Chapter 1 The King of Assassins The sea was rough. Waves crashed hard against the ship. A large international liner pushed forward on its usual route. Inside, chaos erupted. A pregnant woman, her belly swollen, was curled up in her seat. Cold sweat soaked her clothes. Her face was tight with pain. "It hurts... It hurts so much! Someone, help me!" she screamed. A ship attendant noticed her right away. "Where is the doctor? Get a doctor now!" her husband, a middle-aged man, yelled. The attendant went pale. "I-I'm sorry. The ship's doctor took leave for this trip. There isn't one on board." The man's face changed. He slapped the attendant hard. "Useless! What about my wife? If she dies on this ship, I'll take your company down with a lawsuit!" "I'm sorry, so sorry! I'll make an announcement. There might be a doctor among the passengers." The attendant's head rang from the slap, but she didn't dare talk back. This was first class. The people here had money and power. "Attention, all passengers! Is there a doctor on board? A pregnant woman needs urgent help!" People looked around at each other. No one stood up. "Honey, it hurts... I can't take it!" The woman seemed close to passing out. The ship wouldn't dock for at least three hours. She didn't have that long. "I can help her." At that critical moment, a lazy arm rose from the row behind. People turned to look. The arm was slender. It belonged to a girl in a white T-shirt. Her skin glowed with a healthy tan. A pair of oversized sunglasses hid half of her face. A delicate nose and a full mouth were all that could be seen, leaving one to wonder what she truly looked like beneath the surface. The middle-aged man hesitated. She was just a girl and looked very young. "Are you a doctor?" She shook her head. "No." Her voice was cool and steady. "But I know some medicine." "You're not a doctor? Then why did you speak up?" He felt tricked and started to curse. "Fine. She has three minutes before the pain kills her. You're her husband. It's up to you." Her voice was pleasant, yet it carried no emotion or warmthâas if human life, in her eyes, was nothing but a lifeless thing. "Honey, please! Do something! I'm dying here!" "Save my wife. If anything happens to her, you'll pay," the man snapped. He had no other choice. He had to try. His tone was nasty, sharp with the arrogance of someone used to giving orders. The girl didn't move. "Is that how you ask for help?" Anyone who tried to order her around usually ended up dead. His face darkened, jaw tightening. "Fine. How much do you want?" "I don't want money." "Then what?" "When you beg, you should act like it." She slid off her sunglasses. The face underneath was stunning, but her two different-colored eyes were chilly. "You. On your knees." She felt cold and royal, like a queen. Bold. Wild. The middle-aged man met her eyes and felt a chill. She looked at him like he was already a corpse. He lost his temper. "Don't push your luck!" She checked her watch, counting down a life. "Two minutes left. Then your wife dies." "John, get on your knees! Do you want me to die so you can find a new woman?" the woman screamed in pain. "Miss... please. I'm begging you. Save my wife." The man dropped to his knees. She stood up smoothly and slapped himâhard. A flash of something wild crossed her icy beautiful face. "Don't hit a girl's face. You're supposed to look after it." He was stunned stupid. The people around them were stunned too. Such an arrogant, violent and ruthless girl! She was cool! "Miss, are there medical supplies on board?" She turned to the attendant and smiled. It was a breathtaking smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. The world seemed to fade around it. "Y-yes... we have them..." The attendant blushed, her heart racing. This girl was so badass! On a makeshift operating table, the girl began a C-section. Right then, the ship jolted violently. It had been rammed by another vessel. The whole deck shook. "Pirates! Pirates! Run for your lives!" Panic exploded. Only the girl at the table didn't flinch. She was perfectly calm. "Hey, girl! Get over here or we'll shoot!" A pirate aimed his gun at her back. She ignored him. A minute later, a newborn's cry cut through the chaos. The C-section was done. Mother and child were safe. Only then did she turn. She peeled off her blood-stained gloves and tossed them away. She looked down. Blood had splashed onto her white shirt. An ugly, bright red. She was weird about blood. The girl lowered her eyes, in which seemed to lurk a bloodthirsty, manic