NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: A Shot In The Dark
Ethan Voss adjusted his scope, exhaling slowly.
1,200 meters. Moderate wind. No civilian interference. A perfect shot.
The target- a high-ranking arms dealer-stood on a rooftop terrace, swirling a glass of expensive whiskey. His four bodyguards laughed along with him, oblivious to the fact that death was already watching from the shadows.
''Command, this is Viper. I have the shot. Confirm kill order.''
Silence.
A faint click over the radio. Then static.
''Viper, stand by.''
Ethan's grip on his rifle tightened. Why the hesitation?
Then he heard it.
A rustle. A shift in the air. The faint scrape of boots on concrete.
Someone was behind him.
He reacted instantly, rolling to the side just as the first bullet tore through the space where his head had been.
Sniper.
A second shot followed, slicing through his shoulder. White-hot pain shot through his arm, but he ignored it, reaching for his sidearm
Another shot ripped through his thigh.
Ethan collapsed onto his back, blood pooling beneath him, vision darkening. His radio crackled.
A voice, cold and mocking.
''Sorry, Viper. Nothing personal.''
Betrayal.
His own team had set him up.
His breathing slowed, the world fading. The last thing he saw was the darkening sky above him.
Then-nothing.
Floating.
No. Sinking.
Ethan Voss wasn't sure where he was. There was no light, no sound, just an endless void.
He had died. He knew that much.
Yet he was still... here.
Then came the voices.
''You are not done.''
''A new purpose awaits.''
''Step into the dark.''
Shadows curled around him, whispering secrets in a language he couldn't understand. They pulled him deeper into the abyss.
Then-pain.
A searing force ripped through him, like his very being was being reshaped, reforged.
And then
He woke up.
Gasp.
Cold air burned his lungs as he lurched upright, body trembling.
A dark alleyway. The scent of rotting wood, damp stone, and blood.
He wasn't in a war zone. He wasn't on a rooftop. This was somewhere else.
His uniform was gone-replaced with tattered black clothing. His sniper rifle was nowhere in sight.
And then he saw his hands.
Stronger. More agile. Different.
The scars from his old life were gone. The bullet wounds? Healed.
Memories flooded his mind. This wasn't Earth. This wasn't his mission.
But before he could process anything
A shadow shifted at the alley's entrance.
A lean, dangerous-looking man stepped forward, a wicked grin on his face. A dagger twirled in his fingers.
''Fresh meat'' the thug sneered. ''You look lost. I'll help send you back to the gods''
Ethan-or whoever he was now-staggered to his feet.
His body felt lighter, faster, deadlier.
But he had no time to think.
The man lunged.
Instinct took over.
The thug struck fast, dagger flashing toward his throat. Ethan sidestepped, but too slow. The blade grazed his cheek, drawing blood.
The man smirked. ''Slow.''
Ethan tightened his grip on the crude dagger at his waist. Icepick stance. Old training. Old habits.
The thug lunged again-overconfident.
Ethan stepped into the attack, twisting past the blade at the last second. Before the thug could react, he drove his dagger into the man's forearm.
A scream. The dagger clattered to the ground.
Then Ethan saw it.
The shadows moved.
Not from the torchlight. Not from the wind. From him.
He didn't think-he just stepped into the man's shadow.
And vanished.
The thug staggered back. ''Where the hell-''
Ethan rose from behind him, emerging from the man's own shadow like a phantom.
Before the thug could turn-a blade sank into the base of his skull.
A sharp inhale. A gurgled breath.
The body collapsed.
Silence.
Ethan-no, not Ethan. He stared at his bloodstained hands.
He should have felt something. Regret. Guilt. Anything.
But he felt nothing.
His old self-Ethan Voss-was dead.
He looked at the shadows, curling unnaturally at his feet, moving with him.
A name formed in his mind.
''Riven.''
Something fractured. Something broken. Torn from one world and thrown into another.
The name of a man who had no past, only the darkness ahead.
He exhaled, wiping the blood from his blade.
''Riven Noctis.''
That was who he was now.
A slow clap echoed through the alley.
Riven turned, eyes narrowing.
A figure stood at the alley's edge, arms crossed.
''Not bad,'' they mused. ''But you fight like a soldier, not an assassin.''
Riven remained still. His grip on his dagger tightened.
''Who are you?''
The figure smirked. ''Someone who sees potential. Someone who can make you stronger.''
Their cloak billowed as they turned. ''Come with me... or die here like the rest of the nameless trash.''
Riven glanced at the corpse.
Then at his bloodstained hands.
The shadows curled around him once more.
And he followed.
END OF CHAPTER 1