No Self-Respecting Lady Strolls the Battlefield in Her Birthday Suit

After her triumphant battle, Roxana found herself amidst the chaos of the demon nursery, her heart racing from the thrill of survival. The battlefield was still teeming with movement, newborn demons testing their strength, while others lay lifeless, their souls already harvested.

The defeated demon's soul sparkled before her, enveloping her in a spectral radiance. It pulsed with power, an intoxicating essence that sent her senses into overdrive. Her mouth watered involuntarily, the hunger clawing at her insides, demanding that she devour it. Yet, something held her back. As tempting as it was to follow instinct, the idea of consuming it unsettled her.

She bit her lip, hesitating. "Can I add this to my system? How do I even do that??" she wondered.

{How do you absorb anything? Use your brain, girl. Touch it.}

Roxana jolted. "Huh? You can talk?"

{No, I just randomly project snarky messages into your head. Of course, I can talk. You just never asked.}

She rolled her eyes but complied, reaching out. The moment her fingertips brushed against the soul, the energy surged forward on its own, wrapping around her hand before vanishing into her body. A soft chime echoed in her mind.

{Soul absorbed. Current count: 2.}

It was seamless, automatic, and far less dramatic than she had expected. She exhaled in relief, glad she didn't have to eat it like some savage beast. But her moment of respite was short-lived.

A new problem emerged almost immediately—at least ten demons from different directions had noticed her. She wasn't just another newborn in the nursery; she was distinct, different. Her fur alone made her stand out like a beacon among them. The realization sent a chill down her spine. She needed to defend herself.

"I need a weapon," she thought, scanning her surroundings for anything usable.

{What type of weapon? A battle axe? A spear? Or perhaps a giant hammer to match your subtlety?}

Roxana scowled at the sarcastic prompt but quickly realized the flaw in her thinking. What was she going to do, charge into battle against ten demons? She wasn't some burly warrior, nor was she trained in combat. Even if she had the strength to wield, blocking and attacking simultaneously would be impossible against multiple enemies.

No, she needed to be smart about this.

Speed, deception, and stealth—those were her strengths. If only she had some sort of ability to vanish. If they couldn't see her, they couldn't attack her.

She hesitated. Was such a thing even possible?

As if responding to her thoughts, a new message flashed before her eyes.

{System Notice: This system can manifest anything the user desires, as long as sufficient souls are provided. Your power is only limited by your imagination.}

Roxana's breath hitched. Anything? A surge of excitement bubbled up, but she tamped it down. Right now, she needed something practical, something that fit her abilities.

"I need an invisibility dress."

{Error: Insufficient souls to produce the item… Probable Item stored in mind palace for now [5% progress]}

Tch. Of course, nothing was ever that simple.

But she didn't have time to dwell on it. The demons were closing in, and she needed something now.

"Give me something similar then that actually works… and make sure it's stylish. If I'm going to die in this life too, at least I won't do it naked."

Before her, a hologram flickered into existence, depicting a dress unlike anything the savage demons around her would wear. It was a vision of elegance, a blend of orange and white with deep red accents, mimicking the fur of a fox. The sleeves were layered and petal-like, giving it a delicate, flowing aesthetic. A ribbon crossed her chest, reminiscent of a kimono's obi, while the layered skirt swayed like a fox's tail in the wind.

Displayed next to the hologram, a message appeared:

{Dress that renders the user invisible for 15 seconds. Cooldown time: 5 seconds} — [2 souls needed to create]

Fashion and survival had never gone hand in hand before, but for Roxana, it made perfect sense. This wasn't just a dress—it was her lifeline.

The moment she willed it into existence, the fabric wrapped around her, hugging her form like it had always belonged there. It wasn't just a garment; it was armor.

And just in time.

The demons surged forward, drawn to her as if compelled by some unseen force. It was unsettling. The dress didn't just make her more refined—it made her dangerously alluring, turning her into both a coveted prize and an irresistible temptation for the demons around her.

But they wouldn't touch her.

Not if they couldn't see her.

With a single breath, she activated the dress's ability.

The world around her blurred, then shifted. She was gone.

Invisible.

The demons screeched, their heads darting around in confusion. Roxana smirked. This was her advantage. She wouldn't fight them head-on—she would strike from the shadows, unseen and unheard.

The battlefield was a frenzy of chaos. Demons tore at each other, clawing, biting, and ripping souls from the defeated. Roxana moved through the chaos like a ghost, her steps light as air. She watched, waited, and when the strongest among them emerged victorious, she struck.

A single slash at the throat. Precise, efficient, and unnoticed.

She clenched her fists. If this world operated on power, then she needed power. And in this place, power came from collecting souls.

She wasn't attacking for the thrill of it or out of malice—she was doing it to survive. Every soul she gathered was another step toward ensuring she wasn't crushed under the heel of a stronger demon. If she hesitated, if she showed mercy, she would become just another nameless corpse on this battlefield.

One soul became two. Two became three.

Each kill was swift, silent. With every strike, her collection grew, and with it, her system's soul count. This was how she would survive. Not through brute strength, but through intelligence, through cunning.

But as she set her sights on her sixth target, an unsettling black fog began to seep into the air. A sickly chill ran down her spine.

Something was wrong.

Panic gripped her as she spun around, expecting to see some demon casting a spell, but it wasn't just her. Every demon on the battlefield was caught in the same creeping darkness.

Then, the ground trembled.

A crack split beneath her feet. Roxana gasped as the earth gave way, and before she could react, she was falling.

The air rushed past her, the battlefield above disappearing into a void of swirling shadows. Her fingers scrambled to grab onto anything, but there was nothing. Just darkness, swallowing her whole.

Then, a voice—deep, ancient, and dripping with cruel amusement—echoed all around her.

"Welcome to the uppermost level of the endless Abyss of hell, you worthless newborns!"