The Reapers' realm was a vast and hollow expanse, its landscape a graveyard of shattered ruins and silent voids. Faint embers drifted through the air like dying stars, casting a sickly red glow against jagged, skeletal structures. Some stood tall, like the bones of a great, forgotten beast. Others had long since collapsed, reduced to crumbling ribs half-buried in the darkness.
Above, the sky churned in slow, laboured movements—deep swirls of red nebula shifting like ink in water.
The silence was suffocating. It pressed against Max ears like a thick fog, smothering every sound but his own footsteps. No idle chatter, no flickering campfires, no scent of that strange quite-not-tea lingering in the air.
Just stillness.
Scattered across the ruins, dark figures moved soundlessly, shifting through the shadows like wraiths. Their crimson eyes glowed faintly beneath their hoods, the only sign that they were more than just phantoms lost in the abyss.
Max exhaled slowly, watching as his breath misted in the cold air. It was strange. He had spent only a handful of days in the Garden, surrounded by talkative, irritating apprentices. Yet, somehow, being back here felt...
Different.
He tightened his grip on his scythe, shoving the thought aside. There was work to do. He pulled his hood up, his cloak billowing slightly behind him as he disappeared into the ruins.
Every once in a while, a strange human soul would appear in the hollow veil—if you could even call them human. They were different. They didn't run, nor beg, just walked calmly to hells gate, as if they had been expecting it all along. The worst kind of dark soul.
Max stood, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the latest arrival.
The man stood a few paces ahead, his posture relaxed, his lips curled into an easy smile. His eyes—narrow, slitted like a snake's—studied Max with a curious gleam.
"Ah," the man greeted, his voice smooth and unbothered, as if he had just bumped into an old friend. "So, you must be my escort."
Max frowned. Unpleasant. Extremely unpleasant.
As the man stepped closer, shadows flickered beneath his feet, warping into twisted, gruesome images. Reflections of his past sins. Murders, countless and horrific, played out in dark silhouettes across the ruined ground—lives taken with a grin, suffering drawn out just for sport.
Max swallowed hard. This was sickening.
He turned without a word, motioning for the man to follow. The sooner this was over, the better.
The man hummed softly as he walked, his voice a low, eerie tune that slithered through the silence. It sounded familiar. Something about it scratched at the back of Max's mind, but he couldn't quite place it.
With a simple swing, Max opened the portal, and severed the souls' life thread. Flames crackled, rising in slow waves around the portal's edges, distorting the air with their blistering heat. It was always like this—fire, smoke, the heavy pull of the abyss waiting on the other side.
The man stepped forward, still smiling.
Then, just as the flames reached his feet, he turned his head slightly, locking his snake-like gaze onto Max.
Max tensed.
The portal snapped shut, and the man was gone. The realm fell silent once more, but the unease lingered. He stood there for a moment, jaw clenched, staring at the empty space where that creature had been.
Max had barely taken a few steps away from the closed portal when it hit. A sudden, crushing wave of dark energy, so strong it sent a ripple through the very air.
Max's head snapped up, his entire body tensing. That wasn't normal. That wasn't anything close to normal. And it wasn't far.
With a sharp inhale, Max bolted. His cloak whipped behind him as he ran through the ruins, leaping over broken stones, following the rotten, suffocating aura that hung in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever it was, it was powerful. Too powerful.
As he rounded the last stretch, he spotted another Reaper in the distance—pinned.
She fought viciously, her scythe clashing against the twisting, monstrous form of a corrupted soul. But the creature was relentless, its shape constantly shifting between clawed limbs and a mass of writhing shadows. The moment she struck it down, it simply reformed, lunging again.
Max's grip on his scythe tightened. It was already too far gone. There was no point dragging it to the portal—it needed to be eliminated. Now.
"Finish it off!" the girl yelled, barely holding her ground.
Max didn't need to be told twice. With a sharp inhale, he swung his scythe in a single, devastating arc. Energy crackled from the blade as it cleaved through the creature, splitting it apart with a deafening, ear-piercing shriek. The corrupted soul writhed violently, twisting in agony before finally dissolving into the void.
