Storm of Scythes

The rain had slowed to a steady curtain, but the thunder still split the sky. Every flash of lightning burned the battlefield into stark relief.

Outside, Gladius stood alone at the heart of the village square. Shadows lay dead or broken around him, their short swords glinting dimly in puddles of blood. The Reapers pressed closer—black cloaks sweeping, scythes flashing like silver fangs.

And above them all, the gilded Reaper stood still. Cloak stitched with gold, scythe lined with delicate etchings. He watched. Waiting. Measuring.

Gladius spat rain from his mouth and tightened his grip on the katana. “If you think I’ll fall easy… you’re wrong.”

He surged forward.

Steel met steel. His blade cleaved through the haft of a scythe, the wielder crying out before Gladius pivoted and split him across the chest. Another lunged from the side—Gladius twisted, letting the curved blade graze his arm, then drove his katana upward through the Reaper’s jaw. He kicked the body free and spun again, cutting low, cutting fast.

The square rang with death.

The gilded Reaper’s eyes glimmered in the dark. He hadn’t moved. Not yet.

Inside the inn, the door burst inward. Three Reapers shoved through, their porcelain masks painted with jagged streaks of crimson. Scythes scraped the walls as they advanced, knocking over tables and sending embers from the fireplace scattering across the floor.

“Positions!” Shadow Five barked. She was already moving, twin short swords flashing in the low light.

Corvin lifted his axe, his knuckles white. “Let’s do this the quick way.”

Sai took the sword Shadow Five had returned to him, testing its weight before stepping in at her flank. “No mistakes. Work together.”

Eira lowered her stance with the naginata, fear wide in her eyes but resolve tightening her jaw.

And from the bed, Mira struggled upright. Her breath rattled, but she pulled her bowstring taut with trembling hands. “I’ll cover you. Just—keep them at distance from me.”

The first Reaper lunged.

Corvin swung, wild but strong. His axe slammed against the scythe’s shaft, sparks flying as he forced the Reaper back. “Not so easy when we’re armed, huh?!”

The second came for Sai. He sidestepped, parrying with the flat of his blade before twisting low, slicing across the Reaper’s thigh. The creature hissed but didn’t slow, its scythe sweeping down in a brutal arc that rattled Sai’s arms.

The third angled toward the bed—toward Mira.

“Not happening!” Eira shouted. She intercepted, her naginata stabbing forward. The long blade pierced through the Reaper’s cloak, staggering it back, but the counter strike came fast. The scythe slammed against her weapon, forcing her to brace with all her strength.

Mira’s fingers shook—but the arrow flew.

It buried itself in the Reaper’s shoulder. The thing let out a guttural snarl, staggering again, and Eira pressed forward, sweat running down her face.

Outside, Gladius exhaled through clenched teeth. Five Reapers already lay dead at his feet. Another three circled, waiting for his breath to falter. He tightened his grip and lunged once more.

The first fell in two strikes, its scythe shattered and chest split. The second managed to parry, but Gladius stepped in close, elbow smashing into its throat before his blade punched clean through.

The third came from behind.

Gladius spun, blocking just in time. Sparks showered. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his arms. He grimaced, teeth bared, and shoved back, slashing across the Reaper’s stomach.

Bodies fell.

Still, the gilded one didn’t move. His voice carried instead, smooth and cutting, through the storm.

“You kill well, Gladius. But every cut drains you. Every strike shortens your night.”

Gladius glared up at him, rain dripping into his eyes. “Then step down and test me yourself.”

The gilded Reaper tilted his head. His grin gleamed faintly behind the mask. “Patience. I prefer my prey tired.”

Inside, the fight was chaos.

Corvin roared, hacking wildly as his Reaper pressed harder. The scythe’s reach kept forcing him back. At last, he feinted low, then brought the axe down in a brutal overhead chop that split the porcelain mask in two. Blood spattered across the room.

“Ha! That’s more like it!”

Sai wasn’t faring as cleanly. His opponent moved with frightening precision, every scythe strike heavier than the last. Sai’s blade was faster, but his arms ached from every block. He needed an opening—just one.

Shadow Five created it.

She darted in from the side, her short sword slicing across the Reaper’s exposed back. As it staggered, Sai struck with a cry, his blade piercing through its chest. The Reaper fell, gurgling.

“Two down!” Sai gasped, wiping rain and sweat from his brow.

The last Reaper shrieked, its cloak torn and bleeding from Mira’s arrow. It swung viciously at Eira, nearly knocking her weapon from her hands. She dug her heels in, desperate, forcing the naginata upward to block.

Mira’s second arrow flew wide, embedding itself in the wall. She cursed, notching again, sweat dripping down her pale face.

“I’ve got you!” she shouted.

The arrow struck true this time, punching through the Reaper’s thigh. It faltered—and Eira seized the chance.

With a cry, she thrust forward, the naginata blade driving through its chest. The Reaper shuddered once, then collapsed, cloak pooling around it.

Eira gasped, chest heaving, knuckles still tight on her weapon.

“That’s it,” Corvin muttered, scanning the room, axe slick with blood. “That’s all of ’em.”

But Shadow Five’s eyes were sharp, fixed on the door. “Not for long.”

Outside, Gladius stood in a ring of corpses. Blood ran with the rain down the cobblestones. His chest rose and fell, his arm burned with every swing.

The gilded Reaper finally moved.

He walked the steps of the plaza like a king strolling through his court, scythe gleaming with golden accents. Every step dripped arrogance. Every step promised violence.

“Impressive,” he said softly. “But now—your end.”

Gladius raised his katana, rain dripping down its length. “Come, then. Enough games.”

Their blades met with a crash that shook the square.

The gilded scythe was longer, heavier, but wielded with an elegance that mirrored Gladius’s own. Strike met strike, sparks scattering with every clash.

“You train shadows like tools,” the gilded one taunted, scythe swinging low. Gladius blocked, twisting the blade away. “But tools break. Tonight, yours lie broken at your feet.”

Gladius snarled, parrying again, his muscles straining. “And tonight—you’ll join them.”

They clashed again, steel screaming. The gilded Reaper laughed, a sound like ice cracking.

Inside, silence fell for a heartbeat. Then—

The door rattled.

Another slam.

Sai tightened his grip on the sword. “We can’t stay here.”

Mira forced herself upright further, bow trembling in her hands. “Then we move. While we still can.”

Shadow Five nodded once. “Gather your strength. We cut through whatever waits outside. Then we run.”

Eira swallowed hard, staring at the splintering wood. “Into the storm?”

“Yes,” Shadow Five said simply. Her voice was ice. “Into the storm. Or die here.”

Another slam shook the door from its hinges.

The group tightened their grips, bloodied and exhausted, but alive.

And together, they turned toward the night.