ALL NOVEL Chapter 2 - Notifications
Could I really just step into Sera's shoes, inheriting her life as though it were a hand-me-down jacket?
According to the hospital staff, I was grappling with 'post-comatose amnesia,' which, frankly, sounded like an all-you-can-eat buffet of medical jargon. It was apparently the partial or complete loss of all memories, with the possibility of recovery being uncertain.
And yes, they casually dropped that bomb on a 15-year-old girl fresh out of a month-long coma. Clearly, emotional intelligence wasn't a prerequisite for medical school around here.
But that diagnosis, grim as it was, could also be my ticket to a seamless transition. It would easily explain why 'Sera 2.0' seemed worlds apart from the original—different hobbies, different demeanour, maybe even a different favourite colour—cyan being the absolute greatest, of course.
The temptation was almost painfully simple: Accept this new identity. Become Sera.
Did my moral qualms about essentially capitalising on a girl's tragic death outweigh the tantalising opportunity to start anew in what appeared to be a reality pulled straight from the pages of an isekai novel?
No, they didn't.
I've never aspired to sainthood. Being morally upright was never a priority.
Why should it become one now? If Sera's life was the collateral damage required to give me a second chance, then so be it. I always liked the villains of the stories better anyway.
Did I deserve this shot at redemption? I wasn’t sure, probably not. My past life was foggy at best, rapidly evaporating like morning dew under the sun.
But don’t worry! Neon Dragons? Every rule, every strat, every piece of lore was perfectly preserved in the vault of my memory!
What I do recall of my previous existence, though, was mostly a dumpster fire. Sure, I couldn't say how much of that was self-inflicted, but if anyone deserved a cosmic mulligan, it was me, right?
Didn’t Jesus say that everyone deserves a second chance?
I’m certain he was talking about exactly this kind of scenario: Being isekai’d into the dead-body of a 14-year old girl to usurp her entire life within a world based on a video game.
Jesus really did know it all, didn’t he?
"I am Sera... Seraphine Vildea," I declared softly, rehearsing the words as though they were lines in a play I had yet to understand fully, trying to acclimate to this fresh reality, one that I had managed to rationalise into existence.
A sense of euphoria bubbled up within me at the acceptance, as intoxicating as champagne yet as unnerving as a roller coaster's descent.
'This truly is a second chance at life, isn’t it?' I pondered, steering my wheelchair through the space of an unfamiliar home toward the communal bathroom.
The mirror was going to be my first confrontation with Sera—or rather, the new Sera.
Yeah, sure, I told myself it was crucial to know who I'd be impersonating, to get a sense of her looks. But let's not kid ourselves: I was downright giddy to catalogue any "upgrades" that came with this new body. Like, for instance, the glaringly obvious fact that my chest was no longer serving "geographical landmark" vibes—I couldn’t wait to sleep on my belly for once!
Wheeling myself up to the bathroom mirror, my eyes met Sera's—my new eyes, as it were—and I braced myself to catalogue the features of this new existence.
Staring back at me from the mirror were vibrant green eyes, alive with curiosity and reflecting the newfound zest I felt. They were framed by untamed brown hair, straight but in desperate need of a brush—or perhaps a full-blown salon intervention, courtesy of a month-long coma.
My skin was porcelain pale, almost ethereal, making the green of my eyes pop even more. The pallor made sense, given the long absence of sunlight on this flesh. Thin lips and a petite nose with some faded freckles on top completed the visage, which somehow felt both foreign and instantly mine.
Slight imperfections like a faded scar on the left cheek or the slightly uneven eyebrows made the reflection uniquely human.
'So, this is Sera. This is me,' I thought.
Every detail in the mirror seemed to scream potential; it was a blank canvas begging for new experiences to fill it with colour and definition. There was also a certain youthful vibrancy in this face that my former self could never claim to possess—another upgrade, perhaps?
"I am Seraphine Vildea," I declared more audibly this time, enunciating each syllable as I watched my lips move in the mirror. The sight seemed to anchor the sentiment into the fibres of this strange yet increasingly familiar world—a world that was now mine to explore.
"Holy shit... I really am Seraphine Vildea!" I exclaimed again, the gravity of the words sinking in like a sledgehammer of realisation, not unlike the fabled Truck-kun who often played the gatekeeper in isekai fantasies.