The girl straightened, exhaling sharply. With one swift motion, she flicked the hood back, revealing her sharp features, and piercing red eyes.
Then she grinned, "Well, would ya look at that," she said, her accent thick, dusting off her cloak. "Max bloody Graves, saving my arse. Never thought I'd see the day."
Max, still gripping his weapon, let out a slow breath. It had to be her.
"You alright, Claire?"
"Peachy," she muttered, rolling her shoulders before flashing him another grin. "Guess I owe ya."
Max slid his scythe back into place. "I'll take you not dying as payment."
Claire chuckled, giving an exaggerated nod. "Fair deal." Then she tilted her head toward the lingering darkness still curling through the air. "That thing was way stronger than it should've been."
Max followed her gaze, his expression darkening. "Yeah," he murmured.
Whatever was happening... it was getting worse.
"C'mon, we can chat a bit before the next one" Claire gestured, calling Max over.
Her boots crunched against broken stone as they walked through the ruins. "Been seeing more of these lately," she said, slightly worried. "Corrupted souls popping up everywhere, stronger than they should be."
Max followed, his silver eyes scanning the shadows. "Yeah, the old man mentioned the sudden spike the other day."
Claire ducked under a fallen arch, her boots crunching against the debris. "Right, but here's the kicker—these bastards are different." She straightened, glancing at him. "More organized, if you can believe it. Like they're being drawn to somethin'."
Max frowned. First the Garden, now this. The timing wasn't sitting right with him. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the cracked ground. "Maybe something's intercepting them." His voice was low, more a thought spoken aloud than anything.
Claire shot him a sharp look. "Oi, that's a nasty thought."
Max didn't reply, temporarily lost in his thoughts.
They continued through the ruins, their surroundings shifting between eerie silence and the distant howls of restless souls.
Claire stretched with a dramatic sigh. "So, how's life in the land of sunshine 'n daisies, anyway?"
Max's entire face soured instantly. "Don't ask."
Claire cackled. "That bad, huh?"
Max pinched the bridge of his nose, "Worse."
"At least the souls there ain't tryin' to claw your face off." She elbowed him lightly. "Sounds like a bloody vacation."
"Oh yeah, real peaceful. Just me, some shiny scissors, and a buncha weepy ghosts," Max deadpanned.
Claire hummed in amusement, but then tilted her head. "Didn't you and Rayner work there before, though?"
Max kept walking, his usual sarcasm slipping into something more distant. "It was different back then..."
Claire caught the shift. Her grin faded slightly, but she didn't press.
The silence stretched between them as they moved through the skeletal remains of the old structures. But then—
Max stopped. His silver eyes narrowed, locking onto something just off the path, half-hidden beneath a crumbling stone pillar.
Claire noticed the shift in his posture immediately. "Somethin' wrong?" she asked, tilting her head.
Max ignored her, stepping toward the ruins. Crouching down, he ran his fingers over the ground, his expression darkening. A small, viscous shadow clung to the stone—a strange, shifting smear of darkness that pulsed faintly, like something half-alive.
"... This is the same thing the old man found in the Garden." he murmured.
Claire crouched beside him, eyeing the dark substance with suspicion. "It's a goo...?" she murmured, poking it experimentally with a gloved finger.
A horrible, wet squelch followed.
Max recoiled instantly, "Eugh—Don't touch it!" He grimaced, his disgust evident.
Claire blinked, then smirked. A dreadful thought crossed her mind as she slowly turned toward him, her expression taking on an unsettlingly mischievous edge.
Max's eye twitched. "Don't."
Claire's grin widened.
"Claire—Don't you dare." slightly retrieving.
"Oi, what are you guys schemin'?"
A familiar voice cut through the moment, and both of them turned.
Rayner had appeared—because of course he had—standing just behind them.
"Oh, Rayner!" Claire looked up, her grin instantly returning. "Good to see ya, mate!"
Max, still grimacing at the shadowy goo, barely spared him a glance. "What are you doing here?"
