Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

XXXV - Boy without a Name

When I opened my eyes, I was already flat on my back, the snow-covered ground serving as my mattress. My throat hurt when I tried to say something, as though I had been screaming for hours.

Panting, I tried to get up but someone forced me back down. In panic, I fought back, surprised to see that I still had both my hands. One was covered with blood-tinged cloth. The one I used to grab Mei's sword. However, the other one—the one that went inside the Door—looked perfectly normal. Why wasn't I annihilated?

"Vincent!" I cried hoarsely once I found my voice.

"I said, lie down, now!" I stopped thrashing upon recognizing that voice. Vladimir's grip loosened, a soothing sort of smile on his gentle pallid face. "He's right there," he said, facing the direction of the cemetery which was about twenty yards away.

From our spot, I could barely make out what was happening. But I could see that the battle had already begun long before I woke up. Surrounded by Amyr, Mei, Byron Flynn and Vincent was no other than the intruder. The hood of his black cloak was pulled down, revealing the top portion of dark hair between the bandages that covered most of his head. He must just be a boy, just a little older than Vladimir. Slender built. Skinny even.

Something seemed to be wrong. The attacks they launched on him were weak and reluctant. Most of them had injuries but nothing serious that I could see. Did they fear the enemy? Was he that powerful that even four of our cabal couldn't take him on?

"The... Master... S-scythe," Rosario groaned from beside me. "He's got it..."

She was unconscious on the ground with large blood-soaked makeshift bandages all over her chest. Her forehead creased as she arched her back and choked out moans of pain. Vladimir squatted beside his familiar, held her hands and whispered soothing words on her ears. Soon, Rosario was againout cold. For some reason, I envied and pitied her at the same time. At least she wouldn't have to see her friends fight to the death. But knowing Rosario's pride, this failure would eat at her for a very long time.

"You were screaming the whole time you're out," said Vladimir. "When Mei pulled you out of the Door, I thought you're a goner. But here you are," he mumbled, deep in thought.

With my numb fingers, I touched my throat, noticing the raw scraping feeling. I struggled to remember what happened. The unbearable burning pain. The endless darkness. The chaos inside my head, threatening to drive me insane. Nirvana caused all that. But the real mystery was why I was still alive.

Detached, I watched Mei use her chained swords to distract the enemy. Amyr lunged from the rear, brandishing what looked like a heavy broadsword made of bronze. The enemy just twirled away from his attack with a stance like a dancer's, the ground exploding into rubble where Amyr's weapon landed. All the while, Byron Flynn kept his distance, alert for any sign of escape. Vincent was the only one who fought like a demon, using his Cataclyst to wound and weaken the enemy. It was my fault he didn't have his scythe.

Ignoring Vladimir's orders, I scrambled up to my feet, alternating between lurching and crawling to get closer. And when I did, I saw what Rosario was trying to warn us about. The enemy wielded a black metal scythe, basically similar to mine but twice the size. Vines and claws were carved on the metal rod, its gleaming crescent-moon blade made of silver, stained with hollow faces frozen in dread and despair. My knees shook at the plain sight of it. The sickening smell of blood, freshly dug earth and withered flowers filled the air—the smell of death—and it seemed to come from the weapon.

"The Master Scythe," I echoed Rosario's warning. I had heard about that weapon once during my training with her. It was the most powerful weapon among immortals on the face of the earth, equally befitting its owner—Pilgrim Reaper.