They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.
But all I saw was blood.
Not mine at first — theirs. The targets. The bodyguards. The politicians. The warlords. One by one, they fell under my blade, my bullets, my silence. I was a ghost. I was the shadow they feared in their final moments. The assassin that left no trail and no mercy.
The top one. The best.
Until I wasn't.
Until they turned on me.
The rain came down hard that night — perfect cover. The concrete rooftop was slick beneath my boots, the wind slicing through my black coat like tiny knives. I was perched over the edge of a building in Prague, overlooking the neon-lit hotel across the street. My target was a war criminal turned arms dealer, some ex-general living large while selling death in bulk.
Easy job.
Simple kill.
Until I pulled the trigger… and the rifle clicked dry.
No bullets.
That was the first red flag.
I didn't panic — I never do. Panic is a luxury for people who think they have time. I dropped the rifle, rolled backward, drew my knife, and melted into the shadows.
But the shadows betrayed me.
A sudden hiss in my ear.
"Sorry, Ghost," said a voice through my earpiece. Her voice. Ayla.
My partner.
My—
Crack.
Gunshot. Not from across the city. From behind me.
Pain exploded in my side.
Another shot.
I dropped to one knee. Blood gushed out of my ribs like someone had opened a faucet.
Ayla stepped into view. Black tactical gear. Hair pulled into a bun. Eyes cold. Hands steady.
"Don't take it personally," she said. "You were too good. Too dangerous. You know too much."
"You're a hell of a liar," I said, coughing blood.
"I know."
She raised the gun again.
"Goodnight, legend."
Bang.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
I expected nothingness. Maybe hell. Maybe just… sleep.
What I got instead was a sharp, suffocating inhale — air rushing into lungs like I hadn't breathed in days.
I sat up gasping, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like I'd just run from an explosion.
White ceiling. Cheap fan. Faded posters of pop idols on the wall.
What the hell?
My hands were smaller. Softer.
I looked down — I wasn't in my body anymore. Not my build, not my scars. I was wearing… a school uniform?
A mirror on the desk showed me a reflection I didn't recognize.
Seventeen, maybe eighteen. Pale skin. Messy black hair. Narrow face. Hollow, tired eyes.
And then — a name. A whisper in my head.
Eli Cain.
Who?
Suddenly, the pain came flooding back — not physical pain, but memories. Not mine. His. This body's.
Bullied. Humiliated. Mocked. No parents. Dead-end student. Weak, untalented. A nobody in a world where "Awakened Abilities" were everything.
Eli had just failed his awakening trial and jumped off the school roof.
That's when I took over.
I blinked. My hands trembled.
I wasn't just reborn — I was dumped into the shell of a suicide victim.
"…Shit."
The knock at the door was too loud for comfort.
"Eli! You better not be late again!" a female voice called.
Landlady?
I forced my stiff body up and opened the door a crack.
An older woman with frizzy hair and a cigarette hanging from her lips looked me over like she expected me to be dead.
"You're alive?" she muttered.
"For now," I said, voice raspy.
She squinted. "You sound different."
"Grew up overnight."
She shook her head and walked off, muttering something about hormonal teenagers.
I grabbed the nearest bag on the floor — old, torn, full of cheap notebooks and no weapons — and made my way out.
The world outside was modern, but just slightly off. Hovering taxis zipped through the sky. Students in school uniforms walked with flashy weapons strapped to their backs — glowing blades, rune-etched pistols, elemental orbs.
People with powers.
I passed by a massive digital screen on a building front that displayed a glowing emblem:
AWAKENING DAY RESULTS – NORTH ZONE HIGH #11: Ranked 368 of 370 – Eli Cain: No Awakening Detected.
So… I was trash.
Great.
North Zone High School #11 looked more like a military compound than a school.
Guards at the gate. Energy scanners. Students lining up with dead eyes and power auras flaring like heatwaves.
This society didn't just value power. It worshipped it.
As I walked through the gate, I heard the first whisper:
"Isn't that the Cain kid?"
"The one who jumped?"
"Thought he was dead."
"I heard he failed his awakening. Again."
"Guy's literally the bottom of the barrel."
Welcome to your new life, I thought.
I could kill them all in thirty seconds with a shoelace and a pen cap.
But I didn't.
Because I wasn't Ghost anymore.
I was a lazy schoolboy now.
Homeroom was worse.
Rows of students sat in military-style desks, all facing a digital blackboard. The teacher, Mr. Crane, barely looked up when I walked in.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Cain," he said, his tone dry. "Back from your little… vacation?"
I ignored the stares. Walked to the last row and dropped into a seat by the window.
Crane clapped his hands.
"Alright, everyone. Since Cain has deigned to rejoin us, we'll begin today's lecture on Power Class Hierarchies. Turn to page 119. Unless you're in the F-Class, in which case—" he glanced back at me— "you might as well turn to the blank page and start planning your future as a fast food employee."
Laughter.
I didn't laugh.
I didn't even blink.
The moment this guy dropped his guard in a dark alley, I could twist his arm behind his back and make him eat his own teeth.
But I didn't.
Because that's not how you stay low.
And staying low?
That's how you live long enough to figure out what the hell is going on.
Lunch came. I sat under a tree, away from the crowd, half-listening to students sparring in the training yard.
One kid lit his fists on fire.
Another summoned a glowing blade of light.
I pulled a rice ball from my bag and took a bite, watching them all like a ghost behind glass.
They were strong.
Flashy.
Arrogant.
But they didn't know how to kill.
Not like me.
And then I saw her.
She walked into the yard like ice incarnate — silver hair, blue uniform, a blade of frost on her hip.
The other students parted for her like sheep.
Aria Vale.
Top student.
Top talent.
Top tier awakening.
She glanced toward my tree.
Our eyes met.
Something flickered in hers — confusion? Interest?
I looked away first.
Rule number one: never draw attention.
Rule number two: if you do, break rule one harder until they stop looking.
Back in class, Mr. Crane announced a surprise sparring test.
Two-on-two matches.
Everyone groaned, except the confident ones.
Then he read the pairs.
"Team three… Eli Cain and Aria Vale."
Silence.
I blinked.
You've got to be kidding me.
I looked at her.
She was already staring at me, arms crossed.
Her expression didn't change.
But her eyes said one thing loud and clear:
Don't drag me down.
Too late.
I was about to ruin everyone's expectations.
But not in the way they thought.