Chapter 1

Akame's eyes snapped open and she was welcomed by a blinding light. She quickly squinted them to a near shut, groaning in displeasure as she brought her hand to shelter her eyes of the blinding light. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the sun's light, the vibrant crimson hue reflecting the eerie glow of the forest around her. The unfamiliar surrounding had her shot up from the cold ground, leaves and twigs sticking to her dishevelled hair. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent—a melange of earth and dampness—that heightened her confusion.

As she sat up, her breath caught in her throat, for the memories of her demise echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain.

The last thing she remembered was the sterile hum of the facility and the digital countdown mercilessly ticking down to one. An explosion had engulfed everything in blinding light, and the sensation of her own demise had been undeniable. Yet, here she was, surrounded by ancient trees, green and lushes, the crimson hue of her eyes mirroring the inexplicable glow of the mystical realm.

Her face turned pale, and her eyes widened with realisation. "I died," she whispered to herself, the words hanging in the air like an unanswered question. The forest offered no explanation, only the enigmatic presence of ancient woven into the very fabric of the land.

Akame's confusion deepened, her thoughts entangled in a web of disbelief and awe. How the hell did she end up from a destroyed facility indulging in flames to this forest?

The forest held its secrets close, and as she rose to her feet, a profound sense of disorientation accompanied her when she gaze all around her to see no flames, no walls, no broken tech but green trees of a forest circling her.

"What the?" she mouthed.

In the heart of the woods, beneath the canopy of ancient branches, Akame stood at the crossroads of disbelief and wonder, her memories of death colliding with the living reality of the enchanted forest. Her mind began to wonder as she slowly took in her surroundings.

"Where am I?" she muttered under her breath. All she can remember before the countdown is the darkness drowsing her vision and the unconscious taking her away before she was engulfed in the explosion.

A breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of earth, wildflowers, and the promise of new beginnings, it past by Akame, moving away the long black strands of black hair away from her face, revealing the light glow of her ruby eyes.

She took a long breath of fresh air, inhaling the cool wind that excited her lungs. She savoured the refreshing breath that filled her lungs unlike the toxic smoke she was inhaling just before.

Akame's gaze darted around the forest. Towering trees surrounded her, their branches intertwined like an impenetrable fortress. The rustling leaves above seemed to whisper once again, chiming with the wind like little bells. She searched for clues to unravel the mystery of her resurrection in this strange forest that she ended up in. Was this an afterlife, or had she somehow survived the explosion only to find herself in a forest?

Akame's bewildered gaze swept across the ancient forest, captivated by the play of light and shadow beneath the towering trees. As she pondered the surreal nature of her surroundings, her mind churned with possibilities.

Is this heaven?

No, it can't be heaven.

She can't be in heaven, not after what she has done in the living realm.

It's when another possibility of her current situation comes to mind, and the thought of her leaves her standing in the midst of the forest, stunned and speechless.

She could feel her own heart drumming in her ears from the grim realisation.

Could she have entered the notion of an isekai trope, like the ones in anime? Where the main character from the modern world dies and wakes up in a fantasy world of magic and dragons?

Lost in contemplation, Akame failed to notice the subtle sounds of nature around her until an unexpected noise cut through the forest's silence.

A soft neigh echoed in the air, drawing her attention to a presence she hadn't initially perceived. Turning, she beheld a magnificent sight—a black horse, sleek and elegant, standing near a dark, tall oak tree. It bore a waggon attached to its reins, an unexpected anomaly in this place.

She came to acknowledge that the horse was a friesian horse, a majestic creature with a coat as deep as the night, commanding attention with its unparalleled elegance. Its sleek, obsidian-coloured fur glistens like polished onyx under the sunlight, a rich tapestry that seems to absorb and reflect the surrounding beauty of its environment.

The horse, with a coat as dark as the shadows playing among the leaves, regarded her with deep, intelligent eyes. Its gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of her confusion, as if acknowledging her presence in this enigmatic place. A sense of connection hummed in the air, and for a moment, Akame felt a strange and unspoken understanding pass between them.

Akame had tilted her head to the side by a little in confusion. It neighed softly again, forcefully exhaling air with a huff and stamping it's hoof lightly upon the ground as a sign of its acknowledgment.

Intrigued, she approached the horse cautiously, her eyes locked on its dark, beautiful orbs. The forest seemed to hold its breath as she stood before the majestic creature, her hand outstretched in an unspoken invitation. The horse, in turn, offered no resistance, allowing her to approach with serene confidence.

As she touched the horse's sleek mane, a surge of warmth coursed through her, dispelling the chill of uncertainty that clung to her existence. A silent communion unfolded beneath the ancient boughs, as if the horse and the forest itself held the answers to the questions that echoed in Akame's mind.

