The sword was initially just a tool. A tool in the hands of a professional assassin, without emotions or will. It had sharp edges, a simple metal handle, and a wooden sheath covering it. It was no different from the other weapons used by assassins to carry out their dirty missions. The sword was part of a long line of tools owned by professional killers, a dirty means to carry out orders.
For several years, the sword was used for killing, regardless of the target. It passed through bodies as if it were passing through foam, cutting flesh and tearing bone. It didn't matter who the victim was. It was just a tool that neither thought nor felt. Over time, the sword became accustomed to the hands of assassins who didn't care about what they killed as long as the mission was completed. Their goal was always the same: blood.
But everything changed that day. On a different day, in a different mission.
The assassin was summoned by a mysterious group, and their order was strange. These people hid in the darkness, showing no faces or features. Only their voices filled the air, cold and emotionless. Their mission was to kill a man, but this man was different from all the victims the assassin had previously been sent to kill. This man was known for his kindness, especially after the war. He helped the poor and devoted his life to repairing the broken society that had been ravaged by war.
"An angel," that's what many people called him. He rebuilt poor neighborhoods, provided food and clothes, and taught children. The man was a symbol of hope, but none of that mattered to the sword. To it, people and their intentions didn't matter. The only goal was to do what was asked, and soon the sword would be plunged into this man's body.
That night, the assassin approached his target. The man's house was neither extravagant nor luxurious. It was very simple. But for those living in the poor neighborhood, this place radiated light and hope. The party the man had hosted was a reward for himself and the residents for the change he had brought to their lives.
The assassin quietly entered the house, sneaking through the crowd. He observed from a distance, analyzing every movement, every word exchanged by the guests about the man who had become the center of admiration. They spoke of hope, of how this man had changed their lives through his sincere actions.
But the assassin felt something strange. He hadn't expected to feel anything, but he did. He tried to analyze the feeling, was it pity? Or maybe hesitation? He wasn't sure. But this man, who appeared so noble in others' eyes, was unlike any other target.
The assassin began to feel something different within himself. Perhaps he noticed how everyone adored this man, but in the end, he still had to complete his mission. He continued to move through the crowd, following the man with every step. When the man entered his private room after the party had ended, the assassin began to sneak after him.
Everything was going as expected. The assassin approached the bed where the man lay, exhausted from a long day of working with the people of the neighborhood. Darkness began to envelop the room, and the assassin's eyes gleamed with excitement. He was about to strike, but then something unexpected happened.
When the assassin raised the sword to strike, something strange occurred. Suddenly, the sound around him vanished. His hand felt the sword's weight unusually, a strange sensation he was not used to. It was as if something had moved inside him, and his feelings began to merge with what the original body owner had felt. In a moment, an unexpected transformation occurred: the sword, which was just a tool, became part of the body of a young boy, seventeen years old.
The boy opened his eyes in the dark room he didn't recognize, finding himself lying on a large bed. He felt something strange in his body, he lacked full consciousness, as if he were trapped inside a body he didn't know how to control. He felt something odd in his head, and his mind was merging with the memories of the original body owner. Memories began to flood him, like blurred and colored images. He saw the man's family, his friends, and everything this body had experienced before it became what it was now.
His breath quickened as he tried to stand. His hands moved slowly, and his fingertips brushed against the strange texture of the air. His body began to move, but awkwardly. He tried to get up, but fell back onto the bed. It was like a child who had just learned to walk.
At that moment, a dark figure entered the room. It was just a shadow with no defined features, surrounded by a strange aura. The deep voice began speaking, filling the room.
"Congratulations on waking up, finally," the voice said coldly and steadily. "How do you feel? Do you remember how it felt to touch things for the first time? Are you excited? Or is it just anxiety from the new situation?"
The boy didn't respond immediately. He was still in shock. He couldn't comprehend everything happening around him. His body felt strange to him, and his mind was struggling with the conflicting memories and emotions. He tried to focus, but couldn't.
The dark entity said, "You're now in a new body. You were not just a tool. You are a person now. But this person, this body, will give you the strength you need to finish what you started."
The entity smiled, but its smile was cold, devoid of any real emotion. "I want three tasks from you, just three small tasks, and then you'll live as you please. Are you ready for the mission?"
The boy looked at the entity in confusion. His mind couldn't comprehend everything happening. He wasn't ready for anything, and he felt as if something heavy was squeezing his heart. But there was something else, a strange feeling of transformation, as if this new body held greater potential than it had before.
The entity raised its hand and said, "Take your time to adjust, but don't waste too much time. When you're ready, we'll begin."
After it finished speaking, the entity vanished as simply as it had appeared.
Once the entity left, the boy was left alone in the room. He was still in shock, but he also felt something else, something strange but powerful. He now had a new chance, a new life.
"If you want to stay, you have to be smart," the entity's voice echoed from a distance, ringing in his ear. "Don't stray from the boy's personality, don't attract attention. Here, in this body, you can start over, but you must be careful."
These were the first words of the entity that carried a real warning. The boy didn't know what awaited him in the future, but he knew that his life was no longer what it had been. His previous life as a killing tool was over. Now, a new chapter of his life had begun.
At first, he couldn't believe what had happened. How had the sword turned into a human body? How had he become a person now, with emotions, sensations, and new goals? But gradually, he began to grasp the truth. He had to start from here, and build his new life, with new hands, in a world filled with both opportunities and threats.
But this transformation wasn't just the beginning of a new life, it was the beginning of a long struggle with himself and with the world around him