The Chronicles of a Fallen Star

Paola stared at herself in the mirror, feeling a profound sense of disconnect. The reflection staring back at her felt foreign, as if she were looking at a stranger. Ayla was gone when she woke, and now, standing in the bathroom in the midafternoon light, she couldn’t shake the turmoil inside her.

Who was she looking at? Was she still human? So many questions swirled in her mind. She had died. Her family had seen her dead body. Her brother had been traumatized, and her family was struggling to heal. But they were moving forward. They had buried her, mourned her, and continued their lives. She had seen it all—shirts and stickers memorializing her, the wear and tear of time on those tokens of remembrance. Time here didn’t work the same way as on Earth. She had most likely been dead for quite a while now.

Paola gripped the basin tightly, her knuckles turning white. Why had this happened to her? What did it all mean? She looked back at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes wide with confusion and a flicker of anger. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, with loose strands framing her soft facial features. Her eyes were expressive, holding a depth of emotion that she had never seen in herself before. Her face, once familiar, now felt like a mask she was trying to understand.

She looked down at her body and blinked in surprise. This wasn’t what she looked like on Earth. She’d never been a supermodel, but the reflection was different. On Earth, her short stature and lack of exercise had given her a softer, rounder figure. She’d always had a small soda belly from too many late-night gaming sessions and meals of hot Cheetos instead of real food. Despite her insecurities, she had always told herself she was bikini-worthy, even if she never went to places where she needed one.

But now, her stomach was flat, her muscles more defined. She looked stronger, more capable. Yet, the scars remained. Lines from the claws of a mountain stalker, dots from a slime, bites from zombies—all of them marked her body. She had been told they would heal, but they persisted. Even Ayla found it odd.

Paola had never wanted to be seen naked, had never wanted to be anywhere barefoot. Yet here she was, walking through the streets with only a simple cloak covering her naked frame, concealed from prying eyes. She wore spiderweb metal magical leggings, and her bare feet constantly felt every change in texture underfoot, driving her wild. The crazy part was that she had come to accept this. She didn’t feel the need to hide herself anymore. It was weird, but she liked this part of who she had become.

But the cost. The cost was hard to swallow. The Paola Juderías from Albuquerque, New Mexico, had died there. Yet, she was here, staring at herself in the mirror. Was she just lucky?

She remembered her brother’s desperate cries, her mother’s stoic attempts to hold the family together, her father’s grief-stricken song at her funeral. They had come together stronger, but at what cost? She was dead to them, yet alive here, in this strange, magical world. The anger bubbled up again, a helpless rage against the circumstances that had torn her from her family and left her stranded in this new reality.

Paola's knuckles ached from gripping the basin so hard. She released it and ran her fingers over the scars on her body, each one telling a story of survival and transformation. The person she had been—a shut-in gamer, a paraeducator who ran late to work and enjoyed late-night gaming sessions—felt like a distant memory. That life was gone, replaced by this new existence filled with magic, danger, and unexpected strength.

She stared at her reflection, her brown eyes filled with a mix of sadness, anger, and a glimmer of determination. She had survived so much, and she was still standing. The cost had been high, but she was here, alive and fighting. The realization hit her with a powerful clarity: she wasn’t just lucky. She was resilient. She had adapted, fought, and survived.

But the questions remained. Why had this happened? What was her purpose here? She didn’t have the answers, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t waste the second chance she had been given. She would honor the memory of the Paola who had died, and she would make the most of the life she had now.

Paola took a deep breath, her hands still resting on the basin. She looked into her own eyes, finding strength in the reflection staring back at her. She might not have all the answers, but she had a will to survive and a determination to find her place in this world.

With one last look at the scars and the new strength in her body, Paola turned away from the mirror. She would carry the memories of her past with her, but she wouldn’t let them define her. She was more than the sum of her scars and losses. She was Paola Juderías, and she was alive.

She walked out of the bathroom, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. The timing couldn't have been any better. As Paola turned away from the mirror, Ayla reentered the room, a look of sympathy painted on her face. Paola glanced over at her, once again dressed in her metal magical bikini. This world was weird, she thought, even more so considering she was running around naked and somehow getting better XP than anyone else. Learning that it was an advantage given to tribes with less advanced armor and lifestyles had taken some getting used to. The Tree of Life still gave them a fighting chance. Paola had picked up a subclass related to that. It was... strange.

