They say if you share the same name as a character in a trashy novel, you're doomed. I used to think that was a joke. It wasn't.
One minute, I was sitting in my air-conditioned apartment, holding a pair of chopsticks, eating beef brisket.
Blink.
The AC vanishes. The smell of beef is replaced by sulfur, rot, and dust. My butt hits jagged concrete. My apartment is gone. I'm sitting in a ruined city under a dead grey sky.
Flickering billboards buzz overhead: "Mythos Academy...Awakening Recruitment...Angels, Demons, Vampires..."
Mythos Academy? I look at the hologram, then at the desolate ruins, and finally at the piece of beef in my chopsticks.
"Where the hell am I?" Is this even Earth?
I swallow the meat and stand up to scan my surroundings. Desolate. Silent. No humans.
This place looks like it's been bombed.
Whoosh.
My foot isn't even back on the ground when my ears twitch. Something is coming. Fast. My hand goes to the hidden pistol under my pajamas.
A figure sprints toward me from the distance. He isn't running like a human. He is on all fours, bounding with terrifying speed and grace. Muscles ripple under his skin, tight and explosive. He leaps over a pile of concrete, soaring two meters into the air with zero effort. Ears pressed flat against his skull. A tail trailing behind him. Black fur bristling in the wind.
Ears? Tail? Wolf? Man? Werewolf? What the f—?
He flies over my head like a dark storm. For a split second, time seems to slow. I look up, and my gaze locks with his chaotic, blood-red eyes. The werewolf's nose twitches. He smells me. He glances back, confusion in his eyes, but he doesn't stop. He looks like he is being chased by something even worse. In a blink, he vanishes into the shadows.
A minute later, a few more bizarre-looking creatures—humanoid but definitely not human—run past.
Cosplayers? Or some weird roleplay?
I don't know, and I don't ask.
I shrink back into the shadows of a building, and they don't see me.
Tap. Tap.
A soft sound comes from the glass beside me. I turn around. Behind the dusty window, a boy is looking at me. His face is pale and exquisite, like a porcelain doll. He looks at the outside world with terror, then mouths at me: Come in! Danger!
"What?" I ask aloud.
He presses a finger to his lips, eyes wide, and points frantically behind me. I turn.
Fifty meters away, an invisible force tears space apart, revealing a pitch-black, circular void. A wormhole. And then, something crawls out. Two long, twitching antennae.
Oh, hell no. What is that thing?
A cockroach the size of a compact car falls out of the black hole. Its multifaceted eyes lock onto me instantly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I draw my gun. Three shots to the head. Perfect aim. But there is no blood. The bullets spark off its black carapace like they hit a tank.
"Bulletproof," I mutter coldly. "Of course."
I don't waste another second. I turn and sprint. The clicking of giant, spiked legs echoes right behind my heels.
Ahead, the boy struggles to lift a heavy metal shutter, leaving a narrow gap. I dive. My body hits the floor, rolling under the steel gate just as it slams shut.
BOOM. Dust rains down from the ceiling.
Outside, the monster screeches, ramming the metal again and again. The boy presses a finger to his lips, eyes wide with terror. We retreat into the deepest shadows, holding our breath until the scratching finally fades away.
The boy slides down the wall, gasping for air. Up close, he is ridiculously beautiful. Linen-colored hair, skin like white jade. A beauty so fragile it triggers a dark urge to shatter it.
I tap his shoulder to get his attention. "What was that?"
"Those are Zergs," he whispers. "They have sharp hearing but low intelligence. If we stay quiet, it will forget us."
"What?" I ask.
"Zergs," he says. "You haven't heard of them?"
I smile, trying to look harmless. "So, why are you here if there are giant bugs attacking?"
"I was heading to Mythos Academy," he says, clutching his chest. "But the Zergs attacked the transport. Now I'm stuck here, waiting for the students from the Academy to rescue us."
Mythos Academy...Why does that sound so familiar?
"And you?" he asks. "What are you doing here?"
"Tourism," I lie smoothly. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Arlo Napki."
Arlo. The name hits me like a bullet.
My memory clicks. Just yesterday, my rival mocked me with a trashy novel. It's a dark fantasy smut story where logic doesn't exist.