beastâsnarling and ready to pounce out. Her voice went cold. "Do you all have a death wish?" "Are you crazy?" They expected fear, but found only anger. Getting her clothes dirty had set her off. Several pirates moved in, guns raised, ready to grab her. "I hate people pointing guns at me." She said it lightly, but the bloodlust in her eyes was real. Swish! Swish! Swish! The next second, several pirates dropped. Dead before they knew it. She had moved too fast to see. "You killed my men! Open fire!" Rat-a-tat-tat! Shaken from their shock, the pirates unleashed a storm of bullets at her. That much firepower could tear a person to shreds. Passengers looked away, waiting for the horror. But thenâthey froze. She stood untouched. A cloud of bullets hung in the air around her, trapped by something unseen. "You think these little toys can hurt me?" Her smile was ice-cold. She exuded an eerie, otherworldly aura. "Superpowers! You actually have superpowers!" The pirates panicked. "Who are you?" "Reaper." She said the name like it was nothing. The pirates went white. The blood drained from their faces. Their limbs turned to ice. Reaperâthe world's most powerful killer and the leader of the top assassin organization. People called her "Lord Reaper". The name said it allâshe decided who lived and who died. Terror gripped the pirates. Why was she here? "I was planning a quiet death. But since you all want to keep me company, I won't hold back." Her smile turned wild. The hunger in her eyes was finally loose. "Run!" Against the Reaper, they didn't think of fighting. They just ran, blind with fear. She watched them scatter, in no hurry. She lifted a hand. "Freeze." An unseen force locked them in place. "Die!" Her open hand clenched into a fist. The very next moment, every pirate seemed to have a bomb tucked away in their flesh. One by one, they blew up into plumes of blood mist. In that bloody haze, her tall, stunning figure looked more deadly than ever. A wicked kind of beauty. The passengers shook, too scared to make a sound. They were far more afraid of her than they had been of the pirates. "Should I kill you all, too?" She glanced casually at the passengers. Her gaze was icy, with no hint of a joke. "Please, spare us!" The passengers were scared out of their wits, fleeing in a panic. Some of the cowards even fainted. She watched the scene, her smile growing wider and wilder. "Ha! You cowards. I'm just joking with you." She laughed but no one else felt like laughing. They only felt the deathly chill seeping into their bones. "What, my joke isn't funny? Laughânow!" Her voice sharpened, a threat laced in every word. She was like a queen from hellâbloodthirsty, ruthless, and blazing with a terrifying, unholy light. Soon, the ship was filled with the sound of forced laughter. It was uglier than crying. She walked out onto the deck and looked at her arm. The skin had turned black. "One minute left to live, huh?" She breathed the words to herself, a faint, frosty smile still playing at the corners of her lipsâsharp as a blade, even as death coiled closer. "Reaper, isn't it funny? You thought an enemy would kill you. But the one who took you down was the person closest to you. "Kind of hurts, doesn't it? Ha..." The crashing waves couldn't drown out her wild, reckless laugh. The poison was already in her system. Soon, she would melt into a pool of foul, black blood. She refused to die like that. It was too ugly. "Explode!" A terrifying madness flashed in her eyes. In the next second, her body exploded into a blood-red mist. Like a fireworkâbeautiful, terrible, and brilliant. Chapter 2 Broken and Reborn The underground fight pit reeked of blood and sweat. This was a lawless corner of the worldâwhere rules meant nothing, and anything went. Beneath the main arena, a cage sat in the shadows. It was dark and damp. A dozen men and women were crammed inside. They were treated like animals. Their eyes were empty. There was no life left in them. They had been brought here from all over. Sold by traffickers. Their fate was already sealed. They would be beaten to death. All for the amusement of a wealthy, twisted audience. This pit existed for a simple reason. To satisfy the cravings of sick minds. Some messed-up people got their kicks hurting animals. Others, even worse, needed to hurt people. This place was for them. Once you were sold here, you never left. You might get beaten to death by some rich guy. You might be forced to fight another prisoner. The match only ended when one of you stopped breathing. Or, you could be thrown into the ring with a professional fighter, just for their sport. However it happened, you died. It was a savage place. A brutal, modern coliseum. Inside the cage, in a dark corner, a woman lay on the cold floor. