Kael Draven's death was not what he expected.
He had always imagined that when he finally kicked the bucket, it would be in some glorious, badass way.
Maybe a bullet-ridden last stand against a hundred enemies, or a slow, dramatic collapse in a gold-plated office, cigar in one hand and whiskey in the other.
Instead, the universe had different plans.
All it took was a cheap bullet, a shady "friend," and a quick shot straight through his left ear. No grand final words.
No beautiful women weeping at his side. Just the dull realization that he'd been betrayed… followed by a graceless flop onto a dirty carpet that smelled like old noodles.
And just like that, the once-feared underground mafia king was gone.
Kael barely had time to curse before everything around him turned black.
But he didn't stay dead. No, somehow, somewhere, he woke up again, and this time, it was different.
The first thing he felt was pain—sharp, like his whole body had been used as a battering ram.
His face was pressed against something rough, like dry cracked stone warmed by the sun. He groaned, peeling one eye open.
A blinding twin sun sky filled his vision, two massive fiery orbs glaring down like cosmic spotlights aimed right at his poor, aching skull.
His tongue felt like sandpaper. His muscles screamed with every twitch. And he had absolutely no idea where the hell he was.
Or… who he even was for a few seconds.
That was, until the memories hit him like a punch to the face.
Kael Draven. Mafia king. Dead. Betrayed. Shot through the damn ear.
He clenched his jaw and tried to sit up, grunting through the searing ache that raced across his limbs. He lifted a trembling hand and spotted something strange right away.
His body wasn't his old, battle-worn one anymore. No scars. No bullet holes. No beer belly threatening to peek over his belt.
Instead, it was… holy hell, it was perfect!
Muscles sculpted like an ancient god's. Abs so sharp he could probably slice bread on them. Shoulders broad enough to break down castle gates. Hands calloused but steady, like a warrior who lived for battle, not for office work.
He flexed his fingers experimentally, feeling raw strength surge through him, and couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter that escaped his throat.
"Well damn," Kael muttered, voice rough but satisfied. "This upgrade wasn't in the brochure."
But his amusement only lasted a second before something even stranger caught his attention.
A pulse that was both deep and heavy reverberated through his chest.
He glanced down to find a bizarre, glowing tattoo etched over his heart, swirling and shifting like a living thing under his skin. The symbol was unfamiliar, almost tribal, jagged and fierce.
And then it spoke, or at least, something did.
A voice echoed faintly in his mind, ancient and cold, whispering just a few chilling words:
"Bond. Through body. Through soul."
Kael blinked. "…Well, that's not ominous at all."
Before he could even begin to figure out what it meant, a loud metallic clang sounded nearby, snapping his attention sideways.
He whipped his head around, instantly on edge, instincts honed from years of betrayal and street wars kicking in.
His surroundings finally came into focus: a battered, half-destroyed training ground spread out around him.
Crumbling stone walls, splintered weapon racks, shattered dummies half-buried in the dust. It was like waking up in the middle of a war camp abandoned decades ago.
And standing not twenty feet away was…
Kael froze.
Standing in the shadow of a half-collapsed archway was a woman.
No. A gladiatrix.
She looked like something ripped straight out of his most dangerous fantasies. Tall, tanned, built like a weapon honed to deadly perfection.
She wore battered leather armor that clung tightly to her curves, highlighting a body that was all muscle, power, and devastating beauty.
Her long black hair was tied into a rough braid down her back, wild strands whipping across a hard, striking face. Eyes like molten steel locked onto him, cold and untrusting.
Every inch of her screamed danger.
Every inch of her also screamed hot!
Kael's mind went completely blank for a second, only coming back online as another memory slammed into place, triggered by the sight of her.
The Crimson Maw. His bandit group. Wiped out. Destroyed by an unknown force they had pissed off.
And this woman, this gladiatrix was the last surviving member.
Helga. She had been the strongest warrior of the Crimson Maw. Silent. Ruthless. Loyal… once.
Until, apparently, now.
Because as Kael admired her biceps (seriously, they were bigger than his goddamn thighs in his previous life) and that tight, toned midsection gleaming with sweat, he noticed a glint of steel flash in her hand.
A dagger!
Swoosh!
The gladiatrix moved fast, faster than he could blink!
Before he could even think of standing up properly, she lunged at him with a snarl, dagger flashing, aiming straight for his throat!
"—Sh*t!"
Kael barely rolled aside, the dagger slicing through the air so close he could feel the breeze on his skin.
He hit the ground hard, rolling over rocks and dust, heart hammering in his ears. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, but his brain was still catching up to the absurdity of it all.
He reincarnated into a broken-down bandit gang with a killer gladiatrix as his only ally?
And she wanted him dead?!
Wtf!
Kael barely had time to throw himself sideways again before the dagger whistled through the space where his neck used to be.
