Just the Beginning

"Astrea, have you been smoking?" Gina stormed through the door, her brows furrowing as she shot him a nasty glare.

Astrea blinked, momentarily dazed as he took in the sight of his college-girl beauty of a girlfriend.

There she was—Gina—with her delicate, fresh features, fair and smooth skin, and a tall, perfectly proportioned figure. She wore a white dress with soft pink floral patterns that gently hugged her shoulders, the off-shoulder cut showing just the right hint of elegance. Her black leather shoes added a subtle touch of class.

Everything about her—the outfit, her light makeup—was flawlessly coordinated, exuding youth and energy.

But she'd clearly rushed here; her chest heaved with each breath, and with that movement came a fleeting glimpse of a subtle, alluring curve just above the neckline.

The old Astrea from his previous life would've melted at the sight. Hell, Gina could wrap him around her finger with little effort back then.

She'd always been upfront about her distaste for smoking, claiming to have a strong allergy to the smell. She forbade him from ever lighting up. But today, as Astrea took in the situation, he noticed something peculiar.

Gina had obviously cleaned herself up nicely before coming over, but there was a faint trace of cigarette smoke clinging to her.

She didn't smoke. So where did the smell come from? The answer wasn't hard to figure out.

A blatant lie. Classic Gina.

Back in his last life, Astrea had been too blind to see through her games. He'd been a fool, stumbling from one manipulation to the next without even realizing it. But not anymore.

Now that he had a fresh perspective, it was all painfully obvious.

He chuckled bitterly to himself. Damn, I was such an idiot.

"You're here." He placed the cigarette on the table and raised his gaze, his face cold and expressionless.

Gina's frown deepened. She clearly didn't like his lack of reaction. Normally, she would've thrown a fit by now, yelled at him, and stormed off in a huff. But today, she seemed to have other priorities.

She just wanted to get this over with.

"Whatever. Where's the paperwork?"

"I already made an appointment online. We can go now," Astrea replied calmly.

"Hurry up. I've got other things to do," Gina snapped, cutting to the chase, not wasting another word.

She stomped closer, her face sour, and kicked Astrea lightly to get him moving.

That tone. That familiar gesture.

It was exactly like before. For ten long years in his previous life, Gina had treated him like this every day—standing on a pedestal, looking down on him like he was nothing more than her loyal, obedient servant.

Astrea had once given everything for her—without pride, without dignity—hoping that someday Gina would be moved by his devotion. What a joke!

If not for the knife in his back—the ultimate betrayal—Astrea would probably still be groveling like a loyal dog, letting her walk all over him.

But those days were over.

Astrea stood up, his gaze icy cold, drilling into Gina as though he were looking at a corpse.

Despite the oppressive heat of Star City's noon weather, a shiver ran down Gina's spine. The oppressive atmosphere made her feel suffocated.

The kick she had aimed at Astrea suddenly froze mid-air.

"W-What are you doing?" Gina's voice trembled, fear beginning to creep in. The Astrea she knew—the mild, soft-hearted pushover—was gone. The man in front of her felt like a complete stranger.

Astrea didn't respond with words. His actions spoke for him instead.

SLAP!

The sound echoed through the room.

Gina's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Staggering backward, she lost her balance and crashed to the floor.

"Are you insane, Astrea?! You loser! You actually hit me?! I'm calling the police—"

Her panicked screams were drowned out by the sound of the television blaring in the background. Astrea had already turned up the volume long before.

Gina clutched her swollen face, scrambling desperately toward the door, but found it locked. Astrea had already anticipated her every move.

"You… You planned this..." she muttered in disbelief, terror beginning to take root.

Astrea slowly advanced, his eyes dark and unreadable. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked hard, slamming her back onto the ground.

Gina trembled violently, her fear no longer masked by false bravado.

"How ironic," Astrea muttered, his voice low and chilling. "You want my house, while spreading your legs for another man?"

He crouched down in front of her, pulling a glinting, razor-sharp knife from his pocket. He pressed the blade lightly against her chin.

Gina's eyes widened in shock, her mind racing as she scrambled to salvage the situation.

"It's a misunderstanding! I swear!" she stammered, forcing a pitiful smile. "I… I didn't mean for things to look like that! You've got it all wrong!"

She launched into a desperate series of excuses:

"I just made a mistake—a mistake any normal girl might make!"

"It wasn't my fault! My friends dragged me there last night. I didn't even know that guy!"

"He used protection! It was basically like I kept my distance! One millimeter, okay? That still counts!"

"I'm the victim here too! Can't you just understand? I—I realize how good you are now! I'll never do it again!"

Her frantic pleading was cut short by the sudden buzz of a phone vibrating.

Gina froze, her face paling as panic flickered across her features. The noise only made her terror spike higher.

Astrea bent down, picking up Gina's fallen phone. He held it up to her face, forcing it to unlock with facial recognition.

The screen opened straight to her chat with someone labeled "Master." His eyes scanned the conversation, each message sending another wave of cold rage through his veins.

"Miss me, little slut?"

"Master, you're so bad! You've ruined me—I'm still shaped like you. I can't even drive straight anymore!"

"I've already greased the wheels at the housing office. Just bring Astrea over. Everything's ready."

"Got it, Master! Just wait for my good news!"

"Good girl. Now, say my name a few times. Let me hear you."

"Master… I'm still driving… ahh…"

Astrea scrolled down and found several sixty-second audio clips, along with a few explicit videos she had recorded at a red light.

"Wow… you really went all out," Astrea muttered, his voice low and cold.

He slammed the phone against Gina's face, the impact making her flinch. Her face was as pale as a sheet. No excuses she could give would mean anything now.

