The light now shone through the window. Shining its radiant glow atop the furniture, objects and person that were in Camille's apartment, the strength of its presence indicated that it was noon. A day after that exquisite night, it was a day that had been so far, spent in peace. Filled with activities such as shadow boxing, playing video games, or just looking outside, it was what it was.

And that was the peace before the storm.

In line with this current state of serene calmness, Camille stared down at her phone. Her reading, directed towards a variety of science and news articles.

"Oh, this one's pretty interesting."

She would comment, having stumbled across one that was, in fact, pretty interesting. Though such fields were much out of her expertise so to speak, Camille nonetheless tried her best to engage in it. With all the information available across the world, Camille viewed it as her moral duty as a person to try and acquire as much of it as possible.

In contrast to the average plebian who would only take in and regurgitate celebrity news, Camille would be better and strive for a higher level of existence, one filled by reading ever so 'enlightening articles' instead. Although she wasn't quite convinced of that line of logic, Camille supposed that there was no harm in it either. In truth, Camille just wanted something to do.

Powerful as she was with this new ability, there wasn't exactly much she could use it on. Should she want to pick a fight, she would have to wait until the evening, and until then, she would have to make do with the comfort of her apartment room.

"Man, this sucks," Camille said while she let out a sigh of exasperation.

Try as she might, video games no longer held the same gratification and enjoyment as they used to. Maybe they would have been fun with Morgan, sure, but alone? They were tolerable for a couple of hours at a time before gradually becoming stale. Besides, her ability didn't work inside the video game world either. No matter how much she struggled to put her 'Grand Hammer of Sigma' inside her real life inventory, or grind to acquire some new skills, it was all hopeless.

That was the reality Camille now lived in. And to be fair, she instinctively understood why this was the case. Her original reason for playing games in the first place as a means of escape. A means of indulging herself in pleasure and power, all while forgetting the harshness of reality. But now that she herself had been thrust back into the real world, and with a video game ability alongside it?

It just didn't feel right.

Sighing, Camille desperately yearned for something to happen. Anything. A single spark that would set her verdant heart ablaze with passion and desire was all she asked for.

And that was what she received.

Out of nowhere, Camille heard her doorbell ring. A surprise, to be sure, Camille didn't suppose it was her landlord or Morgan. Given that she had already paid her rent and that the latter preferred knocking, any guess at who the person might be was lost on her. So, without any way to predict who it might be, she supposed that there was only one way to find out.

Inquisitive as to who it was, Camille mustered all the energy she could. Then with another sigh, she approached the door. Placing her eye on the keyhole, Camille paused for a second.

How odd. For some strange reason, there was a cosplayer in front of her door. One dressed head to toe in some kind of grey robe with what appeared to be a mask of a grasshopper, it was a most bizarre sight.

Wondering why this was the case, Camille thought to herself for a moment. Then realizing with almost immediate results, understood.

"Ah, shit."

Of course. Camille knew that it would have happened eventually. That being people finding her. After all, the chances that it was just a coincidence to get some weird looking person just after she so happened to get weird abilities wasn't plausible. So whoever they were, they were probably after her.

And, as for why that was the case?

Camille wasn't even sure if she wanted to find out.

"Inspect." Whispering it under her breath, she jabbed her finger at the target before her.

PROFILE

NAME: Mr. Door STATUS: ALIVE TITLE: I'm a Door CLASS: NONE RACE: UNKNOWN LEVEL: UNKNOWN STR: 0 DEF: UNKNOWN

VIT: UNKNOWN DEX: 0 RES: UNKNOWN CHA: 0

To no avail, it instead identified the door. Desperately, Camille persisted a few more times, but the result remained the same. Neither revealing a single bit of useful information, Camille assumed that there was only one way out of this.

Feeling neither shame nor embarrassment, Camille rushed to her bathroom. Her movements which were guided by an equal desire to be quiet while being as fast as possible, lent her to be neither. As she evidently made quite a bit of noise in frantically opening the door and entering it.

Seeing an escape route, Camille unlocked the window of her bathroom. Large enough to fit the entirety of her body, she stared at the escape route she would have to take. Cold wind blowing in her face, Camille saw what she needed to do. While jumping down onto the pavement was impossible as she was on the seventeenth story, jumping to other floors wasn't.

