Rain began to fall.
Not heavy. Not gentle.
Just enough to blur the city's edges and wash the smoke from the alley where Reaper had vanished.
Aarav Kane stood motionless beneath a flickering streetlight.
The silence felt louder than the explosion.
He slowly exhaled and sheathed his blade.
Reaper's words echoed in his mind.
You don't kill. That makes you weak.
Aarav clenched his jaw.
"No," he murmured to himself. "It makes me different."
He turned away from the alley and disappeared into the maze of rooftops, moving with practiced ease. The city stretched endlessly below—neon lights, dark corners, secrets stacked on secrets.
But tonight, something had changed.
For the first time in years, Aarav felt it.
Someone was hunting him.
Elsewhere — Underground
Deep beneath the city, far from rain and sirens, a hidden chamber hummed with low energy.
Torches lined the stone walls, their flames unnaturally steady. At the center of the room stood a circular platform etched with ancient symbols.
Reaper stepped into the light.
The red coat was soaked, rain dripping onto the cold floor. He reached up slowly and removed the silver mask.
A young face stared back from the reflection in the polished stone.
Sharp eyes. Calm. Tired.
His real name was Kael Voss.
He placed the glowing dagger onto the platform. The light dimmed, as if resting.
"So," a voice echoed from the shadows, "you finally met him."
A tall figure emerged—dressed in black, face hidden beneath a hood. His presence alone made the air feel heavier.
"Yes," Kael replied. "The Shadow exists."
"And?"
Kael hesitated.
"He's… not what we expected."
The hooded figure stepped closer.
"You were sent to eliminate him," the voice said coldly. "Not to study him."
Kael's eyes flickered.
"He fights crime," Kael said. "Just like we do."
The hooded man laughed—dry and humorless.
"He interferes," he said. "He inspires hope."
The word sounded almost like an insult.
"Hope is dangerous," the figure continued. "It makes people question who truly controls the dark."
Kael looked down at the dagger.
"And if he refuses to fall?" Kael asked.
The hooded figure leaned in.
"Then you'll do what a Reaper does best," he whispered.
"You'll reap."
Aarav's Safehouse
A rusted metal door slid shut behind Aarav as he entered an abandoned subway control room—his safehouse.
Dim lights flickered on.
Maps covered the walls. Newspaper clippings. Crime syndicate symbols. Names crossed out in red. Some circled. Some left untouched.
Aarav removed his jacket, examining the scorched cut from Reaper's blade.
"That wasn't normal tech," he muttered.
He sat down at a battered desk and opened a hidden drawer.
Inside lay an old photograph.
A younger Aarav stood beside a man in a police uniform—his father. Both were smiling. The city behind them looked… hopeful.
That city no longer existed.
"They said you died protecting the law," Aarav said softly. "But the law didn't survive you."
He closed his eyes.
The memory returned uninvited.
Sirens.
Fire.
A courtroom burned to the ground.
Witnesses silenced.
Cases buried.
That was the night Aarav became the Shadow.
A knock echoed through the chamber.
Aarav's hand went to his blade instantly.
"Relax," a familiar voice called out. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have heard me."
The door creaked open.
A woman stepped inside—short hair, sharp eyes, long coat soaked from rain.
Mira Sen.
Investigative journalist.
One of the few people who knew Aarav's secret.
"You're late," Aarav said.
"You disappeared," Mira replied. "Explosions tend to get my attention."
She glanced at the wall maps.
"And judging by this," she added, "so does war."
Aarav leaned back.
"There's someone else," he said. "Someone like me."
Mira raised an eyebrow.
"Vigilante?"
"No," Aarav replied. "Executioner."
Mira's expression darkened.
"I've heard rumors," she said. "Bodies found. No witnesses. No patterns."
She looked at him.
"They call him Reaper."
Aarav nodded once.
"He's real."
Mira crossed her arms.
"And what are you going to do?"
Aarav stood.
"I stop him," he said. "Before he turns this city into a graveyard."
Mira studied him carefully.
"And if he's right?" she asked. "What if some people really can't be saved?"
Aarav met her gaze.
"Then this city loses its soul," he said.
Outside, thunder rolled across the skyline.
Somewhere in the darkness, Kael Voss looked out over the city from a high tower, silver mask back in place, dagger glowing faintly at his side.
Two shadows.
One city.
Only one path forward.
And neither was willing to step aside.