Rain. Blood. And a body that isn't mine anymore.
The alley smells like piss and rot and something metallic. The cold soaks through my cheap jacket, a deep, final kind of cold that has nothing to do with the weather. My mouth is full of something hot and thick. My blood. i try to spit. i can't. It just leaks out, a warm trail down my chin, mingling with the rain. It tastes like rust.
There's a kid under my arm. He's shaking. So small. His whole body is a trembling leaf against mine. He's warm, though. A tiny furnace of life. The only warmth left in me.
My gut's torn open. i can feel it. A wet, gaping maw where there shouldn't be one. The blade was serrated. i can feel the ragged edges of the wound every time i try to breathe, a grinding, tearing agony. It's crude work. A butcher's work. i've killed hundreds of people, kings and monsters and men who deserved it and men who didn't, and i would've been ashamed to do it this messy. Cleaner. Always cleaner. A single, perfect line. That was my art. My pride. This… this is an insult.
i remember the first one. A fat merchant with sweat on his brow. The surprise in his eyes when the knife went in. i watched the light just… go out. Flicker off like a cheap candle. i felt… nothing. A job done. A transaction completed.
i feel nothing now. Except tired. A deep, bone-weary exhaustion that has been chasing me for years. It's finally caught up.
The boy grips my sleeve. His fingers are so small, so tight. A desperate anchor in a sinking ship. i don't remember his name. i never asked. It doesn't matter. He'll live. i got him out. That's the only thing that counts now. That's the price of my life. One little boy for one very bad woman. A shit deal, if you ask me. The universe is getting off cheap.
My last thought? It's stupid. Not deep. Not some noble bullshit about sacrifice. Just… bitter. A small, hard stone of regret at the bottom of my soul.
My hands. They were built to take things. To break things. To end things. And they never learned how to hold anything.
Then the light comes.
White. So white it's not a color, it's a pain. It's a sound. A scream that fills my head without making a noise. It burns behind my eyes, hot and sharp, like being torn apart one cell at a time. The alley, the rain, the boy… it all melts away into this agonizing, endless whiteness. i think i scream. But there's no air. No voice. Just a silent, endless tearing.
i open my eyes.
And the world is wrong.
It's a cathedral. No, that's not right. It's too big. The walls are made of white marble that glows with its own soft light, and they stretch up forever, into a ceiling made of swirling stars and purple nebulae.
i'm floating. Trapped in a box. A coffin made of clear, perfect crystal. My reflection stares back at me from the flawless surface. But it isn't me.
This face… it's a stranger's. A child's. No scars crisscrossing my cheek. No hard lines from a life spent in the shadows. Just long, dark lashes. Soft, full lips. A doll's face. My hands press against the inside of the crystal. They're… delicate. Slender fingers with perfect, pearly nails. Useless. They've put my soul, my dirty, ragged soul, into a fucking doll's body.
Towering over me, there are statues. Angels. Huge. Their wings cast shadows that are cold as a grave, even in the soft light. And they're crying. Their eyes are made of polished black stone, obsidian, and they're crying thick, red blood. The ruby tears roll down their perfect marble cheeks and turn to dust before they hit the perfect, white floor.
Whispers.
They're everywhere. Inside my head. Outside my prison. A thousand voices slithering over each other, a nest of snakes in my mind.
Whore of prophecy.
Flesh of Ruin.
Eve reborn.
She is come again.
Eve. So that's my name now. A name that tastes like a curse.
i try to move. My new, useless hands press against the glass. Nothing. It doesn't budge. My heart starts to hammer against my ribs. A frantic, trapped-animal beat that echoes in the silent, holy space. My breath gets shallow. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. This is a prison. A pretty, shiny prison, but a prison all the same. And i am the monster in the cage.
My mind races. The old instincts, the only things that feel like me, kick in. Assess. Escape. Survive.
Then—
BOOM.
The whole world shakes. The marble dome high above cracks open like an eggshell, and something falls. Not a rock. Not a body. A meteor of pure fire. It screams as it falls, a sound of fury and light, and hits the floor like God's own fist. The impact is a physical blow, a shockwave that rattles my crystal prison and my very bones.
Heat. So much heat. It cooks the air, makes it shimmer and warp. i can feel the doll's skin blistering, peeling away from the bone.
And from the center of the flames, from the crater of shattered marble, a man rises.
No. Not a man. An angel.
Wings of living fire beat the air, scattering embers that hiss and die on the floor. His armor looks like it was forged from a star, glowing with a light so bright it hurts to look. And the sword. Oh, gods, the sword. It's a sliver of raw sunlight, and it hums with a sound like a thousand people screaming at once.
He looks at me.
