Baptized in Blood
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The next few chapters are going to be about Levi's past. New characters (Some will not be mentioned again after this few chapters) are going to be involved.
🛑Content Warning: Some scenes could have triggering effects on some readers. You are free to skip as it only shows a character past.
Although note that it adds information about the character.
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"В тенях крови и огня рождается сила — не даётся. Милосердие — оставленная слабость. Сегодня ночь, когда родился монстр."_@)#/#/@
Age: 18
Location: Odessa, Ukraine
Target: Yuri Krestov — a corrupt arms broker who stole from the Gazdanov syndicate.
Vadim would not send Mikhail on this job. He didn't trust Marc's recklessness either.
Instead, he sent the one they all overlooked.
Levi.
"This isn't a test," Vadim had said. "It's a purge. Leave nothing behind — especially mercy."
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The Plan
Levi studied Yuri for three nights.
The man was sloppy. Rich from stolen shipments, hidden in a crumbling estate with loose security. Every Wednesday, he bathed in a private sauna, alone, drunk on absinthe and power.
That was the crack in the wall.
And Levi became the blade.
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Execution Night
Levi slipped in through a side panel in the greenhouse. No guards nearby — he'd tampered with the vodka they drank earlier.
Yuri was already in the sauna. Steam hissed through the wooden walls. The smell of sweat, eucalyptus, and rot hung thick.
Levi moved like a ghost.
He entered without a sound, wearing only black gloves, his face blank. Yuri turned, annoyed.
"What the fu—?"
The knife plunged into Yuri's thigh.
He screamed.
Before he could yell again, Levi's hand covered his mouth, and the other drove the blade into his other leg.
He didn't want him dead yet.
Not until he listened.
"I know what you stole," Levi whispered. "And I know where you hid it."
Yuri whimpered.
"I'm not here to ask for it back."
And then — slice.
He took off Yuri's ear.
Blood sprayed the sauna walls.
Yuri screamed through the pain, trying to crawl away on shredded legs.
Levi watched.
Cold.
Still.
He grabbed Yuri's head, forced his face into the sauna coals. Flesh sizzled. The stench was unbearable.
Yuri gurgled, then convulsed.
When it was done, Levi stood over the charred body — silent. Eyes hollow. Skin painted with sweat and blood. He didn't breathe hard.
He didn't shake.
There was no triumph. No thrill. Only a strange, sinking calm — like a storm had passed through him and not around him.
He left the sauna and walked back through the estate like a shadow — retracing his steps through the darkened greenhouse, past the vodka-sick guards knocked out cold, into the alley behind the kitchen.
But the silence didn't last.
Gunshots cracked.
Yuri's backup — the late-shift team — had arrived early. Four of them. Armed and shouting, already opening fire toward the alley as their radios screamed with panic.
"Levi! Move!" his handler shouted from the parked black vehicle.
Bullets peppered the rear windows as Levi dove into the passenger seat. The car rocked from the impact, reinforced glass holding—barely.
One guard was sprinting toward them with an assault rifle, firing. The handler swore and tried to reverse.
But Levi was already moving.
He grabbed the steering wheel, shoved the handler's hand off it, and hit the gas.
The tires screamed.
The car surged forward—straight into the line of fire.
One guard didn't make it out of the way fast enough. The thud under the wheels was loud, messy. The windshield cracked from a splatter of bone and blood, but Levi didn't flinch.
Another guard tried to aim at the driver's side—Levi leaned out of the window, pulled his Glock, and shot him clean in the throat.
The rest scattered. One ducked behind a garden wall. Another fired wildly as Levi swerved, clipped him with the hood, then reversed with precision—crushing his chest with the rear tires.
Screams echoed.
Glass shattered.
The car roared through the estate's back road, past fire and fury, bodies broken in its wake. One last guard tried to chase on foot—Levi leaned out and calmly put a bullet between his eyes.
"Miloserdie — udel lyudey. A ya — to, chto prishlo posle chelovechnosti." he murmured cruelly.
("Mercy is the lot of men. I am what came after humanity.")
By the time they exited the property, the estate was chaos.
Smoke. Sirens. Panic.
And one body missing from the wreckage—Levi's.
He sat in the passenger seat, blood drying across his forearms, still gripping the pistol. The handler drove, pale and speechless.
Levi's chest rose slowly.
No words. No remorse.
Only the beginning.
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Back at the compound, Vadim watched the security footage on silent loop. His lips barely moved.
"On ne prosto gotov… On dlya etogo rozhdyon."
("He's not just ready… he was born for this.")
From that day on, no one called Levi the runt again.
He was baptized.
Not in water.
But in blood.
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