Ah Yes Reapers Novels & Stories

a rogue faction of the original tribe who had rejected the resonance ten thousand years ago to embrace the vacuum of the deep reach. The Reapers were a terrifying inversion of the Silver Crest evolution. Their skin was a dull, matte black that seemed to suck the light out of the binary suns, and their eyes were pits of absolute white, devoid of the gold ring of the healer or the silver flash of the king. They didn't carry staves of light; they carried "Abyssal Scythes," jagged weapons of void-steel that hummed with a frequency designed to drain the resonance from any living thing. "The harvest is here," the lead Reaper hissed, his voice a discordant harmony that vibrated painfully in our mar

I am Rey Reed Smith, the last of the reaper's hunters and the wielder of the soul nectar. Taking another deep breath, I quickened my pace as the noise of those stupid crowds grew more intense. It was the same sound I'd grown accustomed to; it meant one of their most vicious and important players was about to slay his victims. My plan is simple. I will just brag into the arena ground, slaughter their players, rescue my team, kill the bastard, Ryan, and find my way out. I knew that with my newfound power, I was invisible to any weapons they were welding and that none of their players, not even Ryan, were a match for my abilities now.

"They cut the hardline." Kael sat beside me. He was vibrating with tension. He had ripped off his tie. His knuckles were white as he gripped the door handle. "How many men?" Kael asked. His voice was a low rumble that shook the seat. "Dorian has a team of four," I said. "But my father would not send thugs. He would send the Reapers." "Reapers?" "Private military contractors," I explained. "Genetically enhanced. Pain resistant. They are the ones who burned our house down five years ago."

His skin was pale, his eyes calm and calculating, as though he were measuring every movement in the room. “Darius,” Kael greeted. The man inclined his head. “Strategist.” Darius’s gaze fell on Avery. Not disdain, not quite approval—just an appraisal, like he was deciding if she could be a piece worth moving on a board. The third reaper made Avery’s skin prickle. They stood half in shadow, their form almost indistinct. Nyx. Even the name whispered wrong in her ears. Their hood was drawn low, and when they finally lifted their head, their eyes gleamed like void-pools. They didn’t speak, but the silence itself seemed deliberate, heavy, unsettling. Avery’s tether gave a faint thrum at their pres

Elara’s POV “It might be a bright idea for you to step out of the shadows,” I said calmly. A few seconds passed before a man materialized inside the room. His face was covered with a mask. He lifted his arm and showed me a tattoo etched into the back of his palm. “Reaper. I have come to take your life,” he growled. The Reapers. One of the greatest assassin guilds in the country. “Do you have any idea where you are? This is Caelthorn territory.”

"The High Council has designated this territory a 'Resource Reclamation Zone.' All biological assets are to be processed. Resistance will result in immediate termination." ​"This is my home, not a resource," Rhea spat, her daggers ready. ​"Correction," the Reaper said, its arm shifting with a mechanical whir into a spinning saw-blade of silvered steel. "It is a laboratory that has overstayed its usefulness." ​The fight was unlike anything the Silver Bane had ever experienced. The Reaper didn't feel pain, and it didn't tire. When Marcus lunged, the machine simply swatted him aside with enough force to crack his ribs. Sela’s arrows bounced off the blackened iron as if they were toothpicks.

Cale said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register, "I will not run. I will finish it." Elion looked at him. He saw the Reaper beneath the skin. The ancient, terrifying thing that had traded its eyes for a chance to fight. "We'll finish it together," Elion said. He sat back, watching the upload count on his phone rise. The signal was out. The world was watching. And somewhere in the city, Lysander was about to realize that he hadn't bought a victim. He had bought a war.

It was you. His jaw crooked in a rueful grin. The solace was immaculate. Rains came and flooded my soul. For the longest time, I was alone. I journeyed in dreams and shadow, through the valley of the damned, looking for a place you could be born. I walked and walked, until I could walk no more, constantly dreaming of you. When it was time to plant, I did. And now? I am the Reaper. “And what did you plant, Mr. Gardner?”

The thought of him in the hands of his family's murderer made her shake with terror. "We're going to get them back," Stalker said, reassuringly but it did nothing to help the way Velia felt, "Whatever it takes." "How?" Velia asked, her voice barely a whisper. "If this Rosario person is powerful enough to take both Venom and Virus, how are we supposed to –” "We're The Reapers," Reaper cut in, "We don't leave family behind. Ever." Velia looked around the room at the assembled pack members, who had become her chosen family over the past months.

I shook my head with a grim smile on my split lips. “You always said you taught him everything. But you don’t know him at all, do you? He doesn’t need an army. He doesn’t need your guns.” I leaned forward as far as I could, my eyes locked on his. “We’re talking about Myles Voss. The Reaper of Hellfangs. And he’s coming for me.”