Stones.

  Few things in life are as deceptively complex. Some stones are smooth, worn into gentleness by water or wind. Others are jagged, eager to bite into flesh with edges honed over millennia. A few glint in the sunlight like forgotten treasures, promising stories they never tell.

  Stones can stack. They can be thrown. They can, if you’re truly desperate or bored, be smashed against one another in the hopes of revelation. They are, in short, useful.

  They are also awful when they are the first thing you feel after waking up—pressed cruelly into the meat of your shoulder like some malevolent pressure point devised by nature to remind you that life still hurts. It was official: my new world greeted me with rocks. My grand new beginning had, quite literally, a rocky start.

  I didn’t even dare open my eyes. I had no interest in confirming whether I was still trapped in some shadowy purgatory. Instead, I explored with cautious hands, fingers grazing the surface beneath me. Cold. Solid. Stone again—but this time, smoother. Less like the endless scatter of gravel and bone that defined the prison I'd escaped. This ground was firm, polished by time or water or something stranger.

  I must’ve escaped him. The god. My… “father.”

  I exhaled slowly, still too afraid to look.

  “So stressful…” I muttered aloud, the sound of my own voice surprisingly comforting in the silence. “What is wrong with me? Becoming the daughter of an evil god? Am I actually this stupid? And now this—again with the stone.”

  I sighed and rolled over to one side, still keeping my eyes shut tight. My shoulder ached. A part of me wanted to sit up, face this world, assess the damage—but another part, the quieter part, told me to stay. Just for a moment longer. To savor this strange peace, even with the pain nestled against my bones.

  It was… nice, almost.

  Not just the stillness, but the quiet potential of it all. I let my thoughts wander. Maybe I’d find a quiet life here—whatever here was. A simple job. A home. Real food. A beach, maybe. I’d always wanted to see a real one, not the projection-filtered recreations used aboard the ship. Real sand. Real water. Something that didn’t hum with artificial heat.

  I smiled faintly. Dreams were stubborn things. Even now, they clung to me like shadows under starlight.

  Eventually, I opened my eyes.

  What I saw pulled the breath from my lungs.

  Above me, stalactites of crystal jutted from the cavern ceiling, glowing in serene blues and ghostly whites. They cast rippling, delicate light over the tunnel, creating kaleidoscopic reflections that danced across the stone like living things. One of the larger shards refracted the glow of its siblings, creating the illusion of infinite spires stretching up into the dark.

  I stared, awestruck. Nothing in my short life could have prepared me for this. Not the binary sunsets on Planet New New New New York, not the simulated oceans of the Education Arcology, not the hollow luxury of station skylines. This was real. And it was beautiful.

  Then came the realisation—like the delayed ache of a healing wound.

  We made it. Somehow, we arrived. This world was the destination we had risked everything to reach. Atmosphere. Stone. Light. Life.

  I cried—unexpectedly. Tears slipped down my face and pooled in the corners of my mouth. I didn’t bother to wipe them away. It wasn’t just relief. It wasn’t even joy. It was release. The first breath after a long drowning.

  Even the memory of the god—my cruel, unwanted tether—could not fully corrupt this moment. His hand might still reach from the shadows, but for now, he was gone. And I was free.

  I stayed like that for a while, refusing to look anywhere but up. I didn’t want to see my body. I didn’t want to risk disappointment. If my form had changed—if the god had marked me, scarred me, reshaped me—then I didn’t want to know. Not yet. Let me have one moment of untainted beauty.

  But time, as always, demanded motion.

  Eventually, I rolled to my side and glanced left. The chamber opened into a tunnel—wide, carved, worn by something more than erosion. Tall enough for multiple people to walk shoulder to shoulder. Streaks of crystalline light glimmered on the ceiling like stars trapped beneath the earth, but the walls and floor were plain stone. Workmanlike. Unremarkable.

  I wasn't disappointed exactly. But I had expected more.

  “So few rocks to build a proper castle,” I murmured, grinning to myself. “What a bummer.”

  I reached behind me, fingers seeking the stone that had so rudely lodged itself beneath my shoulder when I awoke—but found only smoothness. Confused, I twisted, and spotted the source of the absence.

  It was running.

  Six spindly legs skittered across the floor with an almost mechanical rhythm. The creature’s back was dome-shaped, its shell indistinguishable from an ordinary rock, save for the fact that it was very much not staying still. It moved like a beetle wearing a disguise, each step tapping against the stone with precise urgency.

  I watched it go, jaw half open.

  It turned a corner and vanished.

  “…Okay,” I whispered, blinking slowly. “What are you?”