And it's not a look. It's a weight. Gravity. Pressure. It hurts to be seen by him. Every inch of my new, soft skin feels raw. Exposed. Flayed open.
i want to cower. i want to curl into a ball and hide. i want to beg for my life.
But deeper than the fear, something else stirs. Something dark and hot and ugly. A coil of heat low in my belly that has nothing to do with the fire.
Desire.
My breath catches in my throat. My hands are shaking. This is insane. He's here to kill me. He's the most terrifying, most beautiful thing i've ever seen. And i want…
"You should not exist," he says. His voice isn't a sound. It's thunder, inside my skull. It's truth, cold and absolute. "You are Eve. Flesh of the First Sin. Your echo has been reborn, and it must be purged before you burn this Heaven down, just like the last one."
His sword rises. The screams get louder, more desperate. The air crackles with power.
i should panic. i should be clawing at the walls of my prison, screaming until my throat bleeds.
But my lips… they curl into a smile. This new doll's face, smiling at the thing that's come to kill her. A slow, lazy, defiant smile.
And then i see it. Floating in front of my eyes. A screen. A box of words, like glass made of light. They burn themselves into my vision, sharp and clear against the fiery backdrop of the angel.
[FORBIDDEN SIN SYSTEM AWAKENED]
The words aren't just… there. They flicker. They glitch. Like a bad connection. They feel… wrong. Invasive. Like a parasite has burrowed into my optic nerve and is projecting its thoughts onto the back of my eyeballs. It's not a screen. It's a violation.
My head throbs. The whispers are back, but now they have a voice. A cold, clinical, sexless voice that is trying to sound helpful and failing miserably.
…user interface calibrated to mortal comprehension… it whispers in my mind, a drop of poison in a well. …welcome, Sinner…
Sinner. It calls me Sinner. A bitter laugh gets stuck in my throat. At least it's honest.
More words crawl across my vision, glitching and stuttering into existence.
USER: Eve, The First Sinner (Reincarnated)
TITLE: Whore of Prophecy
STATS:
DIVINITY: 0/1000 (Sealed)
VITALITY: 10/10 (Mortal)
SIN POINTS (SP): 0
AFFINITY:
Archangel Azeriel: -100/100 (Hostile: Execution Protocol Active)
Hostile. Execution Protocol. Great. Just great. As if the giant, screaming fire sword wasn't a big enough clue. This thing, this system, it isn't helping me. It's just showing me all the ways i'm about to die.
Then, a new panel slides into view. It glows red. A deep, bloody, tempting red.
[FIRST MANDATORY QUEST]
OBJECTIVE: Steal your enemy's first kiss.
TIME LIMIT: 24 Hours
REWARD: +500 SP, Divinity Unlocked
PENALTY FOR FAILURE: Soul-shatter. Eternal damnation in the Churning Abyss.
I stare at the words. My mind, the assassin's mind, the one that can calculate trajectories and wind speed and the best angle to slit a throat, just… stops.
A kiss.
They want me to… kiss him?
The angel of fire and death. The one with the sword of screams. The one who is actively trying to purge me from existence.
A laugh bursts out of me. A real one. Loud and sharp and completely unhinged. This is a joke. It has to be a joke. A sick, twisted joke played by a god with a fucked-up sense of humor. They didn't resurrect me. They drafted me into a cosmic suicide mission.
What choice do i have? Plead? Beg? The assassin in me spits at the thought. i have never begged for anything in my life. My death. Not even that.
And then i see it. The reward. Divinity Unlocked.
Power.
The only currency that has ever mattered.
The angel, Azeriel, takes a step forward. The heat intensifies. My doll-skin feels like it's melting.
The system gives me one last, final push. One last, insulting choice.
What will you do?
A) Plead for your life.
B) Attempt to resist.
C) Flirt.
My laughter dies in my throat. My eyes narrow.
Flirt.
They want me to play the whore. The temptress. The thing from their prophecies. They've put me in this body, given me this name, and now they want me to play the part.
Fine.
If they want a show, i'll give them a goddamn show.
My voice, when it comes out, is a stranger's. It's silk and honey and sin, a weapon i didn't know i had.
"An execution?" i purr, and the sound of it makes my own skin crawl. "So formal. You could have at least bought me dinner first, Archangel."
I see the flicker in his golden eyes. The tiny crack in the perfect, holy façade.
And inside my head, the system whispers its approval, a cold, satisfying little click.
Game on.
My heart is a drum against my ribs. A frantic, terrified rhythm. But the smile stays on my face. A mask. A weapon. i let my eyes wander down his body, slow and deliberate. Let him feel the weight of my stare. Let him know i see him not as a god, but as a man.
"Is that all it takes to rattle you?" i whisper, my voice dropping lower, rougher. "A few words? i thought angels were made of stronger stuff."
