A dagger plunged into the chest's center with chilling precision.

Another found its mark in the groin, a vicious strike.

Two more blades buried themselves in the left thigh and quadriceps, leaving a trail of crimson in their wake.

The fifth dagger cut through the right knee, its cruel edge emerging on the other side in a macabre display.

The sixth blade grazed the left shoulder, causing profuse bleeding.

A seventh dagger sank deep into the left foot, breaching even steel-plated boots and nearly severing the toes.

The eighth and ninth strikes were the most lethal, carving wide and deadly gashes across the abdomen that nearly merged, a testament to the viciousness of the assault.

Lying motionless on the rain-soaked ground, my body bled endlessly as I stared up at the dreary sky. Surrounding me were the remnants of the Thirteen Months Team, a fraction of their former selves.

Despite the surprise attack, I had managed to take down 4 out of the 13, a testament to my prowess. They, on the other hand, appeared more fatigued than I, a fact that brought a sardonic smile to my lips.

The surviving 9 members huddled nearby, their breaths ragged, seemingly relishing my imminent demise.

"Nine stabs from the Series of Lucifer’s Claws not enough to finish you off, Ash Wyvern?" one of them taunted, kneeling beside me.

Another, too exhausted to stand, sat heavily on the wet ground, "Perhaps he requires the remaining 4 strikes?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at their words, eliciting startled looks from the nine. "Considering I've been cursed for the last three years, my powers unstable," I managed to rasp out, blood filling my mouth, "these nine daggers should suffice to end me."

One of them, standing by my head, lightly tapped my neck with his foot. "Wipe that smirk off your face. You're on your deathbed; shouldn't your life be flashing before your eyes?" he sneered.

My smirk deepened at his words, and somehow, I mustered the strength to raise my right hand toward a bracelet artifact adorning my left wrist. This artifact had been my safeguard, a means to control my unstable magic and protect my body from the curse. But now, as I lay in this dire state, it held no significance. With effort, I detached it from my wrist.

"Then tell me," I whispered almost inaudibly, my magical energy beginning to surge, causing the nine of them to flinch in unease. "Are you nine witnessing your lives flash before your eyes as well?"

Their expressions flickered with fear, an acknowledgment of the impending reckoning they faced.

"Run! All of you, run!" shouted the one beside my head, his body glistening with rain and sweat as panic seized him. "He's going to kill us! Run!"

Their comrade's warning, coupled with the escalating power I radiated, spurred all nine survivors into a frenzied attempt to flee, driven by the primal instinct to survive.

Yet, I refused to grant them the luxury of escape. With a surge of my magic, I intensified the gravitational force in our vicinity, pinning their bodies to the ground with an unyielding weight that cracked the earth beneath them.

As they succumbed to the crushing gravity, the atmosphere around us grew heavier by time. Their frantic gasps turned into choked sputters as they suffocated, trapped by both the physical and metaphysical forces I wielded.

For my final stroke of devastation, I drew upon every iota of magical energy within reach, absorbing it into myself with voracious hunger. With a thunderous release, I unleashed an explosive barrage, a culmination of unleashed power and overwhelming gravity, ensuring their demise in a cataclysmic display of destruction, shattering their bodies all over the place, their blood joining the dance of the rain for mere seconds.

I never imagined that I, Ash Wyvern, revered as the greatest talent in the realm of Aethel, would meet his end pierced by 9 of Lucifer’s Claws. As I lay here, their bodies scattered all around me—I managed to take down all of them before succumbing to this final moment.

The rain fell around me, but I no longer felt its cool touch on my skin. This numbness, this darkness creeping in as my eyes remain open yet unseeing, was the cold embrace of death. Why did the Thirteen Months, champions of the Gloria Kingdom, target me so ruthlessly? Who ordered my assassination, and what transgression did I unknowingly commit?

