The Souls-like DLC Duel Boss You Need To Git Gud To Beat Is Reborn In A Fluffy Otome Game World! 001 - Character Creation - Origin: Troubled Childhood

One morning, as Marla awoke from pleasant and soothing dreams about blood and violence and bloody violence, she came fully to the realization that in her sleep over the past month she had been slowly recalling the memories of her past life.

It came as no great surprise. The recollection had been gradual, and at first she had thought the dreams had simply been nightmares borne of the distress resulting from her father’s disappearance and likely death. Over the days, the memories had continued to bloom in her mind like flowers, surpassing the experiences of the young child. Now, a month later, the child’s recollections were surpassed by those of the venator, and only Marla remained to face this second childhood.

Her name was Marla Craft, and she was a bastard. Of that, she was certain. It was the most likely explanation for why she possessed the gift of Radiance, after all. Marla had heard it said that magic was strong in the blood of the kingdom’s nobles, and sparse in its commoners. Commoners born possessing the gift were sparse, and were usually begat from an affair between noblemen and commoners. Clearly, Marla was the result of such a dalliance.

The young Marla who lived a life of love with both parents, had she understood the concept, would have refused to believe it. Her Mama loved her Papa! She would never do such a thing!

The reborn Marla, recalling the practices of Damaigh Keep, reflected that her mother might not have had any choice in the matter. Alice Craft was a beautiful woman, with hair as blood framing a comely face, a winsome figure, and full… flasks of blood. Marla had heard it said that mother was the most beautiful woman in the village of Simula, usually by father’s friends and never where their spouse might hear. There was no doubt in her mind that some passing noble would be driven to lust for her, and who was a commoner to object if a noble decided they would take their pleasure?

When the nightmares of recollection had passed, mother did not notice any significant change. After all, what was there to notice? She had been diligent in doing her chores, sweeping the floors of the house, cleaning the dining table and any surfaces she could reach with a stepstool, and drawing water from the well so it could chill in the cellar. The house was absolutely spotless, and she had been on her best behavior. She gave mother absolutely no cause to be displeased with her behavior.

In truth, it was in these moments of simple chores that she was able to lose herself in her new life. She was just Marla Craft doing her chores. It was hard work, but it was a good hardness, of honest labor and clean work and no one was hurt, nothing was defiled.

Carrying only guilt from a life already past, Marla found a semblance of peace.

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“Welcome home, mother,” Marla said, briefly looking up from where she was stacking firewood next to the hearth. The woodpile at the back of the house was smaller than it could have been, since it was summer and they only needed wood for cooking. Still, Marla would need to split some wood soon, while it was still warm. “Are you thirsty? I have water fresh from the cellar that should still be chilled.”

Mother stood at the threshold of their house’s kitchen and dining room, looking surprised to still see her doing her chores. “Marla?” mother said, sounding slightly confused.

“Would you like something else? I was heating this water for the bath, but if you wish we could make tea.” The tea was on a shelf too high for her to reach unless she was willing to start climbing on the furniture, which she did not intend to do. Furniture like tables and chairs were very flimsy, after all. Simply rolling into them could cause them to break apart unless they were very heavily built.

“W-water is fine,” mother said faintly, and Marla nodded as she finished stacking the wood. Rubbing her hands together to get the dust off and keep it from getting on her dress, she got on of their wooden cups—which was barely in reach—and poured some water into it from the jug of well-water she’d left to chill in the cellar that morning and had retrieved when she’d left another jug to cool that afternoon. It was still mostly full, its chill causing the outside of the jug to bead water and drip into the washbasin she’d set it on.

She would have left it in the larder, but she worried the beading would damage the shelves.

Mounting the stepstool, she carefully poured water into the cup, making sure to support the jug with both hands. Her body was frail in comparison to a venator or even simply an adult, lacking strength and dexterity because of her age, and while a jug such as this—simple glazed earthenware—would be easily replaced by a noble, it would cause some hardship for commoners of their stature. Besides, her memories indicated this was of some sentiment to mother. Best to treat it with care.

Once the cup was filled—though still well short of the top—she set down the jug and stepped of the stool before picking up the cup and carefully holding it with both hands as she traversed the short distance to mother to offer the drink.  For some reason, mother had laid down her basket and was standing with her arms out to either side. Marla waited patiently, and mother eventually took cup to refresh herself.