He doesn't move. Not a muscle. But the fire in his wings flares. A nervous, angry pulse of heat that washes over me. The pressure in the air, the heavy weight of his judgment, it lessens. Just a fraction. But it's there. A chink in the armor.
The parasite in my head sings.
[+10 SIN POINTS ACQUIRED]
REASON: Successful flirtation with a hostile divine entity.
[USER AURA HAS CHANGED]
EFFECT: Minor Divine Resistance (Level 1) unlocked.
The change is instant. A thread of something dark, something mine, coils around me. The oppressive heat from him becomes... bearable. Almost pleasant.
Then the world cracks.
Not a sound. A feeling. The crystal around me fractures, a spiderweb of light spreading from a hundred points at once. It doesn't shatter. It dissolves. It turns into motes of glittering dust that rain down on me and disappear.
And then i'm falling.
Just a few feet, but my body isn't ready. i hit the marble floor. Hard. The impact shoots up my spine, a jolt of pure agony. This body… it's so soft. So weak. There's no muscle, no training to absorb the shock. Just bone and soft flesh. A wave of nausea washes over me.
i lie there for a second, a broken doll on the perfect white floor. The pain is real. This is real. This isn't a dream. This is my new hell.
Slowly. Gods, slowly. i push myself up. My arms tremble with the effort. My legs shake. Every nerve is screaming. But i get to my feet.
He's still there. Watching. His fire-sword is raised again, humming with those terrible screams. The light from it paints my skin gold. He's ready to finish the job.
But i don't run.
i take a step toward him.
Then another.
Every step is a new mountain of pain. My body wants to collapse. The assassin in me is screaming that this is suicide. Walk into the blade. A stupid way to die.
But the woman, this Eve, she keeps walking. She walks into the fire. She walks into the heat and the light and the screams. My heart is a frantic bird in my chest, but my face is a calm, cold mask.
i'm right in front of him now. So close i can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. So close i can feel the heat from his armor scorching my skin. The smell of ozone is thick in the air. He could kill me with a thought.
He doesn't.
He just watches me. His beautiful, terrible face is a mess of confusion and rage.
My hand, my new, weak hand, reaches out. It trembles, but it doesn't stop. i reach past the screaming sword. i reach for him.
And i grab the collar of his armor.
The metal is hot. So hot it sears my palm. Searing, unimaginable pain. My skin sizzles. i should let go. i should scream.
i don't.
i hold on tighter. The pain is a grounding force. A reminder that i'm still here. Still fighting.
He stares down at me. His shock is a physical thing, a crack in the air between us.
i pull him down. Closer. My face is inches from his. My voice is a husky whisper, a thing of smoke and sin.
"Don't worry," i breathe, my gaze dropping to his perfect, sculpted lips. "I always pay my debts."
His breath hitches. The scent of burning stars fills my senses.
My lips part.
i rise up to meet him. The space between us vanishes. An inch. Half an inch. His eyes are wide, a universe of shocked gold. i can feel his breath, hot and sharp, on my skin. This is it. The point of no return. My mind is screaming. My body is on fire. The pain in my hand is a white-hot nova, but i don't let go. i pull him closer still.
Just before our lips can touch, he makes a sound. A choked, guttural noise. Not a word. The sound of a god breaking.
And then he's gone.
Not vanished. Ripped away. As if the universe itself reached down and tore him out of reality. A violent explosion of light and ozone, a thunderclap that shakes the cathedral to its foundations. The force of his departure throws me back. i stumble, my weak legs giving out, and collapse onto the cold marble.
Silence.
A profound, deafening silence.
He fled.
The Archangel of Judgment. The divine executioner. He ran from me. From a kiss.
A wave of something hot and dizzying washes over me. It's not pain. It's not desire. It's… triumph. A raw, vicious, ugly triumph that tastes better than any victory i ever won with a blade.
i broke him.
A little. But i did it.
The system in my head agrees. The whispers are back, and they sound… pleased. Almost gleeful.
[MANDATORY QUEST UPDATE]
STATUS: FAILED
REASON: Target's divine rejection triggered. Full contact not established.
A red stamp of failure. But i don't feel like a failure. i feel like a predator.
Partial Sin Accrued: +100 SP
REASON: User induced tactical retreat in a hostile divine entity through extreme psychological pressure and attempted physical corruption.
AFFINITY UPDATE:
Archangel Azeriel: -80/100 (Conflicted / Wary)
The numbers climb. The status changes. Conflicted. Wary. He's not just hostile anymore. He's afraid. Afraid of me.
i push myself up, my body screaming in protest. My hand is a mess of blisters, the skin red and angry. But i can't stop smiling. A bloody, broken, victorious smile.
He ran. And he left me alive.
His biggest mistake.