The battlefield was a mess of debris, smoke, and awkward silence.
Nêmesis stood there — well, *what was left* of him. His massive frame crackled with unstable energy, his roars fading into glitchy distortions. His mutated arm dissolved, his monstrous face twisted as if even *he* realized it was over.
**\[SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE — MORTE 2.0 FULLY ACTIVATED]**
**\[MENTAL DISCIPLINE: 80/100 — You're only mildly dangerous now]**
**\[SELF-CLEANING: As Always, Maximum]**
I floated an inch off the ground, cosmic energy rippling around me, clothes flawless, not a single scuff mark on my boots.
Alice stood nearby, mouth slightly open. Wesker's smirk faltered for the first time.
Death 1.0 clapped, skeletal hands echoing like thunder. "Congratulations, rookie. First official termination successful."
Nêmesis let out one final, pitiful groan before disintegrating into harmless particles — my power neutralizing the biohazard mess entirely. No guts, no gore, just… *poof*. Sanitary execution, Death 2.0 style.
A translucent interface appeared before me:
**\[Welcome, Morte 2.0 — Full Authorization Granted]**
**\[Next Targets: Wesker — Status: Pending Termination]**
**\[Dr. Alexander Isaacs — Status: Priority Threat]**
Wesker's sunglasses tilted down ever so slightly. "You're joking."
I shrugged, grinning. "System says otherwise."
Death 1.0 hovered beside me, scythe resting casually on her shoulder. "Time for the tradition, Daniel."
"Tradition?" I echoed, brow raised.
She gestured to the swirling cosmic menu that materialized beside me, filled with shimmering weapon icons — swords, spears, chains, things I couldn't even pronounce.
"Every Reaper gets a signature weapon," she explained. "Mine's the classic." She twirled her oversized scythe like a baton, its edge gleaming with eerie light. "What's yours?"
Wesker chuckled under his breath, clearly entertained by the absurdity.
Alice, still processing everything, muttered, "You're… choosing a weapon? Like picking an outfit?"
I nodded. "Yep. And I want something with *personality*."
I scrolled through the options. Cosmic halberds, entropy daggers, annihilation whips… tempting. But none of them *felt* right.
Death 1.0 leaned in, voice low. "You've got potential. Pick wisely. Your weapon's an extension of your will — and your *brand*."
Branding death… only in this cosmic gig.
Suddenly, the perfect option appeared: a pair of sleek, obsidian-black gloves, etched with runes glowing faint blue. Minimalist. Deadly. Stylish.
"I'll take these," I declared, slipping them on. They adjusted perfectly to my hands, humming with contained energy.
Death 1.0 whistled. "Subtle. Classy. I approve."
**\[WEAPON ACQUIRED — VOIDFORGED GLOVES]**
**\[Ability: Reality Compression — Target elimination without collateral damage. Polished results guaranteed.]**
Wesker folded his arms. "Cute gloves. Think that makes you dangerous?"
In response, I snapped my fingers.
The entire area around Wesker and Alice gleamed with immaculate perfection — grime, blood, scorch marks, all vanished. Even the lingering stench of bioweapons dissolved into crisp, clean air.
Wesker blinked. "I stand corrected."
Death 1.0 cackled, floating backwards. "Alright, kid. You're officially one of us. Welcome to the bureaucracy of cosmic balance — where paperwork's eternal, but the jokes are mandatory."
Alice crossed her arms, skeptical but curious. "So… what now? You gonna clean up the planet or…?"
I stretched, energy swirling harmlessly around me now that my discipline wasn't garbage-tier. "Got a month to sanitize this apocalypse and make Earth habitable again. Oh, and deal with those two."
I pointed to the glowing list — Wesker's name pulsing ominously, Dr. Isaacs right below.
Wesker smirked. "You'll find me harder to 'sanitize' than some walking science experiment."
Death 1.0 drifted beside him, skeletal grin wide. "Keep dreaming, sunglasses."
The tension eased as the chaos subsided. Nêmesis was gone, the city temporarily safe, and for the first time since this cosmic promotion, I didn't feel like I was about to vaporize a continent by accident.
But hey, the fun was just starting.
"Alright," I cracked my knuckles, Voidforged Gloves shimmering. "Who's ready to ruin some evil corporations and stylishly save the world?"
Death 1.0 hovered beside me, scythe twinkling in the moonlight.
Alice loaded her weapon with a smirk.
