Chapter 5:Essence Of A Soulless
[I must say, Reaper Lynch, your hypothesis is quite possible... yet not fully.]
A new, more detailed hologram flickered to life in his vision, overlaying the monster's grotesque form.
[Physicality Breakdown:
- Strength: 2
- Speed: 2
- Agility: 3
- Stamina: 2
Your attributes are distributed for general survivability, not specialized maneuvers. Note: You may reallocate points from one sector to another. The minimum threshold for any attribute is 1. Reallocation is permanent for the duration of your current incarnation.]
Now he understood what the system had meant by its earlier statement.
He studied the numbers: Strength 2, Speed 2, Agility 3, Stamina 2. He didn't need brute force or endless endurance for this. He just needed to be a flash—a single, unstoppable moment. He had to cleave that frantically beating heart... or whatever passed for one.
"Do it," Arthur said, his voice calm and certain in the confines of his mind. "Take one point from Strength, one from Agility, and one from Stamina. Add all three to Speed."
[Confirming Host Command: Reallocate 3 points to Speed? This will set Strength to 1,
Agility to 2, Stamina to 1, and Speed to 5. This action is irreversible. Are you certain, Arthur Lynch?]
"Yeah..just get over with it"
A wave of vertigo slammed into him, a sudden draining sensation as if his very substance was being siphoned from his muscles and lungs, funneled straight into his nerves and legs. His grip on the scythe felt feeble, his body hollowed out and brittle. But the world sharpened to a razor's edge.
He had half-expected the scythe to feel heavy now, but it retained the same near-weightlessness as before.
Quite credible.
[The DeathScythe is an Extension of your Will. It adjusts to whatever optimal condition aids the wielder.]
Spare him the lectures. His mind locked onto the creature, which now veered toward him at a frightful speed—not merely moving, but lunging from the ground, hands outstretched.
It was fast. Faster than him, even with his new stats. His eyes could track it, but reaction time would be too late, especially with his reduced agility.
[Danger Imminent. I suggest Host assume a Defensive Stance.]
The system's boom echoed in his head, but his eyes remained fixed. This was the plan. He'd gleaned that the eye was responsible for the illusions—his war correspondent brain piecing it together as the bony claw hurtled the final meters toward his face, a sickly grin splitting the cone head.
And since it wasn't casting illusions now, that eye must have limits. Overexerted to the point of bleeding. Which meant, however weird, that beating orb was both the heart and brain of the thing.
Its central nervous system.
He tilted his head but kept his body still. The claw pierced his form, arms deadlocked around him, leaving it defenseless. Amid the unraveling corruption tugging at his consciousness—threatening to drown his memories—his scythe blurred in a streak of black, tracing a perfect horizontal arc that severed the monster's head in two.
Its eyes widened, the grin frozen, as its body collapsed in a bloody, dark heap.
He sighed..
hands clutching the two dark holes now rent in his form. No pain—just a void where he felt some memories should have been..Hell, that was a risky plan.
He Exhaled Exhaustedly..
So... what now?
[Threat Neutralized.
Physicality: 8.
I must say, Host, truly your wisdom and strategic planning are credible. But I advise you refrain from such high-risk plans in the future.]
So that was it. His eyes darted to the stilled creature. No buffs or points from this?
[The Angel of Death only grants points for every soul channeled, not for elimination of the soulless.]
"Why...?"
[A Reaper's work is to reap souls into the underworld for the cycle of reincarnation or damnation. Eliminating the soulless is a secondary obligation, Reaper Lynch.]
What a half-assed explanation. He'd fought tooth and nail to bring this monster down, and really—no reward? He couldn't help but jab at its long limbs with his boot.
"Damn you..."
Then his eyes froze. A dark hologram hovered above the monster—the cone head, or scavenger, as this weird bot within had called it.
[Wish to Extract Scavenger's Essence: Yes // No]
Huh. Was this the system? No—the system's interface was usually blue, and it responded in words.
"System, what's this?"
[I'm sorry, Reaper Lynch. I possess no knowledge of what is happening.]
Oh. His mouth formed an "O." Well, anything called "extraction" usually meant something good. Ignoring the system's hesitant warning, he motioned his hand toward the "Yes" option.
[Arthur, I suggest you...]
"Shh," his own voice interrupted. He wasn't listening to some bot's blabbing about risks. This choice was his.
His finger touched the transparent "Yes"—weird, since it felt like interacting with a sci-fi hologram straight out of a book.
The monster dissolved into motes of shadow, drifting upward from the alley into the sky alongside shiny sparkles that lit the dim space. The shadows coalesced into the silhouette of a human—a teenage schoolgirl, from what his brain could make out. She had a smile on her face as she gazed at him.
He thought he heard her mutter a low, "Thank you..."
Before her figure scattered back into shimmers of light, drifting into the skies like moving stars in a night sky.
His gaze remained transfixed until a notification popped in his head.
[Scavenger's Essence successfully integrated.
For a single, disorienting second, Arthur wasn't in the alley. He was standing on a bridge, the wind tugging at a school uniform he wasn't wearing, a crushing weight of loneliness and despair in his chest—the feeling of being utterly forgotten. Then it was gone, leaving only the echo of the girl's grateful smile and the new, cold potential humming under his skiFor a single, disorienting second, Arthur wasn't in the alley. He was standing on a bridge, the wind tugging at a school uniform he wasn't wearing, a crushing weight of loneliness and despair in his chest—the feeling of being utterly forgotten. Then it was gone, leaving only the echo of the girl's grateful smile and the new, cold potential humming under his skin..
[New Attribute Acquired: Illusion]
[New Title Acquired: Hope of the Fallen]
[New Profile
Name: Arthur Lynch
Identity: Grim Reaper
Rank: Juvenile
Physicality: 8 (+19)
Intelligence: 23 (-1)
Attributes:
- Death
- Soul
- Illusion
Soul Collection: 1/1000
Weapons: Death Scythe, Grade: Mythic
Title: Hope of the Fallen
Fate: Ascended
Threat: None
You have gained a new Title: "Hope of the Fallen."]
He collapsed against the alley wall in elation. He'd just gained 19 points—probably from the monster and its Illusion attribute. But something lingered in his mind. About the monster... it had felt human. At the moment of death, that golden visage...
"System... What actually are the soulless?"
[I thoroughly don't know... Other than them being beings, according to some lores, born from negativity or the hatred and regret of someone before their demise. If strong enough, it could take the form of a monster like the one you saw. They feed on the regrets of the dead, and they are quite antagonistic to Reapers. But they seem to have an organized hierarchy. So I doubt the lore is complete.]
"I see..."
He probably had a lot of questions, but for now, they were low priority. He reclined against the alley wall, relief coursing through him in deep breaths.
For now, he'd survived. Narrowly, but that was okay.
Surviving itself was victory. It was what he'd learned in camp—and experienced all his life.