Zero woke up, but he couldn't breathe. His lungs were filled with a fine dust that tasted like old ink.
The sky above him wasn't blue, or black. It was a suffocating grey, thick and heavy. The ground beneath him didn't feel solid like asphalt. It was soft, strange, almost like stacked layers of old cardboard. A faint scratching echoed under his skin, as if his bones were fragile graphite, ready to snap.
He lifted his right hand. It looked normal, pale with faint blue veins. But when he tried his left hand… there was nothing. His arm ended at the wrist, and beyond it swirled a violet mist, pulsing with a quiet, electric hum.
A flashback struck him—a blinding white light, a man in a surgical mask holding a sharp quill, a child's scream fading in a long corridor, fabric tearing… then silence.
Zero bolted upright. His violet hand moved on its own, drinking the light around it. Slowly, he reached toward the alley wall. The wall wasn't made of brick. Its lines were unfinished, fading with time.
As the mist touched the wall, it didn't leave a mark. The lines dissolved, matter disappeared, and a pure white void appeared behind it.
"What is this?" Zero whispered. His right hand felt lighter. His fingers were becoming translucent, as if he himself was fading.
Suddenly, the alley shook. From the shadows, two towering figures appeared, wearing white coats. Their faces were blank. They carried enormous quills glowing with golden light.
The Reapers.
One lunged. Each step froze the air beneath it. He raised his golden spear at Zero's chest.
Zero scrambled across the paper-like ground. The spear grazed his ear. Instinctively, he raised the violet hand. The spear melted on contact, droplets of ink disappearing into nothingness.
The second Reaper approached. Zero lashed out. The violet mist struck the creature, and its arm vanished. No blood. Tiny letters floated and then dissolved. The Reaper crumbled into black dust.
But Zero felt it immediately. A chill raced through his chest. His right hand was now turning translucent. His power was stealing from himself to destroy his enemies.
"If you keep this up… you'll vanish before they can kill you," a deep voice said from above a pile of old manuscripts.
Zero looked up. A man sat calmly. His coat was patched with newspaper, the headlines shifting with the wind. He held a pipe exhaling black smoke. One eye shone beneath his hat.
It was Malachi.