Ajay had heard the voice.
That voice.
Soft, cold, unholy—but it wasn't his imagination.
It felt like it had always been with him. Like it was carved into his soul the day Hadrian's head hit the dirt.
> "That's enough pain and suffering… show them hell."<
Ajay said nothing.
He lay on the steel slab, half-healed from yet another extraction, staring blankly at the ceiling.
No hate.
No fear.
Only certainty.
---
A small scalpel had been left behind—slightly bloodied from yesterday's procedure. A mistake.
Ajay reached for it.
And waited.
---
The Next Morning
The iron door screeched open.
"Yo," Zacky laughed, stepping inside with Demetrius at his side.
"If we chop his liver one more time, we might finally hit the sweet spot."
Demetrius chuckled.
"If we freeze it right this time, we could sell it to a high mage—"
~ SHHKK !
Zacky stopped.
Eyes wide.
Ajay stood in front of him, scalpel buried halfway into his throat.
He never screamed. Only gurgled.
Ajay's eyes were blank. No rage. No noise. Just death, delivered with surgical efficiency.
Zacky collapsed, twitching. His trachea collapsed inward like a broken pipe. Blood poured down his chest in wet, dark streams.
Demetrius screamed, "WHAT THE F—"
Too late.
Ajay was already on him. The scalpel tore through fabric, skin, ribs. Then again. And again. And again.
He didn't stop.
Stab after stab, muscle tearing, organs spilling, blood painting the floor red.
Demetrius thrashed until his body simply… gave up.
His last breath came out in a shattered, wheezing sob before his eyes rolled back, glassy and still.
Ajay stood up.
Drenched.
The floor was covered in blood, organs, bone fragments. Zacky had stopped twitching. Demetrius was folded over himself, a bloated carcass.
---
Then the door opened.
Christina.
"Guys sorry I'm late i-"
She stopped in the doorway.
Three seconds passed.
Then the realization hit.
"…What… is going on he —"
~ CRACK !
Ajay's hand moved like lightning.
The scalpel shattered her windpipe.
She didn't even have time to finish her sentence.
She staggered back, fingers clawing at her own throat, blood gushing between them.
Ajay didn't finish her off.
He didn't stab her.
He didn't strangle her.
He didn't even try to assault her.
He just watched.
She fell to the ground, gasping in wet rasps, twitching violently on the floor.
Ajay didn't blink.
Only watched.
Watched as her body struggle and fail.
Watched the red pool grow beneath her.
Watched the final flickers of life leave her eyes.
---
Then…
Silence.
---
A golden shimmer filled the air behind him.
Ajay didn't flinch.
The god stepped forward, the one who started it all.
Clothed in white robes stained faintly with cosmic dust. His face was unreadable.
"...You did well,"
The god said quietly.
He held out a dagger, its blade obsidian black, its hilt wrapped in writhing gold.
"This knife is a reward… for what you've endured."
Ajay took it.
It was perfectly balanced. Cold. Smooth.
"…What can it do?"
He asked.
The god looked him in the eye.
"well for starters, It ignores all abilities, all effects. Not even mag—"
Ajay lunged.
A blur.
The dagger plunged into his own chest before the god could finish.
His ribs split.
Straight into his heart.
The god panicked. "Wait—no, that blade—!"
Ajay twisted it.
Hard.
Black cracks spread across his chest, down his arms, over his neck.
His legs buckled.
He collapsed to his knees.
The god stumbled backward, stunned.
"You—" he whispered.
"You weren't supposed to…"
Ajay smiled.
Blood bubbled from his lips.
"…I can feel it," he rasped.
"…True death."
The dagger dropped from his hand, clinking to the floor beside the corpses.
"You know… I always thought I'd be reincarnated again…"
A long, slow breath.
"…But now… I think maybe…"
"…I should've just died the first time."
"Permanently."
His hand curled on the floor. Weak. Shaking.
"This life was…"
His voice cracked.
"…pure hell…"
Then—
Silence.
No more breaths.
No heartbeat.
Ajay's body began to dissolve, slowly, as if the universe itself was weeping.
His skin cracked apart into dust.
Bones became ash. Tears evaporated before they could fall.
Not a trace was left.
Only the dagger.
Only the blood.
Only silence.
---
The god stood there for a long time.
Watching the empty space where Ajay once was.
"I see…" he murmured.
"For what you went through… I can't help but feel…"
He lowered his gaze.
"…pity."
He turned his back.
"…Goodbye, Ajay."
---
Then—
Another ripple in the air.
A figure floated down like a ghost.
Slim frame. Pale armor. Hair like mist.
down floated Rucii.
Her expression was unreadable, but there was something off—too calm, too casual.
In her hand, she held something small and pale.
Wet. Hollow. Cracked.
She turned it slowly in her palm, letting the soft flesh squish under her fingers.
It was the top half of a human skull—jagged, with strands of brown hair still attached, and fragments of a golden hair clip embedded into the bone.
Ajay would have known it.
Ravina.
Marc didn't look at her.
He already knew what she was holding.
Rucii scoffed, staring at it like trash.
"Sentimental nonsense."
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled it.
The bone shattered against the wall.
"Murk.
Or was it...
Marc?"
"…You were going to train him," The figure said.
"To take your place, weren't you?"
The god looked away.
"…Shut up, Rucii."
Rucii landed softly beside him.
"…You feel it too."
Marc nodded.
"…He didn't deserve this."
Rucii whispered, voice barely audible.
"No one does."
---
The chamber was still.
Blood and silence.
And then—
A single whisper echoed through the space.
A voice from somewhere else.
Not from a god.
Not from a soul.
Just from a memory that refused to die:
> "What a life."<
[The – -
- — End.]