LUST

Ikos, once a jewel of the desert, now a bleached husk of its former glory.

As the scorching sun rose over the distant mesas, long shadows crawled through canyon-like streets. The city stirred: mana vents hissed, mag-trams thrummed, neon ads flickered trying to sell salvation.

Alice awoke to notifications flashing across her vision:

[User Detected: 20th Birthday. Adventurer System Unlock Protocol Initiated.]

Fucking finally.

Rising from tangled, sweat-damp sheets, she padded to a narrow bathroom, passing the familiar clutter. The light panels buzzed on, cool and unforgiving. She considered the mirror with a critical gaze as she stripped off her threadbare tank top. Depressingly flat chest; with enough padding she might fake a B-cup if she was lucky. The body she’d been born with was as confusing as ever.

Alice's eyes were drawn like magnets to the soft, pale length of her cock resting against her thigh. Much as she tried to will the awkward organ to behave, it had a mind of its own. Warmth pooled low in her belly as she washed, sending electric shivers of sensation through her with even the lightest brush of her fingertips. She bit her lip hard, knowing she shouldn't indulge... but it would only take a few minutes. Surely she deserved a little release before the big day ahead.

Fingers wrapping around her sensitive flesh, Alice began to stroke herself with light, teasing touches, breath coming quick and shallow. her free hand drifted lower, fingertips grazing the smooth skin where balls would have been, before slipping back further to caress the damp folds of her pussy. A low whine escaped her throat - fuuuckk~. Alice pressed two fingers inside herself, rocking her hips to meet her own touch as her cock thrust into her other hand like it was plunging into a tight pussy.

Lost to the outside world, swept away by building waves of pleasure, everything narrowed to the delicious friction and fullness between her legs. Alice's strokes grew erratic, the slick slap of skin on skin filling the cramped bathroom with a lurid, hypnotic rhythm. It seemed to go on for a blissful eternity, the coiled need in her groin winding tighter and tighter, until at last it snapped and she hurtled over the edge with a silent cry, jizz spurting over her knuckles as her pussy clamped down greedily on her fingers.

In the dizzying aftermath, Alice came back to herself, becoming uncomfortably aware of the tableau she presented - a disheveled mess, slumped against the tiled wall, juices cooling on her hands. Guilt and shame pricked at her, warring with the sweet endorphin rush.

Swallowing hard, Alice straightened up and met her own grey eyes in the mirror. "Fucking come on," she muttered to herself. Time to get this show on the road.

She dressed herself a black shirt slashed at hem and shoulders, the white block letters cracked and fading across the front. It hung off her wiry frame, baring a sharp collarbone and skimming low over her flat chest. Torn denim shorts clung to her hips, frayed edges grazing pale thighs, and scuffed combat boots finished the look.

Her reflection revealed the contradiction she always wrestled with: petite, androgynous lines softened by restless eyes; short, choppy crimson hair with black undertones falling in jagged bangs that half-shadowed her face. She **** her expression into its usual calm mask.

Once dressed, Alice made her way out into the sweltering streets.Outside, Ikos sprawled hot and bright, a mash of old prefab bones and haphazard new construction, magic-tech ribs jutting from sandstone facades. Every surface blazed with ads peddling things Alice couldn’t afford: designer escape ****, mechanized exosuits, dodging beggars and flesh peddling glitterboys, trying to act casual, she made her way toward the one of the few landmarks in Ikos that still commanded awe: the Adventurer’s Guild Inspira. The tower rose above the dust and neon haze like a blade of glass and brass, its surface alive with pulsing mana veins that traced upward into the clouds. Each glowing conduit hummed faintly, drawing power from deep beneath the desert an architectural relic from an age when the city still dreamed of greatness.

The base of the tower was ringed by merchant stalls and registration kiosks, crowded with delvers of every shape and species. A toll drone drifted past overhead, scanning for weapons that hadn’t been cleared. Alice kept her hood low, stepping through the security arch as the glyphs flared blue around her.

Inside, the air shifted immediately cool, dry, humming with the faint static of mana scrubbers. Transparent conduits snaked up the curved walls, carrying liquid light that pulsed in rhythm with the tower’s heart. The floor gleamed black and gold, polished smooth by thousands of boots.

Rows of worn leather chairs lined the waiting hall, filled with adventurers dozing, arguing, or nursing half-healed wounds. The tang of sweat, blood, and disinfectant lingered beneath the ozone chill.

Behind the counter, a receptionist about Alice’s age with neat braids and a too-bright smile was juggling a stack of slim slates. One slipped, clattered across the counter, and skidded to the floor, runes flickering.

Alice bent to grab it before she could stop herself. “You, uh… dropped this.” Her voice came out flat. Carefully casual.

(Nice. Real smooth. Cool as ice. Totally not awkward at all. Fuck, she’s cute.)

A familiar surge of panic darted through her. She crossed her legs and willed her body to behave. Not now.

“Thanks,” the receptionist laughed nervously, taking the slate back. “First day?”

Alice gave a half-shrug, puffing her chest in a futile attempt to look bigger than she was. “I’m here to register as a Delver.”

