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***
The air smelled like burnt concrete and blood. The city—or what was left of it—was a labyrinth of rubble, shattered buildings, and smoke rising like gray ghosts. I was crouched behind a half-collapsed wall, the sound of explosions shaking the ground beneath me. It was 2030, and World War III had turned places like this into extermination zones.
My Barrett M82A1 was steady on my shoulder, the thermal scope cutting through the smoke and revealing orange silhouettes moving between the wreckage. That rifle was a beast—a .50 caliber monster that could punch through walls and vaporize anything in its path. Heavy, brutal, but precise in the right hands. And mine were the right ones.
The noise around me was deafening—screams, bursts of machine gun fire, the roar of drones ripping through the sky. But I filtered it all out. My mind was a silent void, leaving only room to calculate distances, angles, and targets. My breathing was slow, like I was at a shooting range, not in the middle of hell.
I was good at this. Always had been.
As a kid, I could hit cans from fifty meters away with a pellet gun. My dad used to say I had "hawk eyes." He didn't live to see what those eyes became. A killer. Cold as the steel of my rifle.
The radio crackled—desperate voices begging for reinforcements, coordinates, anything. I ignored them. My mission was simple: eliminate the enemy. I adjusted the scope, the thermal sight highlighting five soldiers behind an overturned car, 250 meters away. Amateurs. Huddled together like rusty metal would save them.
Inhale. Exhale. Steady.
BANG!
The first one dropped, head bursting into a red blur. The others ducked, probably screaming in panic.
BANG!
One in the chest, the impact tearing him apart.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five shots. Five bodies. Less than thirty seconds. I felt nothing. No adrenaline, no fear. Only the next target.
An explosion went off fifty meters away, throwing up dust and shards of concrete. The ground shook, but my hand didn't flinch. I spotted three soldiers zigzagging through the rubble. Fatal mistake.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Eight enemies. Eight kills. A minute, tops.
The battle gave no respite. A new wave of enemies emerged on the avenue, the rumble of a tank behind them. The radio barked orders, but I was already crawling to a new position, slipping through the debris. A drone buzzed low, its hum slicing through the air like a blade. I pressed myself against a broken wall, waiting for it to pass.
In those moments when I waited for the buzzing to pass, I didn't think about why I was there. I didn't think about my sister, or the smell of coffee my mom used to make. Those memories were ghosts, erased by the war. I wasn't a person anymore. I was a trigger, a scope, a void that only existed to take down targets.
I got back into position when the drone passed. The tank moved forward, crushing burnt-out cars like they were empty cans. I spotted a sniper on top of a building, 400 meters away, aiming at our line. I adjusted the scope and fired.
BANG!
He dropped before he could shoot.
[Echo-4, fall back! Fall back!]
The radio screamed orders I ignored. Fall back to where? There was no "behind" in this city—just more ruins. My line was here, between concrete and smoke. More orange silhouettes appeared in the scope. Four soldiers, moving in formation, smarter than the others. They were 300 meters out, using the wreckage for cover.
Inhale. Exhale.
BANG!
The first one dropped, his chest torn open. The others scattered—but not fast enough.
BANG! BANG!
Three on the ground. The last one tried to run, but I already had him in my sights.
BANG!
Twelve kills so far.
ZZZZZ!
Then I heard it—that buzzing sound. Sharp, metallic, the kind that cuts through your soul before your body. It came from behind. I turned fast and saw a kamikaze drone, built to leave nothing behind, heading straight for me.
I didn't think twice. I pulled my pistol from the holster on my leg and aimed at one of the rotors.
BANG! BANG!
The shots rang out—the first missed by inches, the second hit the left rotor. The drone wobbled, spinning out of control, but it didn't crash. It corrected its course, coming right at me.
'Ah, shit.'
The drone hit the ground a few meters away—and the world became light, heat, and finally, silence.
***
'Where am I?' The question echoed in my mind, lost in a void that seemed to swallow everything. Absolute darkness, but speckled with shining points, like stars trapped in an endless sky. I felt nothing — no weight, no warmth, no ground beneath my feet. I simply... existed.
