The scent of gunpowder still clung to my clothes, but for the first time in years, my hands weren't stained with blood.
I leaned back on the leather chair in my penthouse, exhaling slowly. The city skyline stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling window, neon lights flickering in the dark like dying stars. The world beneath me bustled with life, unaware that the infamous White Fox was finally taking a break.
Yes, that's me— Nyx. The number one assassin in the underworld. The mere mention of my alias made powerful men tremble. Governments pretended I didn't exist, and those who did know of me either wanted me dead or wanted to hire me.
Too bad for them—I was untouchable.
I had been living as 'White Fox' for so long that I might even forget my real name someday.
The soft click of the door closing echoed through my dimly lit apartment. After an exhausting, high-stakes mission, I was finally granted a rare gift—a break.
To the world, I was a myth. To the highest bidders, I was the deadliest assassin alive. Known in the underworld as White Fox, I was infamous for my flawless executions, for disappearing without a trace, for leaving behind a trail of bodies without a hint of regret. My reputation was a force all on its own. Men who crossed me were often never seen again. Governments feared my skills, and powerful elites made sure I was well-paid, but they also knew better than to push me too far.
Tonight, however, there was no blood. No contracts to fulfill. For once, I had a break, a rare moment where I wasn't following orders. A vacation. A full month of peace.
The thought was surreal, like a luxury I didn't deserve. But the agency had insisted. After the latest mission—assassinating an entire crime syndicate—I'd earned the right to step back for a while, Time to put down my weapons for a brief moment, time to let the tension in my muscles ease for just a moment.
I sank into the plush chair by the window, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. In my line of work, it was a luxury to pause—to reflect, to breathe. But for once, I could afford it.
Years of killing had left me empty, the faces of the people I had erased lingering in the back of my mind. A fleeting thought crossed my mind—what would it be like to walk away from all of this?
But that was foolish. The world I lived in didn't allow for second chances. My job was who I was. I was a ghost—a weapon of assassination, no more, no less.
I took another sip from the glass in my hand, letting the bitterness of the wine numb my thoughts.
Then, something shifted.
A strange sensation crawled over my skin—like a chill running down my spine, only it wasn't the cold. It felt like I was being pulled from the inside out. My vision blurred, and the wine in my glass sloshed as I suddenly lost my balance. I reached for the armrest of the chair to steady myself, but it was already too late.
A searing pain shot through my head, the world spinning around me like a carousel.
[System initializing…]
Nyxaria: "What the hell?"
I barely registered the strange, electronic voice ringing in my ears. My chest tightened, my breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, it felt as if I was suffocating in the strange, alien sensation. Everything before my eyes fell into darkness.
When i opened my eyes, i feel the ground and the rough texture of dirt scraped against my palms. My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, looking around in confusion. Trees. Forest. The air smelled of earth and leaves.
Nyxaria: "This isn't my apartment."
I could still feel the remnants of the pain in my head, the disorienting sensation of being torn from one reality to another. And yet, the world around me didn't feel right. It felt… wrong. Foreign. It was too quiet, too still. The air was thick with a tension that I couldn't quite place.
I steadied myself, trying to push through the disorientation. There was no time to think about the impossible.
Nyxaria: "Focus, Nyxaria. You've been in worse situations before."
I reached for my thigh instinctively—and there it was. My dagger, still strapped to my leg. The familiar weight of the blade was reassuring. At least I wasn't completely defenseless.
I barely had time to process my thoughts when a low growl sliced through the silence.
My instincts kicked in before I could even process what I'd heard. I spun toward the sound, just in time to see a pack of leopards stalking toward me through the trees, their eyes gleaming with hunger.
Five leopards. Predators. They were closing in fast.
I had no guns. But I had my dagger—and I had my body.
The first leopard lunged, its claws outstretched, aiming for my throat. I sidestepped just in time, the beast missing by inches, its teeth snapping dangerously close. My hand shot to my dagger, pulling it free in a single, fluid motion.
The second leopard was upon me before I could take another breath, its weight crashing into me with the force of a freight train. My body hit the ground hard, but I twisted, using the momentum to drive my dagger deep into its side.
A sharp cry tore through the night as the beast recoiled, its blood warm against my fingers. I rolled to my feet, breathing heavily.
The leopards came at me in waves, their sharp claws and fangs designed to kill. But I had been killing long before this—before this… whatever this was. I dodged, I weaved, I struck with precision, every movement ingrained in my muscles from years of training.
One leopard lunged, its claws raking across my side, but I caught its wrist mid-air, twisting it until I heard a satisfying crack. Another fell at my feet, its throat slit cleanly by my dagger.
The fight raged on, but my focus never wavered. These beasts were fast, but I was faster. I was more than an assassin—I was a hunter, a survivor.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last of the leopards collapsed at my feet, its body twitching before going still. I stood amidst the carnage, my chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
I wiped the blood from my dagger and thigh, my thoughts spinning.
Nyxaria: "Where the hell am I?"
The fight had taken everything from me—my focus, my strength, even my sense of self. But I wasn't done. Not yet.
I looked around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The trees, the dense undergrowth—none of it looked familiar.
The words were like a command, one I had no choice but to obey. My head swam as I tried to process this new reality.
Nyxaria: "Where exactly am i right now? Did an enemy bring me here. No that's not right. If it was the work of an enemy, they wouldn't have left me with my dagger."
For now, I had no answers—only questions, and the wild unknown stretching before me. I had been an assassin, a phantom in the night. Now, i'm somewhere i don't even recognise, what is this place.
Nyxaria's question linger in her mind with no answers. But she is sure she is no longer in the world she knew.