The air was as cold as a blade.
Ethan's soul drifted in the void, the shadows around him already bowing low, like lowly subjects awaiting the passing of a king.
The figure in the black robe approached. Its footsteps were slow, yet carried an irresistible rhythm, each strike reverberating through Ethan's soul.
"This… could this really be the Reaper?"
Ethan forced a grin, trying to make his voice sound casual, though his throat was so dry he could barely speak. His humor was more a way to steel his own courage.
Finally, the black-robed figure stopped.
It was taller than Ethan had imagined—at least three meters. The hood hid most of its face, leaving only a pale jawline and a pair of eyes—completely without pupils.
Ethan's chest tightened.
Those eyes weren't simply looking—they were like a bottomless well, staring as if to suck his entire being inside.
"Soul number: 7351."
A low, hoarse voice sounded, like scraping stone.
Ethan froze.
"Wait, wait! 7351? Is this… hell or a bank? Do I have to get a number and wait in line after death?"
The Reaper said nothing. Slowly, a scythe slid from its sleeve.
The blade towered taller than Ethan himself, narrow and long, gleaming with a dark cyan chill. The light was not reflected—it was as if the blade itself devoured all light.
As the scythe stood upright in the void, all sound in the world vanished.
Even the phantom heartbeat in Ethan's mind came to a complete stop.
"Harvest time—has come."
The Reaper's voice echoed as if from behind a thousand stone walls, heavy and irresistible.
Ethan froze. Fear threatened to crush his mind, yet his mouth couldn't help blurting:
"Hey, wait a minute! Harvest? Are you sure you've got the right person? I never got married, never won the lottery, and never signed a 'soul transfer contract'! Go for the neighbor—they might be juicier."
Even he didn't know how the words came out—perhaps desperation, perhaps instinctive defiance.
The Reaper paused for a moment. The scythe hovered midair, its blade aimed directly at Ethan.
The air froze to an extreme.
Then those hollow eyes slowly blinked.
Whether by illusion or reality, Ethan felt a faint trace of… curiosity in that gaze.
"Your soul… still struggles."
The Reaper spoke in a low voice, carrying an ancient resonance.
Ethan sneered. "Come on, anyone getting stabbed and sent to hell would struggle. Should I say, 'Thanks for coming, see you next time'?"
The Reaper did not answer.
The scythe suddenly swung down.
In an instant, the world seemed to split open.
Ethan felt his soul gripped by an invisible force, like a fish being hooked, violently pulled toward the scythe's blade. His mind went blank, fear rendering him unable to utter even a sarcastic word.
But just as the blade was about to touch him, the ancient lantern in the Reaper's hand trembled violently.
Countless whispers of souls erupted from the light, mingled with laughter, roars, and cries.
The Reaper hesitated.
The scythe froze just an inch from Ethan's forehead.
Time seemed to halt.
Slowly, the Reaper withdrew the scythe. His voice was deep: "…Incomplete. Your soul has been touched by an unknown hand."
Ethan's heart skipped. Memories of the "Betraying Blade" and that familiar face flashed in his mind. He bit his tongue, keeping the name unspoken.
"What does that mean? VIP protection or something?"
He forced the words out, still teasing, but cold sweat ran down his back.
The Reaper leaned down, eyes only an arm's length from him. Those pupil-less eyes were like two ice pits, locking Ethan in place.
"You… cannot be harvested."
As those words fell, all surrounding shadows lifted their heads in unison, letting out a low, thunderous roar, as if the entire death realm opposed this decision.
Yet the Reaper simply raised the scythe and drove it into the void, tearing open a black rift in space.
He extended a hand, pointing at Ethan.
"Enter—Nightmare."
The next second, Ethan was pushed by an invisible force into the rift, tumbling and falling endlessly.
The last image he saw was the Reaper's towering figure standing deep within the void, countless blinking eyes behind him, cold as a sea of stars.
Ethan couldn't help muttering through gritted teeth:
"Damn… this really is the VIP passage, huh…"
Then, he completely fell into the unknown.