Reaper X Sombra Novels & Stories

"We can stop it. We can use the stabilizers. We can—" "We can't do anything, Nomo. You said it yourself," Somito gasped, his knees buckling. He slid down the doorframe, his heavy frame hitting the stone with a dull thud. "It’s a reaper. And I’ve got too much Montague blood in me for it to ignore." "I'll get Sofia! She can—"

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.

Reaper stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until he was close enough that I could see the faint scar along his jaw. “Armando,” he said quietly, “give her to me.” “No.” He smiled. “Then watch what happens next.” He snapped his fingers. A single sound answered him. A scream. Not Maya’s. Not Amelia’s. A man’s scream. From the far side of the compound. Torres’s face drained of color. “Boss—that’s—” I knew who it was before he said it. One of ours. One of the men Reaper had taken. Alive. And now screaming.

The Reaper advanced again at him but he quickly ducked and hit the monster with his tail, like a slap. The Reaper staggered and hissed in annoyance. Rena appeared behind the Reaper and stabbed its body but the dagger just bounced off like she's slicing a rubber. The Reaper didn't get wounded at all, nor a scratch. The Reaper turned at her annoyed but she disappeared quickly, ran off towards the tree, beside Sisi.

In just a second, the Bear Alpha is on the ground, head smashed into the concrete. Dead. His attacker is crouching over the corpse. He turns to me; there's a mask over his face. Sharp green eyes pierce mine. “My lady.”

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.

I have so many unanswered questions about this mysterious assassin. I spent the next week preparing for the formal event while also gathering what I could about assassins that were known. None of the information told me anything. I got a few well-known female assassin names. The number one was Phantom Reaper, second was Blade of Bracken (named after this city, Bracken’s Rock), and third was simply Death. Not very original, that one. By evening, it’s time for me to attend this despicable gala to network and attempt to secure funding for my next research project. I dress sharply in a black tuxedo, my white dress shirt is crisp, and I wear a neatly knotted black tie. My hair is usually always a

“And you—what are you doing here?” “Delicious. Would you believe me if I said your own hatred summoned me?” She ran her tongue over her lips, a gesture that sent a chill down my spine. “I am Sora Rhea, darling—little sister to your Dark God, the reaper of damned souls who make pacts with my brother.” “If that were true, you would have appeared long ago!” I gasped, my vision blurring even more. “You’re not as slow as Nocturnus predicted. Interesting.” She bit the tip of one sharp nail, stepping closer. “I’m the one who harvests souls in the name of our dark lord.”

Something is wrong. ‘Reaper?’ I mind-link him. A burst of black shadows emerges through the cloud, and flames follow behind. ‘Reaper! What is that? What’s happening? Please tell me you’re okay?’ Dozens of dragons emerge through the clouds, chasing Reaper. They are different colours and all breathe different elements towards him. Some breathe fire, some ice, others electric bolts. A sooty-coloured dragon emerges, spitting a black liquid toward him—drips land near my feet. The grass and flowers it touches lose their colour before turning to ash.

Soren - POV Rocher and I sat in the basement, eyes locked on the grainy footage playing on the screen. The man wore a Reaper crest ring, but there was no identifier—no name, no visible face. Something blocked the camera’s view, leaving only his hand in sight. Judging by the roughness of his skin, he was likely in his late twenties or early thirties. I exhaled sharply. No new information. Nothing. Even the dark web held no trace of the Reaper mafia, as if they never existed.