Yami didn't dream.
He never did.
Insomnia wasn't just a condition for him—it was a cage. A curse carved into his nights. When he closed his eyes, he didn't fall asleep. He drowned in memory. Screams. Shadows. The sound of bones cracking. He stayed awake until his body felt like sand, until every second weighed down like lead.
So when he blinked once, rubbed his aching eyes, and then opened them again only to find himself standing in a crowded street, he almost thought nothing of it.
Another hallucination. Another trick of exhaustion.
But no—this wasn't the blur of a sleepless mind. This was sharp. Real.
Stone roads stretched beneath his feet, worn smooth from years of footsteps. The air carried a strange chill, like winter mornings, but spiced with scents he didn't know—baked bread, burning oils, animal musk. All around, people moved. Talking, laughing, bartering.
A town.
The plaza spread open before him, stalls lined in rows, shopkeepers shouting about vegetables or cloth. The crowd bustled with energy, not a single eye noticing the boy who had appeared out of nowhere.
Yami stood frozen. His heartbeat stumbled.
"…Where…?" His voice cracked out, hoarse.
And then it hit him.
Pain.
It came without warning. First a sting, like sand in his eyes. Then sharpness. Knives dragging behind his eyelids. Yami dropped to his knees. His breath broke. His hands clawed over his face as if he could tear the agony out.
The pain grew. Grew. Until it was no longer pain but slaughter. His eyes felt like they were being stabbed, burned, gutted.
"Gh—!"
The sound broke from his throat. He gasped for air, every nerve in his head screaming.
And then the world shattered.
White. Black. Crimson.
And in the void, something whispered.
Not a voice. Not sound. But meaning carved directly into his bones.
—The Reaper's Eyes have awakened.
He collapsed.
The world returned slowly.
A ceiling came first. Whitewashed, cracked faintly at the corners. Then the scent of herbs, bitter and sharp. The sheets beneath him were thin but clean, tucked too tightly. A hospital bed.
"…Hhh." Yami exhaled, forcing his throat to work. "Where the hell am I?"
"You're awake," a woman's voice answered softly.
He turned his head. A nurse. Brown hair tied back in a knot, sleeves rolled high, carrying a tray of water and cloth. She smiled at him with practiced gentleness.
"You collapsed in the plaza. You're in Gethrel Town's infirmary now. Don't worry, you'll be fine."
"Gethrel…?" The word sat heavy on his tongue. Not Japanese. Not English. Something alien.
"Yes." The nurse set the tray down. "You're lucky. The outer charms keep monsters away, so even collapsing in the street isn't too dangerous here."
Yami blinked at her. "…Charms?"
"Protective wards, really. Old magic. Stronger now, since the upgrade." Her smile wavered, like it was stitched on too tight. "For now, at least."
He caught the hesitation. He always caught them—the cracks in people's masks.
"For now?" Yami pressed, his voice quiet, but sharp.
The nurse stiffened, then laughed lightly. "Nothing lasts forever. But don't worry yourself. Rest is what you need."
Rest. He almost laughed in her face. He hadn't truly rested in years.
They discharged him after two days. No fever, no infection, nothing wrong except what they called "eye strain." Whatever had burned his vision left no mark. But the ache lingered. Every blink scraped like sandpaper.
And the world had changed.
He stepped into the streets of Gethrel Town once more. People bustled past, cheerful. Guards in chainmail leaned on spears. Children darted between stalls. Overhead, faint blue light glowed in lines across the town walls—the "charms" the nurse had spoken of, shimmering like a net over the sky.
But Yami saw more.
When he looked at the guards, faint words flickered into existence in front of his sight.
Human – GuardCondition: Healthy.Hunger: 12%Warning: Fear present.
He staggered back. Blinked. The words vanished. Opened his eyes again—there they were.
"…No way." His voice trembled.
He looked at a child running past.
Human – CivilianCondition: Healthy.Hunger: 43%Warning: None.
Yami's chest tightened. The whispers in his skull made sense now. The Reaper's Eyes weren't just pain—they were something else. A curse. A gift. Both.
And worse, sometimes when he stared too long, the edges of people's forms flickered. The faint outline of bone beneath skin. The reminder of mortality.
He gritted his teeth. "What the hell did you do to me…?"
No answer came. Only the faint pulse in his eyes.
That night, he tried to rest again in the tiny inn the infirmary recommended. Tried to lie down, close his eyes, and let darkness take him.
But sleep refused him. As always. The ceiling above him blurred into shadows. He thought of the pain. The whisper. The words burned into his sight.
The Reaper's Eyes.
Why him? Why now?
He pressed his palms to his eyes until lights sparked behind them. His chest heaved, anger chewing at the edges of his calm.
And then—
A sound outside.
A scream.
Yami shot up instantly. Heart pounding. His eyes burned as he rushed to the window, and when he looked—his stomach dropped.
The blue light of the town's charms flickered. Cracked. Sparks tore across the sky. And outside the walls, shadows moved. Large. Crawling.
The nurse's words came back to him. Nothing lasts forever.
And as the cracks widened, Yami saw them.
Monsters. Dozens. Their claws scraped the ground. Teeth glinted like knives. The townspeople shouted in panic. Guards scrambled to raise weapons.
Yami's breath hitched. His eyes blazed.
Predator-Class BeastCondition: Starving.Hunger: 87%Warning: Immediate Danger.
The words seared across his vision. Too sharp to ignore. Too real.
And deep inside his chest, something stirred. A weight. A presence.
His hands twitched. And then—
A weapon answered.
Black steel erupted from shadow, folding into his palm. A scythe. Tall. Crooked. Its edge glimmered with a hunger of its own, the blade almost alive, pulsing faintly as if drinking the very air.
Yami's breath froze. His reflection gleamed off the weapon's surface—pale face, bloodshot eyes, exhaustion carved deep.
But behind that reflection, something else stared back.
The Reaper.