Lena, known online by the handle Eli-00, had been regretting her choice of costume for three hours now. No, the look was stunning. She had spent two months tailoring this damn orange latex to fit like a second skin. Bright turquoise and magenta stripes visually cinched her already thin waist, and the deep zipper, ending near her solar plexus, created exactly the effect she had banked on. The effect of a bombshell exploding in a crowd of pubescent (and not-so-pubescent) geeks.
She was cosplaying "Agent Vector"—a character from an obscure but cult-classic webcomic. According to the lore, the suit wasn't just clothing; it was a containment vessel for an alien symbiote parasite living within the host. In the comic, when things went south, the suit would turn black, liquefy, and transform the lovely lady into a killing machine with blades for hands. In reality, however, the latex was just sweltering like crazy.
"Eli! Eli-00! Can I get a photo?" yet another guy with acne and a camera lens that cost more than her kidney materialized right in front of her nose.
His gaze, naturally, was glued not to her face, but to the cleavage so perfectly highlighted by the zipper.
"Of course, sweetie," Lena flashed professional smile number five ("The Bitchy but Accessible Heroine"). She struck a theatrical pose, shifting her hip and making her patent leather stiletto boots creak against the concrete floor. "Make it quick, though—my symbiote is getting hungry."
The guy giggled nervously, snapped three frames in a row without raising the camera above her chin, and dissolved into the crowd, muttering his thanks. Lena gave an almost imperceptible roll of her eyes. God, it was hot. The thigh-high vinyl boots felt like instruments of medieval torture. Her back was soaked through under the dense material. It felt as if she unzipped the suit even a centimeter lower, a cloud of steam would burst out like from an overheated boiler.
"Hey, kitty, isn't that suit a bit tight in the chest? Want some help unzipping it?" a deep voice rumbled from the side.
A group of "couch-dwelling vikings" with plastic axes guffawed in approval. I hope your dick stands as well as your jokes, Lena thought grimly, but aloud she simply blew them a kiss, seasoned with a demonstrative middle finger, which provoked even greater delight.
She needed a break. Fast. Otherwise, she really would start turning into a monster, and she wouldn't need an alien parasite to do it. The girl began to push through the crowd, working her elbows and hips. Chaos reigned around her: a seven-foot Pikachu floated by, chased by a squad of Stormtroopers, while somewhere near the main stage, an announcer screamed, trying to out-yell the dubstep.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket—it was probably Irka, a.k.a. Ryu Kiko. Her friend was cosplaying a holy healer-priestess in a white robe today and had likely already gotten lost somewhere near the food court. Sorry, Ir, later. Air first, Lena thought, ignoring the call.
She ducked behind the scenes of the "Indie Dev" zone. Here, in the service corridors of the hangar, semi-darkness, coolness, and the smell of dusty wires prevailed. The sounds of the festival were immediately muffled, as if someone had covered the world with a giant pillow. Lena found a relatively clean dressing room cluttered with empty merch boxes. Slamming the flimsy door, she leaned her back against it and exhaled with pure bliss.
"God..." she reached for the zipper on her chest and, with vengeful pleasure, jerked the pull tab down, almost to her navel.
The cool air touched her flushed, damp skin. Pure heaven. The next item on the agenda was getting rid of the stilettos. She slid down the door to the floor, stretched out her legs in their shiny black casings, and began pulling off the left boot. It took effort—the patent leather had stuck to her sweaty skin.
"Come on, get off me, you piece of crap..." she puffed, tugging at the heel.
And at that moment, the lights went out. They didn't just fail like during a power outage. They vanished, as if someone had flipped a switch on reality itself. Along with the light, the sound disappeared. The roar of the crowd of thousands behind the wall, the bass of the music, the shouting—everything cut off in a single second. Absolute, crushing silence fell. The kind of silence found only in a coffin or a very bad horror movie right before a jumpscare.
"Hey?" Lena’s voice sounded pathetic and flat in the stifling silence. "This isn't funny. Who’s got the breaker?"
She froze, sitting on the floor with one boot halfway off. Her heart began to beat an anxious rhythm somewhere in her throat. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Even if the power had been cut, where did the people go? Thousands of people can’t go silent at the same time.
A few seconds later, the darkness shifted. Emergency lamps began to flicker in the corridor, but the light wasn't red—it was a sickly purple, pulsating like the veins of a dying addict. Lena managed to pull her boot back on; running barefoot over a concrete floor with potential glass shards was a bad idea. She stood up, feeling the latex unpleasantly stick to her body again. And then, this floated before her eyes.
