The city pulsed with a different energy at night. From the rooftops, Esdeath surveyed Brooklyn's landscape of shadowed alleys and streetlight halos, feeling the cool air against her exposed skin.
Her new body moved with surprising agility as she leaped between buildings, creating ice bridges when the gaps proved too wide.
Her heart hammered against her ribs—partly from exertion, partly from exhilaration. This wasn't a video game or anime anymore. This was real. She was really jumping across rooftops with superpowers, hunting for crime like some kind of vigilante.
"This is insane," she whispered to herself, sliding down an ice ramp to a lower building. The ice dissolved behind her, leaving no trace of her passage.
Two hours into her patrol, frustration began to set in. Brooklyn was supposedly crawling with crime, yet she'd found nothing but empty streets and closed storefronts. Maybe criminals took Tuesday nights off.
She perched on a water tower, legs dangling, about to call it a night when a scream pierced the quiet. Esdeath's head snapped toward the sound—an alley three blocks east.
Ice formed beneath her feet as she propelled herself forward, creating and dissolving platforms with increasing confidence. Within moments, she crouched on a fire escape overlooking the scene.
Below, a man pressed a woman against the brick wall, knife glinting under the dim security light. His free hand yanked at her purse while she struggled, terror etched across her face.
"Just give it up, lady!" The man's voice echoed harshly. "Don't make this worse than it has to be."
Esdeath's pulse quickened. This was it—her first real test. Without overthinking, she dropped silently into the alley behind them.
"Hey!"
The mugger whirled around, knife extended. His eyes widened at the hooded figure.
"What the—"
Esdeath flicked her wrist. Ice shot from her fingertips, encasing the man's knife hand up to the elbow. He screamed, more from shock than pain, staggering backward.
"What the fuck?!" He swung wildly with his free arm.
She sidestepped easily, sweeping her leg in a low arc. Ice spread across the pavement, causing him to slip and crash hard onto his back. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs.
Before he could recover, Esdeath planted her foot on his chest. With a flick of her fingers, ice pinned his limbs to the ground.
The woman stared, clutching her purse to her chest, mouth open in a silent gasp.
"You should run," Esdeath told the woman without taking her eyes off the pinned mugger. "Now."
The woman nodded frantically, backing away before turning to sprint from the alley. Her footsteps faded into the night, leaving Esdeath alone with her captive.
The man thrashed against his icy restraints. "Let me go, you freak!"
Esdeath tilted her head, studying him with detached curiosity. His face contorted with fear and rage—emotions she could now taste in the air like static electricity. The sensation triggered something primal inside her.
"That wasn't very nice," she said, voice dropping an octave. "Threatening a woman with a knife just for her purse."
Ice crept higher up his arms, spreading past his elbows toward his shoulders. The man's struggles intensified as the cold penetrated his clothing.
"It wasn't personal! Just business!" His voice cracked. "I got kids to feed!"
"Funny how criminals always remember their children when they're caught." Esdeath crouched beside him, frost spiraling from her fingertips. "Were you thinking about your kids when you put that knife to her throat?"
The ice continued its advance, crackling as it thickened around his torso. His teeth began to chatter violently.
"P-please! You're killing me!"
Esdeath paused, suddenly aware of how much she was enjoying this—his fear, his pleading. A smile played at the corner of her lips, and she didn't immediately fight it down.
"Am I?" She leaned closer. "How does it feel to be the helpless one?"
His eyes widened, tears forming at the corners. "I'm s-sorry! I swear I won't do it again!"
The ice reached his neck, delicate crystals forming around his jawline. His lips had taken on a bluish tint.
Something inside her purred with satisfaction at his terror. The power she wielded over him was intoxicating—not just the ice, but the fear she inspired. Was this what Esdeath had felt in the anime? This dark, seductive thrill?
The man's begging dissolved into incoherent whimpering as the cold seeped deeper into his body. His eyelids fluttered.
"Wait," she whispered, more to herself than to him. This wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to enjoy breaking someone like this.
With sudden clarity, Esdeath realized she'd gone too far. This wasn't justice—it was torture. And worse, she'd been savoring it.
She pulled back her power, recalling the ice from his neck and chest, leaving only his limbs restrained. Color slowly returned to his face as he gasped for air.
"Thank you," he sobbed. "Thank you, thank you..."
His gratitude disgusted her almost as much as her own actions. She stood abruptly, stepping away from him.
"The ice will melt in about twenty minutes," she said flatly. "Enough time for the police to find you."
She formed a crude ice spike and used it to puncture his jacket, pinning it to the ground. Tucked inside was a wallet that clearly wasn't his—the pink leather a stark contrast to his grimy appearance.
"That's not your first victim tonight, is it?"
He averted his eyes, confirmation enough.
Esdeath turned away, creating an ice pillar to launch herself back to the rooftops. As she disappeared into the night, her mind raced with uncomfortable questions.
The power felt good—too good. The fear in his eyes had fed something inside her that she hadn't known existed. Something hungry. Something that whispered for more.