In her mind's eye, Paola could see her stats change when she wore different armor, like a stats screen in a video game. She and Ayla had experimented with her wearing various types of clothing, from nothing to fully geared up. Fully geared, Paola turned into a bumbling fool. The skills she learned under her nudist trait applied when they fought. More armor meant fewer skills. She’d have to learn skills separately from her subclass to gain another class, all before unlocking her official class at level 20. Ayla had tried to explain all this, but Paola knew she’d need to visit the Grove to understand the madness better.

In the Grove, Ayla and Paola had vastly different experiences. For Ayla, it seemed like some tree to pray to, while for Paola, it was more like accessing a stat and ability menu in a video game. Either way, Paola did her best to translate what Ayla was saying.

Ayla approached, and Paola stepped into her embrace, her mind racing. Finally, Ayla pulled back and asked if Paola wanted to talk about it. Honestly, she didn’t. She needed to focus and wasn’t ready to face that subject just yet.

“What’s the plan?” Paola asked, needing a distraction.

Ayla informed her that Lady Marcelline would be heading back into the city for a couple of days. During that time, Paola and Ayla would meet their new party member and instructor for Paola’s assessment and training. Paola nodded, knowing these tasks would provide the distraction she needed.

“How soon do you want to start?” Ayla asked.

“As soon as possible,” Paola replied.

“Now?” Ayla suggested.

“Now,” Paola agreed.

Ayla mentioned that the instructor was prepped and could be ready as they were. Paola glanced down at her naked body, moving to grab her cloak and web stirrups. “I guess it’s time to see how this goes.”

They moved out to the courtyard at the back of the palace, where the fighting ring was. To both of their surprises, Jester stood in the ring. Ayla paused, her brow furrowing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Jester replied with casual indifference. “I’m here to instruct.”

Ayla looked at him, puzzled. “Since when are you an instructor? That class takes years of dedication.”

Jester shrugged nonchalantly. “You never asked.”

Paola just stood there, watching the interaction unfold. Jester turned his attention to her, beckoning her to join him in the ring. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped forward. As Paola stepped into the ring, an odd tingle ran through her body, like a mild electric current without the pain or shock. She looked across and saw Jester standing there, his roguish demeanor slightly offset by the air of authority he carried. He wore a tattered pirate hat and a mismatched ensemble of clothing that looked both outlandish and practical. His black hair fell in disheveled waves around his face, and his eyes, sharp and calculating, were lined with a touch of madness. A faint scar traced his jawline, adding to his aura of a charming yet unpredictable character.

“Welcome to the state-of-the-art battle arena,” Jester announced, spreading his arms wide. “This place can create illusions of full-scale battles, even to the point of death simulation. We can kill each other here, but the death is not real.” He laughed, a sound that was both infectious and slightly unsettling. “You’ll probably die here several times.”

Paola’s eyes widened in horror. “Die? Several times?”

Jester nodded, his grin never fading. “The goal will be for you to kill me. And even better, this arena works on an altered time scale. Normally, this feature isn’t included, but my instructor class gives me a skill to add this ability.” He gave a sly smile. “So, you can earn double XP throughout the course.”

A gust of wind blew through the arena, catching Paola’s cloak and momentarily revealing her bare form underneath. Jester’s eyes naturally glanced down before he quickly averted his gaze, his face turning red. He looked at Ayla, then back at Paola, clearly flustered.

“Uh, I apologize for my gaze,” he stammered, his roguish charm faltering. “But, um, why not even a Nymph Guard? As revealing as they are, they still cover... some things.”

Paola blushed, still not used to addressing this topic. She and Ayla had discussed her not being too open about this yet. She tried to brush it off, replying, “I’m trying something new now that I’m on a new planet.”

Jester’s cheeks flushed a deeper red as he tried to regain his composure. “My job is to assess your fighting and combat skills, and, uh, we’ll be getting close... in combat, I mean.”

Paola shrugged. “To be honest, I’ve gotten used to being naked, so this cloak is wonderful.”

Ayla couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction, her mirth infectious. Paola joined in the laughter, but her amusement faded as she remembered the earlier subject of her dying. “I’m not ready for that,” she said, her voice tinged with fear. “I don’t want to feel dying.”

Jester’s roguish charm returned as he smiled reassuringly. “That’s the beauty of it, Paola. Dying doesn’t feel like anything. It’s being alive that hurts.”

Paola took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Jester beckoned her to step further into the ring, and she did so, feeling the tingle intensify. She looked over at Ayla, who gave her a reassuring nod. This was her new reality, and she would face it head-on.

“Alright,” Jester said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Let’s begin.”

Paola stood in the ring, her heart racing. Jester’s expression was serious as he explained the plan further. “You need to use all your abilities right now, Paola. This first fight, put everything you have into surviving.”