Rayner shrugged, sliding an arm around Max's shoulders in an exaggeratedly affectionate gesture. "What? Can't a guy be concerned about his little buddy?"
Max didn't even fight it this time, just let out a tired sigh. "Yeah, yeah..."
Rayner turned his attention to the strange smear on the ruins. "So... what exactly is that?"
"Good question..." Max muttered, narrowing his eyes at the strange smear.
"Oi," Claire cut in, holding up her hand. "You reckon we should take a sample?"
Max's head snapped toward her so fast she barely had time to smirk, "Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on," Claire groaned, "We could show the Boss, see if he knows what it is."
Rayner, ever the instigator, hummed in agreement. "She's got a point." He smirked.
Max's glare didn't waver, now more annoyed, "What for?! He already saw this thing before!"
Claire huffed, "You're no fun."
Max shot her a dry look. "You don't even know what that thing is—"
But before he could finish—
The wind shifted as another pulse ripped through the air—stronger this time, making the very ground beneath them tremble.
"Crikey," Claire muttered, bracing herself against a crumbling pillar. "That ain't good."
Max was already moving. His boots slammed against the stone as he sprinted toward the disturbance, his coat whipping behind him. Claire and Rayner weren't far behind, matching his pace.
They rounded a corner and skidded to a stop.
The ruins ahead had collapsed into a grand courtyard of rubble and shadow. And in the center—
A seething mass of corrupted souls.
They twisted and writhed, merging, contorting—melting together into something Max had never seen before.
Dozens of hollowed figures, clawing at each other, pulling themselves into one massive entity.
Red eyes—dozens of them—snapped open across its grotesque form, blinking in erratic, unnatural patterns.
"Well," Claire muttered, readying her scythe, "that's different."
The creature suddenly lurched forward, moving with impossible speed. Max barely had time to dodge as a tendril of darkness whipped past his head, carving deep gouges into the stone behind him.
"Pretty fast fellow!" Rayner said, surprised by the attack.
"No kidding!" Claire shouted, rolling away from another attack. "Got any bright ideas, mate?"
Max's mind raced. Regular methods wouldn't work on something this size. They needed to—
His thoughts were cut short as the creature's form suddenly shifted, condensing into something more solid and humanoid.
Max felt his blood run cold. Standing before them was a perfect mirror image of the man he had just sent through the portal—the one with snake-like eyes and that unsettling smile.
"Impossible..." Max breathed, "That's the soul I just sent to hell!" he shouted.
The thing wearing the man's face tilted its head, that same eerie tune humming from its twisted throat. The notes slithered through the air like poison.
Rayner paled, "You sure about that?!"
"What's it doing here, then?!" Claire demanded, eyes locked on the distorted figure.
The creature's smile widened unnaturally, splitting its face almost in half. Then it spoke, its voice a chorus of countless corrupted souls speaking in perfect unison, "The veil is thinning."
Max barely had time to shout a warning before the creature exploded into action, its human form dissolving back into that mass of writhing darkness. It struck with devastating force, forcing them apart.
"You sure pissed him off!" Rayner shouted.
"Stop joking around!" Max snapped, dodging another strike. "We need to contain it!"
"Bit busy here!" Claire shot back, narrowly avoiding another attack. "Unless you've got a bloody big jar handy!"
Despite everything, Max almost smiled. Leave it to these idiots to crack jokes in the middle of a fight.
The creature's attacks were becoming more erratic. It lashed out with razor-sharp tendrils of shadow, striking the reapers.
Then—
A fracture split open behind it.
Rayner's eyes locked onto the crack forming, like shattered glass. His breath caught. "It's opening a rift!" he shouted—just before a shadowed limb struck him square in the chest, hurling him backward.
"Oi!" Claire snarled, lunging in to cover him. Her blade sliced clean through the creature's extended arms, cutting off its next strike. She barely spared Rayner a glance as she yanked him back to his feet. "Spent so many years as an assistant, you've gone rusty, eh, mate?"
Rayner coughed, shaking off the impact. Then, despite the situation, he smirked, "Seems like it!"
