"A cathedral should have been a sanctuary." That's what most people think when they think about when they try to run to safety. That includes Lord Adir Vankut, a duke in Biyalya. His favorite hobby was his secret passion for human trafficking. That would make him an enemy for a lot of people. And one of those people happened to be rich enough to hire the best of the best.

In the middle of a long October night, Vankut was doing paperwork when the alarms rang around his estate. Eventually, he learned that a man had broken through his defenses and started to rapidly cut through his men. Vankut immediately took his emergency exit out into the city. But that didn't save him. He knew that his assailant had somehow been able to follow him. He looked around and saw the old church his wife and daughter visit.

Vankut finally found a moment to catch his breath. His heart pounded as he clutched one of the benches. He looked up to see the moonlight through the plain-glass window. And right between each beam was a statue of an angel. Vankut was finally calm… until he heard the door slam open.

Walking into the assembly room was a man in full-body armor of black and orange. A long, black strap fluttered on the back of his orange and black helmet. On the orange (left) side of his helmet, his eye peeked through, but not his other side. It was completely covered by metal. The man's belt had entire holsters of guns and grenades while he held a long sword in his hand. As he continued his approach, Vankut cowered in fear with his back on the angel statue.

"Adir Vankut," the man said, "Do you know who I am?"

"You're… Deathstroke."

"And do you know why I'm here?"

"You… You can't do this!" Vankut shouted. He waved his finger pointed at the assassin. "This is a safe environment. I claim sanctuary and… AAAAAAAHHHH!" He was interrupted when Deathstroke immediately swiped his sword and cut his hand off.

"Does this look like the Renaissance Era," Deathstroke asked, "Where gypsies would run to the nearest cathedral and be given immunity from their assailants? I got a contract to fulfill, and not even divine intervention will stop me. Now then, I'll ask again. Do you know why I'm here?"

Vankut struggled through the agonizing pain that came from what's left of his wrist. "To… kill me."

"Glad we came to an understanding." Deathstroke pulled out a second sword and thrusted it and his first sword forward. They impaled Vankut's body and pushed him backwards so hard, the impact on the statue made his wound explode blood, on the statue and on Deathstroke's mask. Vankut died without much more struggles.

The mercenary pulled back his swords letting his dead target slide down the angel statue leaving a trail of blood. Though his one good eye was slightly obscured, he could see the indent his swords left. He decided to get a better look at his victim, so her took off his helmet

Deathstroke, aka Slade Wilson, revealed his middle-aged face with silver hair and beard. His right, empty eye socket was covered by a black eyepatch. Slade was finally able to breathe after a long night. He was tired, so he decided to momentarily calm down… but that one moment spelled his end.

BANG!

A sharp, sudden impact of pain exploded the back of Slade's neck while his ears were ringing after the loud noise. As he fell, he turned his head back to see his assailant. A young girl stood behind him with a smoking gun in her hands pointing at slade. Her blue eyes were dripping wet from anger and sadness.

"GET AWAY FROM MY DADDY!" She shouted as she pulled the trigger again and again.

Each bullet raced right through Slade's vulnerable head. He felt his very life force pour out of his body. He awaited his demise… until, in a mysterious flash, everything stopped. The bullets, Slade's fall, even the girl's teardrops froze in midair. Slade was still conscious, and though he can't move his mouth, he could still hear himself talk.

"What's this? What's happening?"

"The very symbol of humanity's flaws."

Slade looked around for the source of the myserious voice that boomed. He looked and saw the origin: the angel statue he impaled earlier. It didn't move, but the voice still echoed from it.

"How could a race so evolved have lived as long as it did when all they do is disgrace everything in their path and kill each other? They tarnish their faith they have built up for centuries by spilling the blood of their fellow men."

Deathstroke couldn't make out the decription of the voice's power. "Who… are you?"

"I am your creator. And sad as it makes me, it also disappoints me to see your actions."

"You mean God?" Slade asked. "You're supposed to be God?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Well, it is hard to believe that God would make the time to lecture me in my dying moments. If you're looking for justification on my actions, I won't have any that you're looking for."

"So you take responsibility for your actions without making any excuses?"

"All I can say is that I am a mercenary. I never claimed to be a saint. I kill who I am contracted to kill. Whether or not they claim sanctuary in a place like this makes no difference to me. And I'd do it again too."

"Even though it resulted in your death?"

"Killing him didn't kill me. Letting my guard down did. It was a critical error on my part, and so it is my only regret."

Slade heard the disappointment escape the statue like an angry grunt. "It appears you must learn the consequences of your actions."

"And how do you propose to do that? I'm already dead."

"But reincarnating a lost lamb like you isn't outside of my power. I shall send you to another land where death is a requirement, but every action you take defines not just your fate, but the fate of the entire world."

"Wait…"

Slade was too late. In an instant, time resumed and he succumbed to his wounds. He fell to the floor with blood flowing out of his wounds. Everything went black instantly. Deathstroke's time in this world was over.

The mysterious entity kept true to his word. Slade was reborn in another world. And sure enough, Slade was able to keep all the memories he had of before. But his new story was far from boring.

When he was a baby in this new world, Slade was an orphan, so he was taken by a secret military program to raise him to be a top soldier, one who didn't even have a newborn name. Over the years, Slade discovered that not only his memories were transferred into his new body, but his special skills as well. He could fight, shoot, and adapt to any environment as well as he did when he was an adult. That made him top of the course among his peers.

When the day came for him to go into the field, he was required to be finally given a name. But it was he who chose his new name for himself. Thankfully, he was given the opportunity to be called by his original name: Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke the Terminator. It was only a matter of time before Slade would cross paths with someone in a similar position as him; someone who might find special use of his talents; the Devil of the Rinne.

Author's Note: Well, this is the third part of my Isekai Quartet X series. This took a bit of thinking, but I'm glad I chose this character. Hope you all enjoy it too. Any and all comments are welcome.