The Assassin's End—A Life Without Freedom
The night of the mission hung heavy, a suffocating shroud.
It was a calculated risk, a final, desperate gamble by their handlers.
Orion and Viper moved as ghosts through the enemy compound, each step precise, each shadow a potential ally or a hidden trap.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant hum of machinery.
Every nerve in Orion's body was screaming, not just from the inherent danger of the task, but from the chilling certainty that Viper was just waiting for the perfect moment.
He had never known peace. From the moment he was old enough to wield a blade, his life was dictated by orders.
Targets, contracts, precision kills. Survival was a cycle—an endless chain of missions, always completed without question, without hesitation.
His hands, though skilled, felt less like his own and more like tools. The metallic scent of blood had been a constant, unwelcome companion.
But somewhere deep inside him, beyond the numbness that had become his only comfort, Orion wanted more.
He yearned for the vibrant world of Teyvat, for the boundless freedom he saw in Lumine's eyes on his flickering screen.
He had only felt true escape in one place—Genshin Impact, a world where power wasn't forced upon you, where people could live freely, drink beneath the stars, laugh without consequence. Even though it was just a game, it was his dream.
The Final Mission—The Moment That Changed Everything
The night was supposed to be routine. They had reached the Commander's chamber. A simple assassination, a target easily disposed of in his sleep. No witnesses, no complications.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor. And Viper had found their moment.
The betrayal came without warning. Orion had moved to secure the exit, his back briefly exposed. He registered a subtle shift in the air, a movement too swift, too silent even for his trained ears.
Then, a sudden, searing agony.
The sensation of a blade slicing through his back—a clean, effortless strike, perfectly executed, just as Orion had done to countless others before. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth.
He gasped, a wet, rattling sound, stumbling forward. The world, once so precise, so controlled, blurred and spun. Blood, warm and sticky, seeped into the cold pavement beneath him, a stark, spreading stain. The compound lights, once sharp, felt distant now, like an unraveling illusion.
"So this is how I die? Without meaning? Without purpose?" The thought was a choked, silent scream in his mind.
His life, a brutal tally of others' ends, was now ending for him. No grand finale, no last stand, just a quiet, ignominious bleed-out in the shadows.
Regret. It hit him then, like a tidal wave of ice and fire, stronger, far stronger, than the agony in his back. Regret for a life wasted, for the freedom he never truly had, for the boundless world he only ever saw through a screen, for the dream he never lived. For Lumine, whom he would never walk beside.
As the darkness swallowed him, reaching out with icy, crushing fingers, his mind screamed one last desperate, burning wish:
"If there's another life… let me have freedom."
"Let me live in a world without bloodshed, without these endless shadows."
"Let me go to Teyvat… to Mondstadt. Just once. Please."
Reincarnation—The Wish That Was Granted
When he opened his eyes, the cold grasp of death was gone. He wasn't dying anymore.
He was breathing, deeply, freely. His body felt impossibly light, vibrant, alive, untouched by the wounds of his past life, whole. No familiar ache, no phantom pain.
The scent of dandelions, sweet and delicate, filled the air, carried on a gentle, playful breeze.
The warmth of the sun stretched over sun-drenched rooftops, reflecting against the central fountain's gentle, splashing waters. Laughter—genuine, unrestrained laughter—danced through the cobbled streets. A bard's distant lyre music drifted on the wind.
Mondstadt.
He had wished for this with his dying breath. And somehow… impossibly… he was here. The world of his dreams, vibrant and real.
But Teyvat, he would soon learn, does not grant wishes freely. There is always a cost. And he would learn that soon enough.