Arthur grabbed Klint by the neck instinctively, his grip tightening as his eyes locked onto him with sharp intensity. "Explain," he said, his voice controlled but carrying clear pressure behind it. Klint didn't resist, his gaze steady, almost too steady, as if something behind his eyes had already settled into place.
"That object lets me copy abilities," Klint said, his voice low and even, lacking hesitation in a way that felt unnatural. Arthur's grip tightened slightly at the answer, not out of anger, but because something about the delivery didn't sit right with him.
"Copy abilities?" Arthur repeated, his tone slower now, more cautious, as if testing the weight of the words. Klint gave a small nod, his posture relaxed despite the hand around his throat, as if the situation itself didn't register as threatening.
"When I kill something, I take part of it," Klint continued. "Not everything. Just enough." Arthur studied his face closely, searching for cracks, for doubt, for any trace of uncertainty that would make this sound like exaggeration. He found none.
Arthur released him and stepped back, running a hand through his hair as he processed the implication. "That shouldn't be possible," he said, almost to himself, but loud enough for Klint to hear. Klint tilted his head slightly, the motion subtle but deliberate.
"And yet it is," Klint replied. The answer came too easily, too cleanly, like something already accepted rather than questioned. Arthur's expression hardened, not because of the ability itself, but because of Klint's reaction to it.
"You said that like it doesn't bother you," Arthur said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched him more carefully now. Klint paused for a brief moment, not long enough to feel like hesitation, just long enough to register the question.
"It doesn't," Klint said. The answer settled heavily between them, carrying more weight than the words themselves. Arthur didn't respond immediately, but the silence that followed made it clear he didn't like that answer.
They moved without another word, the conversation cutting off as both of them shifted focus toward the streets ahead. The air had changed, not drastically, but enough to be felt in the way each breath came slightly heavier than before. Klint walked beside Arthur, his posture calm, but his eyes constantly moving.
The deeper they went, the quieter everything became, until even their own footsteps sounded too loud against the empty streets. Buildings stood untouched, doors half open, windows cracked, but there was no movement anywhere. It didn't feel abandoned. It felt paused.
Arthur slowed slightly as the first body came into view, lying near the edge of the road with no visible injuries. Klint's gaze dropped to it briefly before shifting forward again, as if confirming something rather than reacting to it.
More bodies appeared as they moved forward, scattered without pattern, each one the same as the last. No wounds. No struggle. No signs of resistance. Arthur crouched beside one, pressing his fingers against the neck, though he already knew the result.
"Nothing," Arthur said quietly, standing up again as his eyes scanned the surroundings. "No resistance, no damage. They didn't even try to fight." Klint didn't answer, his attention fixed ahead, where something faint had begun to change.
The light came suddenly, bursting across the street in a sharp, blinding flash that forced both of them to react instantly. Arthur raised his arm to shield his eyes while stepping back, his instincts kicking in before thought could catch up.
A figure descended slowly from above, its form surrounded by an intense radiance that didn't flicker or fade. The light didn't behave naturally. It compressed, focused, and moved with intent. The Luminarch had already begun its attack before fully landing.
"Move," Arthur said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension as he shifted his footing. The Luminarch raised its hand, light gathering into a condensed point that grew brighter with each passing second, building pressure before release.
The beam fired without warning, tearing through the street with a force that split the ground apart. Arthur moved immediately, rolling to the side as debris scattered outward from the impact. The heat alone was enough to make the air feel unstable.
Klint didn't move at first. He watched. Not out of hesitation, but as if he was measuring something, studying the attack before reacting to it. Arthur noticed it for a split second, but didn't have time to question it.
The Luminarch adjusted instantly, its focus locking onto Arthur as he regained his footing. Another point of light formed, brighter this time, more concentrated, as if it had already adapted to the resistance it faced.
"If it locks on fully, it won't miss," Arthur said, stepping forward instead of retreating, forcing its attention to stay on him. The second beam fired, faster than the first, cutting through the space between them with lethal precision.
Klint moved.
He stepped directly into the path of the attack, his movement precise and intentional, placing himself between Arthur and the beam at the exact moment it would connect. The impact hit him fully, the force tearing into his body instantly.
The light engulfed him, burning through his clothes and into his skin, cracks spreading across his body as the energy pressed through him. Arthur froze for a fraction of a second, caught between reacting and processing what he was seeing.
"David," Arthur said under his breath, the name slipping out instinctively as he watched him take the full force of the attack. The beam continued for a moment longer before fading, leaving behind heat and smoke that distorted the air.
Klint was still standing.
His body was damaged, visibly broken in places where the light had hit him, but he didn't fall. Instead, he stepped forward, each movement slow but steady, as if the damage didn't register the way it should have.
The Luminarch hesitated. It was subtle, but it was there. For the first time, its response lagged behind its perception. Klint used that moment.
He vanished for a fraction of a second, his presence dropping out of sight before reappearing directly in front of the Luminarch. The distance between them closed instantly, removing the advantage it held.
