The world is an unforgiving place. I learned that young, after losing my parents to a fatal accident. I spent years drifting through the foster system, each home colder and less welcoming than the last. But then Aegis found me.

Aegis, a shadowy American agency designed to keep the nation as a world power, sought out kids like me—orphans with no background or family, easy to mold into perfect soldiers. They found us through the foster system, selecting those who seemed lost or easy to manipulate.

My training began the day they took me in. Endless days of sparring in the gym, running obstacle courses, and learning to assemble and disassemble rifles blindfolded. They trained me to fight, to survive. I became their weapon.

My last mission was to eliminate a traitor. It seemed routine, just like the countless missions before. My team and I gathered around a table, a map spread out before us. Tension hung in the air as we planned our moves. We were dressed in tactical gear, ready for whatever lay ahead.

"Target is Hoang," our team leader said, pointing to a blurry photograph of a man with a shaved head and a cold expression. "Former Aegis agent, now a threat to national security. He's defected to a rival faction and plans to sell classified information. Our orders are clear: eliminate him and retrieve the data."

I nodded along with the rest of the team, my mind already running through the plan. Hoang was no easy target. He knew our methods, our strategies. It would take precision and coordination to bring him down.

We moved through the darkened streets, shadows among shadows. Our intel indicated that Hoang was hiding in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. As we approached the building, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was too quiet, too still.

We breached the entrance, our movements silent and deadly. My role was to secure the perimeter while the others moved in. I found a vantage point on a second-floor balcony, my rifle trained on the main room below.

Hoang was there, surrounded by armed guards. He was typing furiously on a laptop, likely transmitting the data. Our team leader gave the signal, and we moved in.

The firefight was intense. Bullets flew, and the air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. I took down two guards from my perch, my aim steady and true. The rest of the team moved in, closing the distance. It was a well-executed assault, and soon, Hoang was cornered.

"Drop the laptop," our leader ordered. Hoang complied, raising his hands in surrender. But as we moved to secure him, I felt it—a sharp, burning pain in my back.

I stumbled, my vision blurring. My rifle clattered to the ground as I fell to my knees. I turned my head just in time to see the sniper in the distance, his silhouette barely visible. A red dot danced on my chest, and I knew my time was up.

"Traitor," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The last thing I saw was my team moving in, finishing the job. As darkness closed in, I realized the bitter truth. They had used me, and now they were discarding me.

As I lay dying, blood pooling around me, I wished for a life of my own, free from their control. The world faded to black, and I welcomed the darkness.

When I awoke, I was no longer Owen. I found myself in a dark, cavernous landscape with an eerie orange sky. My body felt strange—small and fragile. I was a baby, lying on the cold ground. Tiny horns protruded from my forehead, and a faint glow surrounded me. I quickly realized I had been reborn into a world of darkness.

The first thing that struck me was the sheer size of the cavern. It stretched endlessly in all directions, illuminated by an otherworldly orange light that seemed to emanate from the very walls. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the sounds of distant growls and the occasional shriek. I was in a place that defied everything I had known.

Those first days were a struggle. My new body was weak, and learning to walk again was a painful process. I stumbled and fell more times than I could count, each time forcing myself to get back up. Around me, other young demons scurried, fighting over scraps of food. Survival was all I knew, so I adapted quickly.

The other demons were grotesque, with twisted features and a feral hunger in their eyes. They were clearly newborns like me, but none of them seemed to have the same awareness. They moved purely on instinct, driven by a primal urge to survive.

The first time I ate, the world spoke to me. As I chewed on the disgusting monster food, a faint glow enveloped me, and a system interface appeared before my eyes.

"Level Up! You have reached Level 2. You have 5 stat points to distribute."

The interface showed five basic stats: Strength, Agility, Endurance, Mana, and Perception. I instinctively knew what each one represented. Strength for physical power, Agility for speed and reflexes, Endurance for stamina and resilience, Mana for magical potential, and Perception for awareness and sensory sharpness.

I distributed my points carefully, focusing on Agility and Endurance. My past life as a soldier had taught me the value of quick reflexes and the ability to withstand prolonged hardships. The changes were subtle but noticeable. I felt a bit faster, a bit stronger, a bit more alert.

Training in this new world was relentless. Older demons oversaw our progress, putting us through physical drills, combat training, and harsh education. They were ruthless, but I was no stranger to such rigors. My past life's skills gave me an edge. I excelled in combat drills, my focus unyielding.

The training grounds were brutal. We were pitted against each other in savage fights, forced to run for miles through treacherous terrain, and subjected to grueling physical exercises. The older demons, our instructors, showed no mercy. They demanded perfection, and any sign of weakness was met with harsh punishment.