Wesker rolled his eyes, but that cocky grin never faded.
And me? Morte 2.0, fully upgraded, mentally stable-ish, cosmic janitor of the apocalypse… and ready to turn this story upside down.
---
The halls of the Umbrella underground facility echoed with alarms, distant gunfire, and the heavy, awkward breathing of Albert Wesker as he darted down yet another sterile corridor.
Super strength, enhanced reflexes, inhuman regeneration — none of that prepared him for me.
I appeared behind him like flicking through TV channels — one moment air, the next moment, Death 2.0 standing casually at his six o'clock. The Void Gloves shimmered faintly as I reached out, fingers tapping his shoulder.
"Albert," I greeted, voice calm, almost sympathetic.
He froze, spinning with speed only a genetically modified ego could manage — but it was too late. My hand was already there.
Wesker's pupils dilated, his breath hitched, and with a barely audible whoosh, his soul detached like a cheap sticker peeling off glass. It hovered, translucent, glowing faintly, hovering awkwardly beside his now limp body that slumped to the floor like overcooked pasta.
Albert stared at his own corpse, horrified, ethereal fingers trembling. "W-What…? No, wait! Wait! I… I can change! Please, I have plans! Redemption arcs! A sequel deal—"
I held up a hand, silencing him with one casual phrase:
"I'm not the forgiveness department of HR."
His ghostly face twisted in terror as his essence was sucked upward into the cosmic recycle bin, vanishing with a soft pop, like a bubble bursting in the void.
Before I could fully enjoy the quiet moment, I snapped my fingers — the sound cracked like lightning in an echo chamber.
Reality folded like a cheap map, and suddenly Dr. Alexander Isaacs materialized three feet in front of me, mid-sip of his tea, startled so badly he nearly choked.
His eyes widened in horror as they landed on Wesker's lifeless body slumped across the floor, soulless, limbs awkwardly splayed like a malfunctioning mannequin.
Isaacs coughed violently, sputtering, "W-What the hell is—?"
I tilted my head, stepping forward with a grin that was way too relaxed for the apocalypse backdrop we had going on. "Evening, Doc. Welcome to the end of your career evaluation."
Isaacs' face turned sheet-white as the implications clicked. He wasn't stupid — morally bankrupt, sure — but stupid? Nah. His gaze bounced between me, the gloves, and Wesker's rapidly cooling corpse.
"I… I didn't mean… You don't have to—"
I snapped again, interrupting him. The air warped as his clipboard disintegrated into ash. "Shh… corporate paperwork bores me."
His hand trembled, dropping the teacup, which shattered into glass dust before it even hit the floor. His pupils contracted like pinpricks.
"You… you're Death," he stammered. "But… he was supposed to be untouchable. Enhanced. The apex predator—"
I chuckled, walking a lazy circle around him. "Yeah, well… apex predators tend to forget there's always a bigger shark swimming just outside the frame." I leaned in, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Spoiler: I'm the shark."
He stumbled back, tripping over Wesker's body, nearly falling — but I caught him by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.
"I get it," I mused, watching his terrified expression. "Power trips. Genetic experiments. Playing God in a lab coat… been there, done that, bought the afterlife franchise."
Isaacs struggled weakly, his voice cracking, "Please… we… we can negotiate. Resources, data, anything—"
I shook my head. "Doc… you should've read the fine print. Death 2.0 doesn't do negotiations."
A beat of silence.
Then… my Void Gloves pulsed faintly as I mentally queued his imminent soul extraction, but a ping echoed in my mind — the Death System interface lighting up with a soft notification.
[UPGRADE IN PROGRESS: 55% COMPLETE]
[NOTE: Full power restrictions still in place. Target extraction requires finesse to avoid timeline instability.]
I sighed dramatically. "Guess I can't totally rip you out yet — system still patching. Lucky day, Doc."
Isaacs whimpered as I set him down gently, straightening his lab coat with mock professionalism. "But hey… don't celebrate. You're still on the list."
I waved a hand, conjuring a holographic screen in midair — a clean, glowing Death To-Do List. Right at the top:
Wesker — Eliminated.
Dr. Alexander Isaacs — Pending.
Next Target: To Be Determined.
Isaacs scrambled to his feet, backing away, wide-eyed. I let him go — for now. He'd run. Hide. Try every trick in the villain handbook. It wouldn't matter.
I smirked, flexing my gloves as the Void energy crackled faintly.
Death always gets the last laugh.