Journey from Overlord

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'Am I playing a game?' Aya thought, her mind swirling in confusion, 'Was everything that happened before just a dream?' She waved her hand, and a floating window appeared before her. The sight startled her—she, or rather Aya now, was in a game-like interface.

But something was off. The floating window lacked an exit button.

She frowned, realizing the situation was more complicated than she first thought. The faint fragrance of flowers filled the air, something impossible in the game. There had never been a sense of smell in YGGDRASIL.

"How do I confirm this is real?" After a moment of contemplation, Aya glanced down at her chest. In the game, physical interactions with certain body parts were restricted by in-game harmony plug-ins. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the soft leather of the animal skin dress covering her chest.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. The sensation was real, "So soft… so this is what it feels like."

Despite having been a girl in her previous life, Aya had never experienced such feelings firsthand. As Elna in her past life, she had been short, flat-chested, and tough as steel—flatter than the Great Plains, as she jokingly called herself. Outwardly, she never showed she cared, but inwardly, it had always bothered her. Why else would every character she created be a mature and voluptuous woman?

"What am I doing?" Aya muttered, abruptly realizing she had spent several minutes indulging in such a peculiar, self-exploratory act. Her face burned with embarrassment.

"This isn't a game anymore. I've already confirmed that. Does that mean I've… traveled into the game." The thought seemed absurd, unscientific even. But no explanation fit better than this.

More unsettlingly, Aya distinctly remembered her death.

The memory was vivid, painfully so. She could recall the exact moment the life-support system failed. The searing pain jolted her awake from her cryogenic slumber, her body screaming as it fought against suffocation. Her limbs felt numb, her brain fogged, and her lungs burned in a futile search for air.

"I'm going to die." She had thought at that moment, her mind succumbing to the encroaching darkness. But as fear of death grew, so did an unexpected relief. Finally, she could escape the sorrow of endless sleep. Finally, she could rest. Her last thought was a soft sigh of resignation before her consciousness faded entirely.

That memory was too real to be a fabrication. But now, so was this world. The contradictions made her head spin.

Aya was pulled from her turbulent thoughts by a raspy voice.

"Hey, who's there? Grr..." The sound of swallowing punctuated the speaker's words, sending a chill down her spine. She turned in the direction of the voice.

A towering, silver-furred werewolf emerged from the shadows of the jungle.

"Oh no..." Aya whispered, her anxiety escalating as more rustling followed. One after another, more werewolves stepped out from the undergrowth—thirty in total. They wore brown leather jackets and wielded crude machetes. The two leading the pack were silver-furred, while the rest were gray.

Aya gritted her teeth in frustration, "How careless of me."

Although she had never been a dedicated PVP player in YGGDRASIL, Aya had been an accomplished tactician. She had participated in countless outdoor skirmishes, duels, and sieges. She knew the importance of preparation—buffs, reconnaissance spells, countermeasures, and escape plans. In her prime, no high-level player would venture into the wild without being fully prepared.

But now, overwhelmed by the shock of reincarnation and her new circumstances, she had forgotten everything. She hadn't activated any defensive buffs or racial talents. Worse, she had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the approaching enemies.

'If Momonga-san saw me now, he'd scold me for being so reckless.' A bitter smile tugged at her lips.

On the other side, the werewolves were captivated by Aya's presence. Their sharp gazes swept over her figure, taking in every detail. From her enchanting purple-red eyes that sparkled like gemstones to her alabaster skin, cascading light-blue hair, and the elegant spiral horns atop her head, her beauty was otherworldly.

The werewolves regarded her with reverence at first, instinctively associating her with a goddess. But awe quickly gave way to something darker.

"Are those goat horns? Is she some kind of sheep person? Maybe a mutated breed?" They muttered among themselves, their awe melting into disdain. The werewolves had hunted goat-people during times of famine, and those creatures were known for their meekness.

Now, that disdain mixed with vile desires. Many of the werewolves couldn't help but lick their lips and shift uncomfortably, adjusting their leather armor as primal urges overtook them.

The silver-furred leader wiped the drool from his chin and stepped forward, planting his machete into the ground. His eyes sparkled with lust as he addressed Aya.

"Which demihuman tribe are you from?" He asked, his voice dripping with mockery, "Aren't you afraid, little girl? Why don't you come with us? We'll take you back to the tribe. We'll play nice... I promise."

He smirked, glancing back at his pack, who erupted into whistles and cheers.

Aya's hands clenched into fists. She whispered something under her breath, her voice trembling but firm.

"Tenth-level magic—Special: Reverse Summoning: Temple of Life!"

The air shimmered, but nothing happened.

"What? Tenth-level magic?" The silver werewolf tilted his head in confusion before bursting into laughter, "Hahaha! There's no magic above the sixth level in this world!"

The rest of the pack roared with laughter, jeering at Aya's apparent bluff.

The failed spell made Aya's heart sink. A cold dread crept over her. She had been certain the spell would work.

Reverse Summoning: Temple of Life was her ultimate escape magic. It would teleport her to a secure sanctuary in an instant.

But it hadn't worked.

Aya's mind raced, 'Why didn't it activate? My magic worked earlier when I summoned water. Could it be that all my spells are restricted?'

Her gaze shifted to her left hand. Her fingers were bare. Her enchanted rings—ten of them, each imbued with unique powers—were gone.

She remembered now: she had hidden their appearance through an illusion to maintain a minimalist aesthetic. But her most critical ring, the one on her left ring finger, was missing.

Without it, the coordinate guidance needed for Reverse Summoning couldn't function.

'Who tampered with my equipment?' Aya's breath quickened, a mixture of fear and anger bubbling inside her.

The werewolves drew closer, their laughter growing louder.

Aya gritted her teeth, silently vowing to find a way out. She wasn't going to die here.