Suddenly, Gina snapped, breaking into a hysterical rant.

"Fine! Forget the facts—let's talk about your flaws!" she spat, her voice shrill and venomous.

"You think you're some innocent victim? Do you know how many men want me? I'm the campus queen of Star City University! Why the hell should I lower myself to be with a nobody like you—a damn orphan?"

She sneered, her tone growing even more spiteful.

"If it wasn't for Master's mission, I wouldn't have wasted a second on you! You weren't even worth pretending to like!"

She leaned in slightly, her eyes flashing with arrogance.

"Let me tell you something, loser. I'm backed by the Snyder family—and that's not all. I'm also under the protection of Aiken. You think you can lay a finger on me now?"

The Snyder family held some clout in Star City, and Gina was their princess. But it was Aiken she leaned on most—a key figure from the White family, the most powerful dynasty in the neighboring McGee nation. The White family had extended their influence into Star City, using it as a forward base for expansion. Aiken, the son of the family's third elder, was tasked with managing their operations here.

Astrea's family land had caught the interest of one of Aiken's real estate companies. Negotiations had gone nowhere, so they devised another plan—a scheme where they could have it all: control the property, degrade Astrea for sport, and enjoy the thrill of being the other man.

In his previous life, this plan had worked flawlessly. Gina had squeezed every last drop of worth out of him, funneling resources to Aiken. By the time the apocalypse came, Astrea's humiliation had already fueled Aiken's rise. The bastard had even gone on to become one of the ten strongest warriors—his sole claim to fame being that he was the only foreigner on the list.

Leading the charge to hunt Astrea down... How ironic!

Yet despite Gina's spiteful declaration, Astrea's expression didn't waver. His face remained calm, disturbingly so.

That was when Gina's composure finally shattered. True panic seized her heart as she realized something was horribly wrong.

Astrea chuckled softly, the cold smile on his face sending a chill down her spine. In a blur of movement, the knife in his hand flashed forward.

"Wait—no! Stop!" she screamed, but it was too late.

Astrea moved with terrifying precision, each strike calculated and efficient. As a woman, Gina had no hope of matching his strength. All she could do was writhe and scream in helpless terror.

He wasn't sloppy. He didn't stab wildly in a fit of rage. No—every thrust of the blade was deliberate, avoiding the major pain centers, ensuring she stayed conscious for as long as possible.

With two swift cuts, he severed the major veins behind both of Gina's knees, rendering her unable to move.

She fell to the floor with a thud, eyes wide in disbelief as warm, dark red blood began pooling beneath her legs.

Before she could even comprehend the situation, Astrea struck again. Two more slashes—this time across both her wrists, severing the radial arteries.

Blood gushed from the wounds like a fountain, painting the room in crimson. Gina gasped, still unable to fully process what was happening. There was little pain—but she could feel it. The slow, weakening thrum of her heartbeat.

More cuts followed. Again and again. Her white dress soaked through with red, the floor beneath her slick and sticky.

Astrea wasn't just trying to kill her. No, he wanted her to feel it. To experience the slow, suffocating crawl of death as her life drained away, second by second.

Her vision blurred. Her eyelids grew heavier. Breathing became agonizingly difficult, her throat tight and unresponsive.

Reality hit her like a truck. Astrea was no longer the pathetic pushover she once knew. He was a harbinger of death, and she was his prey.

For the first time in her life, Gina felt true terror—fear of the end, fear of oblivion.

"Astrea, please! You can do anything to me, just don't kill me!" she begged, voice hoarse and cracking.

"Please! I—I'll do anything you want! Don't you want to have me one last time?"

"Astrea… help… please…!"

Her pitiful cries echoed through the room, desperate and pleading. But Astrea's hand remained steady, his resolve unshaken.

She sobbed and wailed, yet he showed no mercy.

The minutes dragged on, each second agonizingly slow. Gina's life bled out of her in that endless ten-minute span.

Finally, the light in her eyes dimmed, her frantic screams reduced to a gurgling whisper. Her gaze froze in death—eyes wide and unblinking, filled with shock, despair, and a glimmer of regret.

Astrea raised the knife for the final strike.

In a swift motion, the blade slashed across her throat.

SHNK!

Her head lolled to the side, barely clinging to her neck by a strip of torn flesh. Blood gushed freely as her body collapsed limply to the floor.

Astrea threw his head back and let out a long, primal roar!

Ten years of bitterness. Ten years of obsession.

Finally, at this moment, it all dissolved into nothingness, like smoke in the wind.

He hadn't expected it. The sheer, intoxicating exhilaration that came from ending a life with his own hands.

But there was more to this act than just vengeance. Astrea had a purpose—a goal tied to the coming apocalypse.

As a reborn survivor, Astrea knew the truth.

In the world of the apocalypse, the very first kill was crucial. For both monsters and humans alike, the first kill unlocked one's awakening—a special ability that could mean the difference between life and death.

It wasn't just about physical strength. The timing of the awakening played a critical role. The earlier someone awakened, the stronger and more powerful their ability would be.

That's why this moment mattered so much. This wasn't just revenge. It was a perfectly calculated plan for survival—a flawless opening move in the deadly game that was about to begin.

And just as Astrea had hoped, the moment he slashed Gina's throat, the clock struck twelve noon.

The apocalypse had arrived.

A familiar voice echoed in his ears, clear and mechanical, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

[Ding! Congratulations, survivor! You have slain your enemy, risen from the ashes, and completed the world's first kill! You have awakened the talent: "Hand of Plunder" (SSS-Class)!]