The alley stood frozen in the aftermath of the explosion.
Smoke curled upward, drifting between broken streetlights and cracked walls. The city, moments ago asleep, seemed to hold its breath. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed—but it felt like another world entirely.
Aarav Kane didn't move.
Across from him stood Reaper.
The red coat fluttered gently in the cold wind, its edges tattered like the wings of a fallen angel. The silver mask reflected the dim lights, smooth and emotionless, hiding whatever expression lay beneath. In his right hand, the dagger pulsed faintly, as if alive—its glow steady, deliberate.
"So," Reaper said, tilting his head slightly, "the Shadow finally shows himself."
Aarav's fingers tightened around his blade.
"You shouldn't have come," Aarav replied. His voice was calm, but beneath it was something sharper—something restrained. "This city already has enough monsters."
Reaper chuckled softly.
"Funny," he said. "That's exactly what they call you."
The wind picked up, carrying dust and ash between them. For a moment, neither moved. Two predators sizing each other up. Two paths that were never meant to cross—now colliding.
Then Reaper stepped forward.
Not fast. Not slow.
Confident.
"I've been cleaning this city long before you decided to play hero," Reaper said. "Crime lords. Smugglers. Corrupt officials. I erased them all."
Aarav's eyes narrowed.
"And yet," he said, "the city is still bleeding."
Reaper stopped a few steps away.
"That's because you don't understand," he said quietly. "You cut the branches. I cut the roots."
The glow of his dagger intensified.
Aarav shifted his stance.
"And who decides what deserves to be cut?" Aarav asked.
Reaper raised the dagger slightly, pointing it toward Aarav's chest.
"I do."
The air snapped.
Reaper vanished.
Aarav reacted instantly—his blade came up just in time.
Clang.
Metal met metal, sparks flashing as the glowing dagger struck. The force pushed Aarav back a step, boots scraping against concrete. Reaper was already moving again, slipping to the side, striking from another angle.
Aarav blocked. Spun. Countered.
Their movements blurred together—silent, precise, deadly. Reaper fought like a phantom, appearing and disappearing, his attacks relentless. Aarav matched him blow for blow, reading patterns, predicting angles, adapting.
"You're faster than they said," Reaper remarked mid-strike.
"And you talk too much," Aarav shot back.
Aarav ducked low, sweeping his leg. Reaper leapt backward, flipping effortlessly and landing atop a nearby dumpster. He crouched there, dagger held loosely, glowing brighter now.
"Impressive," Reaper said. "Most men don't last ten seconds."
Aarav straightened, blade steady.
"I'm not most men."
For a brief second, Reaper's head tilted—as if smiling beneath the mask.
"Good," he said. "Then this will be fun."
Reaper raised his dagger.
The glow surged.
Suddenly, shadows in the alley stretched unnaturally, twisting and crawling along the walls. The light bent, warping around Reaper as if reality itself was bending with him.
Aarav felt it.
A pressure.
A presence.
"So that's your trick," Aarav muttered.
Reaper's voice echoed strangely now.
"This dagger was forged for one purpose," he said. "To reap those who hide in the dark."
In a blink, Reaper lunged.
This time, Aarav didn't block.
He stepped into the attack.
Their shoulders collided. Aarav drove his elbow forward, striking Reaper's chest. The impact forced Reaper back—but not before the glowing blade sliced across Aarav's jacket, burning through fabric.
Aarav hissed but didn't slow.
He pressed the attack—fast, ruthless, controlled. Reaper was forced onto the defensive for the first time, his movements sharp but reactive now.
"You hesitate," Aarav said between strikes. "Why?"
Reaper parried, barely.
"You don't kill," Reaper replied. "That makes you weak."
Aarav's eyes hardened.
"No," he said. "It makes me human."
With a final shove, Aarav knocked Reaper back several feet. Both men paused, breathing heavy, staring each other down.
For the first time, the glow of Reaper's dagger flickered.
Silence returned to the alley.
Then—slowly—Reaper straightened.
"This isn't over, Shadow," he said. "Tonight was just a test."
Aarav didn't lower his blade.
"Run," Aarav said. "While you still can."
Reaper laughed softly.
"We'll meet again," he said. "When you finally decide what you are."
The shadows surged.
And Reaper was gone.
The alley fell still once more.
Aarav stood alone, the cold wind brushing past him. He glanced at the burned tear in his jacket, then at the empty rooftop above.
"A reaper, huh…" he murmured.
Somewhere deep inside, Aarav knew one thing with certainty—
This war had only just begun.