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her body was covered in blood. She wasn't moving and looked dead. No one around her paid any attention. When they'd dragged her in, her legs were already shattered. Whether she lived or died wasn't their problem. Suddenly, the girl on the floor twitched. Her lips moved. Then, her heavy eyelids flew open. Her pair of eerie double pupils burned with a crazy, hungry light. I came back? Even for a top assassin, this was strange. The thought shook her for a single second. But that was all. She quickly steadied her mind and accepted it. "Heh. Seems like I'm not meant to die." A vicious smile touched her lips. "Asura. Poppy. You traitors better hide. I'll turn you into museum pieces." Pure hatred burned in her eyes. "Haha..." She let out a manic laugh. It was arrogant, gave people the heebie-jeebies, and made their skin crawl. The others in the cage saw her move. They thought she'd come back from the dead. They scrambled away, pressing themselves into the far wall. "Margaret Tucker?" She sifted through the memories. "Not a bad name. From now on, I'm Margaret." Once, she only had a titleâbut in this instant, she had a name that was truly hers. "Hissâ" Margaret tried to move her hands and feet. She tried to push herself up. A sharp, tearing pain shot through her. Her limbs were broken. Shattered on purpose, it felt like. She sucked in a sharp breath. But even with the pain, her face showed no suffering. Instead, she looked excited. A feverish, almost sick glow came to her cheeks. She could smell blood in the air. It made her heart race. She could also feel itâa deep, bitter hatred that had festered in this body. "We're the same," she whispered. "Both betrayed by those we trusted. Since I'm using your body now, your enemies are mine. I'll settle your debt." As she finished speaking, the last bit of resentment clinging to the body seemed to fade. The world's top assassin, Reaper, was truly gone. In her place was the girl named Margaret Tucker. Whether for the original owner's revenge or her own, the first step was the same: survive and get out. Her limbs were broken. She was losing blood. If she didn't do something, she'd pass out. And then she'd die. For good this time. She needed to heal herself. A strange light flickered deep in her pupils. "Superpowerâhealing!" Then, something incredible happened. Her body began to fix itself. The broken bones knitted back together. The torn flesh closed up. In moments, her limbs were whole again, as good as new. Margaret narrowed her eyes. So, her superpowers had come with her! The reason she could become the world's only SSSSS-ranked assassin at just 18âfeared far and wide, known as Reaperâwas that she had more than one superpower. Once her body was whole, Margaret pushed off the cold floor. She sat back against the wall, resting. She crossed her legs casually. Her posture was relaxed, but it radiated a cold, unshakable confidence. The change in her aura was sudden and intense. The people nearby shrank back even further, giving her a wide berth. Margaret's eyes scanned the cage and the area beyond. She was already working on a way to break free. From the memories she now owned, this was an underground fight pit. A beast arena, plain and simple. She didn't feel scared. Not at all. A thrill ran through her. Her eyes lit up with a dangerous gleam. She felt pumped. Her fingers tingled. She wanted to fight and kill. She wanted to smell fresh, warm blood... She was like a beast, starved for too long, finally catching the scent of its prey... Chapter 3 I Guarantee the Win Margaret was 18. She was the true eldest heiress of the Tucker family, one of the four major families in Karemin. She had gotten lost at five. She grew up far in the countryside. The Tuckers only found her and brought her home a year ago. Life in the country made her shy and insecure. She had no special skills. Her grades were terrible. After returning to the Tucker family, she made a fool of herself many times and became a well-known idiot in the upper-class circles of Capaville. Her own parents were indifferent to her. Her successful brothers were ashamed of her. Life was miserable. She fell into depression. Sometimes, she even thought about killing herself. A week ago, the senior she secretly liked asked to meet her outside the