While I am no stranger to the shadows as an assassin, I cannot recall crossing paths with the royalty in a manner deserving of such retribution. However, my stature and influence made enemies aplenty, offering myriad motives for my demise.

As the veil of consciousness faded, questions swirled in my mind, but one truth remained—I, Ash Wyvern, faced my end with the same defiance that defined my life.

Okay then… Hell… Here I come!

…

Hmm…

Haa…

Fuu…

Okay, hold up a minute. Maybe kicking the bucket wasn't the worst thing ever. It's dark as a black hole down here, but weirdly peaceful. Safe, even. Like being tucked into a super deep sleep, but weirdly aware? Plus, the temperature change is wild! One minute I'm a popsicle, the next I'm drowning in a pool of... massaging oil? Seriously, whoever's in charge of the afterlife ambiance gets an A+ for comfort.

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Just a smidge worried about the snug quarters, though. Did they shove my whole afterlife into a carry-on bag? Nah, that can't be it. Carry-on bags aren't this, well, squishy. More like a giant stress ball someone's been working out on. Note to self: complain about the lack of legroom later.

Wait, is that... light? It's faint, but getting bigger! And a breeze? Not exactly what I pictured for the Great Beyond, but hey, a little ventilation is always nice. Maybe this whole "dead" thing isn't so bad after all. Especially if they're handing out complimentary massages down here. Unless, of course, this is some kind of twisted hell trick. Nah, way too comfy for that. On the other side of this opening... could this be it? The big reveal?

Alright, the light at the end of the tunnel – literally! – is getting bigger. Looks like I can squeeze my head through, but the rest of me is stuck tighter than a clam. Guess head first is the only way out of this... afterlife tunnel, I guess. Gotta analyze the situation before I make a full break for it. Hope this isn't some kind of demonic torture chamber, though.

Hold on, there are voices! And in my native Glorian tongue, no less! Maybe I'll find some fellow assassins out there for some post-life camaraderie. Wait... what are they saying?

Two women, definitely. And they sound... well, terrifying. One of them is screaming like a banshee, her voice cracking with every agonizing cry. Every time she pauses for breath, only to erupt in another scream, the pressure around me intensifies, pushing me closer to the light.

The other woman, though, is a voice of steely resolve. She's yelling, but not in fear – in encouragement. "Keep pushing! Keep pushing!”

“You can do it, come on!”

“Push harder! The head is almost out! We'll finally get it!"

Wait. The head? Are they...? Holy crap. They can't be talking about my head, can they?

"Keep pushing!!!" the voice shrieked again. That bloodcurdling scream sent shivers down my non-existent spine. This wasn't camaraderie – this was pure, unadulterated terror. Succubus in hell? No thanks! I tried yanking my head back, desperate to stay in the cramped – but strangely comforting – darkness. Better the squish than an eternity of flames, right? Everyone's gotta have their dealbreakers, and mine was definitely an endless inferno.

But against that unseen force, resistance was futile. For every inch I pulled back, two more were shoved forward. My head and shoulders were out, exposed to a bone-chilling cold that had nothing to do with fire. This wasn't hell – it was something far worse.

"You there! Make way for the newbie!" the steely voice boomed again. Newbie? In hell? A sliver of hope flickered. Maybe this wasn't hell after all. Just as I cracked open an eye, ready to face whatever horrors awaited, a deafening roar filled the air.

Then, blinding light. Not the fiery kind, but the kind that comes from… a magical lantern? Confused and disoriented, I blinked, taking in the sight of two masked figures in scrubs, their faces grim with concentration.

"We're almost done," one said, her voice devoid of the earlier urgency. "Just a little more..."

Wait. Scrubs? magical lantern? Almost done? What the hell was going on? This wasn't hell. This was… a room in a royal castle or something? It looked kind of cool after all. But how…? My last memory was… Never mind, I don’t want to think about that.

"We did it," one of them said, her voice surprisingly calm. "Welcome to the world, little one."