Marla picked up the baskets mother had set down, glancing into it. There was a bundle wrapped in one of their clean kitchen cloths, their salt jar, their small flour sack, a leather bottle of some sort… “I’ll take these to the larder,” she said, suiting word to deed as she walked to do just that.

The bundle turned out to be dry aged meat, which for the moment she kept wrapped and covered with a bowl. While the larder was full of dried herbs—mint, basil, mugwort, verdantbloom—from the plants around their windows to repel insects, sometimes rats or beetles would get into the house. It was not often, but it was usually father who took care of them, as mother found rats quite alarming. With his absence, Marla would have to take over his duties in that as well. Fortunately, most of the rats tended to be very small juveniles, driven by instinct and appetite, and thus would be no difficulty to slay. With her current stature, she would not care to try her chances with a mature rat.

The salt jar and flour sack were put back on the larder shelves—albeit at a lower shelf than usual because of her height—while the bottle was put next to other bottles. It was tightly stoppered, and she didn’t want to open it and risk spilling any of what was inside.

Giving the larder one last glance—no rats, no insects, no echoing strange sound echoing among the cold stone walls—Marla stepped out, making sure to close the door behind her. Mother was drinking from her cup as she looked at Marla, a strange expression on her face. Was she constipated? “Do you need me for anything else, mother?” she asked, folding her hands at her waist.

“I… what do you want for dinner?” mother finally asked.

“I have no particular preference, mother,” Marla said. “If that is all, I need to start bringing in the glow rocks.” The late afternoon sunlight was weak enough that there was little benefit in leaving the stones outside to absorb any further light. Best to bring them into the house for the illumination.

Giving mother a nod to excuse herself, Marla headed for the door and out to where she had laid out the glow rocks on the south side of the house, next to one of their vegetable patches. Carefully folding her skirt, she crouched down and began to gather the glow rocks, putting them into the bucket they used for carrying dry things. Each was of a size that she could comfortably wrap her hand around the river-smoothed stones, suitable for throwing some distance and drawing the attention of a feral brute to lure them away to more easily kill alone.

A part of her, the child had had once been before her awakening, remembered walking the river with her mother and father, picking out the smoothest and prettiest of the stones along the river’s banks and watching in awe as father made the rocks over the water…

Shaking her head to clear it of distraction, Marla continued with her work, filling the bucket with glow rocks. Once the bucket was full, she picked it up with both hands—once more sighing about her lack of strength—she brought it back towards the house. The door opened as she approached, and she gave mother a nod of thanks. The illumination emanating from the glow rocks was much more obvious in the shadow of the house’s entrance, and Marla began picking out stones from the bucket and placing it on the glowledge along one wall, placing eight glow rocks on it. Two rocks was about the provided light equal to a candle, so eight was more than enough to light the entryway brightly.

“Do you need help?” Mother asked.

“There is no need, mother. I am capable of this,” Marla assured her, hefting her bucket and taking it into the kitchen. She began placing glow rocks on the ledge next to the door.

Mother hovered nearby for some time before turning away and moving to start on their dinner.

It was another perfectly ordinary day.

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Despite being on her best behavior, it seemed that Mother was dissatisfied with her for some reason. Marla was uncertain as to why. She kept her dress clean, did her chores and as much work around the house as she could perform given her height and strength, but this did not seem to please Mother, who was often tearful and would occasional grab and hold Marla without warning. Marla held very still when this occurred, vaguely aware this was somehow an enjoyable experience according to the memories of the child she had been, and indeed there was something vaguely comforting about this…

Yet as time passed and Marla continued to be helpful and on best behavior, these moments grew less and less frequent, until they stopped entirely. A small part of her, the smallest part of all, lamented their loss, but the rest of Marla merely went about her business. Her life was peaceful, without bloodshed nor screams nor atrocity. What reason did she have to complain?

In this, her second childhood, Marla was content.

Glow Rock
A smooth rock, never bigger than a fist. Warm to the touch, it radiates light in one of seven colors, or in rare instances all of them at once. Though it's not really all that rare.

Its light is weak and only lasts a couple of hours, but may be restored when exposed to the sun. Useful for working in flammable environments. A favorite toy of children or a certain age. Everyone has a lucky glow rock at some point.