The first thing Bianca felt was pain.
Her entire body throbbed as if it had been dragged across rocks, and her head pounded with disoriented confusion. The smell of smoke and scorched fabric filled her nose, and somewhere nearby, she heard the sound of dripping water and the distant roar of fire. As her senses returned, she became aware of her surroundings—the flickering shadows, the oppressive dampness, and the fact that she was suspended upside down by her ankles in a dark, torch-lit cavern.
Her breathing hitched.
She wasn't in her own body. It was familiar in some strange, alien way—stronger, leaner, more athletic—but it wasn't hers. Her hands were rougher, her arms more muscular, and when she looked down, she saw a partially tattered tank top and brown cargo pants. She didn't know where she was, only that this world felt real. Too real.
Bianca D'Angelo, or at least her mind, now inhabited the body of someone else: the world's survivor, a woman shaped by conflict. Lara.
And in this world—this living, breathing reality crafted by the mischievous god Tet—there were no cutscenes. No scripted events. Every action was hers. Every danger, real.
---
With a grunt of effort, Bianca began to swing her body toward the fire burning beneath her. The rope holding her ankles strained against her movement, but she didn't stop. The heat bit at her skin as she twisted and angled herself, slamming into the flames until the rope snapped. She crashed to the ground hard, her shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.
"Ngh—!" she hissed through her teeth.
Pain exploded down her arm. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to get up. She was no stranger to pain, not after everything she'd been through, but this was new. Raw. Unforgiving.
Limping forward, she moved deeper into the cave, stepping around broken wood, crumbled stone, and the remains of crude shrines that looked ancient and ominous. Her instincts kept her cautious, alert, hyper-aware. Every sound echoed with menace.
It didn't take long before she found a crude torch and a rusted climbing axe. She took them both.
Survive, she told herself. Just like Tet said.
The first challenge came sooner than expected. As she rounded a corner, she heard low growling. Three wolves emerged from the darkness, their yellow eyes gleaming. Thin, hungry, and feral, they snarled and advanced.
Bianca's heartbeat surged, and she didn't hesitate. She used the narrow terrain to her advantage, ducking behind stone columns as she swung the torch and the axe in alternating strikes. One lunged, and she sidestepped, slamming the axe down onto its spine. Another bit into her leg, and she cried out, slamming her torch into its face. Blood sprayed. Snarls turned to yelps.
When the last one fell, Bianca stood there panting, bloodied, scraped, and shaking.
But she was alive.
"You didn't think this would be easy, did you?" she muttered aloud, wiping blood from her brow. She wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or to Tet, but it didn't matter.
The deeper she went into the ruins, the more dangerous it became. Pressure plate traps fired spikes from the walls, which she barely avoided by throwing herself into the dirt. Rotting floorboards collapsed under her weight and sent her tumbling into hidden caverns. In one chamber, she narrowly avoided being crushed by a collapsing stone column by rolling clear at the last second.
Bianca adapted. Quickly. Each close call honed her reflexes, her judgment. She learned to listen to the subtle clicks of hidden mechanisms, to read the signs of danger from old markings and disturbed dust. She stopped thinking of herself as a helpless guest in someone else's body and started moving like a survivor.
Eventually, she emerged from the subterranean depths. The cold coastal air hit her like a slap, but it felt like freedom. Her eyes adjusted to the light, revealing the island's haunting beauty: thick jungle treelines, the wrecks of old ships dotting the coast, smoke curling from some unknown source inland.
Bianca stood at the cliff's edge, gazing across the foreign land that was now her reality.
She gripped the axe tighter, her jaw set.
This wasn't a dream. It wasn't a game. It was survival. And she wasn't just playing the role of Lara Croft.
She was Lara Croft now.
And she was going to master this world.