Blood and Thunder

The inn had gone silent after the last Reaper fell. Silent, but not calm. The air stank of charred wood, scorched herbs, and blood. The walls sweated with rain seeping through the broken shutters. The fire had nearly died, leaving only the groan of the storm outside.

“Time to move,” Shadow Five said. Her voice was clipped, no space for doubt.

Sai and Corvin exchanged a look. Then, with a grunt, they crouched to lift Dex. His weight sagged heavily between them, one arm slung over each of their shoulders. Dex groaned faintly, half-conscious, his face pale and clammy. Blood still seeped sluggishly around the bandaged arrows plugging his side.

“Careful,” Eira whispered, hovering near, her knuckles white around the naginata. “Don’t jolt him too much.”

“Not like we’ve got a stretcher lying around,” Corvin muttered, adjusting Dex’s arm higher against his shoulder.

Sai’s jaw tightened. “Just move. Slowly.”

Mira tried to stand on her own, her bow in hand, but her knees buckled. She cursed under her breath and leaned hard against Eira for support. Her quiver jostled against her hip, arrows rattling softly.

Shadow Five moved ahead, blades drawn. Her every step was calculated, her head turning slightly as she listened to the storm and the distant, echoing clash of steel.

“Stay close. Stay quiet,” she ordered.

They left the room, boots crunching over broken glass and scattered debris. The hallway stretched long and dim, only lit by faint lightning from cracked windows. And everywhere—death.

Bodies sprawled in the corridors. Villagers with faces pale and slack, blood pooled beneath them. Shadows with their black gloves still clenched around broken short swords. Even Reapers lay among them—faceless and some masks cracked, scythes fallen from limp hands. The battle had already stormed through these halls, leaving only carnage behind.

Corvin hissed through his teeth as they passed a Shadow slumped against the wall, her chest caved in by a scythe strike. Her eyes were open, glassy. “Shit… this place is a grave.”

Eira looked away quickly, her breaths shallow.

Mira forced herself to glance, though her hands trembled on her bow. Her stomach turned, but she swallowed hard. This is real. This is what they want us to see.

As they reached the mess hall, the full horror of the battle unfolded. The long tables had been overturned into barricades, but blood painted every inch of the floor. The stench of iron and smoke hit like a physical weight. Shadows and Reapers lay tangled together, as if neither side had truly won. A child’s wooden toy rolled aimlessly between corpses as the storm wind pushed through a shattered window.

Dex stirred faintly, his voice slurred. “Gladius… fighting still…?”

“Yeah,” Sai muttered. “We hear him.”

Because they did. Every few steps, the muffled boom of katana clashing against scythe shook the walls. Every shriek of metal carried like thunder through the village.

Shadow Five’s pace quickened. “He’s outside. Come.”

They pressed on. Past the hall. Through another corridor streaked with crimson hand prints. Past doors that hung open on broken hinges. The storm light flickered in and out, showing glimpses of the ruin left behind.

Finally, they reached the heavy front doors of the inn. Shadow Five stopped, pressing her palm to the wood, listening.

On the other side, chaos reigned.

“Ready?” she asked.

None of them really were, but Corvin grunted anyway. “Let’s get it over with.”

The doors creaked as they opened.

The storm poured in at once, rain soaking their faces, lightning blinding their eyes. The square stretched before them, torn apart by battle. And at the center of it—Gladius.

He looked mortal now. His chest heaved, his movements slower than before. Cuts striped his arms and face. Blood mixed with the rain, staining his robes darker with each passing second. His katana still gleamed, but each swing seemed heavier.

The gilded Reaper pressed him hard. Every strike of his ornate scythe rang like a bell tolling for death. The gold-trimmed blade moved with terrifying elegance, arcs that curved too fast for the eye to follow.

Gladius blocked. He countered. But for every step forward, he was forced two back. His boots slipped in blood-slick puddles. His jaw was clenched tight, teeth gritted against the storm.

And the gilded one laughed.

“Your strength wanes, old man. Shall I end this with grace—or let you bleed like a pig?”

Gladius snarled but his blade faltered, just barely missing the counter. The scythe nicked across his chest, spraying blood. He staggered, coughing.

Eira gasped, clutching her naginata tighter. “He’s… he’s losing.”

Mira’s heart pounded as she gripped her bow tighter. She shook her head violently. “No. I can’t. I can’t—”

“You must.” Shadow Five’s voice was sharp as a whip. “Now, before he falls.”

Dex stirred against Sai and Corvin, forcing his eyes open. His voice rasped but carried. “Mira… shoot. Do it.”

Her throat closed. “I don’t.. want to—”

“Then we all die,” Shadow Five cut in coldly.

Mira’s fingers trembled, but she lifted the bow. She notched an arrow, pulling the string taut despite her weakness and will. Rain blurred her vision. Lightning blinded her eyes.

But she breathed.

The arrow flew.

It whistled through the storm, spinning straight.

The gilded Reaper turned his head slightly at the sound. The arrow bit into his shoulder, just deep enough to stagger him.

Gladius’s eyes flared.

He roared, surging forward with sudden ferocity, and his katana cut low. The blade sliced across the Reaper’s legs, biting deep. The gilded one screamed, his stance collapsing.

Gladius towered above him, katana pressing to his neck. His voice was ragged, mocking. “Gold or not—you bleed the same as the rest.”

The crowd of remaining Shadowsand Reapers stilled for a heartbeat before their own fight continued.

And then—

The chain of a scythe whipped around Gladius’s stomach.

His eyes widened as the blade swept around and with a violent yank he was hurled backward across the square. He hit the cobblestones hard, rolling, blood spraying in a dark arc.

From the shadows stepped another Reaper.

No gold. No markings. No distinct features. Just another striped mask. just like the most of them, just like the once they had fought inside the inn.

It stood between Gladius and the gilded, silent.

Gladius spat blood and forced himself up, his katana dragging against the ground as he rose. His voice was hoarse but filled with venom.

“You think I fear you? I’ve killed ten of your kind tonight already. Fodder. Nothing more.”

The Reaper didn’t answer. It simply lifted its scythe, blade catching the lightning.

The battle was far from over.