A Dance of Survival

A single system message blinks before me.

[New Objective: Survive]

[Reward: Ticket Out of Heaven]

A chill runs down my spine.

Footsteps echo softly against the marble ground. The sound is unhurried, deliberate. I force myself to move, to stand, to breathe, but every fiber of my being screams that something is wrong. The presence before me is unlike anything I've ever felt—calm, composed, yet undeniably lethal.

A man lowers himself onto a bench in front of the pond, inhaling the scent of the roses beside him. His long white hair drapes over his shoulders, and a single cross earring glints in the ethereal light. His attire—a crisp, refined ensemble reminiscent of a noble servant—only adds to the unsettling elegance he exudes.

He hums a quiet tune, voice low and haunting. Then, as if mourning something inevitable, he begins to sing:

"Hush now, lost one, don't make a sound,

The stars have judged, the world turns 'round.

Close your eyes, and rest so deep,

For even angels fall asleep..."

A shiver courses through me. My body tenses on instinct.

He removes his gloves with slow, practiced movements, folding them neatly before setting them aside. His gaze—cold yet sorrowful—meets mine, and in that moment, I understand.

He's here to kill me.

My mind races. Why? I wasn't supposed to be here. The Seraph—did I really kill them? Or was I simply the fool who stumbled into their dying breath? The system condemned me, but did it tell me the full truth? And this man—why does he look at me like that, like he already knows the answer?

I lurch backward just as he moves. A blur of white and shadow, and then—

Pain.

A razor-thin line of agony sears across my cheek. Too fast. I barely saw him move. My instincts scream at me to run, but my legs feel sluggish, unresponsive. This body—it isn't mine. The Seraph's power within me is locked away, sealed by the very system that put me in this mess. I have nothing. No strength, no magic—nothing but the raw will to survive.

He advances again. I throw myself to the side, barely avoiding the strike that slices through the air where my throat had just been. The wind pressure alone is enough to send a sharp sting across my skin. My breaths come in ragged gasps. Every step he takes is measured, precise, leaving no openings. There is no hesitation in his movements, no wasted effort.

A dance of death—one in which I am woefully unprepared.

I dodge again, stumbling, feeling the weight of his pitying gaze upon me. He isn't enjoying this. If anything, he looks almost regretful.

But that won't stop him.

Another strike. I barely evade, my foot slipping against the damp stone. My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I can't keep this up. My body is at its limit, and he knows it.

And yet… he stops. Just for a moment. His fingers twitch, as if resisting some unseen force. His sorrow deepens.

Then, just as swiftly as it began, he steps back.

That's when I feel it.

A hundred presences—divine, overwhelming, suffocating.

I whip my head around. Angels.

They stand in a perfect formation, swords raised, their radiant eyes locked onto me like a predator cornering its prey. Their collective power crushes down on me, an unbearable weight that nearly brings me to my knees.

No trial. No explanation. Just judgment.

[Objective Complete: Survive]

A new message flashes before me.

[Reward Granted: Ticket Out of Heaven]

No hesitation. No second thoughts. I activate it instantly.

Light engulfs me, swallowing me whole, and the last thing I see before the world vanishes is the sorrowful gaze of the man who tried to end my life.

Then—

Darkness.

Somewhere far below, in a world untouched by Heaven's laws, a carriage rattles along a winding road.

Julius Wren sighs, resting his chin in his palm. His estate isn't far now, but he can already hear the whispers of the servants, the raised eyebrows, the endless speculation about his choices. His father always said he lacked dignity, that he was too soft-hearted. Maybe he was right. Maybe Julius should care more about appearances.

But right now, he only cares about the strange figure plummeting from the sky.

He blinks.

That… wasn't normal.