She'd come out tonight to test her powers, but instead, she'd discovered something far more dangerous: the darkness within herself.
Esdeath fled across the rooftops, ice platforms shattering behind her as she pushed herself faster, desperate to put distance between herself and what had just happened. Her breath came in ragged gasps that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
The night air, which had felt invigorating earlier, now seemed to chill her from the inside out. She stopped on a random rooftop, hands braced against her knees, and fought the urge to vomit.
"What the hell was that?" she whispered, her voice small against the city's ambient noise.
The memory of the mugger's terrified face flickered through her mind. But worse than that was the memory of her own pleasure—that dark, pulsing satisfaction as she'd watched him squirm, as she'd deliberately extended his suffering.
She hadn't just been stopping a crime. She'd been playing with him.
A sudden gust of wind sent her hair whipping across her face, and Esdeath straightened, looking out across Brooklyn's skyline. The city lights blurred as tears welled in her eyes.
"That wasn't me," she insisted to the empty air. But even as the words left her mouth, doubt crept in like poison.
Was it really the original Esdeath's influence? Or had that darkness always existed within Mark, waiting for the right opportunity to surface?
The journey home passed in a blur. She slipped through her bedroom window with practiced ease, having left it unlocked earlier. Her uncle's snores rumbled from down the hall—at least something remained predictable in this upside-down world.
Esdeath peeled off her makeshift costume and stuffed it deep into her closet. Her hands trembled as she changed into pajamas, avoiding her reflection in the mirror.
She collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep seemed impossible now.
"It's just the character bleeding through," she murmured, trying to convince herself. "Esdeath was a sadist. I'm not."
But hadn't Mark chosen violent video games? Hadn't he enjoyed dominating opponents in PvP matches? Hadn't he secretly rooted for the villains sometimes, admiring their ruthless efficiency?
She rolled onto her side, curling into herself. Maybe the god's wheel hadn't been as random as it seemed. Maybe there was a reason she'd ended up with these powers, in this body.
"No," she hissed, pressing her palms against her eyes. "That's not who I am."
But who was she now? Not Mark anymore. Not fully Esdeath either. Something in between—something undefined and terrifying.
She reached for her notebook on the nightstand, flipping to a blank page. With shaking hands, she began to write, organizing her thoughts the way she always had when life became overwhelming.
Tonight I almost froze a man to death because I enjoyed his fear.
The words stared back at her, stark and damning.
Powers: Ice generation/manipulation. Enhanced physical abilities. And something else—something that feeds on fear and pain.
She paused, tapping her pen against the paper.
Rules for Esdeath 2.0:
1. No killing
2. No torture
3. No using fear as a weapon
4. Minimal property damage
5. Help people, don't terrorize them
She underlined the list twice, then added a final line:
Remember who you were. Choose who you want to be.
Esdeath closed the notebook and placed it carefully back on the nightstand. The simple act of writing had calmed her somewhat, giving structure to the chaos in her mind.
Tomorrow would be another day at Midtown High—another day of pretending to be normal while figuring out who she was becoming. But tonight had taught her something crucial: her powers weren't the most dangerous thing about her new existence.
The real threat was inside her—that dark, hungry thing that had awakened in the alley. And she would need to be vigilant to keep it contained.
Esdeath woke before her alarm, the memory of last night's patrol still vivid. Sunlight filtered through her blinds, casting thin stripes across her bedroom floor. The normalcy of morning felt like a lie after what she'd discovered about herself in that dark alley.
She sat up, running fingers through tangled hair. Was that really me enjoying someone's terror?
Of course it was, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mark's old internal monologue answered. Don't pretend you didn't love every second of it.
She shook her head, trying to silence the thought.
Come on, the voice continued. We've always wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of power. To make someone fear you. To control whether they live or die.
"That's not true," she whispered, but the denial rang hollow.
Remember those games? The ones where you'd choose the evil dialogue options just to see what would happen? The rush when you'd dominate other players?
Esdeath pressed her palms against her temples. The voice wasn't wrong. Mark had always harbored those fantasies—of strength, of control, of power. But fantasies were supposed to stay fantasies.
It's both, the voice concluded. Esdeath's sadism and our curiosity. A perfect match. No wonder the wheel landed where it did.
She stood abruptly, pacing her small room. The power had felt incredible—not just the ice manipulation, but the fear she'd inspired. The way the mugger had looked at her like she was a goddess of winter, capable of snuffing out his life with a thought.
It was intoxicating. Addictive.
And that terrified her more than any supervillain could.
Esdeath stopped at her window, staring out at Brooklyn waking up. Normal people heading to normal jobs, blissfully unaware of the struggle happening in her soul.
"I can control this," she said firmly. "I'm not going to become a monster."
But doubt lingered like frost on glass. If she went out again, would she be able to stop herself next time? Would she want to?
She touched the cool windowpane, watching ice crystals form beneath her fingertips. Beautiful and deadly—just like her.
"I'll try," she amended, more honestly. "I'll try to stay in control."
Because that was all anyone could do, wasn't it? Try. And hope the darkness didn't win.
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