Serie was bewildered.
Before she could figure out what this was, a hunger that felt like a dull knife scraping her stomach wall already answered for her: "I... I want to eat something..."
The whisper in her mind fell silent for a few seconds, then responded:
"Choose—a small amount of exquisite, sky-high delicacies; or a sufficient, filling amount of simple food."
Sky-high delicacies?
Western food... hmm, KFC?
Japanese food... convenience store oden?
Chinese food... trendy pre-made rice bowls...
No matter how Serie's memories from two lives surged, she couldn't find any memory associated with "sky-high delicacies."
A wave of sourness rose in Serie's heart as she thought.
How can one choose something they've never eaten?
"Something that can fill me up."
The whisper immediately continued: "Choose—release energy; or absorb energy?"
The more Serie listened, the more confused she became. Who was talking in her head anyway?
Or was she just dazed from the cold?
"Absorb." Serie swallowed, her mind still fixated on the desire to eat: "If I release any more, I'll really faint from hunger."
The bewildering choices were not over yet.
"Choose—a beast with humanity; or a human with bestiality?"
"Is this some kind of psychological test..." Serie muttered to herself, she hesitated for a moment then continued, "It's normal for humans to have some hidden bestiality; at least they can still live normally. But a beast... my gender has already changed, I don't want to turn into an animal again."
The whisper in her mind fell completely silent for a few seconds, as if this psychological test had finally come to an end.
Just as Serie thought the conversation from a few seconds ago was her hallucinating, the whisper sounded again.
"Key elements... analysis complete..."
"Generating Witch Template—"
Before Serie could figure out what was happening, her body suddenly felt light, and she closed her eyes as if truly falling into a dream.
At the same time, on the other side of the world.
A girl opened her eyes.
"Wh-what's going on?" Serie rubbed her sore eyes, a strange ceiling came into view.
The bluestone dome, illuminated by firelight, hung low, cracks spreading like spiderwebs, and fine grit was rustling down from the fissures.
Bronze torches crackled in the stone cracks, the smell of burnt grease mixed with decaying pine wood assailing her nostrils.
Serie abruptly propped herself up and looked around.
Only then did she realize she was lying in a black stone sarcophagus, the verdigris-stained metal pressing against her spine. As the firelight flickered, the wall carvings flickered between light and shadow—priestesses wearing golden collars were herding cattle and sheep into the gaping maw of a demon's abyss.
Serie pressed her throbbing temples.
She couldn't have transmigrated again, could she?
A second ago, Serie was still in her containment cell at the Control Bureau, preparing to end her day.
Then she closed her eyes and opened them, suddenly appearing in the tomb of some ancient civilization.
However, what was surprising was that unlike her previous transmigration, Serie could vaguely feel that her body was still lying on the small bed in the containment cell.
What was going on?
Did she have two bodies now?
Perhaps sensing Serie's confusion, the woman's whisper echoed in her ears again:
"Welcome, Miss Witch."
"The Witch Simulation Game has finished loading. You have completed character creation."
Miss Witch? Me?
What game?
As Serie was in a daze, a black and purple virtual panel already appeared on her retina.
Like a game's initial UI, strange thorn patterns intertwined around five blood-red options, labeled "Witch," "Quests," "Abilities," "Items," and "Newborn" in the center.
This made Serie suddenly remember what Linette had told her.
"The human brain is amazing; it will help you understand and adapt to your changes in your own way."
Could it be that she really was an anomaly? And this was her anomalous ability!?
Serie was a gamer, so her anomalous ability would manifest in a game-like way!?
Serie's heart rate suddenly accelerated, her fingers trembling as she reached for "Witch," but before her fingertip could touch it, the "Witch" interface opened on its own with a thought from her.
One familiar, one unfamiliar, two graceful figures appeared on the panel like displayed specimens.
The familiar one was, of course, Serie's frail body after her transmigration.
Her hospital gown didn't fit, the collar revealing half of her delicate collarbone. Her dark, curly hair, like damp seaweed, clung to her thin cheeks, and her eyes were slightly closed, as if she was in a deep sleep.
Below was her information.
"Name: Serie"
"Codename: ████"
"Gender: Female"
"Age: 19 years old"
"Race: Human"
"Attributes: Strength F | Endurance F | Charm A | Agility F | Spirit F (Average human value is E)"
"Evaluation: Fragile Porcelain Doll"
"Background: You were found in an orphanage, without parents or friends, a mysterious girl.
Before being contained by the Supernatural Anomaly Containment and Control Bureau, your presence was extremely low. The orphanage caregivers' only comment about you was that you didn't like to talk but were quite cute.
Due to your weak and sickly constitution, you suffered from long-term malnutrition, leading to an overly reclusive and introverted personality.
Because of your outstanding appearance and unique, heart-wrenching aura, most creatures will instinctively feel pity for you. Now, can you utilize your only advantage to fulfill your glorious mission?"
"So weak..." Serie muttered to herself inwardly. Her attributes, except for charm, were almost non-existent.
Considering her background, it was truly a blessing from heaven that she had lived safely to this age.
Next to it was the second, unfamiliar figure.
It was a girl of similar age to Serie, yet she looked like a living sacrifice who had walked out of a thousand-year-old tomb.
Her snow-white long hair hung disheveled, and her pupils seemed to contain two clusters of green, ghostly phosphorescent flames flickering brightly. Her skin was a more eerie greenish-white than a corpse's, and when the firelight hit her shoulders, it even gave off a strange translucent quality.
Dark red blood vessels snaked along her neck, like dark rivers beneath ice, forming patterns like poisonous vines under her almost transparent skin, as if what surged through those blood vessels was not blood, but some kind of damp, foul substance that had lain dormant for millions of years.
Her tattered black long dress vaguely showed its former splendor.
The dark gold embroidery had long been gnawed into jagged fragments by time, and at the gaping tears in the hem of the skirt, grayish-white bandages, like living things, wrapped around her slender legs. The curses left by an unknown person had already cracked and peeled off the surface.
All the gold and silver jewelry on her body had faded and become dusty, as if covered in a murky, corpse-wax-like patina.
But what was most striking was the metal device that encased her face.
The dark alloy, whose forging craftsmanship clearly surpassed human understanding, extended from her jaw to her collarbone in a seamless curve, embedded in her flesh like a second layer of bone. Its structure, resembling a dog's muzzle, prevented the girl from speaking or even eating.
Below was the white-haired girl's information.