The rain descended in torrents, a suffocating veil that transformed the neon-lit alleyways of the city into smears of electric color. It was the kind of night where shadows seemed to breathe, and death wore a familiar: hers.
She moved without sound, a specter clad in tactical black, her gloved fingertips brushing the damp brick as she counted the guards. Four men, armed with submachine guns and the hollow confidence of those who believed money could buy immortality. Their employer—Viktor Renfield, a corporate magnate who had double-cross a war—now cowered in a penthouse thirty stories above, oblivious that his life was measured in minutes.
Too easy, she thought, her lips curling into a faint, bloodless smile.
Her name was Elara Voss, though she had long forgotten the sound of it on anyone's tongue but her own. To the world, she was Ghost—a myth circulated in mercenary circles, a statistic buried in classified government databases. Nine hundred thousand missions. A 99.99% success rate. Perfection, polished in blood.
She scaled the fire escape, her movements fluid and automatic. The fourth-floor window yielded to her lockpick, and she slipped inside, her boots silent against the marble floor. Viktor's security system was laughable: motion sensors disabled; cameras looped. had hacked them three earlier while waiting for her sister's dialysis session to end.
Sister.
The word flickered in her chest, sharp and warm. Lira. Twenty-two years old, still bright despite the machines, the tubes, the slow, suffocating creep of renal failure. The only light in Elara's monochrome existence.
She pushed the thought away. Sentiment a bullet to the.
The penthouse door loomed ahead, guarded by a hulking man with a scarred neck. She concealed a syringe filled with suxamethonium—paralytic, untraceable. Three steps, a pivot, and needle into his jugular. He crumpled without a.
Inside, Viktor sat at a mahogany desk, his back to floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the storm. Gold rings glinted on his fingers. An Italian suit clung to his frame. Beneath the cloying stench of cologne, sweat and fear tainted the air.
"You should have paid the warlord," Elara said, her voice a blade of ice.
He spun, his face paling. "H-how—?!"
The bullet struck him between the eyes.
Clean. Efficient. Professional.
She did not linger. By dawn, Viktor's body would be discovered—another casualty in a city that devoured the weak. Another checkmark in her ledger.
But as she melted into the alley, her encrypted phone buzzed. A single message:
[Secure Facility 7. 2300 hours. New contract.]
The hospital reeked of antiseptic and despair.
Elara stood in the doorway of Room 306, her mask of indifference fracturing as she watched Lira sleep. Tubes snaked from her sister's arms to a whirring dialysis machine, her chest rising in shallow, irregular hitches. Sixteen years since the diagnosis. Sixteen years of stolen time, bought with every drop of blood Elara spilled.
"You're late."
Lira's voice was a frayed thread, but her smile was sunlight. Elara's throat tightened.
"Had work," she said, perching on the edge of the bed. Her gloved hand hovered, then brushed a strand of chestnut hair from Lira's face.
"Assassin stuff?" Lira teased, though her eyes dimmed. "You should… get a normal job. Like… teaching."
Elara snorted. "Kids would eat me alive."
A cough rattled Lira's frail frame. "You'd… terrify them… into straight A's."
The banter was ritual, a dance to pretend the end wasn't near. But the numbers didn't lie. Lira's kidneys were failing. Fast.
The phone in Elara's pocket burned like a brand. Secure Facility 7. Government work. High risk, higher pay. Enough to buy Lira a transplant on the black market. Enough to save her.
"I'll be back," she said, rising.
Lira's fingers caught hers, frail but desperate. "Don't… do anything… stupid."
Elara squeezed gently. "Never do."
Secure Facility 7 was a concrete tomb buried beneath a parking garage. Colonel Marcus Hale awaited her in a sterile briefing room, his uniform starched, eyes like shards of flint.
"Voss. You're here for the package retrieval." He slid a dossier across the table.
Elara scanned it. Photos of a steel briefcase stamped with biohazard symbols. Intel placed it in a fortified bunker 200 miles north, guarded by rogue private military contractors.
"Extraction only. No engagement," Hale instructed.
She arched a brow. "Bullshit. What's in the case?"
"Classified."
"Then find another idiot."
Hale's smile was thin. "Your sister's Medicaid coverage expires next week. Tragic, really."
The air turned leaden.
Elara's hand twitched toward her sidearm. "You dare—"
"The case. Or Lira dies screaming."
The bunker was a death trap.
Elara knew it the moment she breached the vents. Motion sensors she hadn't been warned about. Thermal scans. Auto-turrets.
They'd sent her to die.
Because I know too much, she realized, crawling through the ductwork. A lifetime of secrets had made her the loose end.
But Lira needed that transplant.
She disabled a turret with an EMP charge, dropped into a server room, and froze.
The briefcase sat on a terminal, glowing faintly. Too easy.
A click echoed.
Red lasers painted her chest.
"Drop the weapon, Ghost."
A dozen mercenaries filed in, led by a man with a cybernetic eye—Krieg, a rival she'd left for dead in Jakarta.
"Hale sends his regards," he sneered.
They set her up.
Elara Slightly moved.
A grenade rolled. Gunfire erupted. She shattered the server bank, plunging the room into darkness. Screams. The wet crunch of bone. Krieg's roar as she buried a knife in his throat.
But they kept coming.
Bullets tore through her thigh. Another grazed her temple. She fought, savage, feral—until a tranquilizer dart pierced her neck.