[So, you've arrived.]
A voice cut through the emptiness, cold, neutral, neither male nor female. It came from everywhere, as if the air itself whispered. I turned — or thought I turned — searching for the source, but there was nothing beyond the darkness and those pulsing lights.
'Who are you?' I tried to shout, but no voice came out. Then I realized: I had no mouth. No body. I looked at myself — or imagined I looked — and saw I was just one of those glowing points. A tiny sphere of light, flickering, fragile, in the middle of nothing. 'What—'
[Nathan Williams. A pleasure.]
The voice returned, now with a hint of something that felt... like satisfaction? 'What's happening? Why am I a glowing ball? Who are you? Where am I?' The questions exploded in my mind, but I couldn't speak — only think — and every thought felt as though it was being heard.
[You are within my shroud, Nathan. The place where souls converge after death. That light is your essence, freed from mortal flesh.]
'Why—' I tried to shape the question, but the voice interrupted, as if it already knew what I wanted to ask.
[Why are we speaking? Because you intrigue me, Nathan. Many have caused the death of millions, but never has an ordinary man killed so many with his own hands. Eight hundred and twenty-five souls, taken by you.]
Eight hundred and twenty-five? The soldiers I killed, the targets I eliminated in the war — was that what this thing was talking about?...Was I talking to Death?
[Such a small name for what I am. But yes, you may call me that. I am the inevitable end, the balance that cuts the threads of existence. And you, Nathan, were one of my most precise instruments — even without knowing it.]
The voice seemed to draw closer, though nothing changed in the void. The glowing points around me pulsed, as if reacting to it. 'Why am I here? Why not Hell, or just... nothingness?'
[Those things do not exist. And the reason you remain conscious is because I wanted to meet you, Nathan. You're not like the others. Most of the souls that pass through me are fragile, full of regret, weeping over wasted lives. But you... you were empty. A void that killed without flinching. Curious, isn't it? Even the coldest, most emotionless souls feel something in the last second before life ends.]
'...what are you getting at?'
[Existence is vast, and I am more than a figure that reaps souls. I balance. I correct. But there are beings, in worlds beyond yours, who defy balance. They try to flee from me, try to escape the end that is inevitable. Immortals, self-proclaimed gods, aberrations who manipulate their very souls. They irritate me. And I do not allow the balance to be broken.]
'And what does that have to do with me? You're Death. Just end them.'
[I am the end, not brute force. My role is greater — more subtle. I choose instruments, Nathan. And you are perfect.]
'Perfect for what?'
[I want you to kill them. These beings who flee from me. I want you to find them, in the worlds where they hide, and send them back to my shroud. You will be my blade, Nathan. My hunter.]
"Why would I do that? I'm dead. My fight is over. I have no reason to fight for you."
[I'm offering you a choice. You can remain here, a spark among countless others, dissolving until there's nothing left. There will be no rebirth, Nathan, not for you. Or you can accept my offer: live again, hunt for me. Complete my missions, and perhaps I'll grant you a wish. Any wish. But decide quickly. My attention on you lasts only ten seconds.]
Ten seconds. My mind spun. Dissolve into the void or return to fight in battles that weren't mine, for an entity I barely understood. But the void… the void was worse. I had already been empty in life, and I didn't want that in death.
"I accept," I thought, before time ran out.
[Excellent.]
The void twisted. The shining points spun fast, like a whirlpool of stars. I felt a pull, like my very existence was being sucked into a hole. The voice laughed—low, satisfied.
[We will meet again, Nathan.]
Then, everything went dark.
***
"AAAHHH!"
A scream tore through the air, sharp, filled with pain and relief. I opened my eyes—or rather, I tried, because they wouldn't open. The air smelled of sweat, herbs, and fresh blood. I couldn't move or think straight. My body… was small, fragile, wrapped in a rough cloth.
An instinctive cry escaped my throat. Then I understood, quickly. I was a baby. A newborn baby. What had Death done to me?
"Congratulations, Miss Malfoy! It's a boy!"
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.