His hand struck forward, not with brute force, but with precision. The point of contact aligned exactly with where the light had condensed earlier, disrupting the structure holding it together.
The Luminarch shattered.
Its form broke apart into fragments of fading light, dispersing into the air before disappearing completely. The pressure it carried vanished with it, leaving the street unnaturally quiet again.
Klint stood still for a moment, his arm faintly glowing before the light sank into his skin and disappeared. The cracks across his body remained, but they no longer spread.
Arthur stared at him, his expression no longer just cautious, but uncertain. "You took it," he said, not asking, but confirming what he already knew. Klint didn't respond, but the answer was clear.
The ground shifted before either of them could say anything else, a subtle tremor running beneath their feet. It wasn't violent, but it carried intent, like something beneath them had begun to move.
Thin lines spread across the street, forming precise patterns that cut through the ground without resistance. They didn't break the surface. They replaced it, creating paths that didn't exist before.
Arthur stopped immediately. "Don't move," he said, his voice lower now, more controlled. Klint followed his gaze, watching the lines as they shifted and adjusted, forming connections between points that weren't visible.
One of the hunters who had followed from a distance stepped forward without thinking, his foot crossing one of the lines. He vanished instantly. No sound. No resistance. Just gone.
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he tracked the movement of the lines. "It's not random," he said, more to himself than to Klint. "It's mapping something."
The lines shifted again, cutting off paths, redirecting space itself in a way that didn't align with the physical layout of the street. Another hunter tried to move around them, choosing a different path.
He disappeared as well.
Klint stepped forward.
The lines adjusted around him.
They didn't touch him.
They avoided him.
Arthur noticed immediately, his attention sharpening as he watched the difference in response. "It recognizes you," he said, his voice tight with realization. Klint didn't answer, but he lowered himself slightly, studying the pattern more closely.
The lines weren't barriers.
They were decisions.
They selected paths and erased the rest.
Klint moved again, this time with intent, stepping toward one of the lines instead of away from it. His foot crossed it fully, pressing into the space it occupied.
Nothing happened.
The lines froze.
For a brief moment, everything stopped moving, as if the system itself had been interrupted. Then the entire structure collapsed, the lines shattering and disappearing all at once.
A distorted shape flickered into view for a fraction of a second before collapsing completely. The Pathreaver was gone.
The street returned to normal.
But the silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Arthur exhaled slowly, his posture relaxing slightly, though his eyes remained fixed on Klint. "You're adapting too fast," he said, the words coming out more serious than before. Klint didn't respond.
Something had changed again.
Not visibly.
But enough to be felt.
Then the air shifted once more.
This time, it didn't feel like pressure.
It felt like attention.
Arthur's body stiffened slightly as he looked ahead, his instincts reacting before his thoughts could catch up. The silence deepened, swallowing even the faintest background noise.
Something was there.
And it had already noticed them.
The silence didn't break.
It deepened.
Arthur felt it first, not as pressure, but as absence. The air no longer moved the way it should, and even the faintest sounds seemed to die before reaching his ears. Klint stood beside him, still and focused, his gaze fixed ahead where nothing visible stood, yet something was undeniably there.
Then it appeared.
Not by entering, not by moving, but by existing where there had been nothing. The Reaper stood at the center of the street, its form unstable, shifting between outlines that refused to settle into anything concrete. The moment it appeared, everything else felt less real.
Arthur didn't move. He didn't speak. His instincts warned him that even the smallest action could trigger something irreversible. Behind him, a group of hunters approached more cautiously now, their earlier confidence replaced by tension.
One of them stepped forward, trying to see it clearly.
The Reaper vanished.
It reappeared behind him.
A hand rose, slow and deliberate, and touched his chest.
He collapsed instantly.
No sound. No resistance. No time to react.
Arthur's jaw tightened as he watched it happen. There was no attack to read, no movement to counter. It wasn't speed. It was selection. The moment someone became its target, the outcome was already decided.
Another hunter panicked and turned to run, his fear overriding whatever discipline he had left.
The Reaper followed.
He dropped before taking three steps.
The group froze.
Fear spread, but no one moved anymore. They had already understood that movement meant death. Arthur stepped forward slowly, placing himself between them and the Reaper without breaking eye contact.
"Stay where you are," he said, his voice low but firm, forcing control into the situation.
The Reaper shifted again.
Closer.
Not enough to strike, but enough to remind them it could.
One hunter raised his weapon with trembling hands, forcing himself to act. "We can't just stand here," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
He lunged.
His blade passed through nothing.
The Reaper adjusted.
Its hand rose.
He dropped.
Arthur exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think. "It's not reacting to attacks," he said. "It's choosing."
Klint didn't respond.
He was watching.
Learning.
More footsteps approached.
This time, not hesitant.
Disciplined.
A second group of hunters entered the street, their formation tighter, their movements controlled. They stopped the moment they saw the bodies, then the Reaper. The atmosphere shifted slightly, not calmer, but more structured.
"Report," one of them said.
Arthur didn't look back. "It doesn't chase. It selects. Movement triggers it faster."