Right in the air, like a projection on her retina, a translucent blue rectangle appeared with scrolling lines of text:
[ATTENTION! System Initialization complete.]
[Location "Expo-Center" converted to "Dungeon Level 1: Abode of Sorrow."]
[Scanning host... Suitable Avatar detected.]
[Class "Symbiote Host" confirmed.]
[Would you like to start the tutorial?]
"What the hell?" Lena waved her hand in front of her face, trying to brush away the hallucination. The text obediently shifted along with her gaze. "Did I overheat? Did someone spike my energy drink? Irka, you bitch, is this one of your augmented reality pranks?"
She pushed open the dressing room door and peered into the corridor. Empty. Only that foul purple light and long, dancing shadows from piles of junk.
[Tutorial accepted by force. Your first objective: Survive.]
"Go to hell with your tutorial!" Lena snapped into the void, feeling fear turn into panic.
She needed to find people. Security, organizers, even those sweaty vikings! She moved down the corridor toward the exit to the main hall. With every step, she felt increasingly uneasy in her own costume. The orange latex she was so proud of began to behave strangely. It was... pulsating. As if a second heart were beating beneath the vinyl. The material was heating up, cinching her skin tighter than before.
"What the..." She ran her hand over her thigh. The turquoise stripes felt soft and slimy to the touch, like a jellyfish.
A rustle sounded ahead. Lena froze.
"Who's there? Help, I think I'm lost, and something's weird with the lights..."
A figure emerged from around the corner, staggering. A mannequin. An ordinary plastic mannequin that had been wearing a t-shirt with a game logo only this morning. Except now, it was moving on its own. Its plastic joints made a revolting grinding noise with every step. Instead of a head, a stump of a neck protruded, filled with sparking wires that looked like worms.
[Enemy detected: Animated Prop (Lvl. 1)] — the blue box helpfully suggested.
"Oh, hell no," Lena exhaled and backed away. Her heel caught, and she nearly fell.
The mannequin lurched, as if scenting her fear, and with unexpected agility, it lunged forward, thrusting out unnaturally twisted plastic hands. Lena shrieked—not heroically, but quite girlishly—and instinctively thrust her right hand forward, trying to shield herself from the threat.
At that moment, the suit finally went insane. She felt a sharp pain in her forearm, as if thousands of needles had pierced her skin from the inside. The orange latex on her right arm burst, but it wasn't skin underneath. From there, out of her own flesh, a black, oily substance erupted. It solidified instantly with a wet crunch, forming a long, curved blade growing directly from her wrist. The blade, black as pitch, glinted like the chitin of a giant insect.
It was painful, terrifying, and... incredibly cool.
The mannequin slammed right into the outstretched blade. Lena didn't even realize how it happened; she just jerked her arm in a panic. The black blade passed through the creature's plastic chest like a hot knife through butter. There was a crack of breaking plastic and the hiss of wiring. The thing thrashed on the blade like a beetle on a pin, then suddenly shattered into pixels, leaving behind a handful of dull coins.
[Enemy defeated! 10 XP gained.]
[Skill activated: Abyss Blade (Lvl. 1). Warning: this skill consumes your Vitality.]
Lena stood there, breathing heavily, staring stupidly at her right arm. A black chitinous blade about sixteen inches long protruded from her forearm. It had become part of her. She could feel its weight, its sharpness, as if it were another finger. The suit around the blade had blackened, merging with the weapon, and now resembled that very armor from the comic.
"Holy shit..." was all she could manage. "Is this actually 'Venom-style'? Just without the Marvel license so they don't get sued?"
She cautiously wiggled her fingers. The blade shuddered. Lena tried to mentally command it to disappear. With a sickening squelching sound, the black substance retracted back under her skin, and the latex on her arm became smooth and orange again—except now a black pattern remained on her forearm, looking like a tattoo.
At that moment, a scream tore through the silence. A woman's scream, full of horror.
"Irka!" Lena recognized her friend's voice. All thoughts of her own strange condition vanished from her head.
She bolted toward the sound, forgetting about her uncomfortable heels. Adrenaline worked wonders—she ran faster than ever before in her life, leaping over boxes with a grace she had never possessed. Bursting into the main hall of the Expo-Center, she skidded to a halt, nearly slamming into an overturned comic book stand.
