"That’s a Glock 19... shouldn’t even exist in a world like this," Rebecca said quietly, staring at the masked boy holding the gun.
The boy tilted his head. "What do you want?"
Rebecca stepped closer, eyes sharp. "Who are you? Are you Adam? Lionhead? Or someone from the 21st century like me?"
The boy froze—just for a breath, but she caught it.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said quickly. "If you’ll excuse me, I was resting. I’m leaving."
He turned away.
Rebecca vanished from her spot and appeared right in front of him, reaching for his mask.
The boy leaned back just enough for her fingers to miss. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"I want to know who you are," she said, voice low. "You feel familiar. I need to confirm something."
The boy chuckled once, like he already knew where this was going.
"I can help you with that," he said. "I’m not Adam. And I’m not Lionhead. But yes—I’m from Earth. So I’m a reincarnator, like you. That answers your question. Now let me go."
He brushed past her.
"Wait."
He stopped, shoulders dropping in irritation.
Rebecca stepped toward him again. "What is a reincarnator?"
The boy turned around slowly. "Huh?"
Rebecca just looked at him, completely serious.
He stared at her like she had grown another head. "You don’t know what a reincarnator is... and you’re from Earth?"
"Is that strange?" she asked, confused.
"What kind of cave did you grow up in?" he muttered.
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. "I can kill you right now and nobody would know you ever existed. I don’t appreciate insults. And I wasn’t living some sweet, easy life back on Earth. I had bigger things to deal with. I didn’t exactly have time to learn whatever nonsense you were enjoying."
The boy scoffed. "Nonsense? You think I had it easy because I know what a reincarnator is?"
He stepped closer.
"Just like you, I lost my family when I was young. The only person I had left was my brother. He threw everything away chasing revenge. He never got it. They killed him first."
Rebecca’s expression shifted, but she said nothing.
"I didn’t want revenge," he continued. "But when you lose everything, something inside you snaps. I had to make them pay. I had to make the government pay."
His hands tightened at his sides.
"So don’t stand there acting like you were the only one who suffered. You weren’t. None of us came here clean."
Rebecca breathed out slowly. "...I didn’t say that."
"You didn’t have to," he said. "And seeing as you’re here, it means he’s here too."
Rebecca stiffened. "He?"
He turned away again.
"Figure out your own mess, Rebecca. I have my brother to find."
He walked off without looking back.
Rebecca stood there, silent... but her heart was pounding.
Because for the first time in years—
someone said Adam’s name out loud without fear.
It had been eighteen years.
Eighteen years since she opened her eyes in a crib, staring up at faces she didn’t know. Eighteen years of relearning how to walk, how to talk, how to be small in a world that felt too big and too quiet.
Back on Earth, her memories were sharp. Blood. Gunpowder. The roar of a city tearing itself apart. The cold weight of a blade in her hand. A name, whispered in the dark like a promise or a curse: Adam.
But here... here she had a different life.
She had a family.
Not a gang. Not a crew. A real one. A mother who hummed while she worked in the palace kitchens. A father who repaired armor in the royal smithy, his hands rough but his voice gentle. Two younger brothers who followed her everywhere, their laughter bouncing off the stone corridors.
They were servants. Commoners. But to her, it was a kind of peace she’d never known. Meals were regular. Nights were safe. The loudest sounds were arguments in the courtyard, not gunfire in an alley.
It was a good life. A soft one.
And that’s how she met Elizabeth.
The little princess, drowning in silks and protocol, who saw another lonely girl across the palace yard and decided, with a child’s absolute authority, that they would be friends. Elizabeth dragged her everywhere. Argued with tutors to let her sit in on lessons. Demanded the weapon masters train her, too.
"She’s my guard," Elizabeth would declare, chin held high. "You will teach her properly."
And they did.
Rebecca didn’t mind. The training felt familiar. The grip of a practice sword, the stance of a ready fighter—it kept her hands from feeling empty. It gave the old, violent part of her mind a channel, a way to exist without destroying this fragile new peace.
She could almost forget. Almost.
Then came her fifth birthday. Awakening Day.
The grand hall of the capital was packed. Nobles in their finery, mages in their robes, hopeful children lined up like lambs. The air buzzed with tension.
Elizabeth, already Awakened as a Legendary talent herself, stood right beside her, holding her hand. "Don’t be scared," she whispered, her small fingers squeezing Rebecca’s. "I’m right here."
Rebecca just nodded. She wasn’t scared. She was... numb.
She stepped forward and placed her palm on the smooth, cold surface of the Awakening Tablet.
The reaction was instant.
A light erupted from the stone, not the soft glow others produced, but a violent, blinding flash that made the crowd gasp and recoil. The runes on the Tablet didn’t just light up—they burned, cycling through colors so fast they seemed to scream: deep black, furious purple, and finally, a searing, sun-like gold.
A massive, shimmering projection blasted into the air above the hall, letters etched in light so bright they cast shadows.
[LEGENDARY TALENT: AVATAR OF THE DEATH GOD]
Silence.
Then, chaos.
Voices erupted, shouts of disbelief crashing over her.
"Legendary?!Another one?!"
"The Death God?That’s a myth!"
"Two Legendaries in one generation...the empire..."
"Is she a blessing or a curse?!"
Elizabeth threw her arms around Rebecca, squeezing her tight. "I knew it," she breathed into her ear, voice trembling with fierce joy. "I knew you were special."
But Rebecca didn’t hear the crowd. She didn’t feel Elizabeth’s hug.
Because in the center of her vision, something else had appeared.
A screen. Pure, unbroken blackness, hanging in the air only she could see.
A soft, clear ding resonated in the core of her mind.
Words began to form on the void, in a stark, sterile white.
[WELCOME, CHOSEN OF DEATH]
Her blood went cold.
[PRIMARY TALENT CONFIRMED: ABSOLUTE DEATH]
(Worldly Designation: Avatar of the Death God)
The Awakening Tablet had called her Legendary. The highest rank this world knew.
Her system—this cold, silent thing in her head—was telling her that wasn’t the truth. It was just what the world could understand.
[You are not a Legendary.]
[You are the Absolute Being of Death in its earliest, dormant stage.]
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
[The Principles of Existence and Nonexistence have stirred.]
[The other Absolutes awaken from ancient slumber.]
[Fundamental Concepts are choosing their Vessels.]
[You are one of the nine.]
One of the nine. An Absolute. Not a user of a talent, but the living embodiment of Death itself.
The noise of the celebrating hall, Elizabeth’s happy chatter, the awed whispers—it all faded into a distant hum.
"Rebecca?" Elizabeth’s voice pierced the fog. She was searching her face, concern in her eyes. "What’s wrong? You’re white as a sheet."
Rebecca swallowed, her throat dry. She forced a small, shaky smile onto her face, a skill she’d learned in this life. "Nothing," she whispered. "Just... a lot to take in."
But inside, her mind was screaming.
An Absolute.
And if she was one...
Somewhere out there, in this vast, unfamiliar world, another Absolute had awakened. She knew it with a certainty that chilled her soul.
Adam.
---
Rebecca blinked, the memory dissolving.
She was standing on a high balcony of the Imperium Academy now, eighteen years old, the night wind cool on her skin. The stars were different here. The constellations held no memories.
Eighteen years of a second chance. Of softness. Of a love she never thought she’d have.
She closed her eyes, feeling the immense, silent power sleeping within her—the Absolute Death, waiting to awaken.
Destiny hadn’t forgotten her.
And Death, it seemed, was just getting started.