The Nightmare and the Awakening

It was a dream.

She dreamt of a crimson blood crystal moon hanging high in the sky.

Blood crystal winds raged.

Never-ending chaos demons descended upon the world from the ubiquitous blood-red lightning. Beastmen and greenskins tore through defenses, trampling and burning village after village, town after town. Rats burrowed out from beneath the earth, spreading deadly plagues across the entire world. Longships pieced together from dead men’s nails raised masts woven from bone and blood-guts amidst the black tide.

Rotting ravens circled low, their caws like the wails and screams of the damned.

Finally, she dreamt of a dragon, a pale cadaver.

Eerie blue ghost fire filled and ignited its hollow, profound eye sockets. Decaying flesh, like torn canvas, draped between its slowly unfurling wing bones. Its slender skull stretched forth segment by segment, then spewed forth strange, chilling necromantic flames.

Once, he had been a cloud-winged warrior, born from the sacred lands of Vammlind, where the noble blood of divine dragons flowed. His posture was majestic, and when he soared, his wings covered the sky, making the great earth tremble.

Now, his soul had fallen, his corpse crawled from the mud, reduced to the Archlich’s most efficient puppet.

Beneath the skeletal dragon’s wide wings stretched an army of withered bones and dead men. From plains to peaks, from valleys to basins, they advanced in a vast, endless tide.

Mountains perpetually covered in snow and wind could not stop them. They knew no fatigue, no hunger or cold.

When the end came, the twilight was blood-red, and the moon never set.

This was Nokatia’s apocalypse. Inescapable.

Daphne jolted awake.

“Plip.”

A droplet struck the water in a puddle.

She first noticed the bone-chilling cold, then the wet, sticky sensation covering her entire body, and finally, the comical posture she was currently in.

She lay in a small puddle, thick with a sickly sweet scent.

Her face was on the ground, her backside ludicrously high, her knees bent to support her lower body, and her arms hung limply at her sides, as if she had just experienced something unspeakable.

Daphne tried to push herself up, but her hands were numb and useless. So, she tried to turn her face to avoid pressing her nose, only to get a mouthful of water-soaked, dark red hair.

“Ptui—ptui—”

Instinctively spitting out the hair from her mouth, the distinct texture of the strands confirmed it: this unfamiliar yet beautiful dark red hair undoubtedly grew from her own head.

‘This wasn’t a dream; it was reality.’

‘Twenty years in her previous life, thirty in this one—a man for a total of fifty years. Now, simply by touching a so-called ‘developer item,’ she had inexplicably transformed into a girl.’

‘The sheer disparity was beyond words.’

“Plip.”

The sound of a falling droplet interrupted her thoughts.

She felt nothing in her lower body, as if she had been amputated from the waist down. There was no sensation, no control; just an empty void.

Fortunately, sensation was gradually returning to her hands, allowing Daphne to support herself and slowly push up. Her dress, saturated with the sickly sweet liquid, clung tightly to her skin. The moment she emerged from the puddle, a curtain of water cascaded down, creating a sudden chorus of dripping sounds.

Only then did Daphne realize the sounds she had heard earlier were the droplets falling from her own body.

By this point, she felt a strange reluctance to look down.

‘After all, it was a girl’s body, her dress soaked through, her underwear barely in place. For an ‘old virgin’ like her, who had never intimately touched another girl, this was truly too much. Staring felt incredibly impolite… or perhaps, she was simply shy?’

‘Yet, curiosity gnawed at her. This was her own body; what was there to be impolite about?’

‘Moreover, to understand what had happened to her, she had to thoroughly explore this body she had been forcibly swapped into.’

Having convinced herself with these two justifiable reasons, Daphne finally let go of her reservations. She slowed her breathing, then slowly began to shift her gaze downwards.

Her fair skin, bathed in a soft cerulean glow, was as delicate as silk. Her chest was gently curved, perfectly sized to be held. The damp, pure white slip dress clung to her flat, taut lower abdomen, and her slender, willow-like waist tapered into a graceful, alluring curve. Below the hem of the dress, long, delicate legs extended.

Just as when she first encountered it in the cold iron coffin, the nearly transparent, porcelain-white skin possessed a striking beauty.

It wasn’t the pallor of a sickly person; a faint flush softened the ethereal quality, yet the subtle dark veins beneath her skin lent the girl an added air of fragile, dreamlike vulnerability.

Even though this body now belonged to her, Daphne couldn’t help but marvel at it once more.

‘No lewd thoughts formed. For a piece of exquisite, elegant art, it was simply to be admired; any other fantasy would be sacrilege.’

This gave Daphne a strange illusion: she felt as though she were a luxurious, opulent porcelain vase.

‘Beautiful to behold, yet fragile enough to shatter with a single fall.’

From a max-level, all-class, Sequence 1 Radiance Path cultivator to having no class, no faith—it was like plummeting from an invincible deity in the clouds, looking down upon all beings, to a tiny, base, insignificant insect in the dirt.

Not to mention, she was now the awkward Half-Blood race.

In COG, player-selectable races included humans from various nations or factions; High Elves from Crystal Ring Island or Dark Elves from north of Death’s Port; Divine Dragonkin guarding different temples and cloud peaks; Hill Dwarves from various clans; and Half-Bloods, who were subservient to humans or elves.

Race in the game not only influenced faction alignment and NPC friendliness but also provided characters with racial talents, spells, and attribute bonuses or penalties. For example, High Elves naturally excelled in archery and total mana, while Hill Dwarves had innate advantages in hammer-and-shield proficiency and forging techniques.

