The Scumbag’s Second Life

5. Chaos

As the assassin tried to stab Hazrad straight through with a long sword, the blade struck an invisible barrier—shattering in half on impact.

"Tsk… a barrier, huh? Such cowardly tricks! As expected from the Fallen Huntress!" the assassin spat.

Hazrad panicked, confused about everything but very relieved he wasn't dead.

"If I can't kill you, I'll just kidnap ya!" the assassin hissed, lifting him off his tiny bed.

Azra's barrier protected him from physical attacks—not from being snatched like luggage.

But then something neither Hazrad nor the assassin expected happened.

The shadows beneath them rippled like black liquid. From the floor, shadowy hands materialized—long, taloned, and hungry. They clamped onto the assassin's legs, claws digging in deep, peeling off skin like wet paper, his bone gleaming beneath as blood sprayed across the room.

The man's eyes widened behind his mask. His heartbeat thumped so loudly Hazrad could hear it. He screamed, hurling Hazrad to the floor. The baby hit the ground with a painful thud, his fragile limbs nearly snapping.

"AHHH—AHHHH!! WHAT IS THIS?! I'M SORRY!! I WON'T— I WON'T STEAL THE KID!! I HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS WAITING FOR ME AT HOME!! SHOW MERCY!!!"

He wailed, begging, but the stench of his blood woke the beasts sleeping in the backroom.

Hazrad heard low growls from the dog house. Footsteps thudded across the floor.

Kiiiik—!

The backdoor screeched open. Two massive cerberus dogs padded out, their eyes glowing red in the dark.

Hazrad couldn't lift his head enough to see. One moment the dogs emerged, the next—

the assassin's screams were snuffed out.

Only the crunch of bones between jagged teeth, and the steady drip of blood hitting the floor, remained.

Despite being a mature soul inside an infant's body, Hazrad burst into tears, wailing loud. Even in his past life, a sight like this would've made his knees buckle and his pants turn warm after pissing on himself

"Number 16 is dead!!"

"Attack all at once!!"

Voices echoed outside the house. They were surrounded. Dozens of assassins had gathered, all here just to kill him.

Bang!!

Glass at the windows exploded as assassins swarmed in like a hive of enraged hornets.

But then:

"Ugh… a lady can't sleep in peace with all you rowdy bastards around, huh?" Azra's lazy, half-asleep voice drifted from her room.

She emerged wearing nothing but orange panties and a matching short top. Even in the dark, her abs were perfectly visible.

Her messy orange hair stuck everywhere until she brushed it behind her ear.

She lifted her hand lazily, murmuring something under her breath.

The shadows on the floor thickened, darker and denser than before.

One assassin, bigger than the rest, clearly their leader stepped forward while the others fanned out. He wore a black mask and carried a scythe in his right hand.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Fallen Huntress protecting an abomination," he crooned.

The cerberus beasts growled but didn't attack. His aura screamed danger, and the scythe in his hands was no ordinary weapon—one hit meant the body died and the soul vanished forever.

Azra wasn't even remotely bothered.

"I was having a great dream, y'know. Then you idiots showed up. I expected a few empty skulls to ambush me tonight, but damn—you really pissed me off."

"Heh!" the leader scoffed. "I thought you'd have killed the brat by now, since you hate abominations yourself. But I guess it's true. You're nothing but a shadow of what you used to be. No wonder they call you the Fallen Huntress."

Hazrad's crying quieted. The room was filled with tension. Even his baby forehead began to sweat.

Azra glared at them—murder in her eyes.

The leader was no ordinary reaper. He was an Archreaper, one of the highest in their hierarchy. Only Archreapers received divine catastrophic weapons like the one in his hand after all.

Well, all except her. Hers had been confiscated long ago.

"Mock me all you want," she muttered. "I was ordered to raise this kid. I'll decide his future. If he's worthless, I will be the one to kill him. So back off before I do something you'll regret."

"Bwahahaha!" the leader roared, joined by the chorus of his minions. "Big talk for a weaponless archreaper!"

"Very well," Azra said, voice dropping to something cold. "We failed to reach an understanding. So now—you'll suffer."

She crouched, touching the floor, and whispering something.The shadows moved.

"ATTACK!!!" the assassin leader shouted.

Before the assassins could throw their kunai or whatever else at her, the shadows surged. Dark tendrils erupted from the ground, swirling with incredible speed and stabbing into the minions one by one.

"W-what?! What IS this?!" they screamed.

But Azra's tendrils didn't kill them. That would violate the sacred Laws of Death. They simply pinned them down—immobilized.

All so that—

Chomp!

One cerberus lunged and devoured a minion's head in a single bite, leaving only a spurting stump of a neck.

The other dog growled and leapt, ripping through the rest—biting, tearing, swallowing.

One after the other.

"W-what?!" the leader gasped, clutching his scythe like a child with a blanket. "She's playing dirty!! Using her dogs to kill so she doesn't break the sacred laws herself!"

The house became a slaughterhouse.

Blood sprayed across the walls. Flesh and bone littered the floor. Twelve minions died.

None survived.

Only the leader remained.

Azra walked toward him through the carnage, stepping on dead bodies and blood, her expression bored, her shadow tendrils towering behind her like demonic guardians.

"Don't come near me, you MONSTER!!" he shrieked, swinging his scythe. A golden arc shot out, but the shadow tendrils blocked it effortlessly.

"Hazrad's identity is confidential," Azra said calmly. "Only headquarters knows he's an abomination. As much as I'd love to end your pathetic life, you're too important. Killing you brings trouble. So I'll let you live—if you agree not to interfere again."

The man trembled uncontrollably.

"You—you'll pay for this, bitch!!!" he screamed, leaping out the window.

The cerberus dogs looked to Azra.

"Nah… let him run. I've already caused too much imbalance killing his minions. We don't want more rifts, do we?"

The dogs bowed, then watched the leader flee in terror.

"Clean up the mess, boys. We don't want any evidence of this carnage remaining." Azra ordered, picking Hazrad off the floor and carrying him to her room.

The cerberus dogs began eating the corpses, licking blood off the wooden floor, destroying the evidence.

And Hazrad learned something painful.

A lot of people wanted him dead.

No one loved him.

Not even Azra.

The goddess did say she'd send me to a world where everyone despises me… but damn, I didn't think it'd be THIS bad, he thought bitterly.

But another realization hit him.

Azra was terrifyingly strong.

I need to be strong too, he told himself, clenching his tiny fist.

Stronger than her. Strong enough to survive.

Strong enough to kill her… if she ever decides I'm worthless.

TBC