Overwatch Reaper Artwork Novels & Stories

his face was perfection with high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes so beautiful that I had to pause to catch my breath. Scars traced faint lines along his neck, but they only made him hotter for some strange reason. I could sense his power. I believe everyone here could feel it too. Moon Reapers were chosen humans, blessed by the Moon Goddess herself with extraordinary strength to eliminate werewolves who threatened humans or even innocent wolves. However, the Reapers often abused their power. And I had a feeling that the heir would be the worst of them all. He was out of this world. Captivating in a way that made my pulse race and my skin prickle with some unknown emotion.

Sitting on a leather sofa was a man who was shirtless, his massive chest and stomach covered in hard, rippling muscle and dark, intricate tattoos. My stomach did a somersault. It was Horace. The Ice Reaper. The Captain of the Ravagers Wolves and Harold’s most hated rival. He was undeniably beautiful in a way that felt dangerous, like a storm that could swallow you whole. He thought I was the stripper he had ordered. "Step closer," he commanded.

The Council’s fortress loomed against the grey sky like a monument to power and oppression. Built into the side of a mountain, it was both beautiful and terrifying. White stone walls rose hundreds of feet, decorated with intricate carvings of wolves in various poses of dominance. I stood at the base with Kael, Lyra, Raven, and Bloodmoon, all dressed in formal attire befitting an Alpha delegation. I wore a deep blue gown that seemed to shimmer in the fading light, my hair arranged in an elegant style that completely transformed my appearance. I looked nothing like the broken omega who had once scrubbed floors.

"Did you really think a fat, dying human could ever truly be my Luna?”, the words I never expected from Jacob, my bond mate came out with no remorse I gave that man everything. My body. My loyalty. My son. My Health. And when his fated mate walked in, he chose her — then watched Lucy kill my child before he finished what she started. I died hating them both. I woke up as someone else. My name was Rachel Black. Now I'm wearing Danielle Carmen's face, sleeping in her bed, married to a man who never wanted me — Jackson, obligated to me by a mother who's been pulling his strings since birth. I don't remember Danielle's life. But I remember someone tried to end it before I got here. So I'll u

I then stood up as I felt that his healing power was slow. I grabbed the reaper's blade again and put the blade on his throat. He started laughing hysterically as he saw the blade. "You can not scare me with these toys, Eve. I had seen these centuries ago. They can not hurt me." He said with a satisfied smile on his face. I gritted my teeth and knelt down on the ground. I pulled out the dagger of Eve from my cape and he went all pale. I cut his left hand with the dagger and he screamed loudly in pain.

Like hoppy. The girl wheezed, tried to crawl away, but the bonds held tightly, and her back rested against a tree trunk. Only a few steps separated the victim from the undead. The stench emanating from the Walker became unbearable. The ugly face of a ghoul with traces of earth on rotting skin was distorted by greed. Blue lips stretched out, revealing strong teeth. Someone's husband or father will bite her to death. Someone who loved, suffered, lived, but died and... was reborn into this .

Our little girl kicked fiercely, as if already fighting the invisible war we were waging for her. Damien’s reflection appeared in the glass before his arms slid around me from behind. He was shirtless despite the cold, his tattooed chest warm against my back. The new ink over his heart, a small reaper scythe wrapped in thorns protecting a tiny crown, caught the firelight. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. His hand joined mine on my stomach, feeling the strong kicks. A rare, fierce smile touched his lips. “She’s a fighter. Like her mother.”

It struck the ground a dozen feet in front of them. Where the beam hit, the scrubby grass, the tough little weeds, the hardy insects, everything simply… turned grey. Not dead. It was still standing, but all color, all vitality, was instantly leeched from it. It became a perfect, static sculpture of its former self, frozen in a moment of absolute apathy. A Reaper. That's what the Overseer had written. Deploy Reapers to sanitize the sector. Their weapon didn't kill. It preserved in a state of non-life. It was the ultimate expression of the Grey Sorrow's philosophy.

"Fine. You want to see who owns the space? I’ll show you." I grabbed the black gesso and a thick palette knife. I smeared a jagged, dark silhouette right down the center of the cap—the unmistakable, hooded curve of a Reaper’s scythe. It was messy, raw, and looked like it had been carved out of the night. Then, before the black could even dry, I snatched the tweezers from Jax’s hand. I began pressing the delicate, shimmering gold leaf directly over the top of the scythe, forming a sharp, intricate crown that sat atop the Reaper’s hood.

More people appear fighting for both sides but I concentrated on Breydon as he snaps his arm back into place, they could heal just as quickly as wolves. We circle each other, his red eyes on me the whole time, he was waiting for me to shift, waiting for me to attack just as I was waiting for him. “You bitch” he dives at me with speed and sends me flying to the ground but I am quick to jump on my feet and punch him in the face, breaking his nose sending blood spilling down his chin and I feel Reaper smile Finally some blood, now let me out ‘Not yet, I need to do this myself’