“Nothing happened, she didn’t see anything," was the mantra I’d chosen to repeat in my mind as I got myself dressed, my ghostly visage burning a beet red as Rhythm stifled a snicker not six feet away. Once I’d gathered the scraps of my dignity strewn about the floor, I patted myself off. Fitting nicely into the very same outfit I’d taken my own life in, a frown painted itself under my nose.

“Why these clothes? It seems a bit…grim.” I ask, furrowing my brow and turning towards Rhythm. Catching a glimpse of my insecurity, she flashed a knowing smirk.

“If you’re scared of a simple uniform, you won’t make it very far as a New Angel. Besides, those clothes have changed too!” She retorted, poking a finger to my forehead.

“But you’ll just have to find out the how’s and why’s of that for yourself!” She paused for a moment after, and seemed pleased when I couldn’t hide the look of amusement I had upon hearing her teasing.

“Now then! About your payment, rebirth isn’t free you know. I need you to do something for me.” She spoke, turning on her heels.

“Ah, yes, of course. Well I’m not good at mathematics or art, but I’ve proved well with–”

“I need you to kill these people!” She declared.

“Y-hwhat now?” I flubbed back. But before I could ask for her to expound upon that, she opened a drawer and proceeded to dump fourteen PVC cards across her desk.

“Deviland is at war, Patchery. And these are the most dangerous contenders here. Some vying for power, others status. Some fight in the name of religion, and some for the thrill of bloodshed. These are ‘the Thirteen Devils of Deviland’! So get a good look at their names, and remember the faces of the ones with the ID photos still intact!”

My mouth was agape, my eyes widened as I stared at the mess she poured in front of me. My mind nearly refused to process what was just asked.

Now, I won’t lie. I’ve been known to have violent tendencies, but I’ve never acted as a hitman before! Though it was clear I was already in too deep to say no, I had a mountain of questions, but sometimes the only way to get a proper answer is not to ask. I complied with Rhythm, and stared long and hard at each ID card. Each one numbered, with the race of the individual seemingly marked below the standard identification details. They were as follows:

13. Mirror Solomon - Witch.

12. Nightmare Filo - Witch.

11. Eldric Imperium - Human.

10. Rosalyne Garth - New Angel.

9. Dorikoria Holiadore - Witch.

8. Lyricelica Lilac - Witch.

7. Nightmare Chocolia - Human.

6. Romero Allen Anderson - Witch.

5. Shockadelica Samson - Human.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

4. Verden Aesthmeire - New Angel.

3. Alexandra Alexandria Rosamaria Rosa - Status Unknown.

2. Adrien Katrina - Witch.

1. Crow Fortitude - Status Unknown.

And another, a fourteenth card, left mostly blank and split in half, and given how Rhythm mentioned the “Thirteen Devils” of Deviland, perhaps this one had already fallen victim to the warfare. Nevertheless, their name was Jaquelyn Frost, status unknown.

“Some Human, some New Angel, some Witches. All of which either hold or have the potential to wield Witchpower that could shake the earth and shatter the heavens. All of them, including you, Patchery!” She spoke excitedly, grasping onto me once more.

“Witchpower is innate in all living beings in Deviland, and through honing your mind and soul, you too can stand against and put an end to the urban warfare plaguing our hometown! Isn’t that cool!?” Her voice cracked as her nails dug into my shoulders.

Under any normal circumstances, I’d spend time deliberating my options here. The moral implications of taking a life versus staying loyal to the one who summoned me here, no doubt using her very own Witchpower to do so. But when one is faced with a woman roughly ten years their senior excitedly digging her claws into you in exchange for your dedication to cultivating a latent talent for magical powers, as well as giving free reign to crusade against evil witches, religious lunatics, and whatever that third option is supposed to be…Well, one may find it hard to say no.

I find it impossible to say no.

I blink, and already my feet have whisked me halfway up the spiral staircase leading to the entrance of the mausoleum. Rhythm delightedly clapping and prancing around me as I stride upwards.

“Ah, Patchery! Make sure you’ve memorized the faces and names on those cards! I only have one copy, so they stay with me!”

I stride upwards.

“Ah, Patchery! What spell did you use up on that cross? I saw how your mouth moved! Even if you used it unconsciously, you have to remember the name, right?”

I stride upwards.

“Ah, Patchery! Take these gloves to cover your hands! They should keep your Witchpower under control!” She chirped, tossing a pair of black leather gloves to the heavens. I simply strode onwards, lifting my hands in front of my face until the gloves slipped right on, like an angel descending from the heavens.

“Thank you for the gift, Rhythm. Sentimental things make me uncomfortable, but I promise to treasure and care for them.” I spoke unflinchingly, finally arriving at the top of the staircase and marching down the hall towards the entrance.

“Ah, Patchery…Don’t you have anything cool to say before you begin our grand crusade?” Clearly dejected, this yin-and-yang woman leaned forward towards me, tilting her head, walking backwards to maintain my pace. I stopped in my tracks, closing my eyes and balling my fists. The leather straining in my grip.

“Rhythm, or Carnivale, whatever you prefer…I spent the entirety of my previous life disappointing everyone, including myself. I spoke of projects and creative endeavors that never came to fruition. I failed college and nearly all my efforts in education. I was unable to keep a stable job or maintain a social life with friends and family. I simply lived complacent with the fact that I was still alive, and because of that I missed out on the innumerable joys of existence. I do not want to live that same life again. I do not simply wish to speak of my ambitions, to jail them within my mind.”

I opened my eyes, meeting her own. I spoke not by my tongue, but through my very soul.

“To hesitate is to die, Rhythm. I will not die again.”

The statue of a failed human being had cracked and crumbled to dust, and from within had sprouted a new Angel.

Marching forth, I reached the grand iron gate, and pressed a hand against it.

Without effort, the tonnes of metal slowly began to grind open, and I was baptized by the warm rays of sun that now blanketed the inner halls of the mausoleum. The sun roof provided a scant bit of illumination, but it was in this moment that I truly felt I was born once more.

Taking my first steps onto the obsidian meadow, breathing in the smell of fresh air and white lilies, I tilted my head back to meet Rhythm’s gaze.

“Now watch me blossom.”