The man nodded once. "Then we hold formation."
They didn't last long.
One of the newer hunters shifted his footing slightly, adjusting his stance.
The Reaper vanished.
It appeared beside him.
A hand touched his neck.
He dropped.
The formation broke immediately.
Panic returned, sharper this time because it had been suppressed first. Some tried to hold position, others instinctively stepped back, and that was enough. The Reaper moved again, selecting without pattern, without warning.
Arthur clenched his jaw. This wasn't a fight. It was a harvest.
Then the pressure changed.
Not from the Reaper.
From behind.
"Enough."
The voice cut through everything.
The hunters instinctively parted slightly as a man stepped forward, his presence alone forcing order back into the chaos. He didn't rush, didn't react, but every movement carried weight. His gaze landed on the Reaper without hesitation.
Alex.
He took in the scene in a single glance. Bodies. Fear. Pattern.
"Stop moving unless necessary," he said calmly. "Observe before acting."
No one argued.
The Reaper shifted toward him.
For the first time, it didn't act immediately.
Alex didn't move.
He watched it.
Measured it.
"It prioritizes instability," Alex said quietly. "Panic accelerates selection."
Arthur exhaled slightly. "So we stay still and wait?"
Alex's gaze sharpened. "No. We reduce variables."
He stepped forward.
Deliberately.
Controlled.
The Reaper reacted.
It appeared in front of him.
Alex moved.
Not fast.
Exact.
He shifted just enough to avoid direct contact, forcing the Reaper's movement to extend instead of complete. For a brief moment, its action didn't resolve immediately.
Arthur saw it.
A delay.
Small.
But real.
"Timing," Arthur said.
Alex nodded once. "Not speed. Precision."
Then more footsteps came.
Lighter. Faster.
Lena entered the street.
Her eyes scanned everything once, quickly, efficiently. The bodies, the spacing, the pattern of disappearance, the behavior of the Reaper. She didn't speak immediately. She observed.
Then she looked at Klint.
Just for a moment.
Then back at the Reaper.
"It's not random," she said. "It cycles attention."
Alex didn't look at her. "Explain."
"It selects based on disruption, but it resets after each completion. There's a gap."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "That's what we saw."
The Reaper moved again.
Faster this time.
It appeared behind Arthur.
Arthur turned too late.
The hand rose.
Klint stepped in.
The contact landed on him instead.
Klint's body froze instantly.
Then collapsed.
"David," Arthur said, his voice tightening.
The Reaper didn't move.
It waited.
Arthur forced himself forward, ignoring the resistance in his body as he swung. The blade passed through nothing again, useless against something that didn't exist in a way he could touch.
The Reaper appeared behind him.
A hand touched his shoulder.
Pain exploded through him.
Arthur dropped to one knee, his breathing breaking as something inside him was pulled apart. Not flesh. Not bone. Something deeper.
He couldn't move.
The Reaper stepped closer.
It raised its hand again.
To finish it.
Klint stood in darkness.
His body felt wrong.
Not damaged.
Incomplete.
Something was missing.
He could feel the absence, but not what had been taken.
The figure stood before him again.
Watching.
"You return," it said.
Klint's voice came slower now. "What did you take?"
"Everything you do not notice."
Pain surged.
A memory surfaced.
Karter.
Sitting across from him. Laughing.
Bread. Beans.
Warmth.
The image distorted.
Karter's face blurred.
The voice faded.
Klint stepped forward. "Stop."
"It was never yours," the figure said.
The memory shattered.
Klint staggered.
Something inside him had been removed. Completely.
But he didn't stop.
"If you take," Klint said, his voice steady again, "then I take more."
Silence.
Then—
"Wake up."
Klint's eyes opened.
His body convulsed violently as breath forced itself back into him. Every part of him resisted returning, as if life itself no longer fit properly inside him.
Arthur saw it.
"He's alive."
Klint stood.
Wrong.
Everything about him was wrong.
The Reaper turned toward him.
Klint moved first.
The attack missed him by a fraction.
He adjusted instantly.
A strike landed.
A crack formed across the Reaper.
Everyone froze.
"He can hit it," Lena said quietly.
Klint didn't stop.
The Reaper attacked again.
Klint took the hit.
His body broke further.
Still moving.
Arthur forced himself up. "David…"
No response.
The Reaper accelerated.
Its movements became sharper, more aggressive.
Klint began to break.
A strike landed clean.
He dropped to one knee.
Another followed.
His body twisted unnaturally.
But he stood again.
Step by step.
The Reaper gathered everything into a final motion.
Klint stepped forward.
The attack hit him completely.
Something inside him shattered.
But he didn't stop.
His hand reached forward.
And connected.
The Reaper cracked.
It tried to pull away.
Klint held it.
The world resisted.
Then it broke.
The Reaper collapsed inward, tearing itself apart completely.
Silence followed.
Klint stood there.
Barely.
Then he collapsed.
No movement.
No breath.
No one spoke.
Lena stared at him.
Arthur dragged himself closer.
"David…"
No response.
Something had changed.
And everyone felt it.