She died with a scream on her lips and fire in her chest.
And then—silence.
Not peace. Not void. Something beneath it.
And then…
Breath.
Her eyes snapped open.
She didn't gasp—she moaned. Soft. Delirious. Like a first breath through lips that had never tasted air before.
"Hnnn..."
She floated in warm suspension fluid, but it no longer restrained her. The pod peeled open with a hiss, and thick, glowing liquid streamed down her bare body—slow, deliberate, tracing every dip and curve like a lover's touch.
Her body was new. Unfamiliar. And achingly divine.
She lifted her hand first—slender, elegant fingers now tipped in cybernetic sheen. Her nails glowed faintly, like they were charged with energy. Her skin shimmered silver in the sterile light. Not metal, not flesh—something between.
She looked down—and her breath caught.
Her breasts were large. Full. Heavy. Perfectly round and impossibly soft, barely restrained under a translucent black suit that stretched tight over her curves like liquid latex. The fabric wasn't cloth—it pulsed with her, adjusting to her heartbeat, molding to every swell of her body.
Her nipples pressed against the suit, hard and sensitive, visible through the membrane as if teasing whoever dared to look. Her waist curved in sharply, leading to wide, sensual hips made to hypnotize. Her thighs—thick, strong, divine—squeezed together with a subtle flex.
She was designed to be irresistible.
No.
Not designed.
Chosen.
Watashi wa kami da (I am a god).
She heard the voice in her own head—low, seductive, commanding. It wasn't just her thought. It was her truth.
Cables slithered away from her back like they feared her now. Her hair—long and pure white—cascaded around her like silk, dripping with the last of the rebirth fluid. Each strand shone like moonlight against the black that clung to her body.
She touched herself—not for pleasure, but confirmation. Fingers sliding down the tight swell of her breast, over the dip of her waist, between her thighs where the suit grew thinner, more sensitive. She felt everything. Every brush sent electric sparks rippling up her spine.
Her breath hitched.
A second moan escaped.
"This…" she whispered, voice sultry and new, "This body… it's mine."
The pod collapsed behind her. She stepped forward on long, bare legs—hips swaying with natural rhythm. The air kissed her skin, reacting to the heat she radiated. Lights flickered in reverence. Machinery bent to her presence.
She didn't remember her past name. It didn't matter.
That girl had died.
What stood now was perfection wrapped in flesh, data, and desire.
And the world?
It would kneel.