[PP-F11] The Bell Knows my Name

[Hidden 1]

Spoiler

Name: True Tier: 9 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 52 HP: 880/880 EN: 126/126 Stats: Damage: 24 Mitigation: 20 Accuracy: 3 Evasion: 4 Battle Healing: 48 Loot Die: 1 Stealth Rating: 5 PHASEVAMP-O: 97 REC: 8 HLY: 16 Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket: - Kura Yu Yami | Holy II, Phase, Vamp Off. Armor/Trinket: - Vantablack | EVA III, Vamp Def Shield/Armor/Trinket: - Night's Bloom | ACC II, Recovery II Combat Mastery: - Combat Mastery: Damage R3 Combat Shift: - ST Shift Familiar Skill: - Grappling Familiar Custom Skill: - Lady Midnight Skills: - Battle Healing R5 - Cloth Armor R5 - Dagger R5 - Energist - Quick Change Extra Skills: - Hiding R5 - Disguise - Survival Inactive Extra Skills: Addons: - Ferocity - Nimble - Precision - Stamina - Stamina Mods: - Athletics - Surpise Attack: Assassin - Untraceable - Vanish Inactive Mods: Battle Ready Inventory: Housing Buffs: Guild Hall Buffs: Scents of the Wild Totem: - Kumatetsu Wedding Ring: Crafting Profession: Gathering Profession:

The bells rang again.

That slow, familiar chime echoed across the rooftops, drifting through the narrow streets like it always did — soft and heavy all at once. Taft’s rhythm. Every four hours, without fail. The sound rolled past like a breath through stone, and sunlight followed behind it, slipping through the Grand Cathedral’s stained-glass windows and scattering color across the city. Reds, violets, golds — the usual glow. Gentle, quiet. Moving like water over everything it touched.

Hidden stood still, watching it happen. She’d seen this before. More times than she could count. This was just how the city moved — always shifting, always changing. Every few hours, it put on a different face, and she moved with it. Not noticed. Not needed. Just part of the pattern. She used to like it that way.

But today felt different.

The bell came early. Or maybe she heard it late. And when the light changed, it didn’t just slide past her like it always had. It stopped. Right in front of her. And there, in the middle of the cobblestone: her name.
Hilda.
Clear as anything. Written in shadow, like it didn’t belong to the world around it. No system tag. No player nearby. No reason it should be there. She crouched down and ran her fingers across the stone, even though the name had already faded. Just smooth rock now. Like nothing had happened.

But something had.

She stayed there for a while, in the light, letting it touch her.

---

251 Words

[Hidden 1]

The name was gone.

The stone beneath her feet looked the same as it always did — plain, worn down by time and rain, cracks filled with tiny bits of moss. The violet light that had circled her just moments ago had already moved on, carried away by the slow turn of the sun. But the feeling stuck with her. Hidden stood there for a while longer, surrounded by the fading color, eyes half-closed, listening. The bells were quiet now. The streets had gone still again. But something in the way the light had landed — right there, right on her — felt too precise.

Like it had meant something.

“Just a trick of the light,” she muttered under her breath. "Or, I need a nap."

Still, she didn’t sound like she believed herself. She started walking again, slowly. There was no rush, no threat. But something in the air felt different now — like the whole city had paused for a moment to look at her. Sunlight kept slipping through the stained-glass windows of the Grand Cathedral, falling across the stone buildings in streaks of soft green and fading red. As the sun climbed, the colors shifted. They always did. But now, for the first time in a long time, she really noticed them. She had walked these streets for months, maybe more. Always keeping to the edges. Always just outside the light. It had become second nature — moving through the floor like she wasn’t even there.

But now, it felt like the light was starting to notice her, too. She turned a corner and caught a glimpse of herself in a window. Pale hair touched by sunlight. Her cloak catching a bit of red where the light passed over her shoulder. The glass was fogged from earlier rain, but her reflection was still clear enough to hold her gaze.

“There was a time I would’ve vanished the second I saw myself.”

And she nearly had. Back then, she thought peace meant disappearing. Staying hidden. Letting the world forget her. The name she had chosen — Hidden — had felt right. Like armor. Like safety. But maybe now… it felt a little more like a box. She hadn’t noticed how small it had gotten. Maybe she was tired of only being seen when she chose it. Of acting like she didn’t leave a shape behind. She walked a little slower now. Let the light fall on her without stepping away from it. The colors still danced along the walls, changing with each passing hour — but this time, they didn’t move past her. They followed. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that the floor had been waiting for her to stop hiding, too.

She looked back toward the cathedral. Its stone walls glowed faintly in the sun, warm and soft instead of blinding. Inside, the windows would already be casting new colors. In a few hours, they’d shift again.