Ever so carefully to not startle the horse, Akame's hand moved to his muzzle. Her fingers traced a gentle path along the smooth muzzle of the black Friesian horse, each caress was a silent enquiry into the creature's mysterious presence. The horse, standing tall and regal, seemed to welcome the touch with an air of quiet understanding.

Akame whispered softly to her majestic equine companion, her voice a hushed murmur that mingled with the rustle of leaves overhead. "What a beautiful horse you are." As the horse nuzzled against Akame's hand, she could feel a deep connection forming between them. It was as if the horse understood her words, responding with a gentle nudge of its head against her shoulder.

"I wonder what you're doing here all alone without your rider." The words, laden with curiosity, hung in the air like a question seeking answers from the forest that surrounded them.

The horse's dark eyes, pools of intelligence, met Akame's gaze, as if inviting her into a silent communion.

As she continued to stroke the horse's muzzle, the rhythmic motion of her hand seemed to bridge the gap between them, forging an unspoken bond between the lone soldier and her newfound companion. The horse's warmth and steadiness became a reassuring presence in the midst of the unknown.

As Akame continued to stroke the majestic Friesian horse's muzzle, her inquisitive gaze wandered towards a small wooden waggon nearby. Its rustic appearance suggested a relic from the annals of history, a quaint reminder of a bygone era. Something she would see in history textbook or historical movies and T.V shows.

Perched atop the waggon were several weathered, leather-brown bags or sacks whatever they may be called, each seemingly cradling a secret within its folds. Nearby, a collection of pottery hinted at a more practical purpose—perhaps carrying water.

There were also a few wooden crates stacked upon each other, big and small. It was like a wagon full of travelling requirements which Akame came to realise and understand seeing how full it was.

Who in there right mind would leave such valuable possessions in the middle of the forest for anyone to steal? Did they have a heart attack and fall of their horse in the middle of the road or something?

Whatever the reason was she didn't care.

Her attention, however, was momentarily diverted as the dappled sunlight revealed a familiar silhouette leaning against the wooden plank boards of the waggon.

There it was—an exquisite black and red katana, its presence evoking unwanted memories of battles waged and victories won. The blade, gleaming obsidian with a hint of crimson essence, was sheathed in a black saya adorned with a black sageo. Akame's eyes widened with sheer horror as her gaze had fell upon the black and red katana.

The sight of the katana stirred a cascade of emotions within Akame. It was a weapon she knew intimately that made her heart stop just by its near sight. The katana, a destructive Nebula, emitted an aura that seemed to reverberate with death and an unparalleled power that sent shivers down her spine.

It's very existence could slice through someone's soul just by the mention or the sight of it.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the memories of the unspeakable deeds she had committed with that very blade flooded her consciousness. The katana, a one-of-a-kind creation, bore witness to the darkest chapters of her past, each swing and strike etched into its malevolent essence.

Her hands trembling, Akame felt an unsettling connection with the weapon. Like a chilling whisper, it called for her.

It called for its master.

The deadly elegance of the blade, its red glow mirroring the fires of countless battles, seemed to mock her. The memories of the lives she had taken, the trails of blood left in her wake, all resurfaced in the face of this malevolent artifact. Akame's horror intensified as she grappled with the inescapable truth that her past had followed her here with the very instrument of her sins now resting ominously against the wooden frame.

This wagon wasn't left by any stranger that she came to realise, especially not with that Katana that was one of it's kind in the world, was just lying there, untouched in a medieval looking wagon in the middle of nowhere.

Akame gulped down her worries and fisted her hands to step the trembling of shock.

In the forest, where the echoes of her past reverberated among the towering trees, Akame stood paralysed by the dreadful recognition of the black and red katana—a silent witness to the haunting legacy she thought that she could leave behind.

In the midst of the ancient forest, Akame stood beside the enigmatic Friesian horse, her red eyes reflecting the dual essence of her past and present. The small wooden wagon, laden with mysteries, and the resplendent katana, a silent sentinel, beckoned her to unravel the threads of destiny woven into the very fabric of this magical realm. With a quickened pace, her heart racing in tandem with the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind and driven by an inexplicable force, Akame approached the small wooden wagon with measured steps.

The forest around her fell into a hushed stillness, as if nature itself acknowledged the gravity of the moment. She extended a hand, fingers trembling slightly, her hand closed around the hilt and a chill coursed through her veins. The black and red katana seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if eager to rekindle a connection that spanned across dimensions.

The familiar weight of the weapon felt both grounding and disorienting, its presence stirring memories of battles and a life she believed to have ended in the cold embrace of a laboratory explosion.

As her fingers grazed the saya's surface, she felt the resonance of its power, the familiar hum of a blade infused with both skill and the magic of the realm. The red glow beneath the sun cast a mesmerizing aura, as if the katana itself held a dormant fire waiting to be awakened.

