The Reaper moved first, sending a fist toward Riven. He barely managed to block the blow, but it sent him flying across the garden. The Reaper placed the scythe on its shoulder and became a blur, emerging in front of him. It raised the scythe and brought it down, aiming for his head—but before it could strike, a sliver blade blocked the attack. Nira stood there, using one of her blades to stop the assault. She looked aloof and calm.
"I can't have you killing him, can I?"
With a soundless lurch, it lunged—its scythe whipping forward in a wide arc that screeched across stone and air. Nira dodged low, twin blades flashing out as she twisted beneath the swing. She sent her own attack aiming for its stomach, but it blocked with the scythe's hinge—and then all hell broke loose. Sparks scattered as metal kissed metal.
Riven didn't stick around to find out who would win. As soon as she blocked its attack and the Reaper's attention was focused on her, he charged toward the exit of the garden. It rotated the scythe, sending a low blow from below. She blocked, but the force of the impact still drove her back, boots skidding across the cracked ground.
The chain rattled. It struck like a serpent, trying to whip toward her legs. She jumped, just barely clearing it—only for the Reaper to hurl the scythe forward like a flail. It spun, wind howling around its blade, and slammed into a broken pillar behind her with a shattering crack.
Nira closed in, fast and tight—both blades slicing in cross-patterns. The Reaper's arms moved like broken clockwork—jerky but fast, intercepting her strikes with unnatural angles. Bone-thin fingers caught her wrist. The next moment, she was flung across the platform like a ragdoll, smashing into a low wall. She groaned, wiping blood from her chin, eyes narrowing.
It was fast. Way too fast for something blind. The Reaper turned, its head cocked—as if listening. Then it charged.
She met it head-on. Steel clashed. Sparks flew. Her twin blades became a blur—arcing, spinning, feinting. One blade locked with the scythe, the other stabbed toward its ribs, but it twisted unnaturally again, avoiding the blow by contorting its spine in a sickening arch.
Then its mouth tore open. The ropes snapped, and threads unraveled. A hollow scream rippled from its throat—raw, vibrating, and wrong. Nira gritted her teeth and plunged her blades forward. But it was futile; the Reaper caught both, locking her in place. Its head dipped low, its mouth dark like the abyss—then it drove its forehead into hers like a hammer.
The world around her spun. She stumbled to the ground. It raised the scythe, hoping to finish her off.
"Screw this. It isn't worth it," she muttered.
Then—she vanished. Not into a blur. She just disappeared, as if her very existence was erased from the planet itself. The Reaper froze, tilting its head. Behind it—a soft click.
Nira stood there, bloodied, breathing hard… her sword already buried halfway into its spine. Its head slowly turned. It didn't let out a scream—it just stood there, then unleashed a soundless howl. It whirled, lashing wildly—but she was already gone again, blinking to the left, then right, weaving between its attacks in short, glimmering bursts. Its movements grew frantic. There was desperation in its attacks.
She landed one cut. Then another. Until the scythe fell from its grip, and the chain slithered to the floor. Then the final blow came—quiet. She stepped forward, driving her blade through its chest—and letting it fall.
Riven, on the other hand, had managed to get away. As soon as she blocked the Reaper's attack, he ran, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He managed to find an exit, but he had nowhere to hide. He was leaving a trail of blood behind. If she defeated the Reaper, she could still find him.
"I should probably stop the bleeding," he muttered.
He tore a side of his trousers and tied it around the cut. Then he started running again, but not toward the garden. He was trying to find another route. He had the idea to stay in the cathedral he once saw—she wouldn't bother checking it, thinking he ran forward. But the idea had a lot of flaws. Still, that was all he could think of within the short time he had.
The Reaper fell to the ground, looking at the scythe beside him. His voice cracked as he spoke:
"I didn't look. I swear… I didn't look—Aeria, I didn't look! I didn't become one of them... I didn't become one of them."
He lifted his head, whispering, "I'm free... aren't I?"
He slowly reached for the cloth wrapped around his face, fingers trembling as they revealed eyes crudely stitched shut with thread. With a sudden jerk, he forced them open — tearing through the stitches, ripping skin and flesh alike. Blood spilled down his cheeks like tears as he turned his hollow gaze toward Nira.
"So this is what it means to see…"
His empty sockets wept crimson. Runes etched along the length of his scythe began to glow, pulsing with an eerie, ancient light.
"But you… you watched everything burn."
He raised the scythe — and drove it into his own chest.
"Then let me burn too."
Brilliant black flame erupted from the wound, devouring his skin even as it sealed it anew — a fire that both consumed and restored.
Nira exhaled, slow and steady, her voice dry.
"You've still got some fight in you, huh?"
uh?"
Riven continued running toward the cathedral, his breath ragged and uneven, boots slamming against the fractured stone with every desperate step, the pain in his shoulder flaring, He pressed harder on his wound, letting out a sigh
"Why does everything in this world want me dead…"
Then, almost as an afterthought, he whispered:
"…I really just wanted to play GTA 6."
Then the looked around him and then the moon.
"I guess that ain't happening"