I am the vicious Villainess destined to be humiliated and killed. Arlo, the pathetic male villain who awakens the power of Narcissus—cursed with useless beauty and zero combat power.
I look at the shivering boy. He says he only survived this long because a nearby Fallen Werewolf distracted the swarm.
I take a deep breath. I didn't just travel to another world. I transmigrated into a pornographic novel as the bad guy.
"The wormholes," I ask, "Can they open anywhere?"
"There's no pattern," Arlo says, his lips pale. "They can appear anywhere, anytime. If one opens here...we're just unlucky."
"Impossible," I laugh. "I have great luck."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, Arlo's face goes white. Above us, the ceiling ripples. A wormhole opens. A slightly smaller cockroach—maybe the size of a motorcycle—pokes its antennae out to say hello.
"Run!" Arlo screams, scrambling to get up.
But I am already moving.
I smash the glass of a fire safety cabinet and pull out a heavy, red Fire Axe.
"W-What are you doing?" Arlo stammers, freezing in place. "Zergs have corrosive blood! Their shells are hard! They are immune to bullets! Normal people can't kill them!"
"Can or can't, we'll see after I try," I say, eyeing the joint between the monster's head and body. I kick off the wall, launching myself into the air. "And who said I was normal?"
The Zerg opens its mandibles. I catch its antennae mid-air and swing myself onto its back. I flip the axe in my hand. Thwack. I drive the blade precisely into the gap in its neck armor. I hold onto the handle for dear life as the monster thrashes. I twist the blade. Green slime sprays out. I dodge to the side, avoiding the corrosive splash. Below me, I can feel the axe handle melting from the acid.
"The weak point!" Arlo yells. "The pale spot on the belly!"
Good to know.
The Zerg snaps its head back to bite me. I use the momentum to slide down its side, swinging underneath its belly. I grip the melting axe handle with both hands. I see the pale spot.
CRUNCH.
The axe buries itself deep into the soft tissue. The Zerg lets out a deafening screech. Its body convulses violently. Its six legs kick the air in a frenzy. The light in its multifaceted eyes dies out.
Green fluid pools on the floor, smelling like death. I pull the axe out and lean on it, gasping for breath.
Arlo stares at me, dumbfounded. "Are...are you really here for tourism?"
Before I can answer, noise erupts outside.
Arlo's face lights up. "The Rescue Team from Mythos Academy! They're here!" He looks out the window. "An Angel...thank god."
A flood of golden light pours into the room. It is warm, gentle, yet piercing. I squint against the glare.
The leader descends from the sky. An Angel.
His wings are folded behind him—massive, snowy white, every feather looking as soft as a cloud. He has a face of absolute perfection. A straight nose, full lips, lines carved by God himself. Skin like pearls under moonlight. Eyes that glow with a faint, holy light. Silver-white hair flows down to his ankles.
Cherubim. One of the Upper Three Orders of Angels.
I know my mythology. Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones. Cherubim are known for having "many eyes" and the ability to gaze directly at the light of God. They accept the light without emotion, purely and openly.
I look at his wings. Damn. They are real.
His gaze sweeps over us. His silver eyes are empty of emotion as he looks into the distance.
He tilts his head slightly and speaks. "Clear the Zergs. Capture the Fallen Species alive. Purify the corruption."
Behind him, a group of students glides past silently to obey his orders.
The angel stands still. His gaze returns to me.
He looks at the green slime on my pajamas. He looks at the fire axe I am still holding, half-melted from the acid. Finally, he looks at my face.
"Are you an Awakener?" His voice matches his face—holy, distant, sounding like it comes from the clouds.
I tilt my head and give him a pure, innocent smile. Sorry, no idea.
"Did you kill this insect?" he asks.
"I did," I nod.
He makes a noncommittal sound.
He doesn't stay. He spreads his magnificent wings, preparing to take flight.
But before he goes, he looks at me one last time. "What is your name? If you are interested, you can come to Mythos Academy for testing."
I smile, my eyes curving into crescents.
"My name is Rea Reed."
I look at the dead monster, then back at the angel.
"Rea, as in...the Reaper."