It was there when a parchment caught her eye, pinned delicately to the saya with the elegance of beautiful calligraphy. As she unfolded the note, her eyes scanned the gracefully penned words: "A gift from the lord. Put him in good use." The inked characters danced on the paper, a message that only deepened her curiosity.

A deep frown etched her face. Did it mean the horse or the Katana?

Akame, her katana in hand and the note clutched tightly in her hand, she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

A heavy silence hung in the air as Akame absorbed the weight of her surroundings and the mysteries unfolding around her. The forest whispered its secrets, and the ancient trees stood sentinel to her inner turmoil. Even if there wasn't much evidence to prove her presence here, the note said it all. A world of reincarnation, a second chance at life, and another chance of redemption.

Yet, instead of gratitude or hope, a storm of conflicting emotions raged within her. She couldn't fathom why she, of all people, had been granted this enigmatic opportunity. The ache of loss, the memories of battles fought and comrades fallen, still clung to her like shadows.

A profound sense of despair descended upon Akame. The thought of living again, of navigating a world that held no promises but harboured unknown challenges, felt like an insurmountable burden. Her eyes, red like coals, mirrored the flames of resentment that smouldered within.

In a surge of anger and frustration, she crumpled the parchment in her fist. The weight of her existence, the unanswered questions, and the sheer helplessness of her situation ignited a spark within her. The paper, now a crumpled ball, erupted in ethereal flames, dancing with an otherworldly glow.

Akame's gaze bore into the conflagration, her anger manifesting in the incandescent flames that flickered and swirled around the note. The paper, a vessel for her discontent, transformed into an ephemeral blaze—a silent rebellion against the force that had thrust her into this mysterious realm.

As the flames subsided, leaving nothing but ashes in her hand, Akame stood amidst the ancient trees, her resolve tested by the unfathomable circumstances. The forest, unmoved by her internal turmoil, held its secrets close, leaving her to grapple with the enigma of her rebirth and the flames of defiance that burned within her.

Amidst the ancient trees and the ethereal glow of the magical realm, Akame stood with an air of defiance. Her red eyes, once fierce and determined, now mirrored a storm of conflicting emotions. The crumpled parchment had been consumed by flames, an outward manifestation of the inner turmoil she refused to contain.

She felt no obligation to be grateful for a chance she never sought, for a second life thrust upon her without consent. The weight of this unasked-for existence bore down upon her shoulders, and she harboured no illusions about the nature of the unknown world she found herself in.

Ungrateful, perhaps, but defiantly so. She never wanted this second chance, this uninvited encore to a life filled with strife and sacrifice.

In the quiet rebellion of her spirit, Akame stood firm against the expectations of gratitude that this note and unknown world seemed to impose upon her. The notion of being thankful for a life she hadn't chosen was inconceivable to her. She owed nothing to this world, and it owed nothing to her.

So why couldn't she move on in the afterlife like everyone else? Hell, or heaven she didn't care, Akame just wanted to be with them. She had died and that was the end of her story, her life, so why does she have to keep living on and especially in this unknown world she has no clue of.

She doesn't need this bullshit of a second chance.

Akame wants nothing to do with life.

No more.

She is tired.

Exhausted from everything that had happened to her and the past 17 years of her breathing life.

Why couldn't this lord give her a break?

What else does he want from her?

To watch her suffer as she continues to live all over again. Does her eternal suffering amuse him?

A wave of frustration and rage surged within her and the air seemed to thicken with the weight of her turbulent emotions, and the black Freisin horse, a creature attuned to the subtle shifts in its rider's aura, responded with an unexpected restlessness.

The magnificent equine, once calm and collected, began to sense the tempest that brewed within Akame. Its ears twitched, and its nostrils flared, catching the scent of her heightened emotions. With an agitated snort, the horse pawed at the ground, hooves creating a rhythmic percussion that echoed the tumult within.

Akame, surprised by the horse's sudden display of unease, took a step back, her eyes meeting those of the magnificent creature.

The Freisen horse, sensitive to the unspoken language shared with Akame, whinnied with an almost mournful tone, as if lamenting the shared burden of frustration and anger. Its eyes, usually a calm pool of depth, now reflected a stormy intensity, mirroring the tumult that raged within the soldier.

It began tossing its head side to side, it's mane flowing with the shadows of the leaves.

Immediately, Akame extended a calming hand, taking in the reins around it's muzzle and gently pulling them down so she could touch it's muzzle. Her fingers brushed against the velvety coat of the horse.

"Easy now." she said and with each soothing touch, the horse gradually stilled, the storm subsiding as if acknowledging the silent pact between rider and steed.

Akame couldn't help but to smile at the black stallion's response. "That's a good boy." She murmured softly; her gentle tone of voice had eased it's disturbed emotions.

In that moment of shared vulnerability, the bond between Akame and the black Friesian horse deepened.