"I'll die… this time… for sure…"
Xian's voice cracked as the words escaped her mouth, barely audible over the wet sound of blood dripping onto the floor. Every breath she took felt wrong, shallow and painful, as if her lungs were fighting against the rest of her body.
The pain in her abdomen surged again.
Below her chest, a gaping hole had torn open, wider than a clenched fist. Her insides were exposed, slick and trembling as her intestines slipped out of place, hanging uselessly as if they had been ripped free from their purpose. Blood poured endlessly from the wound, spreading across the gray tiles and soaking into the cracks, painting the floor in deep crimson.
She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel her right arm.
All she could feel was her open stomach.
The pain came in waves—burning, crushing, overwhelming—flooding her nerves until there was nothing else left in her world. Even the phantom pain from her missing left arm screamed at her mind, as if it were still there, being torn apart all over again.
She tried to move.
Her body didn't respond.
Her will, however, refused to break. With everything she had left, Xian slowly turned her head despite the tearing pain that followed the movement. Her vision was blurred, smeared with blood leaking from her temples, but she could still see what lay ahead.
Corpses.
Her team.
They were scattered across the floor, twisted and broken, limbs bent at wrong angles, bodies torn open as if they had been treated like toys. Blood pooled beneath them, some already cold, some still fresh. These were people she fought with.
"Ugh…" Xian groaned, her throat raw.
Then she saw him.
A man dragged a body toward the center of the room. He was tall—almost the same height as her—but far wider, his build massive and unnatural. His arms were grotesquely long, muscles swollen and painted in dark violet skin. Thick veins bulged across his chest, crawling up his neck and spreading over his bald head like twisted roots.
The body he dragged was limp.
John.
Her best friend.
The man suddenly stopped. He sensed her breathing.
Turning his head, he looked at her and grinned. His lips curled back, revealing teeth stained white and red. His violet eyes locked onto her shaking form.
"Heh heh…" he laughed softly. "I'll let you suffer a little longer."
He took his time walking forward.
"In the meantime," he continued, his voice filled with cruel amusement, "I'll tell you what really happened."
Bam!
He threw John's body forward without hesitation. The corpse slammed into the ground, bones cracking on impact as blood splattered outward in every direction. The man stepped over him and casually sat down on the lifeless body, as if it were nothing more than a chair.
"Your team," he said, chuckling, "was set up by that guy with glasses."
His laughter grew louder, rough and ugly.
"You trusted his management," he mocked. "Believed he had everything under control. But to him? You were all disposable."
Xian's heart pounded weakly. Blood filled her mouth, and she coughed, red spilling from her lips.
"Disposable," the man repeated, shaking his head. "I really can't believe how stupid you all were."
He suddenly stopped laughing.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his gaze back to Xian.
"Let me tell you something else," he said calmly. "You were sacrificed."
Her vision shook.
"All of you," he continued, "were traded in exchange for your team's powers."
Then he burst into laughter again, louder than before, clutching his stomach as if the joke was too good.
"Why?" he sneered. "Because he already figured out how to transfer abilities to someone else!"
Xian's body trembled. The pain was unbearable now, her consciousness flickering. Her skin turned pale, cold sweat covering her body as blood continued to leak from her open abdomen.
With the last strength she had, she forced words out, her voice raw and filled with hatred.
"I… I'll kill you…"
The threat was weak, but the intent behind it was pure.
Her vision darkened. The world began to fade.
As her breath failed and her body finally gave in, Xian whispered her final words through blood-stained lips—
"I'll kill you all."
...
"Ah!"
Xian screamed as pain tore through her body, her scream cutting sharply through the air. Her entire frame shivered violently from head to toe, as if something inside her had been ripped open again.
The pain in her abdomen exploded without warning.
What had once been a single, focused agony spread wildly, crawling through her chest, spine, and limbs like fire rushing through dry grass. Instinctively, both of her hands clutched her stomach, pressing hard against where the wound should have been. Her palms felt warmth—too warm—but her mind barely registered it. Every thought, every sense, was drowned out by the violent, pulsing pain that refused to stop.
It felt real.
Too real.
"Wh—what…?" she groaned, her voice trembling as she struggled to open her eyes.
Her vision was blurry at first, clouded and unfocused, as if she were staring through thick fog. Slowly, shapes began to form. Lights—too many lights. Tall buildings stood around her, glowing with signs and windows. Cars lined the streets, their headlights shining brightly. People filled the roads, walking, laughing, shouting.
Noise.
Loud, constant noise.
Some people held small objects that popped and exploded harmlessly in the air. Others waved glowing sticks or stared down at their phones, smiling. Fireworks cracked in the sky, bursting in bright colors above the buildings.
Electricity.
Light everywhere.
Celebration.
Strange…
Wasn't there no electricity at all?
Her breath hitched.
They're celebrating…
New Year…
The realization struck her all at once.
Her eyes snapped open wider.
For the first time since the pain started, her mind found a small gap—just enough to think. She became aware of her surroundings, of where she was standing. And then came another realization.
Her scream had drawn attention.