Only this one was no fantasy; it was my new, startling reality.
This was the moment of irreversible transformation, a metaphorical point of no return. The person I had been before was now a fading memory, lost to the recesses of a past life.
I was Sera, and Sera was me.
The newfound acceptance seemed to hover in the air, like a question that had finally found its answer.
And yet, it begged another question, one that was equally confounding: What comes next?
What do I do now in this life that has become my unexpected inheritance?
"Well, first order of business: Shedding this wheelchair. Time for some physical rehab!"
I announced to the empty room, turning the wheelchair back towards the living room. Because let's be honest, there's no exercise regimen worth its sweat without a killer soundtrack to back it up.
I effortlessly accessed the retro-future looking radio in the room using my neural interface, toggling the mental switch to fire it up. To my delight, the technology responded instantaneously, as if the machinery itself was hardwired into my brain.
"It just works," I murmured to myself, imitating a gravely, overly confident voice that immediately had me snickering.
'Oh Todd, if only your promises had been even as remotely as reliable as this tech…'
Still chuckling at my own, terrible humour, I focused inward and mentally flicked through a carousel of radio stations. It was like channel surfing but in my head—each station emerging as a glowing node that I could select with a thought.
I cycled through classical ensembles, blaring rap, some strangely futuristic form of jazz, and more, each accompanied by a brief snippet of sound, like previews of a playlist curated by a DJ from another dimension.
Then, my ears perked up.
I hit upon a station that was blasting a fusion of k-pop rhythms mixed with the high-energy cadence of anime openings. It was like someone had taken my old world's playlist and given it a neon glow-up! The electronic beats and animated vocals swirled together into a perfect harmony that got my blood pumping.
"Aha! Now this is what I'm talking about!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the smile off my face.
It was like this station was designed to drag me out of my existential crisis and straight onto the metaphorical dance floor. With my newfound soundtrack, I was more than ready to tackle whatever exercises I could manage.
Let's just say if motivation had a sound, this would be it.
My initial surge of excitement hit a brick wall when I confronted the harsh truth: My legs were basically noodles. Trying to lift them even a measly few centimetres off the ground felt like I was attempting to deadlift a car—not that I had ever done that either.
A torrent of sweat started to bead on my forehead, each droplet a testament to my struggling muscles.
"All that hype for what? A reality check?" I mumbled to myself, taking laboured breaths as I tried to reclaim some semblance of energy. My enthusiasm for this second chance seemed to dissolve, like sugar in a bitter cup of coffee.
"Seriously, what are these legs? Anvils?" I shouted in exasperation, forcing the weak muscles to strain against the invisible weights that seemed to be shackled to them. It was as if each fibre was staging a mutiny against my willpower.
"Oh, you thought it'd be easy, huh? Think again, fucker," they seemed to mock with every failed attempt.
After several more attempts that left me teetering on the edge of a dizzying exertion-induced blackout, it dawned on me: I needed to re-strategize. If going full throttle with leg lifts was equivalent to attempting a max-level quest with starter gear, then I needed to grind my way up—just like levelling Woodcutting to 99.
You didn’t start that one trying to use a Crystal Axe on Crystal Trees either, after all. You had to start with Bronze and Normal trees, like everyone else. Well, unless you counted Achey, but I doubt quest-specific loopholes were a thing for me in this scenario.
I manoeuvred my wheelchair to align in front of the worn-out leather couch that faced the TV.
"Okay, this should be more manageable," I mumbled, motivated by the idea of the couch serving as a halfway point, a bench-mark—quite literally—compared to the lofty heights I had previously attempted.
Time for some grinding math: I'd halve the difficulty of the exercise but double down on the repetition. In gaming terms, I'd get the same XP over a longer grind, but at least I'd actually be able to gain XP in the first place—everyone knows that if you don’t complete the action, you don’t gain any.
There was absolutely no way I was going to let this second shot at life be marred by the constraints of a wheelchair. I had a world to explore, damn it!
With my game plan in place, I braced myself for what I knew would be a gruelling session of self-imposed physical therapy. The first try felt like trying to lift a boulder with a stick—a frail, feeble stick. My muscles quivered with the strain, and a veil of sweat formed on my forehead, trickling down my face like a torrential downpour.
Each time I got even close to reaching the couch, my legs would wobble and give out, as if mocking me.