Wait. Welcome to the world? Little one? Panic clawed at my throat. This wasn't hell. This was… a delivery room? My last memory flickered once more – a blinding light, a searing pain… then darkness. Had I…?

Realization dawned, cold and shocking. I hadn't been delivered to hell – I'd been reborn. Reincarnated into a tiny, fragile body. The comforting darkness wasn't the afterlife; it was the insides of a vagina. A wave of emotions washed over me – confusion, disorientation, and a strange sense of wonder. This wasn't a bad start for my new life, after all. A fresh beginning. A chance to write a new story.

Warm water, infused with a calming lavender scent, soothed my skin as the gentle hands of the lady who delivered me bathed me. A soft towel, unlike anything I'd known, enveloped me. In Aethel, nudity wouldn't be an issue, but here...well, these strange visors seemed to be the norm.

The Banshee Queen, my new mother as I decided, looked ready to crumble. Yet, a determined smile stretched across her face as she took me in her fatigued arms, her emerald green eyes crinkling at the corners despite drooping lids. Up close, she was breathtaking. Long, straight blonde hair framed flawless white skin, and even with faint shadows beneath her eyes, I knew rest would restore her radiance. Thank you, new Mother, for pulling me from that darkness.

By her side stood a man, his face obscured by a matching visor and a curious paper-like hat, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders. As if sensing my gaze, he lowered the visor, revealing a neatly trimmed black beard and a smile as warm as the lavender water. The father, I presumed. A pleasure to meet you both, at last.

"Welcome, Lily..." The man's voice, a warm rumble beneath his worry, washed over me as his gentle hazel eyes met mine. Wavy black hair tumbled over his forehead as he carefully scooped me into his arms, allowing my mother some much-needed rest.

"Sorry, honey," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes despite the exhaustion etched on his face. "Seems Lily here stole my heart at first sight."

A ripple of soft laughter filled the room as the two other women – nurses, I presumed – exchanged amused glances. Even through his teasing words, his love for his wife radiated from him. This man, my father, already possessed a charming wit, as evidenced by this first encounter.

Lifting her head slightly, Mom managed a weak smile. "Isn't she supposed to cry, Doctor?" she rasped, exhaustion tinged with a hint of amusement. Her question hung in the air as Dad continued rocking me gently, my tiny body nestled comfortably against his warmth.

"Some newborns are quiet observers," one of the nurses replied, her voice kind as she removed her mask. The two ladies seemed to exude a calm efficiency that spoke volumes of their skill. "Mrs. Lapis, you'll be here for observation for three days. Don't hesitate to call if you or Lina –" she glanced at me with a smile – "need anything, Mr. Lapis."

"Lapis" then, I suppose. Not the most intimidating name for a former assassin of my caliber, but hey, it'll do. "Lina"? Ugh, that saccharine nickname practically gave me heartburn. Lily? Seriously, folks? The Ash Wyvern, scourge of Aethel, reduced to a flowery nickname fit for a princess. A far cry from the respect I once commanded.

But a disquiet settled over me, a gnawing sense of something missing. In my past life, a certain... accouterment was as much a part of me as my shadow. Two cherished jewels and a slender pipe, nestled between my thighs, were not just tools – they were badges of honor, symbols of my deadly prowess. I'd planned to carry that legacy forward, even in this new form.

Except... I couldn't feel them. Panic clawed at my throat. Then, the horrifying truth dawned on me. The cost of rebirth wasn't just a change of scenery and a wardrobe downgrade. It was a complete overhaul, my very essence stripped bare.

A strangled sob escaped my lips, not a cry of a newborn seeking comfort, but a lament for a lost identity. This wasn't just about missing tools; it was the crushing realization that the Ash Wyvern was truly gone. In his place lay a helpless babe, a blank slate named Lina, staring into a future as uncertain as her own anatomy.

Yup, I was reborn, in a girl’s body.