Novel & Cerita Reaper Sans

“I have the time right now. Jade is making lunch. So you better get your ass over here before it’s all gone.” Reaper meets me at the door as soon as I get there. Unlike me, Reaper has a very flashy security system. Don’t get me wrong, my system is state of the art, but it’s a little less intrusive. Whereas Reaper’s system requires you to be scanned and checked like you’re in an airport. “Savage.” Reaper greets me with a smug smile. “Reaper, am I allowed in here, or are we going to stare into each other’s dreamy eyes for the rest of the night?” I mutter sarcastically. Reaper chuckles and waves me in. “Come on in.”

"The machines realized the power spike came from here. They’re sending a 'Maintenance Crew' to fix the leak." She looked back at us, her expression grim. "And they don't use drones for maintenance. They use the **Reaped**." "Who are the Reaped?" Rowan asked. "The people who didn't survive the de-compiler," she said. "The ones who lost their souls to the simulation. They’re coming to put you back in your boxes." A sound echoed from the sky—a long, low horn that sounded like the Earth itself was crying.

He has a solid jawline, clean-shaven face, thinner cheeks with just the right amount of plumpness, dimples that would take any normal woman’s breath away, beautiful bright brown eyes with flecks of gold, a tall leanly-muscled build, and short dark brown hair that is always neatly combed to one side, but tufts at the top in a cute way. I give him a polite nod that contradicts the rude way that I shove past him to step inside. I wordlessly pass him the name and photo of my target that came with the job posting, fixing him with an intense emerald-green gaze. He already knows the drill and I’m not one for pleasantries or small talk. He gives a low chuckle at my straight-to-business attitude, “al

NYX’s POV “Salvador suuuucks!” Narin and I had barely stepped into the Rebel’s hideout when we were welcomed by the loud screech of a male banshee- or rather, a farshee- who was obviously fed up with Salvador Academy. I jumped, my hands covering my ears to block out his ear-splitting scream which shook the entire basement. The dude was lucky we were in an underground bunker. If he had pulled this off outside, the Westwood forest would have easily carried his cries to the ears of the guardians. That would lead him into some serious trouble.

Returning back to my reaper duties and a persistent prince I headed back into the mound not in the mood to celebrate anything any longer. I was pleasantly surprised by Salenis plopping down next to me and exhaling harshly. I turned my head and smiled at him. "Thanks for helping me with all the annoying things that happened," I said sincerely and he winked and told me no problem. I laid my head back and thought about everything. "I'm going to tell Rai to take his reaper king thingy back and I'll just return to collecting souls like I planned on doing before I supposedly fell in love and got burned," I mumbled bitterly and Salenis chuckled and turned towards me.

As if his last connection with the world of the living was abruptly and forever cut off. The novice was not tormented, did not suffer, did not grind over what had happened in his head. With cold indifference, he accepted this incident, rejected it and forgot it. Don't take back what you've done. It's useless to kill yourself and irritate spiritual wounds. No Eilish. Lesana is gone. The world didn't collapse. The sky didn't split. He made a mistake. It won't happen to him again. And everything else - cross out and forget.

His tattoos curled up his neck and under his ear like smoke. Beside him was Felix, leaner, wiry, with a mop of dark hair and scars on his knuckles that told enough stories on their own. Felix was quieter, but he had a gift for slipping through digital and physical security alike. If Reid was the tracker, Felix was the ghost.

No names on this job, only call signs. We have Reaper, Ghost, Shade, Viper and me, Blade. They were the best the clan ever trained, monsters I’d bled beside before I ever wore a professor’s jacket. Each one carried the feather scar somewhere on their body, each one owed Old Might their soul. But tonight they answered to me. Reaper, he's tall, shaved head, and his voice sounded like gravel. He was the first to speak. “Package count?”

I shook my head at him. "So exactly how old are you?" That was the main question nagging at me. "I got my reapers mark at the age of twenty-eight so technically I'm twenty-eight." I rolled my eyes. "You know what I meant. What the hell is a reapers mark though?" "It's the mark we get when we reap our first soul, that's when we stop ageing. And I know what you meant and to be truthful I'm two hundred and fourty." I felt like a child compared to him.

Brent’s POV “I’m tired of listening to your bitch ass snores back there Joel!” I heard Colten yell at his cousin for the umpteenth time. This SUV isn’t big enough to deal with all this testosterone. The drive to Texas has been dragging on all night and we’ve barely approached the border. “Come on all of us are exhausted. Let’s find a motel and call it for now and then one of you bitches can drive!” I yelled.