Ashley's eyes fluttered open, her senses immediately assaulted by the overwhelming chaos around her. The ground beneath her shook with the heavy pounding of footsteps and the metallic clash of weapons. Soldiers screamed, both in rage and agony, as steel met flesh. Her head throbbed, and her vision blurred for a moment before sharpening to reveal the terrifying scene she was now in the midst of.
"Is this hell?" she thought, her heart racing as she looked around, trying to make sense of the nightmare. She staggered to her feet, and as she glanced down, confusion overtook her. The clothes she was wearing were foreign to her—heavy armor, smeared with dirt and blood. These were not the soft, comfortable fabrics she remembered, but rather the garb of a warrior. Her gaze shifted to her hands, and there, clutched tightly between her fingers, was a sword. It was gleaming in the flickering light of nearby fires, its edge wet with blood.
Her breath caught in her throat. She had never held a sword before, had never even seen one up close. Yet her hands gripped it with the familiarity of someone who had wielded it for years. Her body felt strong, agile, like a predator on the hunt. Instinctively, she swung the sword, and the motion was smooth, effortless. The blade sliced through the air with deadly precision.
What is happening? Her thoughts spun wildly, but there was no time for answers. The battle raged around her, and Ashley had to act. She didn't know who the enemies were, but they were coming toward her with murderous intent.
Her assassin's instincts took over. She dropped into a low stance, quickly assessing the soldiers charging at her. They were clad in armor, their faces hidden beneath helmets, but the hatred in their eyes was unmistakable. Her body moved without conscious thought, a reflexive reaction honed by countless battles, it seemed. She spun on her heel, her sword slashing through the air and cutting down the nearest attacker with ease.
There was no hesitation. No doubt.
Ashley slayed one soldier after another, her movements swift, efficient. Each swing of her sword was deadly, each thrust aimed with surgical precision. The battlefield was a blur of motion—flashes of steel, screams, and blood splattering the earth. Her mind was still reeling, still trying to piece together how she had ended up in this war zone, but her body knew what to do. She was a killer, and this was her element.
She cut through the enemy forces like a shadow, invisible until it was too late for them. Each soldier that fell by her hand brought her closer to her ultimate goal: the king. If she could find him, take him down, this nightmare would end faster.
Her sharp eyes scanned the horizon, and there it was—the grand palace. Its towering spires pierced the smoke-filled sky, and its walls glowed with a golden light, standing in stark contrast to the blood and chaos surrounding it. Without a second thought, Ashley pushed forward, cutting down anyone who dared to stand in her way. Her body moved with grace and deadly accuracy, slipping past enemies, parrying blows, and dealing death with every swing of her blade.
The closer she got to the palace, the fiercer the resistance became. But Ashley didn't falter. Her breathing was steady, her mind focused on a single task: kill the king. She dodged arrows, deflected swords, and broke through the final line of defense. Her heart pounded as she neared the entrance, her boots pounding against the stone steps as she stormed inside.
The palace was a stark contrast to the battlefield outside. The court hall was magnificent, its floors polished to a mirror-like shine, its walls adorned with tapestries of gold and crimson. Tall pillars framed the room, and at the far end, seated upon a grand throne, was the king. His regal robes and jeweled crown gleamed in the torchlight, but his expression was one of fear, not authority.
Ashley's eyes locked onto him.She felt no pity, no remorse for what she was about to do. Her steps echoed in the cavernous hall as she advanced toward him, her sword still dripping with the blood of his soldiers.
"Don't come any closer!" the king barked, his voice quaking despite his attempts to sound powerful. He rose from his throne, his eyes wild with fear. "You'll never escape! My men will find you! They'll hunt you down and kill you!"
Ashley said nothing, her expression unreadable. His threats washed over her, meaningless. There was no escape needed; she wasn't running. She was here to end this. Her steps quickened as she neared the throne, and the king's bravado crumbled. He stumbled backward, tripping over the steps leading up to his throne.
Without a word, Ashley raised her sword high and brought it down in a swift, brutal arc. The blade sliced cleanly through the king's neck, severing his head from his body. Blood sprayed from the wound as his lifeless body crumpled onto the throne, the crown tumbling from his head and clattering to the floor.
The hall was deathly silent. Ashley stood there for a moment, her chest heaving as she stared at the fallen king. It was over. Or so she thought.
Just as she turned to leave, a small, strangled gasp caught her attention. Her muscles tensed, and she immediately whirled around, her sword raised. Emerging from behind the throne was a young woman, her face pale with terror. She stumbled forward, trembling so violently that she nearly collapsed.
"P-please," the woman stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please... show mercy..."
She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she begged for her life. Ashley hesitated, her sword still raised, unsure of what to do next. This woman was not a soldier, not someone who had raised a weapon against her. She was just... there.
For the first time since waking up in this strange, bloody world, doubt flickered in Ashley's mind. Could she show mercy? Could she spare this woman's life?
Her grip on the sword tightened as she stared down at the woman, the choice hanging in the air like a blade.