Meanwhile, Max was observing while avoiding the constant attacks. Not just the fight—but the way the creature moved.
It wasn't just attacking at random. It was pulsing with the melody still thrumming through the air, though now warped and distorted by its twisting, writhing form.
Max's grip tightened on his scythe. "The head," he said, voice grim. "Try cutting off its head. It might stop the melody!" he shouted.
Claire's eyes widened, then gleamed with understanding. "Right!"
She launched forward, her scythe a blur of movement. Shadows burst apart under her strikes, forcing the creature onto the defensive.
It faltered. The melody slightly wavering.
Max didn't wait. With one fluid motion, he lunged forward, scythe raised. Rayner moved in tandem, the two of them swinging their scythe at the exact same moment.
The creature realized too late. Its song rose into a final, strangled shriek—
SHHK.
The blade cleaved through shadow and corrupted flesh. Its head tumbled, the eerie melody cut off mid-note. Its body collapsed, dissolving into fading wisps.
Max exhaled, dropping to one knee, scythe clattering to the ground beside him.
"Bloody hell," Claire muttered, lowering her weapon. "That was somethin' else." She walked over, offering a hand. "You alright there, mate?"
Max took it, allowing her to pull him up. "I'll live." He paused, then added dryly, "So to speak."
Claire snorted, but her amusement faded quickly. Her expression darkened. "That thing... what it said about the veil thinning..."
"Yeah." Max flexed his fingers, retrieving his scythe. He watched as the last traces of corruption faded into the void.
Rayner—who had been quiet for far too long—spoke up, "Uh. Guys?"
Something in Rayner's voice made Max's stomach drop.
"... What?" Max turned—only to see Rayner crouched ahead, pointing at something.
A small, palm-sized tear in the air, crackling faintly, revealing glimpses of something beyond.
Claire stepped forward, her red eyes narrowing, "... Is that—?"
Max's pulse hammered.
Through the rift, he could see a street. A human street, with people walking by, completely unaware.
The mortal world.
Max's grip tightened on his scythe, "What the hell..." he muttered.
The wind howled softly through the ruins.
Claire crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Right. So, uh... what exactly are we supposed to do about that?"
Rayner straightened up, running a hand through his hair. "Boss sealed off the realms ages ago. Maybe the effect's finally wearin' off?"
"Maybe." Max frowned, shifting his scythe against his shoulder. "But what's bothering me is—how the hell did a soul escape from the Underworld in the first place?"
Rayner pressed his lips into a thin line before muttering, "The melody..." His gaze darkened. "Reminded me of the ones Lucy used to use."
Max froze. A spell.
His fingers twitched against the handle of his scythe. "That's why it sounded familiar..." He glanced at Rayner, piecing it together.
Claire blinked. "Hang on, didn't she disappear centuries ago—" She abruptly clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing she'd spoken without thinking.
Max smirked at her, his expression slightly sorrowful, "It's alright. It's been a long time anyway."
Claire exhaled, relieved, but still confused. "Okay, but what's the connection, then?"
"Death Angels are the only ones who can use spells" Max said.
Claire's expression darkened. "... So you reckon a Death Angel's behind all this? The corrupted souls, the rift?"
"Could be," Max admitted.
"We need to see what the boss thinks about all this." Rayner's usual easygoing demeanour had all but vanished.
Claire sighed, shaking her head. "Great. Just another day in paradise, eh?" She patted Rayner on the back. "Well, while you two go report, I've still got work to do. Try not to get yourselves killed without me, yeah?"
She waved over her shoulder as she turned to leave.
"Don't worry," Rayner called after her, smirking. "I'll send ya a formal invite before it happens!"
Max rolled his eyes before gesturing for Rayner to move. "C'mon, let's go."
Rayner fell into step beside him, but after a few strides, Max squinted at him. "... Wait. Why'd you even come here in the first place?"
"Oh, I felt the sudden energy spike," Rayner replied, leaning against Max's shoulder like a lazy cat. "Figured I'd check in, make sure you weren't gettin' your ass handed to you."
Max scoffed, shoving him off. "Yeah, right".