REBORN TO RUIN MY BULLIES

Blood filled my mouth, thick, warm, and metallic.

I coughed violently, spraying it across Mikael's smug face as he drove the blade even deeper between my ribs. The pain was sharp and burning. My second-in-command. The man I had trusted with my life for over a decade. The one I had elevated through the ranks with my own hands.

His eyes locked onto mine. They were cold, satisfied, and completely without remorse.

"Times change, Commander," he whispered, leaning in close so only I could hear. "You stayed at the top for too long."

My legs buckled beneath me. I dropped heavily to my knees in the mud and blood-soaked battlefield. Around me, soldiers were still fighting and dying, completely unaware that their Commander had already fallen. Some of them were my most loyal men. Men I had bled beside. Men who had followed me into battles no sane person would have survived. They did not deserve to lose today. But I could no longer help them.

The sounds of clashing swords and dying screams began to fade into the background. Seraphina Volkov, the feared Alpha Commander of the Crimson Guard, the deadliest warrior in the Eastern Territories, was dying on her knees because of a traitor's blade.

How pathetic.

I gathered the last of my strength and glared up at him, blood dripping from my lips. My fingers curled weakly in the mud. I wanted to reach for my sword. I wanted to drag him down with me. But my arms had already stopped obeying me. All I had left were words.

"I will…see you in hell for this, Mikael."

He smiled and pulled the blade free. The pain that followed was nothing. I was already past feeling.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Then came the light.

It was soft, warm, and endless. I floated in a vast glowing void where there was no pain, no blood, no betrayal. Just pure, peaceful silence. For the first time in years, my mind felt completely calm. No battlefield to command. No enemies to outthink. No allies to suspect. Nothing but stillness.

I had not known how exhausted I was until this moment. Maybe the afterlife wasn't so bad after all.

Just as I was about to relax, a woman slowly appeared before me.

She was radiant and timeless, with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes.

"Seraphina Volkov," she spoke gently, her voice flowing like moonlight over still water. "You lived a life of strength, fury, and unbreakable will. You commanded armies and crushed your enemies without mercy. But your time in that body has now ended. I offer you a second chance. There is a girl who desperately needs your power. Her soul is broken, her body is weak, and she is surrounded by cruelty. She has suffered greatly. Will you accept this rebirth? Will you become her and rise once more?"

I floated there in the glowing light, considering her words carefully. A new body. A new life. Another chance to fight. Another enemy to eventually destroy. The circumstances were different. But the mission was simple enough.

I had also rebuilt myself from nothing before.

"I accept," I said without hesitation. "Give me the body. I will make it strong again."

The Goddess smiled softly, a gentle and knowing expression. "Then go, warrior. Remember who you truly are. The world is not ready for you."

A sudden burst of white-hot pain crashed into me, burning through every nerve.

My eyes fluttered open slowly.

I was lying on a hard, narrow bed in what looked like an infirmary. The ceiling above me was made of cold stone. The air smelled strongly of bitter herbs, strong disinfectant, and the faint coppery scent of dried blood. My body felt completely foreign. Too small, light and fragile.

I stayed perfectly still, not moving even a finger. My breathing remained slow and shallow, as if I were still unconscious. It was an old habit. You never revealed consciousness in an unfamiliar environment. Not until you understood the threat level.

While lying flat on my back, I carefully tested this new body. I flexed my fingers slightly under the thin blanket. They were small, delicate, and completely smooth. No scars from years of battle. No rough calluses from gripping swords. My arms felt thin and weak. My legs were short. My shoulders narrow. My chest rose and fell in a petite, almost dainty way.

This body is pathetic.

A wave of disgust washed over me, quickly followed by dark, cold amusement. I had worked with worse. I could work with this.

Then Zara's memories flooded into my mind like a rushing river.

Eighteen years old. Wolfless Omega at Silverfang Academy. Constantly bullied and beaten for three straight years by Isabelle Ravencroft and her Elite Circle. Pushed down the stairs this morning by Marcus Silverthorne simply because I spilled soup on his expensive shoes. Working long, exhausting shifts in the kitchens to pay for a charity scholarship. Living in cramped, dirty servant quarters with my younger sister Ivy. Always terrified. Always hiding. Harboring a sad, hopeless crush on the popular senior Aiden Cross.

I absorbed every memory without flinching. The humiliations. The beatings. The long nights crying alone in a tiny room while her sister slept a few feet away. Three years of it. Three years of bowing her head and apologizing for existing.

I felt nothing but contempt for the original Zara.

How did someone like her survive this long? So weak. So afraid. So pitiful.

It was humiliating.

But she had survived. I had to give her that much.

I reached deep inside myself, searching for my wolf. She was still there, powerful, dark, and burning with fury, but something thick and unnatural pressed down on her like heavy iron chains wrapped tightly around her throat and chest. Suppressed. Locked away by powerful magic. That was why this body had been labeled wolfless.

Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep this power hidden. Interesting.

I filed that away. It was not a problem for right now.

Footsteps echoed loudly down the hallway outside. Several people were approaching., their voices growing clearer with every step.

I closed my eyes immediately and forced my body to go completely limp, pretending to still be unconscious. My breathing stayed even. My face stayed slack. Twenty years of battlefield survival had made this second nature.

The door creaked open.

"…should have died from that fall," a girl's voice said sweetly. "But just to be safe, we need to make sure both Thorne sisters are dealt with permanently this time."

It was Isabelle Ravencroft. I recognized her from Zara's memories immediately. The cruelty in her voice matched the face perfectly.

Another girl laughed softly. "The younger one already challenged Marcus to a combat trial. It's happening right now in the main arena. He'll rip her apart in front of everyone."

WHAT?