The days were long and arduous. We started at dawn with a grueling run through the jagged landscape, followed by intense physical training. Push-ups, sit-ups, and squats until our muscles screamed in protest. Then came the combat training—hand-to-hand combat, weapons training, and tactical drills. The older demons watched our every move, their eyes cold and calculating.

One day, during a particularly harsh training session, I was paired with a larger demon named Vrag for a sparring match. Vrag was a brute, all muscle and rage. He towered over me, a cruel grin on his face as he cracked his knuckles.

"Ready to get crushed, runt?" he sneered.

I didn't respond, focusing instead on my breathing and stance. The signal was given, and Vrag charged at me with a roar. I sidestepped his initial attack, landing a quick jab to his ribs. He grunted, more annoyed than hurt, and swung a massive fist at my head. I ducked, feeling the air whistle past my ears, and retaliated with a swift kick to his knee.

The fight was intense, each of us giving as good as we got. I relied on my agility and reflexes to avoid his powerful blows, striking back with precision. My endurance was put to the test as the match dragged on, both of us growing more fatigued. In the end, a well-placed punch to his solar plexus brought him to his knees, gasping for breath.

The older demons watched with interest, their expressions unreadable. One of them, a demon with deep scars across his face, nodded in approval.

"Not bad, Azrael," he said, his voice gravelly. "But don't get cocky. This is just the beginning."

Others noticed my rapid progress. Jealousy bred conflict. I could feel their envious glares as I slept, knowing they were plotting against me. One night, I woke just in time to fend off an attacker, my enhanced reflexes saving my life.

The attack came silently. I lay in my makeshift bed, my senses on high alert even in sleep. A faint rustle, the soft sound of footsteps—my eyes snapped open. Three shadows loomed over me, their eyes gleaming with malice.

Without hesitation, I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the downward thrust of a dagger. I sprang to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. It was a three-on-one fight, and they weren't holding back.

The first demon lunged at me, his blade flashing in the dim light. I parried his attack with a swift motion, using his momentum to throw him off balance. The second demon came at me from the left, aiming for my ribs. I twisted my body, feeling the blade graze my side as I delivered a powerful kick to his knee.

The third demon hung back, watching for an opening. I could see the calculation in his eyes, the cold determination. He was the most dangerous of the three. I needed to end this quickly.

I feinted to the right, drawing the first demon in. As he lunged, I ducked and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt, his dagger skittering away. The second demon recovered and came at me again, his movements

cautious but determined. I could feel the sting where his blade had grazed my side, warm blood trickling down. The pain fueled my resolve.

He lunged again, this time with more precision. I dodged, but not quickly enough. His blade sliced through my arm, a searing pain shooting up to my shoulder. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay focused. I couldn't afford to lose.

I retaliated with a flurry of punches and kicks, using my agility to keep him off balance. My blows landed with satisfying thuds, each one chipping away at his defenses. Finally, I landed a solid punch to his jaw, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The third demon was already moving, his eyes narrowing as he assessed my injuries. He was the most experienced of the three, his movements fluid and calculated. He came at me with a series of rapid strikes, each one aimed at exploiting my weaknesses.

I parried and dodged as best as I could, but he was relentless. His blade nicked my shoulder, my thigh, my cheek. Blood flowed freely now, my vision blurring from the pain and exhaustion. I needed to end this, and fast.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I launched myself at him, tackling him to the ground. We rolled across the rough terrain, grappling for control. His blade clattered away, and we were left to fight with fists and claws.

He was strong, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he tried to overpower me. But I had the advantage of desperation. I fought with everything I had, my fists raining down on him in a frenzy of rage and fear. Finally, I managed to pin him down, my hands around his throat.

"Why?" I growled, my voice raw with fury. "Why attack me?"

He choked out a laugh, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You're a threat, Azrael. You think you're better than us. But you're just like the rest of us—weak and expendable."

His words stung, but I refused to let them shake me. With a final, brutal twist, I ended the fight. He slumped beneath me, unconscious but alive. I staggered to my feet, my body trembling from the exertion and pain.

"Level Up! You have reached Level 3. You have 5 stat points to distribute."

The interface appeared before my eyes once more, the glowing text a stark contrast to the darkness around me. I distributed the points quickly, adding to my Endurance and Mana. I could feel the changes take hold, my body becoming stronger, my mind sharper.

The other demons had gathered around, their expressions a mix of fear and respect. The older demons watched from a distance, their eyes cold and calculating. I knew I had made an impression, but I also knew it wouldn't be the last time I had to prove myself.