  This was no ordinary world. That much was clear. But for now, the strangest revelation wasn’t that stones could walk.

  It was that—for the first time in what felt like forever—I wasn’t afraid.

  And that was a miracle in itself.

  "Alrighty… focus on the obvious task first. Ignore the crab. Probably a crab?"

  I pinched my cheek lightly to ground myself, trying to wrestle my thoughts back into something approaching order. One task at a time. First things first: figure out what I was reincarnated as. The god—who I now confidently classified as “the worst dad ever”—probably didn’t change my basic body structure, but then again, I wouldn't put anything past a divine narcissist with reality-warping powers.

  Cautiously, I lowered my gaze, holding my breath.

  A dress greeted me—black with streaks of red, flowing gently around my legs. Stylish, practical, and, above all, clothing. Already a blessing. But the real treasure was just beneath the hem.

  Two feet. Human feet. Toes. No webbing in between. No flippers. No talons.

  “Oh thank everything, I’m not aquatic!” I gasped, nearly giddy as I squatted down and examined my feet more closely. “Perfectly human! Maybe a bit pale, maybe in need of some vitamin D, but still, top-tier toes.”

  They looked smaller than I remembered. Too dainty. I checked my hands next, suddenly suspicious. The same story: fine-boned, uncalloused, soft. A little too soft. My muscles—what little I’d built before—were gone.

  “…You reincarnated me as a child?” I groaned, turning my eyes upward toward the imaginary heavens. “God of light, please punish him for his extremely questionable tastes. What kind of man turns someone into a tiny, defenceless bean and drops them into a monster cave?”

  I paused.

  “…Thanks for the dress, though. I’d rather not start this life naked.”

  I stood up slowly and stretched my arms. The crystals in the ceiling caught my eye again, and I made a pitiful attempt to use one as a mirror. Useless. Too high. Too warped. With a sigh, I ran my fingers over my face, checking for anything weird. Everything seemed… familiar. My face was still mine, just younger. My hair was longer than I used to wear it, but still blonde. Still me.

  “Alright, hooray for being a child again,” I muttered with forced cheer. “Let’s just hope child labor laws exist in this place. Or at least that they don’t eat small humans on sight.”

  I started walking—toward where the “crab” had skittered away. The other direction looked dull and lifeless, which, normally, I’d consider ideal. But curiosity had a habit of dragging me toward the exact places I should avoid.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I wonder if they have universal basic income here,” I mused aloud. “Probably not. But some kind of social safety net would be great. I’m too small to do anything useful. Farming? Nope. Mining? Laughable. Sewing? …Actually, let’s not talk about sewing. That scarf I made in school still haunts me.”

  My idle worries kept me company until I reached the corner. Something about it made me nervous. Not the corner itself, but what might lie beyond. I hugged the wall tightly, leaned forward, and peered around with held breath.

  The tunnel remained much the same—bathed in soft blue light from the ceiling crystals, smooth stone underfoot. But now the space ahead was crowded. A small swarm of those crab-like things stood with their backs turned to me, scattered across the tunnel like a miniature army. Thirteen of them, by my count.

  They chirped.

  High-pitched, rhythmic. Almost like birdsong. Cute, if I hadn’t just watched one skitter away with uncanny coordination. I squinted.

  There are only two reasons a creature chirps like that: mating… or screaming for help.

  Given what else I saw—towering at the end of the group—I doubted they were singing a love ballad.

  It was a much larger crab, easily up to my knees, with two massive pincers and a hulking, stone-like shell that gleamed faintly in the crystal light. It looked almost regal, if such a word could apply to something that looked like it might rip my face off.

  Its green eyes locked onto mine.

  I froze.

  The next second, it stepped—directly onto one of the smaller crabs, crushing it without hesitation—and began to move.

  “Yep, definitely not here for romance,” I muttered in horror.

  Instinct kicked in. I turned and ran, back down the tunnel as fast as my tiny legs could carry me. Behind me, I heard the rattling of six legs slapping against stone, gaining ground fast. I glanced back once.

  It was close. Too close. Its pincers opened and shut with menacing rhythm, and worst of all—it wasn’t scuttling sideways like a crab should. No, this thing moved forward, smoothly and directly, like some nightmare hybrid of a crustacean and a predator.

  I whipped my head forward again. My surroundings offered nothing. Crystals? Too high. Stones? Could be more crabs in disguise. The walls were useless—smooth, plain, unhelpful.

  But I kept running.

  Adrenaline roared through me. My lungs burned. I definitely wasn't this fit in my last life. I barely had the stamina to run for a bus. Now I was sprinting through a glowing tunnel with death nipping at my heels.

