
I rolled on the floor, choking back the bitter nausea rising from my empty stomach after getting punched square in the solar plexus by a damn card of all things. Every twitch sent dust billowing up from the ground, clogging my nose and mouth until everything tasted gritty.
"This is ridiculous..."
Getting my first real game-like ability felt like it should have been exhilarating, like I was flying high. But the price—my body feeling like it'd taken a fastball right to the gut—was a bit unexpected.
"It won't happen every time I get something new, right...?"
It was just a one-off fluke, but after twenty-seven years plus a few months of nonstop bad luck, my instincts screamed that this wouldn't be the last or even the second time.
Sure, getting decked by a floating stack of cards in broad daylight seemed pretty extreme, but life has a way of throwing curveballs you never see coming.
"Ugh."
Shaking off the pain from that card deck to the best of my ability, I groaned and hauled myself upright. Good thing it was morning and my stomach was empty; if I'd scarfed down even a scrap of food, I'd have learned the hard way what regurgitation really feels like.
"Phew..."
Deeply relieved that hadn't happened, I sat up straight and scanned the room. A quick look around confirmed the flying card deck that had nailed me was gone. The mass I'd felt near my chest right after the impact had vanished in an instant, so it must have completely dissipated.
From what that popup said earlier, the deck had fulfilled its purpose and disappeared.
"A unique skill, huh..."
Its purpose? Granting me a unique skill called Arcana. The deck had passed it on and vanished.
I had no prior knowledge of unique skills or how to use them—never having deeply played the game this world was based on—but somehow, I already knew. The instant that deck slammed into me, the knowledge had been hammered into my brain.
I raised my hand from where it'd been rubbing my chest and extended it forward, palm out. Like grasping for something invisible, yearning for an unreachable goal.
"Draw."
A 'skill' was power born from desire and will. A localized miracle to surpass human limits and seize what the ordinary couldn't. What that tiny miracle might seize was anyone's guess.
But the light it emitted? Beautiful enough to live up to the name.
I thought that suddenly.
This skill can only be used in combat status.
Beautiful my ass. Give me back my appreciation.
"Draw."
Right after activating the skill, light had indeed gathered in my hand—the miracle's glow—but the result I wanted didn't come. Only the cold morning air chilled the room.
This skill can only be used in combat status.
Maybe I'd messed up? I tried enunciating clearly a few times.
"Dr, aw."
This skill can only be used in combat status.
Every attempt failed with that damn notification. Just when I'd finally get to test something, this power turned out trickier than I'd hoped.
What exactly counts as 'combat status'?
To figure out that finicky condition, I left the room, grabbed breakfast, and headed to the streets. Every world has its share of idiots causing trouble, even in broad daylight. I'd pretend to intervene and check the activation condition.
"..."
Brave thoughts, but no dice. Not in shady alleys, bustling main streets, or even the tavern—the last bastion of hope. No thugs or drunks fitting the bill anywhere.
"Jewelry made from magic stones imported from the Magic Tower! Get yours now!"
"Fresh fruits straight from the Euroha Great Forest! Buy some!"
No street fights, no shop rivalries, no noble abuses. The city was spotless, healthy—the ideal urban paradise. Great for residents' pride, but thunderbolt news for me hunting a fight.
"Am I supposed to like this... or hate it...?"
I stood dazed by a row of stalls, sighing at the merchants hawking energetically. What kind of squeaky-clean city was this? A big place like this should have some dark underbelly slipping through the cracks, right?
"Guess I'll have to head outside the city and hunt monsters or wild animals...?"
Striking out in town, I pondered alternatives and wandered slowly. Lost in thought, ambient noise muffled like bubbles underwater. My vision tunneled to a narrow circle.
Walking like that was begging for a broken nose, but deep in reverie, I ignored the risks. And I wasn't attentive enough to spot the person ahead.
Thud.
My shoulder bumped someone coming the other way, snapping me out. Glancing down at the impact point, a black-haired girl with gray eyes in elegant clothes—clearly a noble young lady—stared blankly at me.
"Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought and..."
Meeting her eyes, I realized I hadn't apologized yet and bowed hastily. My fault for daydreaming while walking—proper etiquette demanded I apologize first.
"..."
She nodded slightly, accepting it.
She looked every bit the noble miss; I'd worried she'd make a fuss, but nothing happened. Lucky, with academy entrance exams looming—no need for drama.
Clack.
She turned away, walking slowly toward the market's end. I resumed my path too, but an unexpected snag held me back.
Rustle!
Thump!
Sounds of collision and falling—common in a busy market. The problem was the voices that followed.
"Watch it! You'll blow our cover, you idiot!"
"Jeez... Bitchin' over a bump? She didn't notice anyway—shut up yourself."
Rough tones, curses, suspicious implications. They figured the market noise covered them, but the words drilled into my ears.
"..."
I froze, watching two men pass me. The girl walking far ahead. And them tailing her.
A bad premonition flashed: She might be in danger.
Step.
I followed cautiously. She entered an alley, oblivious to the three men behind her—including me.
Back alley.
A place that sounds ominous, ripe for shady dealings. But contrary to reputation, Eisenach's alleys—the empire's capital—were surprisingly safe. Regular patrols, welfare for the poor, crackdowns on crime gangs.
Of course, no absolutes; exceptions always crop up.
"Hey, miss. Walkin' so defenseless—lucky for you, huh."
"..."
Like right now, in the market's back alley.
"Gotta teach a naive girl like you how scary these alleys can be."
The noble girl, stepping into the alley, soon found her path blocked front and back by two rough-faced thugs. They closed in with menacing grins; she backed away bit by bit.
Thud.
No endless space in a narrow alley. Her back hit the wall.
"..."
Her expression barely changed—just a slight eyebrow tilt. Did she have backup, or was she clueless? Before I could tell...
"Alright, that's enough, everyone."
Lerven stepped into the alley.