city. He promised to take her away from it all. He said he'd give her a happy life. She believed him. But when she arrived, it was a trap. The senior wasn't there. Instead, a group of cruel traffickers was waiting for her. They beat her brutally and broke her arms and legs. They shoved her into a bag. Then they shipped her across the ocean to this bloody underground pit. Just before she lost consciousness, she learned the truth. Her "sweet" younger sister had hired those traffickers. And the senior she trusted? He actually had feelings for her sister. As her body finished healing, Margaret sorted through these memories. She found that the original owner of this body had truly led a miserable life. But Margaret felt little sympathy. She didn't like her cowardly character. She was the true heiress, yet she let her adopted sister walk all over her. And her judgment in guys was awful. Falling for that worthless senior? Just because he once acted tough and scared off some local bullies, she gave him her whole heart. If Margaret had been there, that so-called sister and that senior would have been finished long ago. They'd be pickled in jars. But anyway, she was here now, in this body. She would handle this. She'd clean up the mess for the poor girl. ***** The fight pit was loud and crowded. People from different countries were here. People waved the banknotes in their hands, watching the ring with excitement. On the platform, a thin boy from Vyrthar was fighting a huge foreign brute. The big man was crushing the boy's skull. Blood was everywhere. After a few more hits, the boy lay dead on the mat. The sight of a dead body didn't scare anyone. It made the crowd wilder, feeding their excitement. Up on the second level were the VIP seats. The view was perfect. Anyone sitting there was either rich or powerful. An Aethurian man puffed on his cigar. "My guest from Vyrthar, see that? My best fighter. Fifty fights, fifty kills." He pointed at the foreign brute in the ring. He owned this place. Running a pit like this in this chaotic zone meant he had serious, dark connections. A certain terrorist organization backed him. "Honored guest," he said. "I can give you what you want. But here is my deal. You pick one slave to fight my man. If you win, you get the item and walk away. If you lose, you pay me one billion dollars in cash. "Those are the rules here. What do you say?" Sitting across from him was a young man. He was strong and had the sharp features of a Vyrtharian. He wore a simple black shirt and was dangerously handsome. The man had deep, chiseled facial featuresâsharp as if carved by a knifeâexuding an icy coldness. He looked like a nocturnal creature that had not seen the sun for ages, hiding in the darkness. He sat in a wheelchair, silent. But the pressure coming from him was heavy and impossible to ignore. He gave the Aethurian man a bored look, as if he wasn't even worth a reply. He just made a small gesture to the middle-aged man standing beside him. The man understood. He turned to the pit owner. "My boss agrees. Take us to choose a slave." The door to the underground cage screeched open. Harsh light cut into the darkness. "My boss needs a slave to fight the foreign brute." Hearing this, almost every slave in the cage shrank back. They tried to make themselves invisible. They prayed they wouldn't be chosen. They all knew that fighter's reputation. Not long ago, he ripped a slave's arms and legs right off in the ring. The middle-aged man looked at the slaves. They were skinny. Some were missing limbs. He frowned. "Sir," he said quietly to his boss. "They're all useless. No one here can beat that brute. The pit boss is just trying to cheat us out of a billion." "It doesn't matter." The man in the wheelchair finally spoke. His voice was low and rough. "On another man's turf, you follow the rules. At least for appearances." The cage smelled awful. He covered his nose and mouth with a clean handkerchief. He continued, his tone sharp. "If we lose, kill them all. Then we take the item anyway." He said it calmly, as if he was talking about the weather. While every other slave was hiding in the shadows, hoping not to be seen, one girl in the corner was different. She kicked the iron bars hard. The loud clang made everyone turn. A girl, covered in dried blood with wild hair, lifted her chin. A cocky, bold look was in her eyes. "Hey, handsome," she called out. "Over here. Pick me for the fight. I guarantee I'll win for you. I'll make sure he never gets up again."
Not enough history yet to show a trend.