Her mind raced as she realized the gravity of the situation. She was about to experience simulated death at Jester’s hands. What if she killed him first? Her thoughts were abruptly cut off as a knife sank into her neck. She gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for the wound as Jester’s form flittered away like dust, revealing his true self behind her. He had sliced her throat without warning. The fire burned in her throat for a brief moment as she struggled to breathe. She fell to the floor, blood pouring from the wound. Her vision blurred as she tried to stop the bleeding, feeling the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers. Her arm weakened, and she collapsed into the growing pool of blood beneath her. The taste of copper and dirt filled her mouth as she coughed, gasping for air until everything faded to black.

In what felt like an instant, Paola blinked and took a huge gasp of breath. She fell to her knees, her hand shooting to her throat, now unscathed. The terror of the experience left her shaking as she looked up at Jester, who wore a calm, serious expression.

“That was terrifying,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I did that to show you the fear of what it’s like,” Jester said with an unexpected calm. “If you had time to think and prepare, you wouldn’t fight as hard to avoid dying. Now, let’s have a fairer fight. I’ll adjust myself to your level. My class automatically adjusts to your skills to keep you challenged. Time here moves at an altered scale of 1:4, allowing you to gain an insane amount of XP from training.”

Paola nodded, steeling herself for the fight. She focused on her abilities, starting with Nude Nunchaku. She charged at Jester, her fists flying in a flurry of unarmed attacks. Her hands and feet moved with blinding speed, striking Jester repeatedly. He dodged and parried her blows with fluid grace, his movements almost too quick to follow.

“Good, but not enough,” Jester taunted, a smile playing at his lips.

Paola gritted her teeth, summoning her magic for Bare Necessities. She called forth a dagger, the mana cost reduced by her skill. The blade materialized in her hand, and she combined it with Flash and Slash, aiming to blind Jester with the unexpected glare. She lunged at him, the dagger flashing in the light. Jester shielded his eyes, momentarily disoriented. Paola seized the opportunity, slashing at him with the dagger, feeling a surge of satisfaction as the blade connected.

“Not bad,” Jester said, recovering quickly. “But can you keep it up?”

He retaliated with a series of swift strikes, and Paola barely managed to dodge. She activated Hide and Streak, granting herself a short burst of invisibility. She moved silently, positioning herself behind Jester. As her invisibility wore off, she struck again, her dagger slicing through the air. Jester spun around, blocking her attack with a deft movement.

Paola’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the strain of the fight, but she wasn’t ready to give up. She summoned another weapon, using Bare Necessities to keep the mana cost low. This time, she wielded a short sword, aiming for Jester’s midsection. He dodged, but the blade grazed his side, drawing a thin line of blood.

Jester’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “You’re learning fast. But you’ll need more than that to beat me.”

Paola tried to activate her bardic abilities with Singing in the Raw, but she couldn’t focus enough to summon the magic. Her mind raced as she tried to think of another strategy. Jester closed in on her, his movements a blur. He struck with a powerful blow, knocking the sword from her hand. Paola stumbled back, her body aching from the impact.

“Keep fighting!” Jester urged, his voice ringing in her ears.

Paola steadied herself, using Hide and Streak again to disappear from sight. She moved quickly, trying to catch Jester off guard. But he anticipated her move, striking where she reappeared. His blade connected with her side, and she cried out in pain.

The fight continued, each exchange more intense than the last. Paola used every skill she had, but Jester was relentless. He pushed her to her limits, and she could feel her strength waning. With one final, desperate move, she summoned a dagger and lunged at him, aiming for his heart.

Jester moved with lightning speed, blocking her attack and countering with a swift strike. His blade pierced her chest, and Paola gasped, feeling the cold steel slide into her flesh. She fell to the ground, her vision darkening as the pain overwhelmed her.

Everything faded to black once more. When Paola opened her eyes, she was back in the ring, gasping for breath. Her body ached, but she was alive. She looked up at Jester, who was smiling down at her.

“Not bad, Paola,” he said, offering her a hand. “You fought well.”

Paola took his hand, pulling herself to her feet. She was exhausted, but she felt a sense of accomplishment. She had faced death and survived. The experience had been terrifying, but it had also made her stronger.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking.

Jester nodded, his expression serious. “Remember, dying doesn’t feel like anything. It’s being alive that hurts. Keep fighting, and you’ll get stronger.”