---

491 Words

Edited 6 hours ago by Hidden

[Hidden 1]

The rest of the city didn’t seem to notice. The bells had rung. The light had shifted. People kept moving. Shops opened. Merchants called out. Birds hopped across rooftops. Everything went on, as it always did. But Hidden felt… a step behind it all. Like she was moving through glass. The edges of the world felt thinner than they had this morning. She walked without direction, letting her shoes find the familiar turns. Narrow streets. Back alleys. Overhanging balconies with flower baskets swinging gently in the wind. She didn’t want to go home, not yet. She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for — only that she didn’t want to miss it.

At some point, she ended up near the square. A little off to the side, where the stones warmed faster than the rest. She caught the scent before she saw it: burnt sugar, butter, spice. A scent she hadn’t let herself stop for in a long time. The candy apple stand was still there. Same old faded paint. Same stall keeper — a man who never asked her name, never expected her to linger. She bought one anyway. It was heavier than she remembered. She sat on the edge of a low wall nearby, apple in hand, and stared out at the crowd.

She didn’t eat it. She thought of him — the way he used to tease her for how much she liked these things. Said it didn’t match her “quiet killer” vibe. He used to buy two, pretend one was for him, and then hand her both when he thought no one was looking. She smiled, just barely, then looked down.

That’s when she saw it. A single red flower petal. Just sitting there, next to her foot. No wind. No breeze. No flowers anywhere near. She looked up, and another one drifted down — this one pale lavender. It landed gently on the surface of the fountain, spinning in circles. Then a third. White. Caught in a crack in the stone.

They were leading somewhere. Hidden stood up, candy apple still in hand, and took a step after them. Not fast. Not eager. But not turning away, either.

---

363 Words

[Hidden 1]

It had been about fifteen minutes since the bell tolling twice echoed across Taft.

Long enough for the light to shift again — not by much, but just enough to change the way shadows fell across rooftops. The golden tone of late afternoon had started to settle in, softening the edges of the buildings and turning window glass to pools of orange. The streets, once sharp and cool in morning stone, now glowed like they’d been warmed from the inside out.

The petals were still there.

They didn’t always fall where she expected, but they were always waiting. One tucked into a shop awning. Another resting on the edge of a café table. A third drifting down a narrow alley that looped her closer to the southern edge of the city. She hadn’t seen anyone leave them. And by now, she had stopped asking herself how they were appearing. They were just… there. Soft color guiding quiet steps. As she neared the southern gate, the city began to stir a little more. The traffic of carts and conversation thickened, mixed with the smell of fresh produce and leather harness. Familiar noise. Familiar rhythm. She passed the stables, the crates, the guards chatting like it was any other day.

And then — just a glance:

A boy with black hair leaned down beside a cart, lifting a crate of apples with both hands. The merchant nearby scolded him lightly for being late, though not cruelly. The boy said nothing, only carried the crate to the nearby produce stall and helped stack it on the rack. His smile — quiet, almost too calm — passed unnoticed by most.

So did he.

And so did she.

Hidden gave the scene only a passing glance before her eyes were drawn elsewhere — to the next petal caught on the stones near the open gate, fluttering like it had waited just for her. She stepped beyond the threshold of Taft without hesitation. The trees were close now. The forest just ahead. And as the stone roads gave way to dirt paths and grass, she noticed the breeze again — warm and light, carrying a hint of something sweet. The next petal danced ahead of her.

She followed.

---

372 Words

Edited 6 hours ago by Hidden

[Hidden 1]

Leaving Taft always felt strange. Not dangerous — the floor had long since been cleared of anything that could harm her — but quiet in a way that was hard to put into words. The city behind her was still buzzing: bells ringing, stalls opening, players coming and going. But once she passed the gate, it all fell behind her like a closing door. The petals didn’t stop. They caught on low shrubs. Drifted between the trees. Danced across the path like they knew where she needed to be. She followed without forcing it, hands tucked into the folds of her cloak, steps light but unhurried. This wasn’t a quest. There was no objective marker. No map to mark. Just her, the forest, and the feeling that something was waiting ahead.

The path wound gently through the Reverent Forest, never steep, never rough. The trees here were old and tall, branches laced with golden light where the sun pushed through. Every now and then she’d hear a rustle — a squirrel, maybe. Wind. Leaves shifting. Nothing more. She didn’t rush. It took hours, but she didn’t check the time. There was no need. She could feel it. The way the air got warmer, softer, touched by the edges of evening. The shadows stretched longer. The light turned more amber than gold.

That was when she saw it — half-hidden behind a bend in the path.

A stone structure, worn and bent with age. It was barely taller than the surrounding trees now, its top half crumbled in places. Ivy wrapped around the base like it had been left alone for years. A clock tower. She stepped closer, cautiously at first, but nothing stirred. No traps. No signs. Just the same wind and the same quiet. The clock face was rusted through, hands frozen.

The time: sunset.

Beneath the clock, scratched into the old stone with something sharp, were words. Not carved, just scraped — barely deep enough to last more than a season.