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The hall had changed. Booths were flipped, banners torn. Trash was everywhere. And in the center, where the main stage had stood just moments ago, loomed Something. A mountain of flesh, seemingly assembled from food court leftovers, scraps of costumes, and bits of scenery. The creature had several pseudopods, a giant belly pulsating with purple light, and a small, vicious head with three rows of teeth protruding from somewhere near its "stomach."
Irka was pinned into the corner between the stage and a stack of speakers. Her white priestess habit was shredded, blood stained her shoulder, and she was white-knuckling a useless foam prop staff. The monster lurched toward her, dripping acidic bile that hissed as it ate through the venue’s cheap carpet.
"Eli!" Irka spotted her friend, her face a mask of relief and sheer terror. "Eli, leg it! It’s already scoffed the security guard!"
The Fanservice Devourer swung its hideous head toward Lena.
"Not a chance," Lena hissed. The fear had vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve. "Nobody touches my healer. Especially not this pile of shite."
She felt the suit twitch into life again. This time, the transition was faster—and it stung more. She didn’t fight it; she practically shoved the process along.
"Oi, you absolute lard-arse!" she bellowed, grabbing the thing’s attention.
The monster roared and charged, moving with a turn of speed that defied its bulk. Lena thrust her right arm forward. The black sludge erupted, but it didn't just form a blade this time; it encased her entire arm up to the shoulder, forming a wicked, articulated gauntlet ending in a massive scythe-like edge. Her body knew exactly what to do. Reflexes she’d never owned—the instincts of Agent Vector—took over.
She ducked under a lashing pseudopod, rolled across the floor (the bloody stilettos were a nightmare, but the suit compensated for her clumsiness), and came up on the creature's flank.
"Have some of that! Abyss Blade!" She wasn't entirely sure why she’d shouted the skill name like a character in a naff anime, but it did the trick.
The blade buried itself in the monster’s side, right where a purple glow pulsed beneath the surface. The thing let out a shriek that nearly burst her eardrums. The edge went deep, and Lena felt something inside the beast rupture. With a violent heave, she ripped her arm upward, gutting the Devourer. A torrent of foul-smelling gunk, mixed with digital pixels and debris, drenched her.
The monster thrashed in its death throes, slumped, and finally vanished with a loud pop, leaving behind a pile of loot and a large, glowing orb. Lena stood in the middle of the wreckage, coated in slime, a massive black blade where her arm should be, gasping for air. Her vision was swimming—the skill was clearly draining her battery.
[Boss Defeated! 150 XP gained.]
[Level Up! You have reached Level 2.] [Attribute Points Gained: 5.]
She turned to Irka. The girl was sat on the floor, pale as a ghost, staring at Lena as if she were a total stranger.
"Eli..." Irka whispered. "What on earth is that on your arm? Is it... part of the costume?"
Lena gave a weary smirk and let the blade retract. She barely had the strength to stand.
"Something like that, mate. Something like that. I think our cosplay has gone a bit off the rails. You still in one piece?"
"I think so..." Irka tried to stand, leaning heavily on her staff. "Where is everyone? What’s happening?"
"Welcome to the desert of the real, Neo," Lena quipped, wiping slime from her eyes. "Only instead of a red pill, we’ve been slipped some dodgy RPG. And I reckon we’ve only just finished the prologue."
Lena winced at the dull ache in her muscles—the "cooldown" from the skill felt like a cross between a hangover and the flu—and reached out a hand. Her palm looked normal and human again, though the black pattern on her forearm pulsed with a faint, lingering warmth.
Irina, still trembling, took the hand, leaning on her now-useless staff made of PVC pipe and builder's foam. A hole had been melted into her white habit near the hip, scorched by the monster’s acidic spit.
"I think I’m going to be sick," she whispered, looking at the pile of steaming pixels and slime. "Is that... is that it? Have we won?"
"System says so," Lena nodded toward the blue interface hovering in the air. "Look, there’s some loot. The orb is glowing. Probably some epic kit."
She stepped toward the large, pulsating purple sphere hovering over the boss’s remains. Even through the exhaustion and dread, her gamer’s greed was waking up. What was inside? A new weapon? Armour? Or maybe a 'Return Home' scroll?
Her fingers were inches from the cold surface of the sphere when her intuition—no, His intuition, the thing sitting inside her—screamed like a klaxon. The symbiote lurched under her skin, causing a sharp jolt of pain.