Dust and gravel exploded under his boots as he scrambled backward, arms flailing, heart pounding in his ears like war drums.
The gladiatrix—his only surviving "ally"—moved with terrifying speed, her muscles rippling like coiled ropes under sun-darkened skin, a second dagger already sliding into her free hand with practiced ease.
Her eyes were pure murder. Pure rage. No words. No warnings. Just kill.
"Hold up, sweetheart!" Kael shouted, ducking a savage swipe aimed at his ribs. "I just woke up! Shouldn't there be a grace period or something?!"
Apparently not, because she answered with a brutal kick that barely missed caving his chest in.
Kael stumbled back, cursing under his breath.
His mind was racing a mile a minute now, snapping into old patterns—street survival mode, the dirty alley fights he used to scrape through back when he was nothing but a thug with sharp instincts and faster hands.
No fancy styles here. No honor. Just whatever it took to not get a knife in your gut.
He ducked low, weaving under another vicious slash, and grabbed a fistful of dirt to fling at her eyes.
It was a cheap trick, and of course it barely slowed her down, but it bought him half a second, and in a fight like this, half a second was life or death.
As he danced backwards, panting, dodging and sliding across the ruined courtyard like a drunk spider, Kael's brain started snapping pieces together.
'Why the hell was she attacking him? Sure, maybe she thought he was an impostor? Or maybe…'
No!
A cold, sharp thought slid into his mind like a blade.
'Betrayal. She thinks I betrayed her!'
The bandit group had been wiped out. Some force had come down on them like a hammer and crushed them to ash.
And if Kael's instincts were right, whoever he was before he died must've given a suicidal order that led to the deaths of everyone she cared about.
'No wonder she wants my head on a stick,' Kael thought grimly, ducking a blow that shaved a few hairs off his scalp.
In her eyes, he was the traitor who killed her family.
And the worst part? He couldn't even remember doing all these.
The memories were like a broken film reel thay was scattered and out of order with some pieces missing entirely.
But Kael Draven had survived betrayals before.
He knew how to think like a villain.
If trust was broken, then he needed to grab onto her anger, her curiosity, any emotion he could stir up, and crack her focus.
He let another wild slash almost connect, letting her graze his shoulder on purpose, gritting his teeth through the burn.
Then, while she was still surging forward, he snapped out in a low, dangerous voice:
"You want to know the real reason I gave the order, don't you?"
She froze—not completely, but just for a blink. A hesitation.
It was all Kael needed.
He exploded into motion, stepping inside her guard with the ferocity of a man who had spent years brawling in back alleys with broken bottles and rusty pipes.
He ducked low, hooked her leading leg with his foot, and used an old grappling trick he never thought he'd use again.
He twisted his body hard, driving into her hips, using leverage instead of strength, flipping her off balance.
Bang!
The gladiatrix crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, sending a cloud of dust into the air. But Kael didn't waste a second celebrating.
He pinned her down immediately, slamming his weight onto her stomach, grabbing her wrists with both hands and pinning them above her head.
It should have worked. It should have. Instead, Kael's arms shook violently as he realized, to his growing horror, that he could barely hold her still.
Her body twisted under his like a feral beast, muscles flexing against his grip with monstrous power.
Even flat on her back, she was stronger than him. Stronger by miles.
"Son of a…" Kael growled through gritted teeth.
Desperate, thinking fast, he did the only thing a rat backed into a corner would do.
He kissed her.
Hard.
Messy.
All instinct and bad decisions rolled into one.
The moment their lips crashed together, the tattoo over Kael's heart exploded with burning heat, a wildfire racing through his veins.
A spark shot through the air between them, real and sharp, as if the world itself held its breath.
For one dizzying moment, the gladiatrix didn't resist. Instead, she kissed him back with a force that nearly knocked the air from his lungs.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was savage, furious, like two storms smashing together, teeth clashing, hearts pounding.
Kael almost lost himself in it. Almost.
Until she bit his lip so hard he tasted blood!
"GAH!" he yelped, jerking back instinctively.
That's when she shoved him off her chest with a brutal, two-legged kick that launched him three feet across the courtyard like a human cannonball.
Bam!
He hit the ground with a wheeze, stars exploding across his vision.
Gasping, Kael clutched his throbbing ribs and struggled to his knees, still dazed from the whiplash.
That's when he noticed it.
Tiny stinging sensations along his neck.
He touched the side of his throat—and his fingers came away wet with blood.
He blinked.
Five thin, precise cuts were bleeding sluggishly across his neck. Five cuts that hadn't even registered in the chaos.
He hadn't even noticed it. She could have slit his throat five times!
This was definitely a superhuman!
He stared at the blood on his fingers for a full three seconds before saying out loud:
"This world is absolutely insane."