I looked at the clock: Half an hour had passed, and all I had to show for it were sore muscles and dampened spirits. Just as I was about to give in to despair, a surge of stubborn resolve filled me.
"Come on, come on, you can do this," I muttered under my breath, treating the exercise like the final, nail-biting moments of a boss fight.
With a final heave and a grunt that would make a tennis player proud, I managed to swing my leg up onto the couch.
"YES!" I hollered, throwing my arms up in a V-for-victory pose, my celebration echoing off the apartment walls. I felt like I'd just won the lottery, slain the dragon, and unlocked the ultimate achievement—all rolled into one.
Buoyed by my initial success, I dived back into the grind.
About fifteen minutes later, and with a comparable amount of sweat and tears, my leg once again triumphantly reached its halfway throne on the couch. Just as I opened my mouth for another round of jubilant hollering, a strange chime echoed in my mind, like a notification alert from an unseen app.
A translucent text message materialised in the corner of my vision, easy to dismiss but impossible to ignore completely. For a moment, my victory lap faltered.
What was this? Was life now coming with fucking push notifications?
But then again, in a world that now apparently contained data-slots and a parallel reality to the Neon Dragons universe, should I really be that surprised?
With a nudge of my newfound mental cursor, I 'clicked' on the ethereal notification hovering at the edge of my vision. My familiarity with interacting with the apartment's tech had given me a bit of a tutorial for navigating this odd internal interface.
But nothing could have prepared me for what popped up next.
My eyes widened, my mouth went dry, and the euphoric high of my recent accomplishments plummeted as if kicked off a cliff. I was paralyzed, my finger metaphorically lifted off the play button of my life. What I saw didn't just make me freeze; it felt like someone had tossed a block of dry ice into the pit of my stomach.
I couldn't believe it. But there it was, spelled out in text as real and clear as the sweat that now felt cold on my forehead.
[System]: 100xp gained for Body Attribute.
I couldn't say how long I was immobilised, staring at that jarring notification, but judging by the ache that had started to gnaw at my left glute, it had to have been a significant chunk of time.
"Is this even real?" My voice finally broke the silence, almost hoarse, as if I hadn't used it for years.
Shakily, I shifted in the wheelchair, redistributing the weight that had been resting unevenly on my behind, causing a dull ache that seemed trivial compared to the emotional turmoil instigated by that inescapable message.
It wasn't that the notification was cryptic or vague; quite the opposite.
In Neon Dragons, there existed seven different Attributes, which governed the player character’s capabilities, those being: Body, Reflex, Intellect, Intuition, Edge, Tech and Ego.
The appearance of this notification, right after I'd sweated bullets completing part of my rudimentary physical rehab, basically presented me with two freaky scenarios to consider:
First, I'd lost it—really and completely tipped over into the abyss of madness.
Or second, I'd inexplicably unlocked access to the System that ruled over the player character in Neon Dragons.
My mind was a swirling vortex of confusion and incredulity.
I had already been given a second chance at life, but now I also had a fucking System?
On one hand, the thought was terrifying, especially when considering the precarious state of my mental well-being. But on the other hand, my gamer instincts were positively buzzing, turbocharged by this bewildering revelation.
'If XP can be gained, then Levels can be ascended. And if Levels can be ascended, I can improve everything,' I told myself internally, each word a deliberate step to pull myself back to some form of equilibrium.
Taking a grounding breath that filled my lungs and expelled tension, I dismissed the notification with a mere mental flick.
'Alright, let's get the basics down. How the hell do I access this System?'
The ensuing ten minutes unfolded like a comedy sketch, featuring me as the clueless protagonist. A torrent of commands was released into the void: "System!" "Status!" "HUD!" "Inventory!" "Access Status!" "Open!" "Character!" "Skills!" "Traits!" "Abilities!"
I found myself silently praying to whatever gods might exist that we didn't have a camera system installed in our apartment. Because if anyone ever saw me making an utter fool of myself like this, I don't know if my newfound identity as Sera could survive that level of humiliation.
In the end, I came up empty-handed, unable to stumble upon the magic words or gestures that would unlock this mysterious System interface—if it even existed in a way that could be manually triggered.
But hey, I wasn't about to be down and out that easily. I paused to take stock of the facts I'd gathered about my bewildering situation.
