The obsidian council chamber of the Soul Reapers was built to suppress even the most stubborn warmth. Black pillars rose into the endless dark above, and a single round table of pale marble glowed faintly under spectral lanterns. Every chair was engraved with a number—except for one, which wasn't a chair but a throne.
Elion and Joren stepped into the chamber with rigid spines, their heavy cloaks trailing along the polished floor. The silence that greeted them was suffocating. The other Reapers turned to look—some with indifference. Some with mockery.
Most were there in person; some were there as a hologram, like Midas.
And then came the voice.
Harlekin: "Well, well, if it isn't our champions of incompetence."
The pale figure leaned lazily against his chair; he spun his knife in amusement. His painted lips stretched into a grin that never reached his cold, darting eyes.
Harlekin: "Tell me, Elion—how is it to be beaten by the boy marked by heaven? Oh, wait… You wouldn't know. You were too busy making goo-goo eyes at him."
Joren's fists clenched under the table. Sparks of explosive energy flickered at his fingertips, his Explosion Awakening reacting to his rage. Elion, however, remained stone-faced. His eyes burned with fire, but his body stayed still.
Joren: "Careful, clown."
Harlekin: "Clown? My dear, explosive brute, I'm an artist. You and your little firefly friend are just the failed brushstrokes of this masterpiece."
The room chuckled, the tension thickening. Elion exhaled once, sharp and dangerous—but before he could reply, another voice cut through the air.
Arthur: "Enough."
Arthur sat, his blond hair gleaming under the lantern light, black glasses reflecting Harlekin's grin. His tone was calm and clipped—next to him stood Goliath, who carried the steel of command.
Arthur: "We are not here to hear your mockery, Harlekin. We are here because Null called us. Show respect or leave."
Harlekin froze for a second, then tilted his head like a predator spotting prey. The painted smile stretched wider.
Harlekin: "Respect? Oh, Arthur, the golden knight speaks. The dog of virtue. Tell me—" he leaned forward, mask gleaming in the pale light—"does it hurt? Knowing no matter how bright you shine, you'll never be accepted?"
Arthur's jaw flexed. His voice, steady but colder now:
Arthur: "You mistake me. I don't care about personal matters. But I won't stand by while you tear down allies for your amusement."
The chamber vibrated faintly—Harlekin's aura flaring, Arthur's own searing energy rising to meet it. For a moment, it seemed blood would spill in the council hall.
Then, a sound like a sigh broke the tension.
From the far end of the chamber, a shadow deeper than the rest stirred. Null, Soul Reaper Zero, leaned forward in his chair. His face hidden in the shadow, only his voice drifted, soft and absolute. His golden eyes shone even through the dark corners of the room.
Null: "Enough."
The word was neither loud nor forceful, but it dropped into the room like an executioner's blade. Both Arthur and Harlekin froze, their auras extinguished as if snuffed out by unseen hands.
Null: "I called this meeting for a reason. The boy marked by Heaven… Henry Dreherg."
A shiver ran through the Reapers as his name was spoken. Null's tone was calm, but every syllable was heavy with intent.
Null: "Do you think I did not know Elion, Joren, and Rai would fail?"
Murmurs spread. Harlekin cocked his head, suddenly less amused and more intrigued. Elion's eyes narrowed.
Null: "Their mission was not to capture. It was to measure. To force the boy into battle. To see how far his Heavenly Awakening has grown."
His voice deepened, echoing unnaturally against the walls.
Null: "An awakening is only of value when fully developed. Power incomplete is wasted. Power half-formed is fragile. I needed to know if Henry Dreherg was worth the hunt. Now, I know my answer."
The chamber went silent. Every Reaper understood: the game was larger than they had been told.
Null rose slowly, his form wreathed in shadows.
Null: "In time, the Heavenly Awakening will be ours. It will either stand among us… or serve as the offering that reshapes this world. Until then—watch. Wait. Strike when I command."
The lanterns dimmed, and the council dissolved. The Reapers left one by one, leaving only silence.
The holograms of the members who could not appear in person disappeared.
Far away, in a chamber gilded with faint golden light, Soul Reaper No. 2 sat upon a throne of jagged ore. Midas.
His golden teeth glimmered as he turned the artifact in his hand—a medallion etched with runes of wealth and blood. His mind was sharp, cutting through plans like a jeweler through stone.
The heavy door creaked. From the frost that curled into the room, she appeared. Selene Virell—Soul Reaper No. 3.
Her long, pale hair trailed behind her like threads of winter, her eyes like frozen glass. She waved only slightly before stepping closer, frost blooming across the floor with each movement.
Selene: "Midas."
His golden smile widened faintly.
Midas: "Ah. Selene. Null sends his frozen dove."
She grinned a little.
Selene: "He wants to know what happened in Neoterra Prime. The Halo… Zorath Veil… his Event Horizon."
Midas chuckled, low and bitter.
Midas: "Of course he does. He hides behind shadows and pawns, and when they falter, he sends his icy eyes to pry into matters that aren't his."
Selene tilted her head slightly, her voice cold and measured.
Selene: "Then you knew he would send me."
Midas (grinning): "Of course I did."
For a long moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the sound of dripping water freezing in the air.
Midas: "Tell him this, Selene: the pieces move as planned. The boy marked by Heaven still breathes. That is all he needs to know."
She narrowed her gaze. There was more—she could feel it—but Midas's aura pressed like molten gold against her skin, warning her not to push.
She grinned again.
Selene: "Very well. I leave for my mission soon."
Midas: "Yes… your mission."
When she left, frost receding with her steps, Midas leaned back in his throne, the grin spreading across his golden teeth.
Midas (loud): "Null thinks himself the puppeteer, Selene. But soon… he'll learn what it means to be outplayed. I know what he wants the Awakening for. The boy marked by Heaven belongs to me."
Selene stopped; she slightly turned her head towards Midas.
Selene (loud): "So you know what he wants. He doesn't trust you, even though you are the number two. He never told you about it."
Midas: "I don't believe that he didn't tell me just because he didn't want me to know. He isn't an idiot; he knew I would find out eventually."
Selene: "Whatever you do… I don't really care. Anyways, I will report what you wanted me to tell Null after my mission."
Midas's chamber darkened, shadows pressing closer around his throne. In the silence, Midas's hatred simmered, sharper than any blade.
And far away, Selene Virell thought to herself one thing:
"I wonder who will outplay who." As she walked into the night and her breath misting in the air.