The last breath of the city's night hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of blood and decay. Dave surveyed the aftermath of his massacre—bodies lay scattered across the ground, remnants of the once-proud superhumans he had obliterated. Their lifeless eyes stared blankly into the sky, a stark reminder of his unrelenting resolve.
"City cleared," Bella's voice rang out in his mind, devoid of emotion.
Dave nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His chest rose and fell slowly as he looked over the carnage. His anger had been a roaring inferno, fueling him through the chaos. But now, as silence settled in, he felt the lingering embers of rage begin to wane.
"All of them," Dave murmured, his voice almost lost to the stillness. "I've killed every last one of them."
"Yes, you did," Bella replied softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Dave glanced around at the bodies—hundreds of superhumans sprawled across the ruined cityscape. Each one had been a force to be reckoned with, but they had fallen to him, one by one. He didn't regret it. These were people who had preyed on the weak, terrorized the innocent, and used their powers for evil. In his mind, their deaths were justified.
But as he stood amidst the destruction, a strange sense of emptiness washed over him. Was this what his mission had become? Eradicating evil, wiping out superhumans one after another? He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't this hollow feeling gnawing at his insides.
Dave shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. He still had work to do.
"Bella," he called out. "Where do we go next? Which region is our next target?"
As he waited for her answer, Dave suddenly froze. The air around him grew heavy, and an icy sensation coiled around his spine. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. A wave of dread washed over him, making his breath hitch. His heart pounded violently in his chest, and his muscles tensed instinctively.
"What… what is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
A feeling of utter doom crept into his mind, suffocating his senses. It was as if his very existence was being pulled into a bottomless abyss. No matter how strong he was, no matter how many powers he wielded—he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that whatever was causing this sensation could kill him in an instant if it desired.
With an overwhelming sense of dread gripping his heart, Dave slowly turned his head. There, standing amidst the corpses and debris, was a cloaked figure. Its presence was almost ethereal, as though it didn't fully belong to this world. A long, dark cloak billowed around the figure's frame, concealing its form completely. The only visible feature was the glint of a wickedly curved scythe, held loosely at its side.
Dave's mouth went dry. His pulse roared in his ears, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak through the suffocating fear. "Ah… ahm… who… who are you?"
The figure tilted its head ever so slightly, as if amused by Dave's fear-stricken voice.
"Who am I?" the figure's voice was a chilling whisper that seemed to resonate from all around, echoing in the deepest recesses of Dave's mind. "I am merely a collector. The one who gathers the lost and the fallen."
Dave's mind raced. "A… collector?" he repeated, confusion mixing with the fear. "What… what are you?"
The figure shifted, the darkness of its cloak swirling like smoke. "For the sake of your understanding, you may call me… the Death God."
Death. The word rang through Dave's mind, sending a fresh wave of terror coursing through his veins. The Death God. He was standing face to face with an entity that represented the very end of all life.
'What the hell have I gotten myself into?' Dave thought, struggling to maintain his composure. His entire body felt as if it were being crushed under the weight of the being's presence. His mind, which had faced countless superhuman threats, was now paralyzed with fear.
Bella's voice cut through the haze, but it wasn't directed at him. It was a private thought, meant only for herself.
"It's fine. He won't harm him. But the other guy… I guess I'll have to step in eventually," she murmured, her words barely a whisper.
Dave couldn't hear her, too consumed by the overwhelming sensation of doom. He forced himself to take a step back, every instinct screaming at him to run, to teleport far away. But he held his ground, his body trembling.
The Death God chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down Dave's spine. "I'm not here for you, child. I'm merely here to collect the souls of those you have reaped."
It raised its scythe, and with a fluid motion, it began to sweep the blade through the air. Tendrils of light rose from the fallen bodies around them—faint, shimmering essences that drifted toward the blade. The souls of the dead, pulled effortlessly into the Death God's grasp.
Dave watched, his mind struggling to process what he was witnessing. He opened his mouth, trying to form words, to ask questions that swirled chaotically in his thoughts. But all he managed was a hoarse, "Why?"
The Death God paused, its gaze—or what Dave assumed was its gaze—turning toward him. "Why? Because it is my duty. I guide these lost souls to where they belong."
Dave swallowed hard, still struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. "What… what about me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want with me?"
The Death God's cloak rippled as if caught in an unseen breeze. "You? For now, nothing. Your time has not yet come, child of power."
Dave shuddered. The Death God's words seemed to carry an ominous weight. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into a void that threatened to consume him.
"Then why are you even here?" Dave forced out, his voice trembling despite his efforts to sound calm.
The Death God seemed to consider his question for a moment before giving a faint nod. "Curiosity, perhaps. It is not often I see someone like you—a mortal who dances so carelessly with death."
Dave clenched his fists, the fear slowly giving way to determination. He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin defiantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The Death God's laughter was a low, eerie sound. "It means that one day, we shall meet again. And on that day, I will claim what is rightfully mine."
Before Dave could respond, the Death God's form began to fade, the shadows receding as if being pulled back into the void. The figure disappeared completely, leaving nothing behind but the lingering chill in the air.
"We shall meet again, child of power," its voice echoed one last time, whispering through the silence. "Sooner than you think."
And then, the presence vanished, leaving Dave standing alone amidst the remnants of his massacre, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.