[Morning – The Price Paid]
Isaac woke to the sound of his alarm.
At first, it was ordinary. The weak buzz of his old clock. The dull gray light of morning cutting through the blinds. His ceiling — plain, cracked in one corner.
But then…
Pain.
It wasn't sharp. It wasn't burning. It was empty. Like something had been scooped out of him. He sat up, gasping, clutching his chest. His heartbeat felt slower, heavier.
His body looked fine. No wounds. His burns from yesterday were gone, skin smooth as if they'd never existed. But his reflection in the mirror by his desk…
His hair had a single streak of white.
Isaac touched it, trembling. His lips moved, whispering to the silence:
"…One day."
He remembered. Death's voice. The price. A day of his life for every mortal slain.
He had traded it without hesitation.
Now, he had less time.
---
[The Voice in the Room]
"You look terrible, boy."
Isaac froze. He turned.
There, sitting casually in his desk chair as if it belonged to him, was Death.
Cloak draped lazily, boots propped on the desk, Mortis Blade resting across his lap like an ornament. His presence warped the air. The room looked darker, colder, yet the morning sun still shone outside the window.
Isaac's throat went dry. "Y-you… You're still here?!"
Death smirked faintly. His voice was smooth, cruel, effortless.
"I am everywhere. Always. Omnipresent. Did you think you summoned a pet, Fareplay? I simply… entertained your call."
Isaac's fists clenched. "Then why—why me?!"
Death tilted his head. His crimson-yellow eyes glowed faintly.
"Why you…?" A chuckle. "Because you screamed. You begged. And unlike the rest, your cry reached me. Simple as that."
Isaac felt his chest tighten. "So… anyone could've done it?"
"Anyone?" Death scoffed. "No. Not anyone. A thread of inevitability binds you to me. Fragile, but real. I do not explain inevitability to mortals. I enforce it."
The blade twitched on his lap as if alive. Isaac shuddered, looking away.
Death leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.
"Besides. It amuses me to see the weakest among gods and heroes think himself special."
His smile was sharp, merciless.
---
[Nova Hero High – Rumors]
By the time Isaac arrived at school, the whispers had already spread.
"Hey, did you hear?"
"Three villains turned up dead in East Sector last night."
"No marks on the bodies. No cause of death. Just… gone."
"They say it was a pro hero. Maybe Shadow Revenant?"
"No way. He leaves his signature. This was… something else."
Students buzzed with excitement and gossip. For them, it was just another thrilling story in a world of heroes.
But for Isaac, every word felt like ice against his skin. He walked quickly, head down, trying not to draw attention. His bag felt heavier than usual. Or maybe it was his guilt.
But not once did anyone look his way.
Why would they? Isaac Fareplay couldn't even throw a punch.
---
[Classroom Scene – The Comedy of Weakness]
Combat class again. Instructor Marrick scanned the students.
"Pair up!"
Immediately, students clumped into groups of two. Isaac waited. As always.
Seconds ticked by. Whispers floated.
"Don't pick him, he'll just slow you down."
"Ugh, I'd rather fight the training bots."
Death's voice slid into his ear, though no one else seemed to hear.
"Pathetic. Look at them scatter from you like rats from a corpse. Do you enjoy your place on the bottom rung, boy?"
Isaac's face heated. He muttered under his breath, hoping no one noticed:
"Shut up."
"Shut up?" Death chuckled, cold and mirthless. "You dare mouth commands to me? You, who survives because of me?"
Isaac clenched his fists, forcing his voice silent.
At the corner of his vision, Death sat lazily atop a desk, invisible to everyone else. His cloak spilled over the floor, shadows licking at the tiles. His smirk was endless.
The instructor finally sighed. "Fareplay. You'll spar with… the dummies."
The training bots rolled out. Isaac's classmates laughed openly.
Death's voice again:
"Fitting. Wooden dolls for a wooden soul."
Isaac grit his teeth, lunging weakly at the bots. His blows barely dented them. His enhanced reflexes let him dodge their slow strikes, but it was clumsy, humiliating.
Laughter filled the room. Kaelen sneered. "Don't trip, Fareplay!"
Death only smiled wider.
---
[Lunch Break – A Conversation with Death]
Isaac sat alone under a tree in the academy courtyard, poking at his food without eating.
"You waste away," Death remarked, seated on a bench nearby. "Food means little when you know your clock ticks shorter than the rest."
Isaac muttered, "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you… vanish, or… go collect souls or something?"
Death raised a brow. "Foolish boy. Did you not understand? I do not come and go. I am everywhere. Always. Heroes think they kill. Villains think they kill. They delude themselves. It is always me."
He leaned closer, voice dropping into a growl.
"You do not wield Death, Isaac Fareplay. Death wields you."
Isaac's hands shook. His appetite was gone.
"…Then what happens if someone finds out?" Isaac whispered.
Death's smirk sharpened.
"Then you die. And your soul becomes… mine."
Isaac froze. His chest tightened. His heart hammered so loudly it hurt.
Death leaned back, amused. "But worry not. No one will ever know. Your secret is mine alone. I do not share my tools."
Isaac looked down at his tray, trying not to break.
---
[Evening – The Price Reminder]
That night, Isaac returned home, exhausted. He collapsed onto his bed.
Death stood at the window, staring out at the neon skyline. His cloak whispered in the still air.
Isaac finally asked, voice hoarse:
"What happens when I… run out? When I trade away too many days?"
Death didn't turn. His voice was calm. Cold.
"Then you die. Naturally. You crumble into ash. You return to me."
Isaac swallowed. "…And if it's immortals? Gods?"
This time Death turned, crimson irises burning.
"Then the price is not days, but something far greater. Flesh. Memory. Identity. The more eternal the prey, the more costly the bargain."
Isaac shivered.
Death's smile was merciless. "But remember, boy — there is no Reality that can unmake me. No Fate that can bind me. They believe themselves my rivals. They are merely… reminders."
He raised a hand. The Mortis Blade formed briefly, pulsing with shadow-flesh before dissolving again. His voice was absolute.
"Even if the world forbids me, I will exist. Always. I am inevitable."
Isaac lay back, staring at the ceiling. His chest felt hollow. His streak of white hair glowed faintly in the dark.
Death turned back to the window, murmuring to himself.
"Soon… they will notice. The Authorities. Fate. Time. Reality. They will whisper of a mortal who calls me by name."
His grin widened, sharp as the grave.
"And then the game truly begins."