  Up ahead, salvation—or maybe just a decision—finally appeared.

  A fork.

  Left or right?

  Just as I veered toward the left, a blood-curdling, inhuman scream echoed from the right tunnel. I didn’t need to think. I bolted left, heart pounding harder than it ever had.

  And there—blessedly—was a narrow crack in the wall. A perfect crevice. I didn’t hesitate. I squeezed through, my shoulder scraping stone, air knocked from my lungs—almost free—until pain bit into me.

  I screamed.

  The crab’s pincer had caught my leg just before I slipped inside. It snapped shut, and I felt the muscle tear. My vision swam.

  I dragged myself the rest of the way through, trembling hands pulling at stone. The crab clawed uselessly at the gap, too wide to follow. I slumped against the cool rock, clutching my leg.

  The wound oozed a barely any blood blood. Already, my skin was turning an unnatural color, spreading outward from the bite like a diseased flower.

  “What… the hell…” I gasped.

  The pain was searing now, a fire creeping up my thigh. My muscles spasmed, refusing to work. I pulled myself farther into the darkness on my elbows, gritting my teeth, refusing to let the panic win.

  Overhead, something fluttered.

  Bats.

  Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. They shot past like shadows with wings, and I yelped in surprise, heart still pounding.

  The crabs had been cute—until they weren't.

  So what did bats turn into in this world?

  …Did I really want to know?

  I was lucky that day as I didn’t see any creature other than the normal bats. Relieved, I collapsed against the cool stone wall, every muscle in my body trembling. That’s when I realized something was wrong. More wrong than usual. My vision wavered at the edges like a fogged-up lens. My leg throbbed with dull, heavy pain, and no matter how much I tried to wiggle my toes or shift my weight, it refused to cooperate.

  Poison. Had to be. Either from that damned crab or something I’d scraped against while fleeing. The symptoms rolled over me like waves—each one dragging me further from wakefulness. My limbs turned leaden. My thoughts grew thick and syrupy. I could do nothing but groan and hope that unconsciousness wasn’t a one-way trip.

  I drifted in and out of reality like a flickering lantern. Each time I came to, I shook my head furiously, trying to hold onto consciousness with raw willpower alone. I knew instinctively: if I let go for too long, that would be it. Lights out. Forever.

  Then, salvation arrived. Not in the form of a divine miracle or a brave rescuer—no. My savior was a bat. A tiny, fuzzy bat that decided to plop itself directly onto my face and nibble my nose with the gentlest bite imaginable.

  “Ow—what the hell?!” I jerked back with a startled grunt, pain slicing through the haze.

  But as I blinked the tears away, I realized something amazing. The sting had shocked a bit of the fatigue out of me. The bat flapped lazily up and, oddly enough, nestled into my hair like it had found its roosting place for the night.

  “Well… thanks, I guess.”

  Somehow, that silly little bite gave me just enough awareness to take control of my thoughts again. My leg still throbbed, my stomach howled with hunger, and my entire body felt like one giant bruise—but I was alive.

  Barely.

  “Alright…” I croaked, voice hoarse from dehydration, “how the hell am I going to escape?”

  My stomach growled violently, like a dying animal protesting its fate. The bats wouldn’t do—not for lack of trying. I’d made a few desperate grabs, but they were too fast, too nimble, and frankly, I wasn’t exactly peak predator at the moment. As for the little bat who bit me, now cozily perched like a weird hair ornament? I couldn’t bring myself to hurt the guy. He’d earned immunity.

  That left one option: escape the cave. And there was still one big, armor-plated problem standing in the way.

  The crab. It was still out there. Patient. Implacable. Like a living blockade with pincers.

  I could already picture it pacing just outside the entrance, claws clicking in anticipation of its free meal finally stumbling out. My time was running out—every passing minute felt like another nail in my coffin.

  “Mr. or Mrs. Crabby,” I said, loud enough for my voice to echo through the small chamber, “today’s the day we say goodbye. And I’m sorry, truly. But I need to go.”

  I clenched my teeth and shouted at the ceiling. “GO!”

  Startled, the bats erupted in a frenzy of flapping wings and tiny squeaks. They darted from the ceiling in a chaotic swarm and funneled toward the narrow exit like a flurry of living shadows. I stumbled after them, hoping—praying—that their sudden exodus would distract the crab.

  They did. Sort of.

  The bats, bless their creepy little hearts, swarmed around the crab like drunk gnats at a rave. They dive-bombed its shell, nibbled on its carapace, and squeaked defiantly. Unfortunately, their bite force was about on par with a toddler gnawing on a coconut.