First, this so-called System was clearly responsive to my actions, as evidenced by the timing of the notification that had appeared right after my exercise. It had to be somehow connected to my body, physically. Unless it was omniscient… At which point, no first.
Second, the notification had popped up directly on my HUD, suggesting it was linked to my cerebral interface, the same place where I had mentally controlled the TV and radio. Unless it was omnipotent… at which point, no second.
And third, when the body I now inhabited as Sera was discovered, her data-slot had been completely fried, rendered inoperable.
Each clue seemed to lead me down a winding trail like a digital Sherlock Holmes. Then, as if illuminated by an inner spotlight, it clicked: The key to unlocking this enigma had to be buried somewhere within my HUD!
Invigorated with the pulse-pounding excitement akin to a treasure hunter closing in on a long-sought prize, I diligently combed through every nook and cranny of the HUD in my cerebral interface.
Riding the wave of adrenaline, I sifted through a trove of virtual options that populated my HUD. It was like discovering hidden gems within a labyrinthine video game menu.
First up was a rudimentary GPS—basic, yet useful for someone like me, who could get lost in a cardboard box. Beside it was a detailed map of my immediate surroundings, which would undoubtedly come in handy; gone were the days of feeling like a headless chicken in a maze.
Next, I stumbled upon an instant messaging system.
'Perfect for chatting with anyone from this new life,' I mused, giddy at the prospect of diving into some social dynamics. A digital clock was also present, crisp in its simplicity yet invaluable in its function.
Besides these, there were a smattering of other app-like conveniences.
A weather predictor, a rudimentary news feed, and even something that looked like a calorie counter. Each felt like a little treasure, like uncovering cheat codes to life.
But then, like the grand finale of a fireworks show, there it was—at the very bottom of what one could generously term an 'app list.' An icon simply labelled 'G.E.M.A.'. It had no art, nor any information listed alongside it.
I hesitated for a moment, my virtual finger hovering over the icon. A mix of trepidation and excitement bubbled within me.
'Could this be it? The System?'
The air felt charged, and I felt like a hacker in a cheesy sci-fi movie, about to breach the mainframe. With a final flick of mental resolve, I tapped the mysterious G.E.M.A. icon.
“I’m in,” I muttered with a grin, hoping that this truly was the System or I would look like a complete and utter fool.
But almost immediately, my fears were alleviated as a strikingly familiar interface opened before my inner eye.
[— General —]
[Name: Seraphine Vildea]
[Level: 0 — 0 / 700 XP]
[— Traits —]
[None]
[— Attributes —]
[Body: -1 — 100 / 500 XP]
[Reflex: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[Intellect: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[Intuition: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[Edge: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[Tech: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[Ego: 1 — 0 / 1,000 XP]
[— Skills —]
[None]
[— Perks —]
[None]
[— Abilities —]
[None]
A peal of jubilant laughter spilled from my lips, echoing around the room as I took in the tsunami of information displayed before me.
'This is insane, it's like Neon Dragons come to life!' I couldn't help but muse internally, my mental cursor hovering reverently over each letter of the displayed interface, as if I were physically caressing the brushstrokes on a da Vinci painting.
"Okay, this is something I can definitely work with," I finally declared to the empty room, my voice steadying as I emerged from my laughter-induced delirium—a state that would have surely secured me a one-way ticket to psychiatric evaluation in another life.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I steeled myself, preparing to dissect the information on hand like a general strategizing for battle.
'First off, let's establish that my Body Attribute is utterly fucked,' I mentally summarized, scrolling through the rows of data.
If the System was treating me as the initialised player, being at Level 0 made sense. The game started you off with all Attributes at 1, giving you an additional 10 Attribute Points to configure your character to your liking.
I fervently searched for a similar points allocation feature in this reality, but came up empty-handed after around ten minutes.
I had to face the sad fact that life wasn't going to hand me a customization screen; that likely would have been too much of a windfall, which I accepted surprisingly easily.
My Body Attribute was definitely the most immediate concern, however.
In the game, this Attribute controlled everything about your physical condition—strength, endurance, resilience—and critically, your maximum HP. My current Body score of -1 didn't exactly scream 'battle ready.'
In fact, if any altercation came my way, I'd probably crumple like a wet paper towel.
Next up: Skills, Perks, and Abilities—or rather, the glaring absence of them. Understandable, given I'd just 'spawned,' for lack of a better term.