“Perfect! We’re always short on fresh mea-er, new recruits. Hand on the panel and we’ll get you sorted.”

Alice pressed her palm to the interface, keeping her face politely bored as tingling mana strobed up her arm. Ow. Okay. Don’t flinch. You’re a badass, remember?

A glowing screen blinked into being:

[Registration Complete! Welcome, Alice, Rank F. May your journey be filled with fortune and fame!]

[As a newly minted Level 0 Portal Delver, your first quest is to enter the Candara Beginner’s Labyrinth and slay 10 Chocolate Slimes to earn your first level. Good luck!]

Alice dropped into a free leather chair, eyes scanning the translucent sheet hanging in her vision. The man slumped beside her smelled faintly of burnt mana and old blood, bandages soaking through.

Alright, let’s see what the big cosmic joke has for me…

[Status Sheet: Alice]

(Because you asked so nicely. Or maybe you didn’t. Either way, I’m entertained.)

Class: None (aww, baby adventurer has no class. Fitting.)

Level: 0 (don’t trip, we all start somewhere… well, most of us.)

Title: None (titleless, nameless, shameless.)

Affiliation: None (lone wolf, or just unloved?)

HP: 28 (try not to sneeze too hard)

Mana: 50 (courtesy of that little mana bath before you were born side effects may include bonus plumbing and lifelong identity crises, hooray!)

Body

Strength: 24 (you can lift… things. Light things.)

Constitution: 28 (survive a bar fight? maybe. survive the hangover? doubtful.)

Agility: 41 (ooh, slippery little rat. I like it.)

Appearance: 36 (androgynous charm people can’t decide if they want to fight you, kiss you, or both.)

Mind

Charisma: 29 (bluff checks: shaky. awkward silences: guaranteed.)

Intelligence: 38 (street-smart, not book-smart. close enough.)

Willpower: 45 (oh, look at that stubborn streak I’ll enjoy breaking that later.)

Perception: 42 (sharp eyes; sharper tongue if you’d ever use it.)

Magical

Magical Strength: 5 (barely a spark don’t get cocky)

Magical Sensitivity: 14 (ooh, you can feel the tingles. lucky you.)

Magical Control: 3 (hahaha. you call that control?)

Notes

Background Trait: Touched by Mana (Minor) Exposed before birth to the great swirling chaos, your body decided, “Why choose?” and gave you the full deluxe package. Also a teensy flicker of magic. Not much, but hey, it makes you special.

[Bonus Round!]

You’ve got 10 free points to spend! Sprinkle wisely, darling or blow them all on Agility so you can run faster when things get ugly. I’ll be watching either way.

Alice leaned back, boots kicked out, scanning line by line. Her lips stayed in a straight, bored line, but her brain was a whole different story.

“Strength twenty-four. Okay, so I’m basically noodle arms. Great. Constitution twenty-eight… yeah, one good punch and I’m down for the count. At least I’m not zero. I'd look really stupid drooling in a wheelchair.”

Her eyes flicked to the magical stats.

“Magical Strength: five. Sensitivity: fourteen. Control: three… Ha. Literal toddler tier. No, actually scratch that toddlers would probably have better control. Thanks, womb-mana-bath. Really nailed it with the extra dick but forgot to give me fireballs. Figures.”

She sighed through her nose, forcing her expression back into that calm, aloof mask.

“At least I’ve got ten points to spend… do I blow them all on agility so I can run the fuck away faster? Or maybe willpower, so I stop crying in bathrooms? Tough call.”

A wet cough snapped her out of her thoughts. Alice blinked, finally realizing the chair beside her wasn’t empty. An adventurer, older, half his armor peeled away, sat bleeding through his bandages with a vacant look in his eyes.

She stared a beat too long, then quickly looked away, cheeks heating.

Oh shit. He was there the whole time. Please tell me I wasn’t whispering any of that out loud. Cool face, Alice. Just… cool face.

The adventurer groaned softly, shifting. Alice hunched lower in her seat, dragging her status sheet back in front of her like a shield.

“Not my problem. Not my circus. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk ”

“First timer?” the man rasped, voice sandpaper dry.

Alice froze. Then, after a long moment, she smirked faintly and said, “Yeah. Don’t look so shocked I can handle myself.”

Oh fuck me, he can totally tell I can’t handle shit.

The man beside her shifted, bloodied bandages straining as he leaned forward. His eyes, dull but steady, flicked to the glowing sheet only Alice could see. “Don’t blow it all on Agility,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. “Everyone thinks speed solves everything. You’ll just dodge once and then drop dead when something actually clips you. Constitution keeps you breathing. Willpower keeps you standing. Perception saves your ass when the dungeon cheats.”

Alice blinked, mouth parting to answer, then thought better of it. She gave a stiff nod instead, pushing down the bubble of nervous laughter clawing its way up her throat.

“Cool advice, mystery corpse man. Not terrifying at all. And yeah, let me just dump all ten points into Constitution so I can cosplay as a meat shield. No thanks. Not yet.”