As the sessions continued, Paola felt her state of mind slowly change. Each fight with Jester brought a new challenge, a new way to die, and a new lesson. The initial terror and hesitation began to morph into a determined focus as she refined her skills and learned to adapt.

In their second bout, Jester lunged at her with a spear, piercing her stomach. The pain was sharp and searing, but brief. She collapsed, the blood pooling around her as her vision dimmed. When she woke again, gasping for air, Jester was already offering pointers.

"Your midsection is vulnerable," he explained, demonstrating how to guard against such attacks. "Summon a shield if you're not attacking. Keep your core protected."

Paola nodded, summoning a small shield with Bare Necessities as they resumed. She paired it with her dagger, blending defense and offense. The next fight saw her slicing at Jester with Flash and Slash, blinding him momentarily before using Hide and Streak to reposition herself. The combination felt natural, almost instinctive.

The third fight was brutal. Jester used a whip, wrapping it around her neck and yanking her off her feet. The whip tightened, choking her until she blacked out. When she came to, her throat was sore, but she felt a grim determination setting in.

"You need to anticipate unconventional attacks," Jester said, twirling the whip. "Your abilities are versatile, but you have to be ready for anything."

Paola incorporated his advice, practicing summoning weapons mid-attack and using her abilities in rapid succession. She learned to summon a short sword while mid-punch, surprising Jester with her swift change in tactics. Her confidence grew with each session, her movements becoming more fluid and deliberate.

During the fourth fight, Jester set a trap, causing the ground beneath Paola to open up and swallow her into darkness. She fell, her body crushed by unseen forces. The sensation of dying was becoming almost routine, but the fear never completely faded. Each time, she came back stronger, more resolved.

Paola began to think back to her fights with the bandits and Ovochos’ crew. She remembered how she didn't want to be the weak link, how she knew she was stuck on this planet until she died for real. She wanted to feel the sensation of dying, but she also knew that this—this training—was preparing her for the real dangers she would face.

Being alive is what hurts, she realized. It was a painful but necessary truth. She had died on Earth, felt nothing, and ended up here. Being alive meant experiencing pain, but it also meant experiencing joy, love, and laughter. She wanted to keep feeling, to keep experiencing life.

In the final session of the day, Paola fought with a newfound clarity. She blended her skills seamlessly, summoning a weapon mid-attack, using Flash and Slash as a distraction, and then slipping into invisibility with Hide and Streak. She moved with a confidence that came from understanding her abilities and trusting in her own strength.

Jester attacked with a relentless flurry of blows, but Paola countered with precision. She summoned a dagger and deflected his strikes, then followed up with a flurry of unarmed attacks. She felt the adrenaline surge through her as she landed several hits, her body moving instinctively.

She thought about her family, about her brother’s trauma and her parents’ grief. She wanted to be strong for them, even if they couldn’t see her. She was alive, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Finally, Jester called a halt to the session. Paola collapsed to her knees, panting and covered in sweat. She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with determination.

"That will be all for today," Jester said, his tone approving. "Consider it a good warm-up."

Paola nodded, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She felt the weight of the day’s lessons settle over her, a mix of exhaustion and triumph. She had died several times, but each death had taught her something valuable. She was no longer the timid fighter who hesitated with a knife. She was becoming a warrior, adept and confident.

She understood now that being alive meant feeling pain, but it also meant feeling everything else. She wanted to experience it all, to embrace the pain and the joy, the fear and the love. Dying didn’t scare her as much anymore. It was the thought of not living, not experiencing, that drove her forward.

As she stood up, she felt a sense of peace wash over her. She was alive, and that was enough. She glanced at Ayla, who watched her with pride and concern.

"I’m okay," Paola said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I’m ready for whatever comes next."

Ayla stepped forward and embraced her, holding her tightly. "You did great, Paola. I’m so proud of you."

Paola closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of Ayla’s embrace. She had come a long way from the paraeducator in Albuquerque. She was stronger, more resilient, and ready to face the challenges ahead. As she opened her eyes, she knew that whatever happened, she would keep fighting. She would keep living.

Jester clapped her on the shoulder. "Rest up. We’ll continue tomorrow. You’ve got a lot of potential, Paola. Don’t let it go to waste."

Paola nodded, her heart swelling with determination. "I won’t," she promised. "I’ll make the most of it."

With that, they left the arena, Paola’s mind buzzing with the lessons she had learned. Paola stretched her muscles as she moved out of the ring, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The palace loomed large and majestic before them as they made their way back inside. The grand halls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting epic battles and serene landscapes, the walls lined with ornate sconces that cast a warm, golden glow. Rich carpets muffled their footsteps, and the air smelled faintly of incense and flowers.

