Most people of the Abyss are almost as pale as her. She has never looked this normal amongst others. A little grime on her skin, and she passes as one of them. She can move among them if needed but cannot carry her sword. No one in their right mind that could afford such a weapon would stay in the Abyss. She keeps it hidden in a tunnel. She's hesitant to go to certain places for the first time in as long as she can remember. One grown man, perhaps two, she can fight without a weapon. But it isn't a risk she is willing to take.

She sees something stirring from where she sits in the tunnel's shadows. One of the gangs walks by. A larger group than usual. Something bad is always about to happen when they congregate. They go to the vendor that sells her the mysterious stew. They say something to him. She can't hear what, but something nasty will happen. A man violently pushes the vendor as another grabs his daughter and holds a knife against her neck.

Vyss feels her heart rate increase. Stay calm, don't reveal yourself. There are eyes and ears everywhere. The rumors would spread to the upper circles. They haven't forgotten. They never will. Calm. Breathe.

The man with the knife cuts the girl's cheek. She cries, she bleeds. The father is going mad as the other men hold him back. Wonder what his crime is. Probably borrowed some credits and didn't pay them back on time. They're making an example out of him. That's why they do it here for everyone to see. The daughter, though, has done nothing. She is too young to even understand the context of the situation. They put the girl's hand on the table. A man draws a large knife.

Vyss is sitting in the shadows. The next moment, an arm flies through the air, its hand still gripping the knife. Then a head, then another arm. The men can't make sense of the violent chaos. Their minds can't process why there suddenly are body parts flying everywhere, why there is blood spraying from arteries. Why there's a wraith with a sword amongst it all. She doesn't stop before they are all on the ground. Dismembered. Dying. She doesn't want them to die. She wants them to live their wretched lives without their worthless limbs.

Around her is a circle of onlookers staring at the obscenity she has created, like an artist sculpting flesh and bone. She swallows and takes a deep breath. This is the first moment after the fact of her sealing her doom. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but soon she will be dead. There is nothing she can do about it.

From here on, no action matters. No act can change her fate but modify the path that leads to the inevitable. If she fights, she will die. If she runs, she will die. If she hides, she will die. If she kills herself, she will die. The latter option seems the lesser evil. Xerïon will get what they want for free, but her treacherous former colleagues will get nothing. She feels more spite against them than the faceless corporate giant. And the deceitful bitch is already dead.

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

She slowly walks towards the edge of the Void. The great chasm in the middle of the Abyss. It is akin to a bottomless lake of darkness. She hopes it has a bottom. What else will her body be crushed against? Over what else will her brain splatter? The morbid thought gives her some solace. After the fact, she will never have to kill again. She will never have to inject the disgusting drug not to feel horrible. A deep breath. She takes a step closer, so close she can without falling.

Womb of the void, claim me again.

"Hey," a voice calls for her, "It's not that day today."

Then, she feels someone gently touch her shoulder. She turns and sees an old man with eyes obscured by cataracts. They radiate compassion from somewhere behind the opalescence. His skin is like thin and pale parchment.

"Come with me," he says.

They enter a tunnel, sit, and rest their backs against the wall. She has regained most of her composure.

"I'm thankful," she says, "I'm thankful for you saving me, but it's pointless. I'm going to die anyway."

"I'm closer to death than you are, girl," he says as he plays with a silver locket.

She chuckles and says, You don't understand the situation. I'm hunted by the best assassins credits can buy and a humungous prize is on my head. After today, they know where I am.

"I know," he says. "I'm not born yesterday. Everyone has heard about what happened at Xerïon. Everyone is out to get you and those millions. It was quite obvious today that you're no ordinary girl. That you must be the rogue assassin."

"I'm stuck, and they're coming," she says.

"I know a way out from here," he says.

"Out? Isn't the entire point of the Abyss that you can't get out?"

"They are like mazes, these tunnels. One gets lost very easily. It's not the monsters that have to be feared. Getting lost is what kills you. Most of them are deathtraps, but at least one is traversable."

"Have you gone through it?"

"No."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I don't know, but I believe. This man showed up here in the Abyss when I was a child. Weird clothes. Weird accent. Didn't like talking about himself much. I don't think many noticed him. I don't think he wanted to be noticed. He entered one of the tunnels, and I never saw him again. I still remember exactly which tunnel it is."

"Why do you need me?"

"You seem competent with that sword of yours."

"You said there weren't any monsters."

"Maybe not in the tunnels, but I know for certain there will be outside. There are many monsters in the world. Human and otherwise. I want to have you with me to chop their heads off if needed. I'll point, and you chop."

"Fair enough. So, you're willing to risk it all on a childhood memory?"

"Certainly."

"And I have no choice," she chuckles, "I have no choice but to follow a crazy old man into inevitable death."

"Do you hear that?" she says.

"The sirens? Yes. A rift is opening. You haven't experienced it?" says the man.

"No, never. I've only heard the stories."

"Be thankful for that."