She flicked the status sheet closed with a dismissive gesture, forcing her smirk back into place. “I’ll… think about it.”

The man gave a dry chuckle that turned into a hacking cough, then leaned back, eyelids drooping. Conversation over.

Alice stood quickly, tugging her shirt down like she hadn’t just been caught taking life advice from someone half-dead. Her boots clomped against the scuffed tile as she returned to the front desk.

The receptionist perked up, bright eyes following her approach. “All finished? Decided where to spend your points?”

Alice shrugged, feigning disinterest. “Not yet. I’ll save ‘em for later. I’m here to enter the dungeon.”

The receptionist hesitated only a moment, then tapped a slate. “There’s just one small issue. As a classless rookie, you can’t enter a dungeon alone. Guild policy. You’ll need to register with a party first, safety in numbers and all that.”

Alice froze, smirk faltering before she caught it. “Great. Babysitting detail before I’ve even started. Just what I wanted. Maybe they’ll let me join the guild daycare too.”

She crossed her arms, voice as cool as she could make it. “Fine. Point me toward some rookies, then.”

The receptionist nodded briskly. “That will be arranged. But… I couldn’t help noticing you only listed your first name on the registration form. Guild records usually require family names as well. For official tracking.”

Alice’s pulse spiked. She **** a casual shrug, eyes sliding away. “Oh, that? Just a personal thing. Don’t like the baggage, you know?”

Shitshitshit. If she digs even a little she’ll know my family owns half this district. Last thing I need is anyone making connections.

The receptionist tilted her head, unconvinced but polite. Alice plastered on her best smirk, gave a little wave, and spun on her heel before another word could be pressed out of her.

Her boots clomped against the tile as she strode away, too quick, too stiff. Nailed it. Totally inconspicuous. Nobody suspects a thing. Yep, just a mysterious badass loner and definitely not the daughter of the asshole who own this whole damn guild. “Very well! First time delvers are assigned the Beginner’s Labyrinth. Just follow the marked corridor, and the portal will be waiting. Slimes don’t sound scary, but don’t underestimate them.”

Alice gave her best I’ve got this smirk, though her stomach twisted with nerves. Slimes. Right. Big day. Don’t fuck this up, Alice.

The receptionist swiped through her slate, then gestured toward the lobby. “Since you’re a rookie, you’ll need to join an established party. We’ve got three groups looking for warm bodies. Take your pick.”

Alice followed her gaze. Three sets of adventurers loitered in different corners of the guild hall, waiting.

Group One LionHeart

The first thing Alice saw was him. Tall, smug, with a mane of golden hair that practically glowed under the light. He leaned against the counter like he owned the building, his voice carrying a little too loudly, dripping with arrogance.

Two girls hovered near him, one clinging to his arm, the other standing just behind with the glassy-eyed look of someone who’d already given up arguing with him. Both wore the mismatched armor and jewelry that screamed harem mascots.

Alice’s lips stayed neutral, but her brain didn’t.

Oh. Fantastic. Blond, loud, and smug. I can smell the NTR from here. He’s the kind of guy who’d narrate his own reflection if nobody else was listening. Hard pass… unless those girls are secretly plotting his ****, in which case I want front row seats.

Group Two Company of the Coin

Clustered around a battered table were four barely older than Alice. Bandages wrapped their arms and shoulders, and one had a crude splint holding a leg straight. They looked like they’d just crawled out of a dungeon and hadn’t quite stopped bleeding.

Two of them were unmistakably Chimerin beastfolk touched by mana, their bodies sprouting mismatched traits from a dozen animal lines. A girl with bunny ears and a horse tail argued with a boy With literal feathers for hair. Their voices carried, raw and earnest, though the other humans at the table avoided meeting their eyes.

Chimerin. Great. I’m technically mana touched too, but I got the deluxe model with extra junk in the trunk. At least these guys look my age, though… dumb, injured, and one wrong step from getting eaten. If I joined them, would we all just die together? Very inspiring.

Group Three Ravens Howl

In the far corner sat… no, loomed… a lone figure. Their body was a sculpture of muscle and ****, every vein and sinew bulging under charred, fissured skin that glowed faintly like volcanic stone. Heat shimmered around them, the air warping as though they carried an inferno under their skin.

Their long, layered hair fell in wild waves dark at the roots, ember-bright at the ends. Eyes like burning coals flicked across the room, daring anyone to meet them. Nobody did.

They wore little more than a torn martial wrap, their broad chest bare, hands blackened like they’d plunged into fire and never pulled out. Even sitting still, they radiated raw, destructive power.

…Holy shit. That’s not a person, that’s a boss fight with legs. If I joined them, would I get power-leveled or incinerated by accident? Probably both. They don’t even need a party they are the party. …god they’re terrifyingly hot though.

Alice folded her arms, smirking faintly to hide the nervous churn in her stomach.

The receptionist cleared her throat, smiling just a little too politely. “So, Alice… which will it be?”

Oh sure, just pick my poison. Blond bastard, bandaged newbies, or walking inferno. No pressure.