"Get back!" Lena shoved Irina aside, knocking her over, and leapt back herself, landing awkwardly on her backside.
The sodding stilettos finally gave up the ghost; her left heel snapped with a loud crack. The sphere wasn't loot. It was an egg. Or a cocoon. The purple glow flared into a violent, blood-red. The sphere cracked, belching out thick, stinking steam. There was a sound like the wet thwack of a butcher's cleaver, and the sphere exploded from within.
[WARNING! Anomaly Detected!]
[Location Boss entering Phase Two: Reborn Nightmare (Lvl 5)]
[Warning: Threat Level — RED.]
"You’ve got to be joking!" Lena yelled, scrambling to find her footing on one leg. "Level five?! I’ve only just hit level two! Where’s the sodding balance in this game?!"
Out of the steam rose It. The creature had grown. Considerably. If the first version was made of rubbish, this one was forged from pure, concentrated nightmare. The pseudopods had become muscular, thorn-covered tentacles. Instead of one head, three sprouted from its torso, each with a maw full of needle-like teeth. The monster’s hide glistened as if coated in oil, pulsing with red veins. Three throats shrieked in unison, shattering what was left of the venue’s glass cabinets.
"Irka, get to cover!" Lena commanded, realising she couldn't run—without the heel, she was as manoeuvrable as a cow on ice.
She ripped off her other boot, standing in her stockings on the cold concrete, and took a fighting stance. Her vitality was low; the health bar was flashing a frantic yellow. But she had no other choice.
"Right then, you ugly mug, round two! Activate!"
She expected the usual surge of power, but this time, the gears ground. The symbiote emerged slowly, reluctantly, like toothpaste being squeezed from a dry tube. The black sludge covered her arm, but the blade formed was dull and jagged.
[Error! Insufficient Vitality for full transformation.]
The monster didn't wait. A tentacle the size of a lamp post whipped forward. Lena tried to block with her half-formed blade, but it was a mismatch. The impact was so heavy it sent her flying across the hall. She slammed into a manga display stand, her back snapping the wood. The pain was blinding. Her vision went dark; the System interface flickered with static.
[Critical Damage Taken! Health: 15%]
She tried to breathe, but her ribs screamed in protest. The suit... her posh orange latex suit hadn't held up. It had burst across her chest and stomach, from her throat down to her waist. The zipper had been ripped out completely, leaving the material hanging in tatters. Her chest, which she’d packed so carefully into the suit, was now almost entirely exposed, covered only by scraps of fabric and a miraculously surviving stick-on bra.
"Bloody hell..." she wheezed, spitting blood. At least the hall was empty. Dying was one thing, but dying with your bits out in front of a pack of nerds was a bit much, wasn't it?
The monster wasn't in a hurry. It slithered toward her, savouring the moment. Suddenly, a piece of concrete caught the beast in the side.
"Oi! Leave her alone!" Irka was standing thirty feet away, shaking like a leaf, winding up for a second throw. She was still clutching that ridiculous prop staff.
"Irka, you muppet, run!" Lena croaked, trying to push herself up.
The beast turned one of its heads toward the priestess. Its eyes held nothing but contempt. It lazily lashed out with a second tentacle, like someone swiping at a fly. The blow only clipped Irina, but it was enough. She was sent tumbling across the concrete, her white habit torn to rags. The fabric across her back and side was shredded, exposing skin already blossoming with grazes and bruises. She lay there, sobbing, unable to get up. The staff rolled away.
"No..." Lena stood up, swaying.
The pain in her ribs was agony; every breath was a struggle. Her suit hung in ribbons, the symbiote had retracted, leaving her defenceless. She watched the monster loom over Irka, preparing the final blow. Three maws opened, dripping acid.
"Don't you dare..." Lena took a step, then another. Her legs wouldn't obey. "Not her... I promised..."
She wouldn't make it. She couldn't trigger the skill. She was useless.
Irina rolled onto her back, staring up at the face of death. Her face was a mess of tears, her clothes were ruined, her body was a map of pain. She saw Lena—battered, half-naked, desperately trying to save her. The fear died. In its place came something else. A burning, unbearable need for this to stop. A need to protect the friend who had always protected her.
"Please..." Irina whispered, clenching her fists so hard her nails drew blood. "Someone... System... give me strength! I don't want to be a spare part! I want to help!"
She reached a hand toward Lena, pouring every ounce of her desperation and hope into the gesture.