As consciousness faded, she glimpsed the briefcase.
It was Empty.
They broke her in a concrete cell.
Electricity seared her nerves. Ribs cracked under batons. They carved the word LIAR into her forehead, laughing when she didn't scream.
She screamed for Lira.
"Where's the data?!" Hale demanded, his breath reeking of cigars.
She spat blood. "Go… to hell."
He showed her a live feed. Lira's hospital room. A soldier pressing a gun to her sister's temple.
"Last chance."
Elara's heart shattered.
But she'd prepared for this.
A year ago, she'd funneled funds to an offshore account. Hired a mercenary team loyal only to cash. Their orders: extract Lira if Elara missed a check-in.
She'd missed it six hours ago.
Be safe, she begged silently. Be free.
"Burn… in hell," she rasped.
Hale sighed. "Kill the sister."
Onscreen, the soldier crumpled mid-trigger-pull. A masked mercenary team stormed in, spiriting Lira away.
Hale's roar shook the room and ordered his men to Torture her to Death.
They dumped her body at dawn, mutilated, barely breathing. The rain washed her blood into the gutters.
As her vision dimmed, she clutched the only truth that mattered:
Lira lives.
The last thing she felt was a pull—a vortex of stars and whispers, a voice like fractured glass:
[Judgment of Soul Begins.]
Multiple shadow-like figures in front of her, while her body was tied by multiple chains as if were a criminal about to be judged in front of a court.
"Order! Order! Today will be the judgment of a soul named Elara Voss in the [Court of Reincarnation]. This court was convened at the request of [Love], [Hope], [Insanity], [Death], and [Asura]." Shadowy figure
"What the hell is this, and where am I?" Elara Voss asked with annoyance. She had truly accepted her death, knowing that her sister's life was safe, and she could finally take a break from her assassin's life Her only regret was not spending enough time with sister.
"Silence, Miss Elara Voss. This is the [Court of Reincarnation], and we are all gathered here to judge whether your soul will be reincarnated or annihilated. As for the sins you have committed, your soul should have been annihilated, but upon the request of the mentioned being, you will be judged before the [Court of Reincarnation]. You must accept any judgment given by the court and will have no say in this matter." Shadowy figure
This was an overwhelming amount of information for her to process in a short period, but at the same time, she gave up on resisting. Whether alive dead, she has no control over her life.
"Today's Judgment will be conducted by [Karma [Fate] [Free Will] [Dharma] [Samsara] [Moksha/Nirvana] [Anthropic Principle] [Luck] [Grace] [Time] [Merit] [Demerit] [Witnesses] [Judge] [Jury] [Purgatory] [Prosecution & Defense] [Balance of Consequences] [Redemption & Rehabilitation]"
[Elara Voss's Sins & Virtue]
Sins: The Weight of 900,000 Missions
Violence (Pride & Wrath)
Scale: Over 900,000 confirmed kills, many of which were likely "morally gray" targets (corrupt officials, criminals) but included collateral damage (guards, bystanders).
Aggravation: Took pride in her efficiency ("Too easy"), rarely questioning the morality of her contracts.
Mitigation: Operated in a world where assassination was transactional, not personal. Many targets were themselves violent actors.
Deception (Lust for Control)
Manipulation: Used lies, seduction, and psychological warfare to complete missions.
Self-Deception: Rationalized her work as "necessary" to protect Lira, ignoring the systemic harm she perpetuated.
Apathy (Sloth)
Moral Indifference: Avoided deeper reflection on her role in cycles of violence. Chose survival over systemic change.
Collateral Damage: Accepted civilian casualties as "part of the job."
The Final Mission (Greed & Envy)
Greed: Took the doomed Facility 7 mission to secure wealth for Lira's treatment
Envy: Resented normal lives she could never have, fueling recklessness.
Virtues: The Light of Lira
Sacrifice (Charity)
Motivation: Every kill, every sin, was to fund Lira's survival. She donated 98% of her earnings to her sister's care.
Final Act: Endured torture to protect Lira's escape, prioritizing her sister's life over her own.
Restraint (Temperance)
Avoided Excess: Refused contracts involving children or non-combatants when possible.
No Pleasure in Killing: Treated murder as a clinical act, never reveling in suffering.
Loyalty (Diligence)
Unwavering Duty: Devoted her entire existence to Lira, even as her soul eroded.
Preparation: Ensured Lira's safety posthumously via offshore fail safes.
Hope (Faith)
Belief in Redemption: Clung to the idea that saving Lira could justify her sins.
"Now based on Sins and Virtue Presented Court will now being"
Court began all the people started discussing about what kind of judgment she should be given a long and heated discussing began it went till 10 days until they came to a final verdict
The verdict was that she would be reincarnated as an [Infant Demon] with a sub-species known as [Demon Larvae]. She would possess two divine abilities: [Mutation] (for the sins she committed, she would forever be deprived of her humanity) and [Soulbound Oath] (for the sacrifice she made for her sister). Her memory of the trial would be erased.
[Mutation]: Evolve through paths of monstrous power. Your emotions will bend to each form and user of this Ability will never regain his Humanity.
[SoulBound Oath]: an indestructible mental link to her sister's soul. Allows the user sense her sister Lira's location and condition across dimensions. However, she cannot communicate with her sister and only observe her from afar.