Chapter 11: First Day

Viktoria woke up in a world of stinging pain and heavy, damp heat. The cheap inn room she shared with Lena smelled of stale straw and old sweat. Her back ached with a deep, throbbing rhythm, her thick thighs were chafed raw from the two-day trek to Stonebrook, and her massive breasts felt like lead weights—tender and swollen after a night spent unsuccessfully trying to find a comfortable position on her stomach.

“Fuck this body,” she grumbled, the words coming out in a morning-softened rasp. She sat up, the sudden motion causing her chest to bounce with a violent, heavy momentum that sent a spark of pain through her ribs. She glared down at the sheer volume of her own form. “Still too damn big. Still too much of everything.”

Lena was already up, sitting by the window and methodically sharpening her dagger. The rhythmic shing-shing of the whetstone was the only other sound in the room. “You’re sure you want to start today? You look like you’ve been run over by a carriage. You could take another day to let those raw spots heal.”

“No,” Viktoria snapped, struggling to get her feet under her. “I didn't come here to sit in a drafty room. I need money, I need levels, and I need to stop being the slowest thing in the room. Let’s go.”

The Adventurer’s Guild was a beehive of morning activity. The air was thick with the scent of cheap ale and woodsmoke as adventurers of all ranks prepared for their shifts. Viktoria waddled up to the massive wooden request board, her new reinforced dress—generously let out by Clara—straining across her hips and bust. Most of the high-paying, "easy" kill quests had been snatched up by the veterans. Finally, her eyes settled on a small, yellowed parchment.

Gathering Quest: Bloodbloom Herbs Location: Whispering Woods (Outer Edge) Difficulty: E Reward: 8 silver Requirement: Bring back 12 fresh Bloodbloom flowers.

“Perfect,” Viktoria muttered, her fingers tracing the edge of her bronze tag. “A simple walk in the woods. Low risk, easy pay.”

The elf receptionist stamped her card with a look that bordered on pity. “Good luck, rookie. The Bloodblooms only grow in the shade. And watch out for stray goblins—they’ve been smelling the town’s trash more than usual lately.”

The outer edge of the Whispering Woods was supposed to be a gentle introduction to the life of an adventurer. However, after two hours of navigating the uneven, root-choked terrain, Viktoria was drenched in a thick layer of sweat and ready to burn the forest down. Every step was a physical negotiation. Her thick thighs rubbed together until the skin felt like it was on fire; her heavy ass made her hips sway with an exaggerated, uncoordinated motion that threw off her balance; and her breasts bounced with such force she was forced to keep one arm crossed tightly under them for support.

“God… damn… it,” she panted, leaning her full weight against the mossy trunk of an ancient oak. “I used to ride in cushioned carriages. I had servants to carry my goddamn snacks. Now I’m huffing like a slaughtered pig just to pick some fucking weeds.”

Lena moved ahead with a sickeningly graceful fluidity, her eyes scanning the forest floor. “You’re actually doing better than I expected, Viktoria. Most city-born newbies quit and start crying after the first mile.”

Viktoria forced herself forward and knelt in the damp dirt to harvest a cluster of red, vein-like flowers. Bending over was its own nightmare—she could feel her dress tightening dangerously over her backside, making her feel exposed and vulnerable in the open air. She hated the feeling of being "observed," even if the only things watching were the birds.

They had gathered nine flowers when the atmosphere shifted. The forest didn't go silent—it went cold.

“Well, well. What do we have here? A pathetic cow playing at heroics?”

The voice was high, crystalline, and dripping with a refined cruelty. Viktoria turned to see a woman who looked like she had been sculpted from moonlight. She wore pristine white and gold robes and floated a few inches off the forest floor, her long silver hair shimmering. An S-rank badge—the highest honor a mortal could achieve—gleamed on her chest.

Viktoria recognized the aura immediately: Seraphina Voss.

Seraphina’s lips curled in a display of open disgust as her eyes raked over Viktoria’s sweat-soaked, bulging frame. “I am Seraphina Voss, S-rank Healer. I was passing through on a purification mission when I sensed a mana fluctuation. Imagine my surprise seeing... this.” She gestured toward Viktoria with a flick of her wrist. “A fat sow like you thinks she belongs in the Guild? How utterly revolting.”

Viktoria’s blood boiled, her old Grell pride surging through her veins. “The fuck is your problem, lady? I’m picking flowers. I didn’t do shit to you.”