[Attention! Emotional surge has reached critical threshold.] [Initialization of Hidden Potential...] [Class Determined: Priestess of Light (Lvl 1)]
The hall became bright as day. A beam of blindingly white, pure light erupted from Irina’s palm. It didn't hit the monster. It hit Lena.
Lena screwed her eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but instead, she felt warmth. Soft, enveloping warmth that soaked into every cell. The pain in her ribs vanished instantly. The grazes on her skin knitted back together before her eyes. Her health bar shot back up to 100%.
But that wasn't all. The light didn't just heal her flesh; it touched the tatters of her costume. The ripped edges of the latex reached for each other as if they were alive. The zipper materialised out of thin air and zipped itself back up, hiding her skin once more. Within seconds, the Agent Vector suit was as good as new—not a scratch or a tear to be seen. Even the patent leather shone brighter than before.
[Effect applied: Divine Healing (Lvl 1)] [Vitality fully restored.] [Armour restored.]
Lena opened her eyes. She felt like she’d just downed a gallon of top-shelf energy drink spiked with pure adrenaline.
"Right then..." she breathed, clenching her fists. The power was overflowing.
She looked at Irina. The girl was still on the floor, but now she was surrounded by a soft, golden shimmer. Her habit had been restored too—the snow-white fabric was pristine. In Irina’s hand, the prop staff was gone; in its place, she held a real, glowing wand topped with a crystal.
"Irka... you absolute legend!" Lena laughed—a loud, fierce, joyful sound.
The monster, blinded by the flash, thrashed its heads and roared, trying to make sense of the change.
"Oi, ugly!" Lena shouted, feeling the symbiote inside her vibrating with glee, ready for the scrap. "I believe you wanted seconds?"
She thrust both hands forward. No need to ration her strength now.
"Full Transformation! Berserker Mode!"
Black sludge erupted from both shoulders, covering her arms, chest, and neck. It wasn't just a blade anymore. It was a full combat form. Both forearms transformed into massive, jagged cleavers. Spikes sprouted from her shoulders. Her face was half-hidden by a black mask, leaving only eyes burning with fury and a predatory grin.
[Skill Activated: Twin Chaos Blades (Lvl 2 - Empowered)]
"Irka, buffs! Everything you’ve got!"
The Priestess of Light, now on her feet, nodded. The fear was gone from her eyes, replaced by iron grit. She waved her wand.
"Protection Blessing! Holy Rage!"
Two golden beams hit Lena’s back. For a moment, her black armour flared with gold. Her speed and strength surged.
"Right, you monster. Time to turn you into mincemeat."
Lena blurred. Without the heels, barefoot, she moved with incredible speed, leaving a black trail in her wake. The monster tried to lash out with all its tentacles at once, but she spun under them like a whirlwind. The blades became a blur. She hacked through tentacles, sliced into the creature's flanks. Acidic blood sprayed everywhere, but the golden aura from Irina and the symbiote’s armour held firm.
The beast shrieked, trying to retreat, but Lena gave it no quarter.
"That’s for my suit! That’s for Irka! And that’s for ruining my bloody weekend!"
She leapt high into the air, using a severed tentacle as a springboard. At the peak of her jump, she brought both cleaver-arms together into one giant hammer-blade.
"ABYSS SMASH!"
She plummeted down, right onto the monster’s central head. The blade buried itself up to the hilt, split the skull and neck, and drove deep into the torso. There was a deafening crack. The monster froze. Its red glow faded rapidly, turning a dull grey. Deep fissures raced across its body, belching black smoke. With a final, gurgling groan, the Reborn Nightmare exploded—this time for good. A wave of pixels and ash covered half the hall.
Lena landed on her feet, panting. The symbiote slowly retracted, leaving her in a pristine, perfectly fitted orange suit.
[Boss Defeated! 500 XP gained.]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 3.]
[Achievement Unlocked: 'Duo of Life and Death']
She turned around. Irina was standing there, leaning on her glowing wand, smiling weakly.
"Well then, mate," Lena walked over and pulled her into a hug, her own body still trembling from the adrenaline. "I reckon we’re a team now. Tank-DPS and Healer. A classic."
"Yeah," Irina breathed, looking at the pile of loot, which looked far more impressive this time. "But let’s pick an easier dungeon next time. And I want some proper shoes."
Lena looked at her bare, grubby feet and her torn stockings and burst out laughing.
"Sorted. First things first, we're looting some boots."