Chapter 197

It was as if someone was drawing a Milky Way in the void, the beautiful trajectory of the sword illuminated the dark alleyway.

It was as though an entire galaxy had been ripped apart, leaving a dazzling cluster of stars existing within a golden cascade of light.

That shimmer somehow felt akin to the life force, soul, or essence of the Golden Reaper.

Which is why, perhaps, the Golden Reaper cloaked in faint flames seemed to grow dimmer with the passage of time.

The blurred form of the Golden Reaper no longer bounded around using the alley’s terrain and walls like at the start.

Instead, it silently swung its massive blade, one far larger than its own body, over and over again.

To the murderers, this display was overwhelmingly oppressive, but from the student’s perspective, it looked perilously unstable.

At first glance, the straight posture of its legs appeared fine, but upon closer inspection, something was clearly off.

The two feet of the Golden Reaper, firmly planted on the ground, trembled ever so slightly as if losing strength.

Though it seemed ready to collapse at any moment, the figure gritted its teeth and stubbornly held its ground.

It wasn’t that the Golden Reaper wasn’t employing 3D maneuvering—it simply lacked the energy to do so.

Thus, abandoning the minimalistic style of eliminating foes with precise sword strikes, the Golden Reaper began transforming its blade into a colossal form, eradicating enemies without moving.

This radiant and overwhelming trajectory left the murderers cowering in fear.

However, the cost of such brilliance was steadily accumulating.

With each swing, the presence of the Golden Reaper grew fainter, slowly fading away.

With each swing, its body gradually crumbled.

“Just run. Even with my help, there’s no hope anyway.” The student repeated, feeling both sorrow for the Reaper’s futile sacrifice and frustration at its uselessness.

But the Golden Reaper only responded with a joyful smile toward the student, as if finding happiness in swinging the sword for their sake.

Seeing that smile, the student couldn’t bring themselves to speak further, sensing the Reaper’s determination.

Thinking they must have gone mad due to the endless chain of incidents, the student silently prayed for the Golden Reaper’s survival.

“I wish this kind-hearted Golden Reaper survives.” They prayed fervently.

They wished the Reaper wouldn’t die meaninglessly in this futile battle.

And they hoped this prayer would reach some deity and come true.

***

It hurt.

As the flesh burned away, it turned into firewood.

Turning one’s flesh into firewood usually held little significance since firewood lacked direct offensive power, making it rather useless for protecting the Attached Human.

But now, the Golden Reaper could transform the firewood into a Blade of Light.

From its outstretched palm, a long sword gleaming with starlight extended outward.

It struck toward the Bad Object.

With every swing, the firewood diminished, requiring more flesh to replenish it.

As the body burned, the mind grew hazy.

Uncertain whether they still held the sword or swung it properly, the Reaper continued purely out of habit.

“Run already. Even with my help, there’s no hope anyway.” The incomprehensible voice of the Attached Human reached the Reaper.

A sad smile crossed the Reaper’s face, moved by the human’s concern.

Their desire for the Reaper’s survival even at the cost of their own life mirrored the Reaper’s own wish.

The Golden Reaper wanted the human to survive, no matter what.

Thinking about the human’s happiness, the Reaper swung the sword.

“My wish is for the Attached Human to always feel happy emotions.” This wish imbued every swing.

The trajectory cleaved another object in half.

Crack.

In that instant, the Golden Reaper swayed to one side.

One leg shattered, unable to support the weight any longer.

But even with a broken leg, the Reaper leaned on the remaining one and swung the sword once more.

Through the blurry vision, the Reaper saw its fading form.

Its body, deprived of firewood, lost its luster and crumbled like dry sand.

“You were truly remarkable. But it seems your end is near.” The confident voice of the Bad Object echoed nearby.

Filled with triumph, the voice heralded impending victory.

Yet the Golden Reaper remained silent, steadfastly swinging the sword.

Crack.

This time, the sound of something breaking came from inside the head.

Something vital was damaged.

Vision blurred, consumed by endless darkness, yet the dazed mind continued to swing the sword.

The ability to track emotions and malice sufficed for the Reaper.

Feeling the warmth of the Attached Human’s heart and the approaching malevolence of the Bad Object was enough.

