Alex’s Room
"We have intruders, Adam." Alex said, his voice low, expression tightening as he sensed multiple presences approaching.
Adam cracked his neck, eyes half-lidded with annoyance. "Rebecca can handle them. That’s nothing she can’t erase. The real fun is the root of this entire mess—Lionhead." His lips curled into a smirk. "I’ve been itching to get my hands on him ever since I heard he got reincarnated. I want to see what he’s turned into."
Alex folded his arms. "What if you’re jumping to conclusions? What if he’s not the one after Elizabeth? What if we’re missing something?"
Adam blinked, then scoffed. "What are you talking about? Lionhead is jealous, vindictive, manipulative, and always wants to be on top. Elizabeth said he’s the older brother. If that’s true, why give up the throne? Why sit on a wall for years? I’d say he’s behind this."
Alex took a breath. "Just think, if it were Lionhead, he wouldn’t use underhanded methods. And if he’s reincarnated, odds are he awakened something on our level. Look at us—Absolute Beings. You, me, Rebecca. You’re the strongest. I’m second. Rebecca—Death is terrifying. If Lionhead follows that pattern, what do you think he awakened?"
Adam scratched the back of his head. "Chaos?"
Alex stared.
"Well, I mean... he was a walking disaster back on Earth. I don’t see why his concept would change," Adam added.
Alex sighed but nodded. "Maybe. Maybe not. Only one way to find out."
Adam grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Now you’re speaking my language. Rebecca will clean up. Let’s go."
They vanished.
Outside Elizabeth’s Quarters
The moment the brothers vanished, the shadows surrounding the academy courtyard shifted. The assassins—Rade’s elite unit—moved in formation. Silent. Efficient. Confident.
Rebecca stepped forward alone.
No words.
No threats.
Just a cold gaze.
Rade raised his hand. "Kill her first. She’s the problem."
His assassins scattered, flanking her from all sides—rooftops, windows, and alleys.
Rebecca moved.
Not like a person.
Not like a normal talent user.
Not even like a warrior.
She moved like death itself—inevitable.
The first assassin lunged from behind, blade coated in poison. The moment the steel touched her coat, she twisted, grabbed his wrist, and drove his own blade straight into his throat. No hesitation. No flourish. Just direct execution.
Blood spattered.
She spun and kicked his body toward a second assassin attempting to fire a crossbow, the corpse slamming into him and throwing off his aim. Before he could recover, she closed the distance and snapped his neck with a single twist.
That was two.
A third tried to stab from the side. She caught the blade between her fingers—barehanded—and yanked forward, pulling him off balance. Her elbow slammed into his temple. Skull cracked. Silence followed.
Three.
Rade cursed under his breath and signaled. Five more charged at once. One tossed smoke bombs. Another flung paralysis needles. The others advanced for close combat.
The smoke rose—then instantly froze.
Black tendrils seeped out of Rebecca’s shadow. The needles disintegrated mid-air. The smoke darkened into a thick miasma that clung to the assassins’ lungs.
One choked.
One collapsed.
Another tried to run.
Rebecca appeared in front of him, slicing his Achilles tendon with a blade she conjured out of thin darkness. He fell screaming. She silenced him with a stomp that crushed his windpipe.
Rade’s eye twitched.
This wasn’t talent level.
This wasn’t what a training can achieve.
This was domination.
The remaining assassins trembled, but charged anyway—desperation overtaking reason.
Rebecca dodged bullets, knives, and enchanted chains as if she could see the future. Every move calculated. Efficient. Clinical.
One assassin attempted a backstab. She leaned forward, grabbed his arm, twisted it until bone protruded from the skin, and rammed him headfirst into the cobblestones.
She drove her palm into another’s chest—heart crushed.
She planted a knife in another’s eye socket—instantly fatal.
She shot a dropped crossbow bolt through another’s throat—perfect aim.
Bodies fell like dominoes.
One.
After another.
After another.
Rade gritted his teeth. He lunged himself this time—fast, precise, deadly. His entire body turned into a blur as he slashed at her with poisoned daggers.
He was strong.
He was fast.
He was trained.
He was nothing.
Rebecca sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, forced him to stab his own leg, then kicked him so hard his ribs cracked inward. He collapsed, coughing blood, blade still lodged in his thigh.
Lynx—the assassin who warned him—stared in horror.
Rebecca approached her slowly.
"Run," Rade croaked weakly.
Lynx didn’t.
She dropped her weapon.
"I’m not fighting," she said quietly, defeat and fear mixing in her voice.
Rebecca paused. Then she drove her blade into Rade’s chest—finishing him.
Lynx jumped, eyes wide. Rebecca leaned closer to her.
"You should have listened."
Lynx closed her eyes.
Rebecca snapped her neck.
Silence.
Every assassin lay dead.
Elizabeth finally caught up, breath short, eyes wide—she had seen the last kill.
"Rebecca... you... killed them all..." she whispered.
Rebecca turned and wiped blood off her cheek. "Yes."
Elizabeth trembled. "You didn’t even hesitate. You—"
Rebecca raised her hand.
Shadows crawled over the corpses—specifically Rade and Lynx. Their bodies jerked unnaturally. Their eyes opened—empty, soulless.
They stood.
Elizabeth’s face paled. "You raised them..."
Rebecca nodded. "Yes, Avatar of the death God, remember?"
She gestured again.
Two system panels appeared before her eyes:
[Death Minion: Rade]
Rank: Elite
Status: Undead Servant
Loyalty: Absolute
Skills: Assassination, Shadow Walk, Blade Arts
[Death Minion: Lynx]
Rank: Elite
Status: Undead Servant
Loyalty: Absolute
Skills: Stealth, Recon, Poisoncraft
Elizabeth swallowed hard. "Since when can you do that?"
Rebecca stared at her for a moment, and for the first time... smiled faintly.
"Since today."
Elizabeth didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.
The Capital
"You failed to kill Lionhead?"
"I didn’t fail," Azrathiel said, voice calm but tight. "My children failed. And their deaths annoy me. I’ll rip his heart out myself and feed it to the rest of my children. They deserve a proper burial after watching their siblings die."
Aldric— or rather, the thing behind his face— tapped a finger on the throne armrest. "I hope you do, Azrathiel. If you keep underestimating him, our plan to destroy this world before the Absolute Beings fully awaken will crumble. And then everything we worked for becomes pointless."
Azrathiel clicked his tongue. "You’re always pessimistic, Feredin. From the start I told you all— just destroy the world outright. Erase it. But no. You wanted fun. You wanted a game. You wanted to ’test’ the Absolute Beings and make a reputation for yourself."
Feredin leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "We needed to gauge them. If we destroy this world without knowing the scope of their power, we risk awakening their true forms beyond our reach."
"Is that so face stealer."