  Still, they were agile. The crab’s pincers snapped furiously, but none of the bats got caught. Eventually, they tired of the game and zipped back into the cave, no doubt annoyed by the crab’s lack of sport.

  But their job was done, enabling me to escape the cave undetected, but not for too long. The crab had noticed me again—and now it was moving. Slower than before, yes, but still faster than I could hobble. Its shell scraped across the tunnel floor like a nightmare on sandpaper, each step dragging it closer.

  I hobbled onward. The tunnel branched at one point, and for a moment, hope flared—only to die instantly. That path was blocked by an enormous spiderweb, thick as rope, shimmering in the dim light. Nope. Not going that way.

  I kept moving forward, gritting my teeth through the pain, driven by desperation and the dream of edible things.

  “Ahh,” I groaned, “what I’d give for food right now… I’d even eat seafood!”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The crab scuttled slowly but relentlessly. Behind it, the bat watched silently from a distance, as if morbidly curious how I’d meet my end. Sadistic little furball.

  “Crappy crab,” I muttered. “Let me level with you, crustacean to crustacean. There’s barely any meat on me. Skin, bones, sarcasm—that’s it.”

  The crab, naturally, was unmoved.

  Eventually, we reached the end of the tunnel. Before me yawned a massive chasm, the earth torn wide open into a dizzying underground ravine. Dozens of openings dotted the walls, some dry, others gushing with trickles of water. It was a vertical maze, and I was in no shape to play climber.

  Behind me, the crab inched closer. Slower now—several of its legs hung uselessly, and its pincers barely twitched. Yet still it dragged itself forward, like death on vacation.

  I backed up to the ledge and squared my shoulders. “Hey. Crab. I’ve seen boxing before. Not in person, but on TV. Which totally counts. So back off, or I’ll knock the crab out of you.”

  It didn’t respond. One of its legs gave out completely, and it collapsed forward, just a metre away.

  That was it. Time for the final move.

  “Didn’t that god of hope mention something about magic?” I wracked my foggy brain for anything—anything—that might work.

  “…Isn’t magic just illusion stuff?”

  Well, then. “Magical punch!”

  I mustered all my energy, focused what little chi or mana or nonsense might be in me, and threw the weakest kick of my life at its shell.

  The crab died.

  It went limp a second before my foot connected, which was rude timing. The impact shot pain up my leg, and I collapsed to the ground, clutching my ankle and gritting my teeth.

  For a while, I could do nothing but breathe and ride the pain out. Then I looked at the crab—dead, unmoving, and gloriously edible.

  I scrambled over, hands trembling with hunger, and tried to crack it open. I scratched, pried, kicked, even bit it. Nothing worked. Ten minutes passed in futility, until I finally collapsed against the wall again.

  I was starving. The food was right there, and I couldn’t get to it. Torture.

  “Wait... it died of poison,” I muttered. “There has to be a weak spot somewhere…”

  I dragged myself back up and crawled toward the crab again—only to stop in disbelief.

  The bats were back.

  And this time, they meant business.

  In a coordinated wave, they descended upon the crab, wrapped around it in a flurry of wings, and—before I could even shout—they lifted it off the ground and carried it away.

  “No—NO! That’s mine! I earned that!”

  But they were gone, vanishing into the darkness like food thieves in the night. I was left alone. Again.

  Except...

  Lying on the stone where the crab had been was a dagger. Its blade shimmered faintly in the crystal light, and runes spiraled along its handle.

  I blinked. “I’m not taking this. That’s cursed, I just know it.”

  A beat.

  “…Okay, I’m taking it. But I will get my food back.”

  The dagger was rough, chipped at the edge, but the grip felt solid in my hand. Maybe, just maybe, it would help.

  I hobbled back toward the bat chamber. My companion had left me behind for a crustacean feast. My stomach rumbled louder than ever. Along the way, I passed the spider’s nest again, grumbling my woes to no one in particular.

  That’s when I heard it.

  “Tuut tout…”

  The voice was faint, warbling—human-sounding, but just off enough to be deeply unsettling.

  “‘Ich mag Züge…’”

  I froze. My instincts screamed that something wasn’t right.

  “Yeah, no. Not falling for that.” I stepped away, glaring into the shadows. “Stones turn into monsters. Spiders speak fluently. And I am not getting tricked by creepy voice tunnels. So have fun.”

  And with that, I turned my back on whatever was calling out and pressed forward—toward hunger, toward revenge, and hopefully toward something I could actually eat.

  In my mind, the crab was already steaming on a silver platter, buttery and perfect. And I wasn’t giving up on that dream.

  Not yet.