Fearful of what would happen to her should she stay, she channelled all the courage she could and placed her feet on the windowsill. Cowardly as it were, the prospect of facing what was beyond that door was an unlikely one.

Could she, in her current condition where she could just punch harder, really take on who could potentially be a serial killer? Much less, one that could shoot or summon magic?

"Haha, nope, let's leave that to some other time."

There was a time for challenging strong opponents and improving yourself in the mettle of combat. And then there was just suicide. Sorry for her warrior pride, Camille leapt. Plummeting straight down, her fall continued for two more floors.

"Shit!"

Camille's arms which had been frantically flailing through the air grabbed onto the railing. Gradually accepting that she had not fallen to her death in the course of a couple of seconds, Camille pulled herself up. With one relatively easy heave, Camille was now on stable ground. Her feet, which now made contact with something that was both figuratively and literally concrete, gave her an ease of mind.

Taking a few steps from the railing, Camille held a sigh of relief.

More stable by the second, Camille tried her best to think this situation over. Logically, the quickest way down was to jump and hope you caught a railing, but at the same time, it was also the one that attracted the most attention, that and well.

Camille could tell at a glance that she probably wouldn't survive a fifteen story fall.

Sighing, Camille tried to recollect her thought and formulate a theory as to what was happening.

With the current amount of information available to her though, it wasn't really possible. In fact, Camille didn't even know how many people were after her.

Hell, for all she knew, there could've been easily as much as a dozen, fifty, or even a hundred people in pursuit. There was no speaking of what they would do if they caught her either. Now that she thought about it, death was just one of the most pleasant alternatives. At worse, she would have her organs sold, or maybe she would have her body kept eternally as some kind of living battery or tortured endlessly over a year for any shred of information to her ability. Actually, thinking about it, maybe jumping off and breaking her neck was the easy way out. In deep reflection, she then decided against it.

"Nah, fuck that."

Camille would never accept the possibility of a non-existent future. Not anymore, not after all she had been through. Even if she was still a weakling, for the time being, it didn't matter. Because, at the end of the day, no matter the cost, she would pull through and succeed, that was her motto, and she sure as hell wasn't going to revert to being a coward again.

Forcing her discomfort down her being, Camille put a smile on her face.

Running, Camille's body headed straight for the end of the hallway. Towards the door where the staircase would be and towards the path that was her victory, Camille diverted all the energy towards this goal and this goal alone. After all, the chances of escape, although little was far from none. If she could hitch a ride, get somewhere safe, and plan this whole thing out, there was no saying what possibilities lay ahead. Then, with one additional spurt of energy, she kicked the door open.

What Camille then felt was neither happiness nor delight.

She was supposed to make her break away through the stairs and escape.

And yet, her whole being was frozen to its core.

Unable to move, or much less breathe, it seemed that fate had other plans for her. For reality, as inherently cruel as it were, seemed to have played a cruel joke. A cruel joke that manifested in none other than the person before her, Camille could say nothing.

The sheer thought of it was ridiculous. How, could it be? Are you saying that out of all the places that Camille would encounter an enemy, that it would be in the stairwell? That, despite there being an elevator, that the person before her would go up seventeen stories all by foot?

The woman known as Camille stared emptily at the figure before her.

Seeming to be of thirty or so years of age, the person was a woman with shoulder-length white hair. Evidently foreign from her complexion and clothes, she was undoubtedly an enemy. An impressive height, a magnificent eye of ethereal gold accented by black paint around it, paired with the other being covered by an eye band, and an overall aesthetic that seemed to belong to an era long lost were compressed within the being before her.

Looking like a character straight out of some modern Egyptian myth, the woman lightly tapped the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor.

Amused at this sudden change of events, their face gave off the impression that they were pleasantly surprised. Surprised that their expected guest had charged in head first to meet them, what feeling could they have besides that of enjoyment? Dumbfounded, all of Camille's sensibilities and concerns faded away in an instant. As far as she could understand, the time for dialogue was over. Anyone with a glance could tell she wasn't right. No normal person who never participated in a fight could have the traits she had.

Cauliflower ears, a slightly deformed nose, eccentric clothing and muscles? Camille did not believe in judging things solely by their appearance, but she couldn't risk it. Above all else, her survival mattered most, and she sure as hell wasn't going to risk it just to be on the safe side. The woman who up until now running away, then charged headfirst into battle.