The night was as dark as ink.
Heavy clouds rode the wind, blotting out the moonlight.
Mansions stood silent and cold in the darkness.
This was the wealthiest neighborhood in S City, home to tycoons, officials, and power brokers.
In the midst of that silence, a man stood by the back door of one such mansion, blade in hand.
Around him lay the corpses of the guards, slain without a sound.
His expression was ice.
Even with hatred bubbling beneath his skin like molten lava, he remained utterly calm, like a still lake, untouched by wind.
No words, not a single noise.
He wedged his blade into the doorframe and twisted.
With a shriek of tearing wood, the back door split in two.
He pushed it open, stepped into the dimly lit living room.
He climbed the stairs, first door on the left.
He turned the knob and walked in.
Inside, the mansion's owner was still fast asleep.
A bloated man with a cruel face lay in bed, an underdressed woman curled in his arm.
Charles raised his sword and brought it down with a thwack, burying it in the wooden floor by the bed.
Only then did he smile, for the first time.
A sneer of pure contempt.
Startled awake by the thunderous noise, the man and woman bolted upright.
Charles stared down at them, voice cold as death.
"Demons, ghouls… evil beyond measure. Rick, your time is up. It's time to pay for everything you've done, with your life."
"Who are you?" The man, Rick, shook off his initial panic with surprising speed.
Even now, he carried himself with a commanding presence. A proper underworld tyrant.
"Me?" Charles smirked. "Just think of me as a vigilante. A hero who punishes scum."
Rick scoffed. "What are you, twelve? Do you even know whose house you've broken into? Or who you're trying to kill? This isn't your comic book fantasy. Walk away now, and I'll pretend this never happened. Otherwise-"
"Otherwise what?" Charles stepped closer. "Don't waste your breath, Rick. Everyone you had stationed around this mansion… is already dead. You're next.
Oh, and her too." He gave a slight nod toward the woman.
Before Rick could react, the blade flashed and her head rolled across the silk sheets.
"A witness that shouldn't exist. She had to go, right?"
Rick's face turned ghostly pale.
He watched, paralyzed, as the man with the sword climbed onto the bed, closing in step by step.
"You're not joking… Who sent you?! How much did they pay? I'll pay double! I'll buy my life, name your price!"
"Money?" Charles chuckled, enjoying the fear. The thrill. The cat-and-mouse cruelty.
"I told you already. Think of me as a superhero.
And do superheroes lay down their swords just because someone waves money at them?"
"You're… you're just after revenge?"
"Oh? You figured it out? Not bad, Rick.
Then again, maybe I slipped up and said too much."
He shrugged. "Oops."
"AAAGHHHH!"
With a brutal swing, Rick's right arm was severed.
"I've waited ten years for this," Charles growled.
"Since I was sixteen. Ten years of hiding, of training, of turning every breath into a weapon forged for this moment.
You forgot me. You forgot my family. You forgot the people you butchered. But I didn't forget. Not for a second."
"AAAGHHHH!"
The left arm was next.
"Every day, that fire of hatred scorched my soul, tempered it into steel. That pain, day after day, night after night…
Now you'll taste it yourself!"
"AAAAAAAAH!"
Left leg.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"
Right leg.
Blood sprayed in every direction. Charles was drenched.
His clothes soaked, his cheeks speckled red.
And still, he grinned like a madman.
"Does it hurt, Rick? Huh? Not so fun, is it?!"
"You…"
Rick tried to speak.
"What? Say it louder, you fat pig."
Face contorted in pain, Rick summoned all his strength and roared:
"Revenge! Revenge! That's all you'll have left, your life will be nothing but emptiness! I curse you! You'll know no joy, no dreams, no desire!
You cruel, merciless bastard, I curse you!"
"Great curse!" Charles laughed hysterically. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Schlunk.
The blade came down one last time.
Rick's head rolled off the bed.
And with that final cut, Charles severed the last tether that bound him to this world.
His vengeance was complete. His purpose was fulfilled.
In that instant, something in him transcended, his body still, but his soul elevated.
He felt his ability attain a new level of clarity, an epiphany born from blood and sweat.
And then,
"Achoo!"
He sneezed.
The moment shattered. The grand epiphany, spoiled by a rogue tickle in his nose.
Rubbing at the irritation, Charles glanced around the blood-soaked bedroom.
His eyes landed on a small sachet on the nightstand, its faint aroma wafting toward him.
Curious, he picked it up and took a sniff.
That was it. That was the scent that triggered his sneeze.
Oddly enough… now that he focused, he rather liked it.
"Well… screw it. Might as well call it a trophy."
He slipped the sachet into his coat with a self-deprecating smile.
Just a brief moment of poetry before the end.
Sword on shoulder, he turned and walked out of the room.
That year, Charles Serie was twenty-six.
After ten years of training, having stepped into the ranks of true warrior, he finally settled the grudge that had consumed half his life.
That very night, he was gunned down by a SWAT team.
Thus ended the short, bitter life of a man forged by vengeance.
The bullet struck him in the chest,
Right where he'd tucked the sachet.
But the sachet wasn't filled with powder.
Inside was a flower no one had ever seen before.
White petals, soaked in blood, fluttered into the air.
Then… they began to glow.
Rising with the wind, they carried Charles Serie's departing soul into the sky.
Until both the petals, and his spirit, vanished from the world.
[Ding ding… Hero Lottery System activated.]
[Initializing host… Gathering genetic data… Compiling fate parameters… Altering destiny thread… Worldline transfer in progress… 1%... 5%... 89%... 100%.]
[All systems loaded. Host binding complete.]
[Searching for viable host… body reconstruction… world parameters blurring… conceptual re-alignment… loading… loading complete. Awakening host,]
"Hahh… huff…"
Charles gasped for air.
Consciousness clawed its way back from the dark.
He found himself lying on a hospital bed.
A clean white ceiling overhead.
What… what the hell just happened?
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