The cave was silent except for the slow drip of water somewhere deeper in the darkness. The glowing stone she carried cast a dim yellow halo across the rocky floor, illuminating dust, moss, and the mummified body still sitting outside the cottage’s shattered doorway.

  She didn’t know what time it was.

  Day? Night?

  Down here, there was no sunrise, no shifting shadows—only stillness and cold stone.

  But she did know one thing:

  She couldn’t just leave him sitting there.

  Even if she had no memory of who she’d been before—even if she had chosen to erase her own name and everything attached to it—she would not start her new life by stepping over the dead.

  So she knelt beside him, bare knees pressing into gritty soil, and began digging with her hands.

  The cave’s earth was dry but stubborn, clinging under her fingernails. Her breathing echoed faintly in the cavern, the sound strangely small. She worked slowly, steadily, until she shaped a simple but respectable resting place.

  A grave.

  Not much, but a grave nonetheless.

  Once finished, she folded her hands in front of her chest and bowed—trying to imitate the poised, ethereal etiquette of the cultivation fairies she used to read about.

  A moment of sincere silence…

  …and then she whispered softly:

  “Sorry, I won’t be able to take your tutorial quest. I hope it wasn’t too important. Please rest in peace”

  She bowed again—awkward, earnest—and placed the cracked wooden sheath atop the mound like a gravestone. It felt right. A little silly… but right.

  This was her new beginning—

  So she would begin it as the kind of person she wanted to be.

  As she stood, wiping her hands against the thin linen wrap she had fashioned into improvised clothing, a thought came to her.

  “When I picked up the sword, the system reacted… so maybe…”

  She scanned the cave. The glowing stone flickered as if in encouragement.

  She approached the nearest object: a rock.

  A dull, fist-sized thing.

  She lifted it.

  A ping sounded in her mind.

  [Rock: Good for throwing.]

  She stared.

  “That’s not even remotely helpful.”

  She set it down and marched to a glowing lotus floating along the underground stream. Carefully, she plucked it.

  Another chime.

  [Glowing Lotus: Pretty flower.]

  Her eye twitched.

  “Pretty—? That’s your entire analysis?”

  Silence.

  She grabbed a broken chair leg.

  [Chair Leg: Object. You sit on it.]

  “That’s… not even… chairs don’t—”

  She groaned into her palms. “Ugh!”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The system was mocking her.

  Openly.

  Boldly.

  With enthusiasm.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Be that way.”

  But a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. The absurdity made the oppressive cave feel a little less heavy. A little less lonely. After all… the system did bring her here for a new life.

  Then she remembered.

  “Right. I still have two pending skills.”

  She pulled up her status window—translucent blue panels floating gently in the stale air.

  The top portion looked similar to the generic Aldun profiles she’d glimpsed before choosing her class:

  Level: 1 – (Lower Stage) Qi Condensation

  Main Class: Cultivator

  Subclass: Swordsman

  Title: Immortal Sword Cultivator

  Health: 100 / 100

  Stamina: 100 / 100

  Spiritual Energy: 0 / 100

  But the attributes were different:

  Body (Strength + Agility combined)

  Dexterity

  Comprehension (Wisdom + Intelligence combined)

  Vitality

  Luck

  And at the bottom:

  [Skills Pending: 2]

  She frowned.

  “Why is Dex not part of body? Isn’t agility usually—never mind.”

  She sat cross-legged on the dusty stone, her linen wraps rustling faintly.

  “I need to think this through. Aldun uses mana in general. I don’t. So my skills need to function with… Spiritual energy Ill just call it Qi.”

  Qi she currently had none of.

  Qi she didn’t yet know how to generate.

  Qi she wasn’t even sure existed in Aldun, except… the system had let her choose a cultivation class. So it had to exist somewhere.

  The system allowed her to design techniques based on concept rather than internal cultivation mechanics—like crafting a spell from imagination. A blank slate, shaped by intent.

  She closed her eyes.

  “What kind of cultivator do I want to be?”

  Images bloomed:

  Flower fairies dancing under moonlit gardens.

  Sword maidens striking like falling petals.

  Stories she used to devour late at night—or at least, she feels that’s what she used to do.

  She didn’t remember the authors.

  Or her own name.

  But she remembered the feeling:

  Wonder.

  Beauty.

  Freedom.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I want skills like that.”

  She selected the first skill slot. A soft hum vibrated through her mind.

  “I want a way to move freely. Gracefully. Like a flower petal drifting, appearing where I choose.”

  A lotus of pale light unfolded on the panel.

  “I want to vanish and reappear—so long as there’s nothing in the way.”

  The lotus pulsed.

  Effect: Instantly relocate within 20m, requires an unobstructed path

  Side Effect: A phantom lotus bloom appears where you stood + a faint floral fragrance

  Cost: 10 Spiritual Energy + 10 Stamina

  Note: A step woven from elegance

  She inhaled slowly.

  “It’s beautiful… the Side effects are questionable though.”

  Even if she couldn’t use it yet.

  She selected the second slot.

  This time, images flowed naturally:

  A sword tracing arcs like unfolding petals—

  Nine forms, blooming in sequence.

  “I want an offensive stance,” she said. “Nine strikes, each one faster or stronger than the last.”

  The rusty sword beside her hummed faintly—but she didn’t notice.

  “And a defensive stance. Nine blocks or parries… ending with a counterattack equal to the force I absorbed.”

  The system chimed.

  Offense: 9 accelerating/strengthening forms

  Defense: 9 blocks/parries, stores force, releases as counter

  Cost: Spiritual Energy & Stamina double each form (starting at 10 Spiritual Energy, 5 Stamina)

  Note: A sword dance blooming with intent

  She touched the sword gently.

  “It’s exactly what I pictured.”

  Then she tried activating it—

  Nothing.

  No light.

  No ripple.

  Not even a spark.

  Her energy bar blinked mockingly:

  [Spiritual Energy: 0 / 100]

  “Right. I have powerful skills and zero fuel. Great.”

  She threw her hands up.

  “Why give me cool stuff but no way to use it?!”

  Silence.

  Of course.

  With a sigh, she stood and tightened her linen wraps—her sad excuse for clothing. They were thin, scratchy, and about as protective as damp tissue paper, but better than wandering around naked in a cave.

  She gathered her belongings:

  The glowing yellow stone

  The rusty sword

  Her carefully chosen determination

  … and her questionable sanity.

  Somewhere in this cave system, she would find a way to gather spiritual energy.

  A place, an herb, a formation—something.

  “Maybe I should go hunt beginner monsters,” she muttered. “Like exp farming. That might work.”

  She nodded to herself.

  “Alright, as long as it isn't long boring meditation… let’s find out how to become a real cultivator. And maybe… find a way out of here.”

  With her light-stone illuminating the underground stream and drifting lotus flowers, she stepped deeper into the caverns—

  the first cultivator Aldun had possibly ever seen,

  armed with hope, a rusty sword, two untested skills,

  improvised clothing barely holding together,

  and not even a name.