Soul Reapers weren't powerful monsters. At least, not if you had some way to protect your soul.
Without such protection, though, their scythes didn't cut flesh.
They cut essence.
One slash, and your heart's flame went out forever.
They weren't living things anymore — just emotionless husks.
Already dead, and therefore fearless.
The only real way to kill them was with magic because it disrupted their incorporeal forms.
But there was a problem.
There weren't three.
There weren't ten.
There were hundreds.
Lucius stood at the back of the party, his arm folded, expression unreadable.
Of course he could contain all of them with a single twist of space, or pin them down with wooden roots drawn from nothing.
That would end the fight in seconds.
But where was the fun in showing overwhelming power this early?
No. This was entertainment.
And besides… watching these fools panic was a reward in itself.
