It was cold. And something stank. Ugh... Fuck, damn it... That cat... — his thoughts were jumbled before he could fully open his eyes.
What was in front of him wasn't the ceiling of his shabby room or the edge of his blanket. He was staring at the sky. Unusually beautiful, but frightening. It was blood-red, as if burning from within.
"A red sky... The moon?" — he muttered, lifting his head with difficulty.
And then he saw. He saw them. Bodies. Dozens of bodies, scattered around. And all of them... were missing their heads. Only neat, frighteningly clean cuts where their necks should be.
"What the fuck?" — he exhaled, and his voice sounded foreign, younger. — "No one has a head... A dream? But... the smell. You can't smell in a dream, right?"
The smell was acrid and coppery. The smell of blood and death. He looked around. Nothing but corpses, bare trees, and... snow. Snow? But yesterday it was hot and windy. Where did this snow come from?
B-Ding!
Suddenly, a semi-transparent holographic window appeared before his eyes, covered in intricate scarlet patterns.
"System activated. Greetings, Master."
— Huh? Aaaaah! — he flinched back, almost screaming. — "What the fuck is this? This thing... it's red... and beautiful..."
A system? Those exist in those titles... like... "Solo Leveling"? Could it be...
About ten minutes later, he managed to more or less calm the trembling in his hands. He needed to think. He got to his feet, leaning against an icy tree.
"If everyone's heads were cut off... then why is mine still attached?" — he whispered. Looking closer at the uniforms on the bodies, he understood: they were soldiers. Army uniforms. His gaze fell on his own clothes—the same green, camouflage uniform.
— Hm... Right. System, how did that Korean guy say it... "Status"?
The thought worked. The scarlet window materialized before him again.
Name: Azrael
Age: 17 years (**)
Vitality: 100/100
Skills:
Swordsmanship: 14%
Assassin's Skill: [ACTIVATED]
[UNAVAILABLE]
[UNAVAILABLE]
[UNAVAILABLE]
Blessing: *****
— "I know this standard... I have fencing experience, but why only 14%? Whatever, I need to figure out what this system is all about first."
Another five minutes passed, but he still didn't understand anything. — "Alright, fuck it. What's this 'Assassin's Skill'?"
He focused on the skill, and a description appeared:
"Assassin's Skill. A ruthless killer. You move silently and can conceal your presence. You instinctively sense the location of an opponent's vital organs. [More...]"
— "Whatever," he closed the system. — "I need to scout the area."
His gaze fell on a sword lying nearby. An ordinary blade, but beautiful—black, with scarlet patterns. Or was that blood?
An hour of wandering passed. There was nothing but trees, snow, and darkness everywhere. — "Damn, it's so cold... Where the hell am I, anyway?"
Crunch!
He looked down at his feet. Ice. And on its smooth surface, like a mirror, a face was reflected. The face of a teenager. Hair black as coal. Brown eyes. Not handsome, not ugly—the most ordinary face.
— "Stop. Is that... me? But like, seventeen years old..." — Realization slowly dawned on him. — "System, status!"
He summoned the window again. The line "Age: 17 years" was glowing with a sinister scarlet light.
— "What's with the asterisks next to the age? Fuck, this system is pissing me off!"
A few more minutes later, his stomach growled. He was getting hungry and thirsty.
Awooooo-oo-oo!
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden wolf howl. — "Fuck, you could scare the shit out of someone like that!"
But then his brain, accustomed to surviving in poverty, provided a logical chain: — "If I kill it, I can eat, right? In my past life, I was broke, had to slaughter chickens and catch fish."
Gripping the found sword in his hand, he felt how untrained and weak his new body was. — "And a scrawny little shit, damn... This is so bad."
He began to move towards the sound.
After a few minutes, he saw it. Something terrifying, impossible to describe in words. Its skin was black as pitch. It had no eyes—only a huge maw and ears sharp as razors.
— "What the fuck is that? Looks like a Faceless, but it's not... This one's... bigger." — The author's memory worked instantly. — "SP-03. That's what I called them in the novel. Creatures from the Void. This is my own illustration..."
SHUDDER.
— "Shit, I need to get out of here."
He turned to run, but...
CRUNCH!
He looked at his foot. He had stepped on a huge, dry branch. The sound seemed deafening in the dead silence of the forest.
— "Oh, for fuck's sake... Fuck you, luck."
The monster heard. Its eyeless head turned in his direction. Then, emitting a gurgling roar, it charged at him.
— "Fuck-fuck-fuck!" — Azrael began to babble and broke into a run.
He ran, and his thoughts raced faster than his feet: "What do I do? Kill it? But I've never fought something like this... Fuck..."
— "Alright, whatever!" — he suddenly shouted, gripping the sword's hilt. — "I'll fight! I'm not a pussy, right?!"
He turned to look at his pursuer and was even more horrified. — "Bitch, so fucking scary... Gotta..."
— "Damn, I'm getting tired... Fuck it!" — Gathering all his courage and clenching his balls in a fist, he sharply turned to face the monster, which was almost upon him, its slobbering maw wide open.
— "So many teeth... holy fuck..." — flashed through his head.
The monster closed in. One more second—and its fangs would sink into his flesh. Azrael raised his sword. His voice was quiet, a whisper heard only by himself.
— Assassin's Skill.