Rebirth: A Second chance at life-Chapter 75: She can’t be her, can she?

Trigger Warning: This scene contains graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

The air inside was heavy, filled with the thick scent of gunpowder and blood. Aurora didn’t even glance back at Calvert.

He was still slumped behind her, trying to make sense of the impossible. Her eyes scanned the lifeless bodies of the mercenaries she had gunned down moments ago.

Calmly, without a flicker of hesitation, she knelt down and checked their pockets.

From one man’s bloodied vest, she retrieved a live grenade. From another, she pulled out a fully loaded LMG, its cool steel a familiar weight in her hands.

Her fingers slid across the grip like a pianist settling in before a masterpiece. Her smirk deepened as she slung the weapon over her shoulder and stepped toward the exit.

Outside, more than a hundred armed men stood waiting, guns raised, eyes trained toward the door she was about to open.

"This..." Aurora muttered, eyes glowing with an almost childlike thrill, "is finally getting interesting. No more of that child’s play."

But before she could step out, her eyes caught movement to her left.

A tall, lean figure stood lazily near the far wall, leaning with his back against the stone like he had all the time in the world.

His hands were in his pockets, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips.

His jet-black hair fell slightly over his sharp eyes, and when he noticed her looking, he gave a low whistle—amused, playful.

Bishop.

He didn’t say a word. He just tilted his head toward the crowd of mercenaries ahead. As if to say: "Ready for the real show?"

The men around him began to notice the strange figure. One shouted, "Hey! Who the hell—"

Bishop yawned, pulled his hand from his pocket, and casually dropped a grenade at their feet.

Chaos erupted.

Before the explosion even registered, he had already moved, slipping into the shadows like a ghost.

The grenade went off with a thunderous roar, sending men flying through the air, limbs scattering, metal and flesh torn apart by the violent shockwave.

At the same moment, Aurora kicked open the door and stepped out. Her LMG was already aimed. She pulled the trigger.

The air turned into a hailstorms of bullets.

Screams echoed in all directions as bodies dropped like flies. Blood splattered across the tiled driveway.

Dust and smoke curled up like spirits being summoned from hell itself. Aurora didn’t flinch.

She moved forward, one step at a time, as if she were strolling through a garden. Her face was calm, almost serene, while death raged around her.

Bishop danced through the chaos on the other end, a silver knife flashing in one hand, a pistol in the other.

He was fast—faster than the eye could follow. One man reached for a gun and Bishop sliced through his throat. freewēbnoveℓ.com

Another tried to tackle him, but Bishop shot him in the knee, spun, and drove his blade into his neck.

Their coordination didn’t need words. Aurora took the left flank, Bishop the right. They moved like a storm, sweeping through the mass of trained killers who didn’t stand a chance.

Calvert, watching from the surveillance monitor inside, felt his knees buckle.

No... No... This can’t be real.

She can’t be her????

His mind spiraled back in time—to that one story he never thought would resurface. Many years ago, he had heard of a woman.

A devil disguised as a legend. Feared, yet worshipped by everyone in the underground world.

Ruthless. Cold. Deadly.

She had brought down one of the most feared mercenary clans in Country F in a single night.

They said she hunted the top mercenary leader like a hound sniffing out prey, burned his legacy to the ground, and erased his existence without a trace.

Calvert had heard of her before, but he saw her once—during an arms deal at the port. That night, she was hunting the last remaining member of that same mercenary group.

They had dared to challenge her, the leader of Phantom, and betray her.

He didn’t see her face. No one ever had. Only whispers remained. They said she was as beautiful as an angel descended from heaven.

Her figure was curvaceous, her eyes like a phoenix—fiery, sharp, unforgettable.

She had the same moves. The same techniques. It wasn’t just similar—it was identical.

Calvert’s breath hitched in his throat as he recalled that night at the port.

Back then, he had only caught a glimpse, but the way she moved... fast, precise, merciless—it left a mark in his memory he couldn’t erase.

Now, as Aurora fought, he saw that same shadow from the past take shape in front of his eyes.

The way she twisted a man’s arm until it cracked, the smooth fluidity with which she dodged attacks and countered with lethal accuracy—it wasn’t something one could just learn.

It was a signature. A style engraved deep into muscle memory.

He could no longer convince himself it was a coincidence.

He had seen that before.

And now, he was seeing it again.

In Aurora.

How... how was Aurora like her?

The girl he had seen before... she was fat, clumsy.

He had kept tabs on her once—obsessed by her soft features and delicate smile. She was different back then, all fluffy and innocent, unaware of the eyes watching her from the shadows.

But the moment she married Alexander, Calvert backed off. He wasn’t stupid enough to go against the Brown family. Not when Alexander stood at the top.

Still... the obsession never died. It only slept, buried beneath his frustration and lust.

When Stephen contacted him again, offering Aurora like a pawn, that old desire stirred.His hope returned—along with that incomplete fantasy still clinging to his twisted mind.

But how was this possible? That figure... he could never forget it. The way she moved, the way she fought—it was etched into his memory like a scar.

And yet, how could he ever have thought it was Aurora? Nothing added up. Her past, her body, her timid demeanor—it all clashed with what he was seeing now.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. The confusion twisted inside him like a snake, gnawing at his insides, refusing to let him breathe.

Now, staring at her precision, her speed, her lack of hesitation... Calvert’s soul froze.

He was watching a ghost. A devil in the flesh.

"Stephen... Alexander..." he whispered, voice trembling. "What the hell did you send to me?"