Therefore, players aiming for peak strength had to choose a race that complemented their primary class.

Theoretically, there was no inherent superiority or inferiority among the playable races; with the development of strategy guides, suitable classes and build compositions could be found for all.

Except for Half-Bloods.

Their magical talent was mediocre, inferior to High Elves and pureblood vampires. Their combat talent was scattered and abysmal, ranking among the lowest of all races.

Their faction alignment was even more disastrous. The Order faction regarded Half-Bloods as vampires, while the Chaos faction considered them lowly mongrels, pleasing neither side.

Before their disguise was exposed, they could undertake quests normally within human or elf factions. However, if an event triggered or they were witnessed feeding, incurring a ‘Disguise Exposed’ debuff, they would immediately be wanted and hunted in local towns.

At that point, they could only go to jail or wait outside the city for 48 hours until the debuff expired before returning to play normally. This absurd design often led players to ‘cordially greet’ the designers’ families on forums.

Despite this, many players still chose Half-Bloods.

This was because Half-Bloods, both male and female, possessed the most handsome and exquisite character models in the entire game, along with the richest customization options. For players who cared less about power and only wanted to dress up their characters beautifully, Half-Bloods were naturally the first choice.

In terms of lore, the half-human or half-elf blood within Half-Bloods made them appear less pale and terrifying than pureblood vampires. They also inherited the generally graceful facial features and delicate countenances characteristic of vampires. One of their innate racial spells, ‘Blood Disguise,’ even allowed them to easily alter their appearance.

Their naturally high racial charm made it easier for players controlling Half-Bloods to gain NPC favor—provided, of course, their Half-Blood identity was not exposed.

However, Half-Bloods in reality had a much harder time than players.

Due to their lowly bloodline, their universally reviled reputation, and their naturally high attractiveness and good figures, Half-Bloods whose identities were exposed often ended up as slaves to human nobles or pureblood vampires, specifically used to fulfill intimate needs, leading to incredibly tragic circumstances.

Though she hadn’t had a chance to carefully examine her face yet, based solely on her alluring figure and fair skin, Daphne estimated that if she were put up for auction, she would likely fetch a good price.

‘Becoming a wealthy person’s lifelong intimate s*ave—that outcome was absolutely unacceptable!’

Daphne wanted to regain her original, powerful self, and the key clue was the culprit that had caused her transformation: that magnificent, glittering, mysterious orb.

However, the current location of that orb was just a little… awkward.

With no sensation or control over her lower body, Daphne remained in a kneeling position, unable to move. The black porcelain floor, marbled with intricate patterns, reflected the soft cerulean glow from above, and her small, rounded knees, pressing into the puddle, were faintly reddening.

She clutched the hem of her dress tightly, yet dared not lift it, her gaze lingering, unable to move towards her thighs.

‘The next step was an abyss, a challenge to her former male dignity and integrity. Her instincts recoiled from the act, and Daphne’s heart was a tangle of conflict.’

‘But ultimately, she had wronged no one. This was her own body, no matter how she looked at it; even this character she had created herself.’

“If I don’t make up my mind, I won’t be able to get my old body back. This is necessary,” Daphne murmured, comforting herself.

But just as she mustered immense courage and finally resolved herself, the long-dormant cerulean panel suddenly flickered into her vision, rows of text unfurling.

[Module Board · Sensitivity Ascension Lv1]

[Rich and intense senses also mean learning more easily from pain]

[Grants all body parts sensitivity equal to erogenous zones, overall increasing full-body sensitivity. Experience gain efficiency increases with module level]

[Covered parts: left foot, left leg, right foot, right leg, lower abdomen, waist, back, left shoulder, right shoulder]

[Sensitivity 1000%]

[Experience gain efficiency 200%]

“Sensitivity… ascension? What does that mean?”

Only now did Daphne recall having seen similar MOD module boards before, but at the time, she hadn’t had the mind to look closely or pay them any attention.

But quickly, as sensation slowly returned to her lower body, Daphne began to understand its meaning.

“Th-this♡…”

Her now abnormally sensitive knees, pressed against the hard, cold black porcelain floor, transmitted a current-like stimulation throughout her entire body, spine, and brain. Daphne instantly straightened her back, only to find that her waist and back were also incredibly sensitive, sending even more intense sensations reverberating through her.

“Guee♡—!”

Just kneeling in place, doing nothing, her thoughts shattered in an instant, her mind a complete blank. Strange yet melodious sounds uncontrollably burst from deep within her throat.

Her arms no longer dared to touch her own body, hovering awkwardly in mid-air.

Half-tilting her head back, Daphne, who had never experienced such intense sensations, stared blankly at the ruins’ ceiling with slightly unfocused, rose-tinted eyes. Her glistening lips were slightly parted, a tender pink tongue peeking out as she lightly panted, emitting incoherent whimpers and murmurs, looking utterly broken.

It wasn’t until sensation fully returned to her lower body that the orb’s presence reached its peak. As if to deliberately humiliate her, a dazzling, multicolored light suddenly erupted from beneath her sheer slip dress.

“It’s, it’s♡… glowing♡!? Now of all times♡!?”

Her mind already a chaotic mess, Daphne nearly fainted from anger. Then, her knees slipped, and she lost her balance, falling back into the puddle.

Thus, the girl’s body, sensitive to a degree comparable to erogenous zones, made intimate contact with the cold porcelain surface.

“Pwaah♡—!”

She let out an utterly mortifying sound, then, with her tongue out and head tilted, she passed out.

In the moment before she completely lost consciousness and fell into a coma, Daphne finally understood the origin of the sweet, sticky puddle she was lying in.