The last body hit the ground with a wet crunch.
A sound that echoed off the scorched alley walls like the final chord of a dirge.
Blood painted the ground, pooled in grotesque spirals, and steamed in the cold night air, mixing with the acrid smoke of recent plasma burns. The walls charred and bubbling radiated fading heat like dying embers from a war crime.
Alya and Nolan stood breathless, backs pressed together. Alya gripped her blade like it could protect her from gods. Nolan's fists trembled at his sides, trying to calculate an escape that didn't exist.
They flinched at every spark, every hiss of dying energy, like each one might spark the next assault.
And then—RING. RING.A shrill vibration cut through the carnage.
Platinum Jaw's wristcom buzzed, the sound almost comically out of place among the corpses.
He tapped it with a bloodied knuckle, tone smooth too smooth for someone ankle-deep in slaughter.
"Reporting in, sir."
A gruff voice barked on the other end.
"Team Platinum, where the fuck are you?! We're getting unstable life readings from your sector. What's going on?"
Jaw lazily flicked gore off his blade, like he was swatting a fly.
"Just cleanup, sir. Two pests. Kids. They'll be dead in five."
"Then what's with the damn signal spikes?"
That made Jaw hesitate. Just for a second.
His gaze drifted sideways.
The hooded man was still there. Still leaning against the scorched wall like a bored observer at a museum exhibit of violence.
He hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched.
He just kept chewing gum
.Pop. Snap .Like he was killing time, not killers.
"Well… there's a guy. Hoodie. Interfered. Defending the kids. If you authorize it, we can gut him too."
Silence.
A click. Then—another click. The call resumed.
But the tone? Changed.
Not rage. Terror.
"Platinum. Jaw. You're fucked."
The words dropped like stones in a frozen lake.
"All of you — kneel."
Platinum Jaw blinked. "...What?"
"I said kneel. Right now. If you want to breathe another second — get on your knees."
His squad exchanged nervous glances. Confusion sharpened into concern.
Karzo, one of the lieutenants, took a cautious step back.
"Sir… this has to be a mistake. He's just one guy—"
"You IDIOTS don't know who that is, do you?!"
"You're standing in front of the goddamnReaper."
And just like that—The world changed.
Sound vanished. Time slowed. Even the air seemed to buckle under invisible weight.
Silence dropped like guillotine.
A Platinum soldier whimpered. Another's weapon clanged to the ground.
Alya whispered, voice hollow with disbelief.
"Reaper? That name… it sounds familiar…"
Nolan's eyes were locked on the figure. Wide. Haunted.
"No way. Not that Reaper. The one from the Nexus blackfiles...
The man in the hoodie stirred.
Not much.
Just enough.
He pushed off the wall slowly, like gravity had to ask his permission. His gum popped with a lazy snap. And he stepped forward.
Each step was utterly silent .Not muffled. Not quiet. Silent—like the ground refused to echo him.
He stepped into the flickering light of the alley.
And the world went still.
No wind. No buzz from neon .Even a rat that had been skittering along the wall suddenly froze——and died. On the spot. Mid-run. As if the aura alone had killed it.
He raised his eyes.
Not red. Not glowing. Molten. Crimson. Fire.
Eyes that didn't burn with rage—They burned with history. With pain. With wrath older than comprehension.
Platinum Jaw's usual cocky sneer had vanished. His body trembled. Not out of fear. Out of animal instinct .The same way deer freeze when a predator watches from the tall grass.
But the hooded man said nothing.
Did nothing. And still, the world began to kneel.
The wristcom buzzed again. The voice now? Desperation wrapped in reverence.
"KNEEL. KNEEL before him. He doesn't speak twice."
One by one, Platinum soldiers collapsed to their knees—weapons forgotten, like children being scolded by a deity.
Karzo, shaking, pressed his forehead to the ground.
"What the hell is happening…" Platinum Jaw muttered, panic crawling up his spine.
And then…
The Reaper spoke.
His voice was ancient steel and static. Dry. Slow.
Measured like death itself counting seconds.
"You walk into my hunt…""Touch my targets…"
He stepped closer.
The temperature dropped.
A thin frost crept over the nearest wall.
"Then ask if you can live?"
One more step. The shadows ran from him.
"I don't give mercy."
"But I give warnings."
"This is your last one."
Jaw tried to move. Tried to stand. But his legs were gone. Numb.
His pride screamed—But his body surrendered.
He dropped to his knees.
The voice on the wristcom returned one last time, frantic.
"Reaper. This isn't your assignment. Stand down."
The man tilted his head—slow, predator-like.
He spit out the gum. Let it fall beside a severed arm like punctuation.
"Everything's my assignment."
He pointed, still not even turning around, toward Alya and Nolan.
"They're under me now."
"They are mine. My pupils."
Alya gasped like a dam had burst in her chest. Nolan's knees nearly buckled again.
"You… you're really… the Death Reaper?"
The man pulled back his hood.
Messy black hair. Sharp jaw. And those eyes—molten behind them.
That gum-chewing smirk returned—but this time, no humor. Just warning.
"Call me Alan."
"Or Al. If you've earned it."
He turned his gaze to the trembling squad.
"And if anyone — anyone — touches them again…"
He held up a finger. Just one.
"…I won't just take your lives."
"I'll take your souls"
The line went dead.
No more commands.
Just fear.
The Platinum team scrambled—no strategy, no order, just raw, feral retreat.
But Platinum Jaw lingered.
He dared a final glance.
Alan's eyes found his.
And then—he smiled.
Not kindly. Not warm.
A smile born from war. From butchery.
Jaw nearly choked on his breath.
And ran.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't peace. It was mourning.
The alley smelled of blood and warnings.
Alan turned to the kids.
He didn't hurry. He didn't crowd. Just walked.
Calm. Like death on patrol.
"You got a home?" he asked.
They shook their heads, still dazed.
He nodded once.
"Then you do now."
And behind him… a shadow moved.
His car — a luxury that purred like a devil waiting to be unleashed — shifted in the alley. Sleek. Brutal. Designed for warning.
And like that—The Reaper had made his claim.
Not just on the kill.
But on the orphans.
A butcher. A guardian .And now, two lost souls had just become part of something much darker.
And maybe…Something greater.