Diablo in Highschool DxD

Chapter 15: A tool? (4)

Violet POV(Flashback):

Kill

That's the only thing I knew and remembered

I was not my own, I was a tool, an instrument for others to use and command. My special abilities were used for their purpose

The list of lives I've taken were endless, a never-ending stream of faceless victims, their names and faces forever lost to me

I couldn't even recall my first kill, the one that marked the beginning of this endless cycle of violence and bloodshed. I had been killing, following orders, for as long as my memory served.

They kept me locked up in a tiny, windowless room that was illuminated only by a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a twin-sized bed with a thin, musty mattress, a rusting metal frame, and a stained pillow. In the corner was a porcelain toilet, which was the only source of water in the room. The door was made of heavy steel, with a small hatch at the bottom for passing through food and other necessities.

The food was meager, consisting of only a small serving of beans, a small loaf of stale bread, and a glass of water. Despite this, I was grateful for the sustenance, and I tried to make the best of it. I was fed three times a day, always at the same time, and the portions were never any larger or smaller

Aside from the food, the only other time the door was opened was when they came in to clean me. They would bring a large, metal pipe and spray me with cold water from head to toe with my clothes on. I remembered a time when it bothered me, the water was cold, harsh and stingy. My skin turned red and raw....but now it didn't even faze me

Other than this, they only opened the door when my....expertise, was required.

The moment I stepped out of my cell, I would be handed a uniform, replacing my stained and tattered clothes. That would maximise my movement and combat potential. Along with the uniform, I was given a gas mask to conceal my identity and protect me from potential poison gas, if there were any.

I was taken on various missions, both domestic and international, to carry out assassinations and to participate in covert wars and border conflicts. I was a weapon

I heard them say that I belonged to the government, though I didn't understand the meaning of it. It didn't matter to me, my purpose was to simply kill

They sometimes 'lent' me to other clients who needed my services. I was made to be a bodyguard for high-ranking officials, a mercenary in various conflict zones, and a hired gun in gang wars. I was also used to carry out acts of terrorism or to prevent them, depending on the client's needs.

One day, I finished doing another job

It was a mission that had taken me to a remote corner of Africa where I was tasked with eliminating a group of tribesmen who were residing in a lush forest that was earmarked for resource extraction. The tribe refused to vacate the forest when asked to do so by the authorities, no matter what they were offered

The tribe in question was known for their strange beliefs and practices, worshiping beings they referred to, in their language, as 'Devils'. According to their legends, if a person wielding a 'Weapon of God' were to appear, they would have the power to send the tribe members to the Underworld. The 'civilised' locals who lived in the nearby cities, believed it was all to be nonsense. This point of view also being shared by the government.

As I took the final breath of the last tribesman, I felt a sudden jolt of pain as a bullet tore through my back. I staggered, my knees buckling beneath me. I could have easily dodged the shot, but I chose not to. Instead, I turned my gaze to my new owner, the one who had accompanied me on this mission. He stood with a pistol in his hand, a look of regret on his face.