Come when the sun reaches the trees.

Hidden stood there for a moment longer, eyes lifting to the forest canopy. The sun wasn’t quite there yet. But it was close. She looked down at her feet. Another petal rested by her boot — orange this time. Soft and still. She stepped past the tower. The forest welcomed her without sound and the sky began to burn with color.

---

401 Words

[Hidden 1]

The path faded slowly beneath her feet, grass overtaking dirt until there was nothing but wild undergrowth and the sound of her own steps. The petals had stopped appearing some time ago, but she didn’t need them now. The pull in her chest was stronger than any trail. The forest broke open all at once.

Hidden stepped into the clearing and felt her breath still. The meadow stretched wide beneath the orange sky, glowing in the late light. Flowers bloomed in every color — tall white lilies, violet clover, bursts of red and soft amber — all swaying together like the field itself was alive. The wind stirred the tall grass in long, curling waves. Sunset hung low, casting the whole scene in a warm, breathing gold. She took a few steps forward, then stopped. It didn’t feel like a place you charged into. It felt like somewhere sacred — a secret being kept by the floor itself.

Then her eyes caught movement. Not from the wind. From her. A woman stood alone in the middle of the meadow, back turned slightly, half-caught in the falling light. Her hair was long and pale — almost the same shade as Hidden’s — and it drifted gently with the breeze. She didn’t move. Didn’t call out. But something in the way she stood felt expectant. Hidden didn’t speak. She just stood at the edge of the flowers, watching, wondering—

Had she followed this trail?

Or had she been led?

---

247 Words

[Nisahime 0]

The soft rustle of grass and a gentle breeze that would comb it down in sweep, sending them to shiver and spring jubilantly back up. A grove untouched by most in a realm long forgotten. A sacred garden from the lands before, a clocktower held steadfast in a reflection of another. Age, and time. History and fate, had prattled on like droplets in a vast sea. On the rim would you spot the ripples, after they had traveled for so long? Swarms of petals whisked aimlessly by like children racing home for supper, dancing with every step as they'd sway and then fall in a misguided sprinkle. Reds and blues, whites and amber. Hair far too long, kept itself just as vast and empty like a canvas that mirrored snowfrost. Skin pale and unconvinced by the sun to fold, exposed through bare shoulders as the shape appeared small yet strong.

A grinding would spring to life the flow of time, as the rusted clock face would start to move.

 

*BING BONG BING BONG*

it rings out in a boom, setting things in motion as if time itself it had resumed. "Welcome, and just in time to shine. Hilda." A turn to look over her shoulder would convey the sharp glow of silver like a star on her eyes that confirm a power roaring through this place that appeared so mundane. "To the foot of Yggdrasil, in the gardens of Avalon. Welcome to my home."

A turn back would see the winds swell, and the woman would turn an opaque silver white light. But it lasts for only a moment, enough to blind but only briefly. What is released is a girl easily much shorter, and right about the same height as the girl perceiving her. "You've been very helpful, and you were given your reward." The much younger voice would convey, a tinge of that same aloof and cold telling of fact on it. A star flares in her right hand, producing Kura Yu Yami in the woman's grasp. Tossing it up, once, twice and catching it by the blade. "Yet, you're lonely. Peace wasn't everything you'd hoped it be huh?"

---

Nisahime Morrighan | HP: 882/882 | EN: 102/102 | DMG: 1 | MIT:60 | ACC:1 | EVA:3 | LD:1

Spoiler

Name: Nisahime, Wielder of Elsinore
True Tier: 8
Level: 34
Paragon Level: 40
HP: 882/882
EN: 102/102

Stats:
Damage: 1
Mitigation: 60
Accuracy: 1
Evasion: 3
Loot Die: 1

Equipped Gear:
Weapon/Armor/Trinket: 
  - Restored Pillar Fragment [True Light Lantern/202602c]
Armor/Trinket: 
  - 
Shield/Armor/Trinket: 
  - 

Combat Mastery:
  - 

Combat Shift:
  - 

Familiar Skill:
  - 

Custom Skill:
  - 

Skills:

Extra Skills:

Inactive Extra Skills:

Addons:

Mods:

Inactive Mods:

Battle Ready Inventory:
  - Crystal of Divine Light [201986f] x1
  - Random Dungeon Map | [226637b] x1
  - Teleport Crystal x

Housing Buffs:
  - Basic Kitchen: Increase the effectiveness of a single food item consumed in a thread by +1 T1 slot. This can exceed normal Cook enhancement caps. Ex: A perfect T2 MIT food gives 35 MIT instead of 30.
  - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.
  - Mega Slime Farm: +10% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.

Guild Hall Buffs:

Scents of the Wild Totem:

Wedding Ring:

Crafting Profession:

Gathering Profession:

 

Edited 4 hours ago by Nisahime