Chapter 29 : The Reapers Arrive - Part 1
The Mellifer phone buzzed with a single message: They're here.
I read the attached surveillance photos in the gray light of early morning. Two men moving through Portland International Airport's international terminal. Both in dark coats. Both carrying cases that matched the dimensions of scythe weapons. Both moving with the predatory efficiency of apex hunters.
[THREAT IDENTIFICATION: CONFIRMED]
[SUBJECT 1: DER SCHARFRICHTER (THE EXECUTIONER)]
[HEIGHT: 6'4" - BUILD: HEAVY COMBAT - SCARS: MULTIPLE]
[KNOWN GRIMM KILLS: 43 CONFIRMED]
[SUBJECT 2: DER RICHTER (THE JUDGE)]
[HEIGHT: 5'10" - BUILD: LEAN - CARRIES BOOKS]
[SPECIALTY: STRATEGY, COORDINATION, RITUAL]
[PARTNERSHIP KILLS: 47 GRIMM BLOODLINES TERMINATED]
Der Scharfrichter was built like a siege weapon. Massive shoulders, scarred face, hands that could crush skulls without effort. His expression in the photos was blank—not angry, not focused, just empty. The look of someone who'd stopped seeing enemies as people long ago.
Der Richter was his opposite. Thin, pale, intellectual. He carried a leather satchel alongside his weapon case, presumably containing the books the Mellifer report mentioned. The partnership's brain to complement its brawn.
Together, they'd ended forty-seven Grimm bloodlines. Entire families wiped out across generations. Children, elders, anyone who carried the sight.
I was their next target.
"They landed three hours ago." I called Monroe while dressing. "Mellifer network tracked them to a hotel downtown."
"Already?" His voice was tight with sleep and fear. "They weren't supposed to arrive until—"
"They came early. Probably to catch us off-guard." I strapped on the sword, checked the crossbow. "Alert the Pack. Everyone goes to their assigned positions."
"Cross, if they're already here—"
"Then we adapt. That's what we do."
The next six hours dissolved into controlled chaos. Emergency protocols activated. Safe houses confirmed. Escape routes verified. The network I'd spent weeks building shifted from peacetime configuration to wartime readiness.
It wasn't enough.
The Mellifer safe house went dark at noon.
By one o'clock, we had confirmation: three Mellifer workers dead. Their wings—symbols of the species, sacred to the hive—had been torn off and arranged in a pattern. A scythe drawn in blood on the wall.
Melissa Wincroft's voice on the phone was raw with grief.
"My children are dying because of you." No titles, no diplomacy. Just pain. "They followed your Grimm to your territory, and now they're hunting anyone connected to you."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't bring back the dead." The line clicked. Disconnected.
[ALLIANCE STATUS: MELLIFER HIVE - DAMAGED]
[NOTE: CONTINUED DEATHS MAY RESULT IN ALLIANCE TERMINATION]
I stood in the spice shop's back room, surrounded by the Pack I'd assembled. Monroe, still processing the speed of the Reapers' arrival. Angelina, eager for violence despite the odds. Scalpel, terrified but present. Rosalee, who'd never wanted any of this but refused to abandon her friends.
"They left a note." I spread the photograph on the table—the bloody scythe, the message beneath it. "They're demanding I face them directly. Threatening to kill allies one by one if I don't."
"Then let's give them what they want." Angelina cracked her knuckles. "Draw them out, set a trap, end this."
"We tried traps against Viktor's Siegbarste. Der Scharfrichter has centuries more experience."
"So what? We run?" Monroe's voice held an edge I'd rarely heard. "Let them pick off everyone who's ever helped you while you disappear?"
"Running wouldn't save anyone. You're all marked now." The words tasted like ash. "They'll hunt you whether I'm here or not. My presence is the only leverage that might protect you."
Rosalee set down the medical supplies she'd been organizing. "You're saying we fight."
"I'm saying we have no choice but to fight." I looked at each of them in turn. "But I won't force anyone. If you want to run, take your chances elsewhere, I won't stop you."
The silence stretched. Rosalee looked at Monroe. Monroe looked at Angelina. Angelina looked at the table, her expression unreadable.
"I didn't survive my own pack trying to kill me just to run from some European murderers." Angelina's voice was flat, certain. "I'm in."
"Same." Monroe's jaw tightened. "You gave me a chance when no Grimm ever had. I'm not abandoning that."
"I have nowhere else to go." Scalpel's nervous hands twisted together. "And my skills are useful. I'll stay."
Rosalee was last. Her eyes found mine, searching for something I wasn't sure I could provide.
"I never wanted this life. I came to Portland to help my brother, not to join a war." She took a breath. "But I'm not leaving the people I care about to die alone. We fight together."
[PACK STATUS: COMMITTED]
[COMBAT READINESS: ACTIVATED]
[SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 17.3%]
The percentage flickered at the edge of my vision. I dismissed it.
"Then we prepare. The Reapers want a confrontation—we give them one on our terms. Traps, terrain advantages, coordinated tactics." I pulled out the map I'd prepared weeks ago, marking the industrial district. "This is where we make our stand."
The planning session lasted until midnight. Every contingency examined, every escape route confirmed, every role assigned. Monroe and Angelina would handle combat support. Scalpel would manage medical operations from a secondary position. Rosalee would coordinate communications through backup channels.
And I would be the bait.
"You're sure about this?" Monroe asked as the others dispersed to their positions.
"The Reapers want me specifically. Using myself as the center of the trap is the only way to guarantee they commit to the location."
"And if the trap fails?"
I met his eyes. "Then I die buying you time to escape."
"That's not acceptable."
"It's reality." I gathered my weapons, feeling their familiar weight. "I've been living on borrowed time since I woke up in this body. If my death means the Pack survives, that's a trade worth making."
Monroe didn't argue. But his expression said he wasn't finished with the conversation.
I spent the night preparing. Weapons checked and rechecked. Traps set in the industrial district's abandoned buildings. Contingencies layered on contingencies. The System calculated optimal positioning, suggested tactical adjustments, offered cold assessments of probability.
[PREPARATION: COMPLETE]
[TRAP CONFIGURATION: OPTIMIZED]
[SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 17.3% - UNCHANGED]
[RECOMMENDATION: CONSIDER EXTRACTION]
I dismissed the recommendation without response.
Some battles weren't about odds.
MORE POWER STONES And REVIEWS== MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
with exclusive access to more chapters (based on tiers more chapters for each tiers) on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ In The Witcher With Avatar Powers,In The Vikings With Deja Vu System,Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ...].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!