Ayla walked beside her, a thoughtful expression on her face. “How did it go?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“It was surprisingly enlightening,” Paola replied, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness.

Ayla smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Enlightenment through battle is a path many warriors tread. It’s said that the heat of combat forges not just the body, but the mind and soul.”

Paola laughed, nudging Ayla playfully. “You’re so philosophical. It’s like you swallowed a book of quotes or something.”

Ayla chuckled. “I guess that comes from years of training and studying.”

“Well, it’s paying off,” Paola said with a grin. “Hey, do we have time to go to the kitchen? I’ve been craving a taco, and I promised to show you what it is ages ago.”

Ayla raised an eyebrow in surprise but nodded. “We should have time. Gwenore is supposed to inform us when our third party member arrives.”

“Great! Let’s go,” Paola said, her excitement bubbling over.

They made their way to the kitchen, a bustling hub of activity deep within the palace. The kitchen was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in plenty of light. Long wooden tables were laden with various ingredients, and the air was filled with the delicious aroma of cooking food. Kitchen staff moved about with practiced efficiency, stirring pots, chopping vegetables, and kneading dough.

Paola approached one of the cooks, a middle-aged woman with a kind face and flour-dusted hands. “Excuse me, could we borrow some space to make something? I want to show Ayla how to make tacos.”

The cook looked surprised but nodded, gesturing to an empty section of the counter. “Of course. What do you need?”

Paola smiled gratefully and began gathering ingredients. She found something akin to masa, a coarse dough used for tortillas, and began working it into smooth balls. She showed Ayla how to flatten the dough into thin circles using a heavy rolling pin.

“This is the base,” Paola explained. “It’s called a tortilla.”

Ayla watched intently, her curiosity piqued. “It smells wonderful.”

Paola continued, her hands moving deftly. “Now, we need meat. Do you have something like beef or chicken?”

The cook brought over a slab of meat that looked similar to beef, and Paola began to slice it into thin strips. “Perfect. Now we cook this up with some spices. Do you have anything spicy?”

The cook handed her a jar of ground spices that smelled like a mix of cumin, paprika, and something else she couldn’t quite identify. Paola nodded and sprinkled the spices over the meat as it sizzled in a hot pan.

Ayla looked around, noticing the curious glances from the kitchen staff. She was not used to interacting with them as equals, and the experience felt awkward. But Paola handled it with ease, talking and laughing with the cooks as if they were old friends.

“We’ll also need beans and onions,” Paola said, looking through the pantry. She found something similar to black beans and began to heat them up, adding chopped onions for flavor. “And something like salsa verde, a spicy sauce.”

One of the cooks handed her a jar of a green sauce that looked close enough. Paola dipped a finger in and tasted it, nodding in approval. “This will do nicely.”

As they worked, Paola showed Ayla how to assemble the tacos. She placed the cooked meat on the tortillas, added a spoonful of beans and onions, and topped it with the spicy green sauce.

“Now, this is a taco,” Paola said proudly, handing one to Ayla.

Ayla took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise and delight. “This is incredible, Paola!”

Paola grinned. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve been craving one for so long.”

The kitchen staff gathered around, intrigued by the new dish. Paola showed them how to make the tortillas, how to cook the meat just right, and how to blend the flavors together. Despite the unfamiliar ingredients, they managed to recreate something close to a traditional taco.

Ayla’s initial discomfort faded as she saw how easily Paola interacted with the staff. She realized that Paola’s humbleness and willingness to treat everyone with respect made her approachable and likable. It was a lesson in humility that Ayla took to heart.

They spent the next hour cooking and chatting, the atmosphere in the kitchen warm and friendly. Paola and Ayla’s bond grew stronger as they shared this simple pleasure, the act of making and enjoying food together bridging any gaps between their worlds.

As they finished their impromptu cooking session, Gwenore entered the kitchen, her expression as stern as ever. “Your new party member has arrived,” she announced.

Paola and Ayla exchanged a glance, their moment of culinary camaraderie coming to an end. Paola felt a pang of anxiety but also a newfound confidence. She was ready for whatever came next.

“Thank you for letting us use your kitchen,” Paola said to the staff, who nodded and smiled.

Ayla placed a reassuring hand on Paola’s shoulder. “Let’s go meet our new member.”

With a final look around the bustling kitchen, Paola followed Ayla and Gwenore, ready to face the next challenge. She felt a sense of contentment, knowing that no matter what happened, she had found a friend and an ally in Ayla, and together they would face whatever the future held.