People were staring at her.
Xian looked down and realized she was standing in the middle of a pedestrian crossing, frozen in place. Faces around her showed confusion and concern. Some stepped back, others whispered.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The sound of horns snapped her fully back to reality.
She turned her head and saw rows of vehicles stopped just a few meters away, drivers leaning out of their windows, honking impatiently. The road was blocked—by her.
She took a step forward, intending to move out of the way.
Pain slammed into her again.
It was worse than before.
Her abdomen burned violently, twisting and crushing as if something inside her was tearing itself apart. She looked down in panic—but there was nothing. No hole. No blood. No exposed flesh.
Nothing was there.
Yet the pain felt identical.
Her legs gave out.
Xian dropped to her knees, hands clawing at her stomach as her vision swam. Her thoughts scattered, unfocused, desperate to escape the sensation. She tried to think of anything else—anything—to distract herself.
It didn't work.
The pain refused to fade.
For nearly a minute, she convulsed in the middle of the road, gasping silently, her body trembling uncontrollably. The horns continued blaring, but now voices joined in—people shouting, calling for help.
Several passersby rushed toward her.
Three of them reached her first, kneeling beside her as traffic was forced to stop entirely.
"Miss?"
"Hey, can you hear us?"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
One man stepped forward, clearly taking charge. He wore round glasses and a lab coat beneath a heavy suit, as if he had just come from work. His beige-colored hair was neatly cut, and his face carried a calm, professional look.
He knelt down in front of Xian and leaned closer.
As he reached out to brush her messy bangs away from her face, his hand froze.
Then he pulled back sharply.
Xian's eyes were wide open.
They stared ahead, unfocused, glassy, filled with pain and terror. Her mouth hung open, as if she were trying to scream or breathe—but nothing came out.
No breath.
No movement.
Her body was completely still.
The man checked her pulse.
Nothing.
"She—" his voice faltered. "She's not breathing."
Xian died from the pain.
...
December 30, 17:25
Inside a tall and wide apartment building, one room near the very top floor sat in silence. It was positioned just below the rooftop, no different from the other rooms around it, yet it felt strangely isolated. The lights were off, leaving the space dark and lifeless, as if no one had entered it for a long time.
A sudden gust of wind rushed in through the slightly open window. The force was strong enough to pull the curtain aside, allowing the fading light of dusk to spill into the room. Orange and red hues painted the walls briefly, casting long shadows across the floor before slowly dimming again.
The room itself was simple.
A small sofa rested near the wall, barely wide enough for someone to lie down comfortably. And lying there—
—was Xian.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her head throbbed violently, pain pounding inside her skull like a hammer striking over and over again. She groaned softly, lifting one hand to press against her temple. The pain was sharp, but compared to what she remembered, it felt almost merciful.
"At least… it's not that pain…" she muttered weakly.
Her thoughts halted.
That pain.
Earlier?
Her breathing quickened as memories tried to surface, but her mind felt foggy, like something was blocking them.
"What the hell… happened?" she whispered.
She slowly sat up, her body stiff but intact. No blood. No missing limbs. No gaping wound in her abdomen. Just a dull ache and a headache that refused to fade.
"Where am I…?" she asked the empty room.
Her gaze shifted toward the window.
"Dusk…?"
The sky outside was painted in familiar colors—sunset orange blending into deep blue. Tall buildings stood in the distance, their windows reflecting the dying light. Streets below were visible, alive and orderly.
Too orderly.
Questions flooded her mind one after another, stacking endlessly with no answers to calm them.
She forced herself to stand, her legs shaky as she moved closer to the window. Each step felt unreal, as if her body was lagging behind her thoughts.
Outside, the world looked normal.
No monsters.
No ruins.
No screams.
Cars moved along the streets. Lights flickered on inside buildings. People walked calmly below, some heading home, others chatting as they passed by.
It looked like the world she once lived in.
Before everything ended.
"Impossible…" Xian murmured.
Her head suddenly pulsed again, sharper this time. She staggered back and dropped to one knee, gripping the furred carpet beneath her fingers.
"One thing… for sure…" she said through clenched teeth. "I remember."
Images flashed through her mind—blood, pain, screams, deaths. Her chest tightened as the memories tried to overwhelm her.
She pushed herself back up, refusing to stay down. Stumbling toward the corner of the room, she reached for the wall and found a familiar switch.
Click.
The room was instantly flooded with light.
Xian froze.
Her eyes locked onto the bright bulb above her, staring as if it were something divine. The glow was steady, warm, real.
"Light…" she whispered. "Electricity…"
Her heart began to race.
"But that can't be…" Her voice trembled. "The apocalypse made all electricity stop working…"
She slowly turned in place, confirming it again and again. The lights stayed on. No flickering. No failure.
Her breath became shallow.
"Don't tell me…" she said quietly. "I came back."
The thought terrified her more than death itself.
"From the future…?"
Her knees weakened.
"But I was dead," she said, her voice breaking. "I was killed… by that monster."
Her hand clenched into a fist.
"I…" She swallowed hard. "I died twice already."