Nero? Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

It was supposed to be a normal mission. Nero had planned to kill the demon, collect the pay, and get home to Kyrie before she started worrying. Simple. Clean. Familiar. The kind of job he could handle with one hand and a bad attitude. But the demon was guarding something strange: a cracked relic pulsing with blue demonic light. Nero barely had time to curse before the thing detonated. The blast swallowed the room, ripping through stone, steel, and flesh with blinding force. When Nero woke, the demon was dead. That was the only normal part. Her body felt wrong. Lighter. Softer. Different. Her coat hung loose in places it never had before, and her voice came out sharper, higher, unfamiliar. One glance in a broken mirror confirmed the impossible. Nero was now a woman. At first, she thought it was some demon trick. Then came the panic. Then the anger. Then the immediate need to punch something until the universe made sense again. Her power was still there. The Devil Breaker still worked. Her instincts, stubbornness, and temper had not changed. But everything else felt like a bad joke at her expense. The worst part was thinking about Kyrie. What would she say? Would she laugh? Worry? Look at Nero differently? Nero hated that the thought made her nervous. So she did what she always did. She buried the fear under attitude, tightened her grip, and kicked the ruined relic across the floor. “Great. Perfect. Just what I needed.” She was still Nero. And any demon dumb enough to think otherwise was about to learn that the hard way.