1 Prologue

A hush fell upon the entire city.

Breaths were held in, hands clasped with another — Few souls dared to move.

For all that the city was illuminated in festive colors, the city itself stood stock still. It was as if the view was that of a picture - forever frozen, silent, but capturing the festivity of the occasion.

A figure, hidden in the shadows of garbage in an alleyway, destroyed that picture.

Compared to the bright colors the people in the crowd wore, this figure wore colors that blended in well with the shadows. A dark hoodie with the hood pulled up, torn black jeans and gray running shoes - none of which had any identifiable brands on them. You couldn't ask for a more nondescript appearance.

The figure tapped their right foot incessantly, seemingly raring to go.

"Come on… come on…!" They muttered. Their voice, while quiet, held a sense of urgency to them.

Crash! Clang!

The figure twisted their neck, looking over their shoulder as they searched for the source of the disturbance.

Further down the alley, completely enshrouded in darkness, a glass bottle rolled into a streak of moonlight. The light glinting off of its surface seemed foreboding as if some — Voices separate from the celebratory crowd became more and more distinct.

"Don't let that girl escape!" The voice was harsh. The figure swallowed anxiously. She couldn't see the people chasing her, the alley was long and winding, with many twists and turns. The fact that she could hear them running meant that they were close, and getting closer. Anxiously, she looked back to the crowd in front of her.

"10! 9! 8!" The crowd cheered, counting down the numbers.

The figure groaned quietly. "Are you kidding me!? A countdown?!" They hissed. "I don't have time for this!"

"There she is!"

She whirled around, heart in her throat as her eyes darted around, frantically searching for the source of that voice. Movement caught her eye, and she immediately focused on it. There, at the foot of the alley's intersection, about thirty meters away, stood a group of men clad in black. One of the men stood near the beam of moonlight, giving them an eerie visual.

Time seemed to stand still.

"4!"

One of the men pulled out his gun.

"3!"

Her breath hitched.

"2!"

They ran towards her. She turned around once more, well aware of the dangers and risks of her doing so.

"1!"

She burst from the alley, making sure to knock over the pile of trash that had been around her.

"Happy New Year's!" The crowd cheered loudly.

The picture-perfect stillness from before was broken as everyone burst into movement. In the crowd, people were waving their arms in the air. Others were sharing a toast and chugging down their bottles of beer. More were hollering at the top of their lungs, completely immersed in the festivity.

It was the perfect environment to lose your pursuers in.

The figure ran into the crowd, moving around the throngs of people and agilely avoiding the erratic movements of drunk adults. Even with her outfit, the brightly colored lights strewn all around the plaza managed to hide it, casting orange and pink hues over her. She chanced a look over her shoulder.

The men who were pursuing her were looking out into the crowd, staying away from it. She made sure to keep her eyes down to make it not so obvious. To help her blend in with the crowd, she took off her hoodie and tied it around her waist, leaving her in a cream-colored long shirt, though there were patches of dirt all over it.

Without the hoodie hiding her features, one could see she was at least a blonde, from how her hair reflected almost exactly the same color as the colored lights she was under. She quickly pulled her hair out of its bun, allowing strands of it to frame her face. She changed her posture to match those of her surroundings while still on the lookout.

Even without the danger of being spotted by her pursuers - at least, immediately -, it was still dangerous for her to go around with her face out in the open.

'I wouldn't have to hide and skulk around if it weren't for Sors placing me on this country's blacklist!' she thought furiously, making her way to the beverage table.

She spotted a flyer on a nearby lamp post. A glance at it made her press her lips together. It was a picture of herself in her usual hairstyle, along with details written underneath it.

[ CECILIA ADAMS | 5'5" 130lbs ]

[ WANTED: Assassination ]

[ $10, 000 ]

[ Contact the Soranium National Police ]

'Ten-thousand Soran dollars?? Wasn't it five? Sors must be getting even more desperate, considering I'm already six months in,' Cecilia thought, looking away from what she now knew was a wanted poster. She'd seen her fellow challengers meet their ends because of Soraniums wanting their thousand dollar bounties. The greed of these people surrounding her no longer surprised her.

'Fortunately, it's New Year's, and this group just so happens to have decided to host their celebration in the park,' thought Cecilia, trying to reassure herself. 'Plus, most of them are drunk off their asses, and under this light, my features aren't too distinct.'

She wouldn't stay long; she just needed to get out of the city and hopefully manage to leave the country. 'Easier said than done,' Cecilia thought sullenly, thinking of how she was going to need a lot of resources, and how the police and people were on her tail.

'Not just the police….' she eyed one of the men who had been chasing her. 'The mafia too…'

She didn't even know how she ran into the mafia. All she knew was that the mafia had suddenly kidnapped her off the streets, had planned to sell her organs off and that Sors had a hand in it.

'Fuck that goddess of Fate.'

———

"And where do you think you're going, Ms. Adams?" Cecilia stopped.

'They already found me?! But how!?' Her body tensed. Slowly, she turned. The sight of a man in black greeted her. He… he was definitely one of the mooks pursuing her, only he was alone. The mook pulled out a gun, pulling the safety off. He held it as if it was a mere toy and not a weapon capable of harm and murder.

"Sorry sweetheart," The mook said. Cecilia grimaced, preferring he never call her that ever again. "Captain's orders." Before the last word even fell from his lips, he had pulled the trigger.

Caught off-guard, Cecilia was unable to avoid the bullet. "Argh-!" She yelled, clutching her right shoulder. Warm liquid seeped through her clothes, staining her left hand as she tried to suppress the flow of her blood. She couldn't quite feel the bullet, only aware of the pain slowly spreading through her right shoulder.

The mook pulled the trigger once more before Cecilia could recover. Cecilia barely dodged the bullet by a hair's breadth, quite literally, as it was aimed at her head.

'When did he get so close?'

The mook was now standing right in front of her. He readied his gun, aiming at her head once more. "Any last words?"

'No, no, no! I can't die! Not right now!' She thought frantically. 'I promised Aiden I would survive! I won't let his sacrifice be in vain!' Her heart ached as she thought of her best friend, her partner in this forsaken challenge.

Panic-laced determination filled her, boosting her morale somewhat. Cecilia pushed herself forward, biting the mook's wrist. He yelled in pain, letting go of the gun reflexively. Sparing not a single second, she threw herself at the gun, spitting out the blood in her mouth. Her hands shook as she grasped the barrel of the gun. She turned towards the mook, who was now glaring at her through his pain.

"Not today, Sors," She said shakily, raising the gun. "Not. Today."

She pulled the trigger.