The girl’s wail echoed through the room. Thanks to Sylvia’s unique status, the chamber was so thoroughly soundproofed that not a soul outside heard a thing.
After confirming her identity once more, I—now Sylvia—could only widen my eyes in shock, clutch my head with both hands, then feel my knees buckle as I collapsed weakly before the mirror.
Thinking of the terrifying fate awaiting her, her face twisted into utter despair, as if she were moments from being broken beyond repair.
No!
Never!
Since I’m not yet trapped in the Abyssal monsters’ lair, there’s still hope. I will not give up!
She knew full well that after installing that MOD, the heroine’s only remaining fate was to supply endless fan-service CGs. Yet once calm, Sylvia refused to surrender.
What is my body’s current state? Is there a status panel I can check?
Slightly composed, she immediately tried summoning her character status panel like in a game.
To her surprise, it appeared—but as she scanned it, her expression grew increasingly bizarre.
Name: Sylvia Rhine
Race: Holy Angel?#@Blood$Evil%Demon?
Level: ↓55/120 (Corrupted, Weakened, Poisoned, Bleeding)
Strength: ↓35/MAX, Weakened↓, Bleeding↓
Agility: ↓61/MAX, Weakened↓, Bleeding↓
Magic: ↓37/MAX, Corrupted↓, Poisoned↓, Bleeding↓
Healing: ↓98/MAX, Corrupted↓, Bleeding↓
??: ↓11/45↑, Corrupted↑, Poisoned↑, Bleeding↓
Talents: Body of Holy Spirit (Passive), Divine Ward (Insufficient mana), Hymn of Hope (Insufficient mana), Prayer of Despair (Insufficient mana), Holy Healing (Insufficient mana, effect severely weakened), Seraph Form (Insufficient strength and mana, cannot activate)
...
...
Before finishing the details, Sylvia’s vision blurred—she nearly fainted from sheer frustration.
“What is this chaotic status?! How can there be so many debuffs?!”
And that garbled Race line with question marks… Was she really mutating into something unspeakable?
But most chilling was the mysterious “??” stat—what *was* it?
Though her base stats still reflected humanity’s top warrior, the debuffs had crippled her utterly. Every powerful talent was locked. Worse, none carried descriptions—let alone removal methods. A massive headache throbbed behind her eyes.
“Never mind the rest—what *is* this ‘Bleeding’ status? Affecting *every* stat? That’s broken!”
Muttering weakly, she examined her body. No wounds. No pain.
How strange…
No time to dwell! This condition proved the mole’s poison had taken effect. Her priority now: survive the night and avoid the game’s tragic ending.
Per game lore, the mole’s final dose triggered all accumulated toxins at once. Shortly after, the Abyssal Demon Lord—acting on intel—raided the human frontline core: Brenwell Town. There, he captured the severely weakened Archangel of Supremacy.
In short: to escape that fate, she *had* to make it through tonight.
But what could she do?
“Let me in! I must see the Archangel!”
A furious male roar shattered the silence, jolting Sylvia from her thoughts.
Since waking, the magical barrier had blocked all sound—this was the first living voice she’d heard.
Could the Demon Lord already be here?!
So soon?!
Panic-stricken, she scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the door.
“Stand aside! I won’t harm women—I only wish to speak with the Archangel!”
Hearing no reply, the man seemed ready to force entry. But Sylvia’s Royal Nun Warrior Order guarding the hall held firm.
*Bang!*
As tension peaked outside, Sylvia burst through the door.
The warrior nuns—Holy Light hammers already drawn to subdue him—froze and turned.
“Archangel!”
They knelt on one knee, war hammers resting beside them, faces glowing with sincere reverence. Yet their eyes held faint surprise: the Archangel’s expression was uncharacteristically flustered.
“What’s happening?”
Meeting their concerned gazes and feeling the biting wind, Sylvia shivered. *Too panicked.* She took a sharp breath, forcing calm.
“Acting Commander Kroso Garfield of the Seventh Land Legion, reporting to the Archangel!”
The man stiffened in shock—then snapped a crisp salute, excitement flickering across his face. This was his first audience with the Archangel. He’d expected aloof divinity… not this approachable warmth.
“The Seventh Land Legion? Weren’t you stationed in western Chelost? What urgent matter brings you here?”
Seeing the platinum-white armored officer, Sylvia’s blood ran cold—*Doomed!*—until she registered his title. *Not* the Third Land Legion assigned to guard her.
And the name… Kroso.
*Yes!*
The Hero!
Wasn’t Kroso the otherworldly Hero summoned by the puppet imperial royals in the Holy City?
How had he suddenly appeared here?