Seraphina laughed, a sound like glass breaking. “Your very existence is an offense, girl. Women like you give the rest of us a bad name. Parading around with that obscene, gluttonous body, distracting real men, tempting the weak. You belong on your back in a low-rent brothel, not out here embarrassing the profession.”

Lena stepped forward, her hand moving to the grip of her bow. “That’s enough, Healer. She’s a registered adventurer. She’s done nothing wrong.”

Seraphina didn't even acknowledge Lena’s existence. Her eyes remained locked on Viktoria with a pure, irrational hatred that seemed to go deeper than mere elitism. “I’ll be watching you, cow. One day you’ll slip up—you’ll be too slow, too heavy, too greedy—and I’ll make sure you’re put in your proper place.”

With a final, contemptuous sneer, the healer floated away, leaving behind a faint trail of golden sparkles and the stench of arrogance.

“What a fucking bitch,” Viktoria spat, her hands trembling as she reached for the tenth flower. “I’ve never even met her before. Why the hell does she care if I'm fat?”

“Don’t let her get to you,” Lena said, though her voice was tight. “High-rankers—especially the ones born into noble houses like the Voss family—often see the rest of the world as dirt. They think their talent makes them gods.”

The rest of the gathering was done in a tense, brooding silence. Viktoria’s mood was a dark, jagged thing. On the trek back to Stonebrook, their luck soured further. A group of seven goblins—scrawny, green-skinned scavengers—had wandered onto the main path. They spotted Viktoria and immediately began hooting, their eyes wide and malicious as they made crude, unmistakable gestures toward her chest.

“Fresh meat! Big female! Soft and slow!”

“Shit!” Viktoria pulled her beginner dagger, her heart racing.

Lena was a blur of motion, her bow thrumming as she dropped two goblins before they could even draw their jagged blades. “Stay behind me, Viktoria!”

But the remaining five charged in a frantic, screaming wave. Viktoria tried to fight—she really did. She swung her dagger with desperate strength, but her balance was atrocious. Her breasts shifted and threw off her center of gravity, and her reach was hampered by her own bulk. A goblin slammed into her side, its filthy claws grabbing at her breast through the fabric. Another leaped onto her back, its weight pulling her down as it groped at her wide hips.

“Get the fuck off me!” she screamed, her voice a raw shriek of rage. She slammed her elbow back, catching a goblin in the face with a meaty crunch. The creature fell, but Viktoria was covered in small, stinging nicks and bruises by the time Lena finished the rest.

She stood there in the clearing, panting, her clothes torn and blood trickling down her arm. “Pathetic,” she whispered, the word tasting like copper. “I’m fucking pathetic in this body.”

They returned to the guild just as the sun was bleeding into the horizon. Viktoria turned in her flowers, pocketed her eight silver, and collapsed into a sturdy wooden chair. She felt every ounce of her four hundred pounds pressing down into the seat.

Then, the heavy guild doors swung open once more.

A young man stepped inside, the golden lantern light catching his hair. He had a heroic, squared jawline, bright blue eyes that seemed to hold a natural light, and an easy, confident smile that felt like a physical warmth. Even in his dusty traveler’s clothes, he radiated "Main Character" energy.

The entire guild hall seemed to pause for a heartbeat. The elf receptionist stood up straighter. “A new adventurer? Welcome to the Stonebrook branch!”

The young man rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish, charming laugh. “Yeah. My name is Leon Brightwood. I just arrived from a small village out west. I’m looking to register and start helping where I can.”

Viktoria’s heart nearly stopped. The air felt thin. Leon. The fucking Hero.

He hadn't even received his divine blessing yet, but he was already here. The gears of the world were finally grinding into motion. Leon’s eyes scanned the room, landing on Viktoria for a brief moment. He offered her a polite, friendly nod—the kind of look he would give to any struggling rookie.

She forced herself to look away, her mind racing. Seraphina’s earlier vitriol echoed in her head. The irrational hatred. The Voss family name. Princess Elara Voss... his future primary harem member.

Viktoria smirked darkly, ignoring the stinging cuts on her arm. The "harem" was already forming, and one of them already hated her for no reason other than her existence.

“Perfect,” she whispered to herself.

She struggled to her feet, ignoring the protest of her knees, and walked back toward the request board. Her hips swayed with their usual, heavy rhythm, but her eyes were cold.

“Round two tomorrow,” she muttered. “Time to get stronger. Fat ass or not, I'm not letting this story end the way it’s supposed to.”