Ideas about skill acquisition floated through my mind, but those plans were shelved for the moment; I wasn't going anywhere until I was out of this wheelchair.
But what truly sent a shiver down my spine was the blank slate under Traits.
In Neon Dragons, Traits were assigned during character creation, and were intrinsic to shaping your character's path. The HUD clearly had a slot for Traits; it was conspicuously empty, tagged with a disheartening [None].
In the game, Traits were often game-changers, laying the foundation of your character's capabilities from the get-go. Their presence—or lack thereof—on this interface was a puzzle, one that might hold the key to understanding how this whole thing worked.
Returning my focus to the interface, I grew increasingly intense, mentally prodding, poking, and swiping at every conceivable button and tab. I was desperate to unveil the Trait Selection screen, or whatever equivalent existed in this bewildering new reality of mine.
Just as I was about to give up and accept my fate as a Trait-less character however, another window suddenly popped up. “Yeeees!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, as I read the title of said window.
[— Trait Selection —]
[During initialisation, Character may select 1 Trait from the following list.]
[Bonus: Due to Character starting with below-average stats, 1 additional Trait may be chosen at initialisation.]
[— Trait List —]
[Blademaster]
You gain [Blades], [Knives] and [Throwing] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you may attempt a combat action using any of the mentioned bonus Skills at five times your normal speed. If this combat action is used in combination with the Throwing Skill, the thrown object also benefits from this increased speed.
[Brawler]
You gain [Martial Arts], [Brawling] and [Grappling] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you may attempt a combat action using any of the mentioned bonus Skills at five times your normal speed.
[Educated]
You may pick a bonus Skill of your choice, unlocking it instantly at Level 1. Whenever you gain Skill Points from Character Level-Ups, automatically gain a bonus point in the chosen Skill, up to the maximum possible Level as determined by the governing Attribute.
[Ghost]
You gain [Stealth] as a bonus Skill, unlocking it instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you can mentally prepare a path and receive feedback on whether your current capabilities and [Stealth] would be enough to follow it and remain unseen. Once per day, you may rapidly move up to five metres without anyone around you seeing you move.
[Gunman]
You gain [Pistols], [Rifles], [SMGs], [Shotguns], [Heavy Weapons], [Firearms] and [Sniper-Rifles] as bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. Once every hour, you can reload your currently equipped weapon at five times your normal speed.
[Hacker]
You gain [Programming] and [Quick-Hacks] bonus Skills, unlocking them instantly at Level 1. You are immediately given eight Quick-Hack elements of your choice among available Verbs, Adjectives and Subjects. You may use up to two Quick-Hacks at the same time, if your Crown has the necessary capacity.
[Hard To Kill]
You are naturally more resilient than others. Your maximum HP is derived from your Body Attribute, plus an additional 20%.
[Hidden Wealth]
You have a stash of {c}20,000 hidden away somewhere.
[Killing Blow]
Your attacks are naturally more deadly than others. Any impact created by one of your combat actions is automatically changed and moved by up to 2 cm to inflict maximum damage.
[Masterful Expertise]
Once every hour, when you are attempting a non-combat action, you will be given a warning if you are about to fail in your attempt.
[On Target]
Once every hour, when you are attempting a combat action, you will be given a warning if you are about to fail in your attempt.
[Polyglot]
You instantly learn every common and uncommon language, both spoken and written variants, as well as all possible dialects.
[Prodigy]
Choose one Attribute. Gain 1.5x as much XP for any actions rewarding XP for the chosen Attribute and its deriverate Skills.
[Undeniably Charismatic]
You are naturally more charismatic than others. People have a naturally more friendly disposition towards you, when initially meeting them.
Scanning the extensive list of Traits, I was struck by a newfound dilemma: I had no idea which one to pick. Sure, I was grateful that the System tossed me a bonus Trait as a sort of consolation prize for my abysmal start, but that only complicated the situation further.
In Neon Dragons, I had a meticulously planned character build, honed through trial and error of myriads of content creators!
But applying those gaming strategies to my own life—my real, flesh-and-blood existence—felt disconcertingly different. It wasn't just about Skill boosts or unlocking new Abilities anymore; these choices could shape my future in ways I couldn't yet fathom.
After all, whatever I chose here would stick with me through my entire life going forward…