All that remained was a small wish: for this sensation to last until death.

For the ability to swing the sword to continue until the final breath.

With each swing, the Reaper poured its wishes into the blade.

Even as the Bad Object mocked the Reaper’s meaningless demise.

Even as the Attached Human worried for the Reaper.

Lost in a haze, the Golden Reaper continued swinging the sword.

Amidst the endless darkness, the blade finally connected with something.

It was the “space,” reachable only by expending all remaining firewood.

At that moment, the Golden Reaper realized “space.”

The endless darkness began to crumble.

An infinitely stretching alley.

Endless waves of Bad Objects rushing forward.

And the Attached Human looking down with a sorrowful expression.

Not light, but space—this was the world seen through new eyes.

The fabric of space became visible.

With barely enough firewood left for one final strike, the Golden Reaper raised the sword solemnly and swung it at the fabric of space.

Unlike the coarse tears made when forcibly ripping space, this precise cut left only subtle cracks, yet the Reaper smiled happily.

The Golden Reaper’s ultimate technique activated.

“Ultimate Mom Summoning.”

***

The radiant trajectory of the sword slashed through empty air.

It was the final strike of the Golden Reaper, delivered into nothingness.

As the Reaper deteriorated, it eventually collapsed like a wind-up doll whose batteries had run out.

“Reaper…”

Too fragile to touch, the Golden Reaper lay motionless on the ground.

All anyone could do was stare helplessly at the fallen figure.

“Hahaha! Finally!”

The female student clutched her stomach and laughed loudly at the scene.

Comments about how predictable and futile the struggle was filled the air.

She reveled in the moment, laughing joyfully.

The killers surrounding the alley stood in stunned silence, emitting hollow laughter.

After laughing for some time, the girl suddenly stopped and glanced at her wristwatch.

“Mapo District serial killings. From 6 PM to 4 AM.” Her tone was eerily calm.

Lifting her head with a slight smirk, she added:

“Not much time left? One per day.”

Her demeanor resembled an awkwardly jerking puppet doll.

As soon as she finished speaking, the killers resumed their assault.

Just as one lunged with a folding dagger, the space around the student violently exploded.

Coarser, more forceful rips in space appeared compared to those made earlier by the Golden Reaper.

A familiar chocolate scent wafted through the newly formed tear.

Thump thump.

A grayish object, roughly five meters tall and exuding anger, stepped slowly through the hole.

Undoubtedly the top-tier Special Class Object known as the Gray Reaper.

***

What a pleasant day.

The Reaper-exclusive resort was delightful, and the lightsaber gifted by the Golden Reapers was splendid.

Today’s highlight was supposed to be the duel between the Flame Hammer-wielding Red Reaper and the Lightsaber-wielding Golden Reaper.

In the center of the Mini Reaper Colosseum, the serious-faced Golden Reaper faced the cheerful Red Reaper.

Following my recommendation, the Red Reaper wielded a Flame Hammer in one hand and a Flame Scythe in the other—a formidable warrior indeed, making me smile.

Whoever won, it promised to be an exhilarating match.

But my joy was abruptly shattered when a sharp tear appeared beside my ear.

From the fissure emerged a faint will, almost imperceptible.

“Mom…”

A pitiful cry, the last words uttered before death.

In that instant, I jammed both hands into the crack and violently tore it apart.

Rip.

The space buckled and split harshly, creating a deafening noise that reverberated throughout the Mini Reaper Garden.

Beyond the torn space lay the nearly disintegrated Golden Reaper, lying broken.

Always capable of returning to the “Mini Reaper Garden” yet repeatedly injured and calling for mom.

I grinned ferociously, surveying my surroundings.

The yellow moonlight and powerful evil objects responsible for tormenting my child.

Pouring firewood into the near-collapsed Golden Reaper, mini reapers began emerging through the rift in the garden.

The Sickle-and-Hammer Red Reaper.

The Arm-turned-Sword Black Reaper.

The Water Staff-wielding Blue Reaper.

And finally, the Lightsaber-wielding Golden Reaper.

Seeing the injured Golden Reaper, these mini reapers raised their weapons, vowing vengeance.