The last rays of sunset had long since faded from Chief Ramirez's office window, leaving only the harsh fluorescent lights to cast their unforgiving glow across his weary features. His joints creaked as he reached for the light switch, his body protesting the long hours spent hunched over reports.

  Footsteps thundered down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. The rushed rhythm carried an urgency that made the chief's hand freeze mid-reach, his weathered features tensing as years of experience told him something was terribly wrong. The sound of multiple people running, their breaths coming in panicked gasps, grew closer until—

  The door exploded inward with enough force to rattle the glass in its frame, sending the carefully arranged plaques on his wall dancing. Officer Vivian stumbled through the entrance, her usual pristine appearance in complete disarray. Her face drained of all color. Behind her, two more officers crowded the doorway, their expressions carrying the same haunted look that made Ramirez's stomach clench before they'd spoken a single word.

  "Sir!" Vivian's voice cracked like thin ice, her hands trembling as they gripped the doorframe hard enough to whiten her knuckles. Each word seemed to cost her tremendous effort as she forced them out: "The Grim Reaper - we've confirmed it! An Evolved Auron! They're facing off against Angelo and his trainee right now!"

  The chief felt the blood drain from his face as his worst nightmares crystallized into reality before his eyes. The coffee cup he'd been holding slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the floor with a crash that sent coffee flying in all directions. The sound barely registered - neither he nor his officers even flinched, too consumed by the horror of the situation unfolding before them.

  "WHAT?!" The word exploded from Ramirez's chest like a physical force as he surged to his feet. His chair went flying backward, crashing against the filing cabinet with a metallic clang that echoed through the stunned silence. "How in God's name did this happen?!"

  "There's no time for details!" Vivian pressed forward, her usually composed voice sharp with an urgency that made the other officers flinch. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she continued, the words tumbling out in a rush: "His trainee managed to get a distress call out - they need immediate backup!"

  Ramirez's fist crashed down onto his desk with enough force to make his nameplate jump and dance. His voice carrying the unmistakable ring of command as he demanded: "Where?!"

  "Wine Street!"

  "Wine Str-" The chief's eyes widened with dawning horror as the implications hit him like a physical blow. "That's on the other bloody side of the city!"

  "Exactly!" The last threads of Vivian's usual composure finally snapped, her voice rising to match his volume. "Sir, we need orders, NOW!"

  The chief's decades of training kicked in, pushing aside his personal shock as he began barking rapid-fire commands. His finger jabbed toward the ashen-faced officers behind Vivian, sending them scrambling into action like startled birds. "Every available officer, mobilize immediately! Contact our people at the factory - tell them it was a setup! Redirect to Wine Street, maximum speed!"

  Vivian spun toward the door, her boots squeaking against the polished floor, but Ramirez's voice cracked through the air like a whip: "Wait!"

  She froze mid-step, muscles tensing as the chief's next words carried the weight of a death sentence: "Alert all non-Auron officers in the vicinity - weapons free, full tactical response."

  "Sir!" Vivian whirled back, horror etched into every line of her face. Her voice shook as she protested, "Standard firearms against an Evolved Auron?! That's suicide!"

  "If it's a low level Auron, there might be a chance," Ramirez's voice carried the heavy burden of command decisions that could cost lives. His eyes hardened with grim determination as he repeated, "Now GO!"

  As Vivian's rapid footsteps faded down the corridor, Ramirez turned to face his reflection in the darkened window. The harsh fluorescent lights cast deep shadows across his features, aging him a decade in mere moments. His whispered curse carried the weight of a prayer: "Damn it all to hell..."

  He snatched his hat from its hook with enough force to send the stand toppling, but he was already striding through the door, leaving only scattered papers dancing in his wake like autumn leaves caught in a storm.

  The ruins of Wine Street stretched out like a battlefield from some ancient war, the night air thick with dust and the crackling energy of supernatural combat. For one glorious moment, hope flared like a newborn star as Bill's devastating wind attack sent Jill crashing through concrete and steel with unstoppable force. The unfinished house groaned like a dying beast before collapsing inward, burying the Grim Reaper under tons of debris. Dust billowed outward in a choking gray cloud, coating everything in a fine powder that sparkled eerily in the weak streetlight.

  "You absolute idiot!" Angelo's voice cracked with a mix of fury and fear as he rounded on Bill, his movements made jerky by pain and exhaustion. Blood from the deep chest wound had already soaked through his uniform, turning the dark fabric an even darker crimson that gleamed wetly in the moonlight. "I gave you a direct order to run!"

  Bill stood his ground despite his trembling legs, his wind aura completely spent after that massive attack. His oversized uniform hung on his frame like a child playing dress-up, but his eyes blazed with determination as he shot back, "I couldn't just leave you to die!" The raw emotion in his voice echoed off the abandoned buildings surrounding them, making him sound even younger.

  "Congratulations," Angelo snarled, his orange eyes flashing with barely contained rage and fear, "now we can both die together! Is that what you wanted?!"

  "But look, she's still down!" Bill's defiant response was overshadowed by Red's panicked voice slicing through their shared consciousness like a knife through fog.

  "WHAT ARE YOU TWO MORONS STANDING AROUND FOR?! FUCKING RUN!"

  Angelo's eyes widened as reality crashed back with force. "Oh shit, right!" He lunged forward, ignoring the burning pain that tore across his chest as he grabbed Bill's arm. Energy tendrils erupted from his body like living smoke, wrapping around them both before launching them away from the collapse with desperate speed.

  Behind them, a scream of pure rage shattered the night like breaking glass. The sound was followed by an explosion that lit up the street like artificial daybreak, Jill's evolved power obliterating the wreckage that entombed her. Chunks of concrete rained down around them as they fled, forcing them to dodge and weave between the deadly projectiles.

  "Fuck," Angelo muttered, yanking Bill into one of the skeletal houses that lined the street like dead trees. His aura winked out instantly, plunging them into darkness that felt thick.

  One hand clamped over Bill's mouth as they both tried to control their ragged breathing, each exhale sounding thunderous in the tense silence. The rookie's heart hammered so hard Angelo could feel it through his palm, the rapid rhythm matching his own terrified pulse.

  "WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE WORM?!" Jill's twisted scream made their skin crawl, the sound bouncing off empty buildings like some demonic echo.

  Blue's measured tones whispered through their shared mind, calm as still water despite the situation, "If she moves in the opposite direction, we might have a chance to slip away under cover of darkness..."

  "I KNOW YOU'RE AROUND HERE!" Her words reverberated through the ruins before her voice dropped to something almost playful, somehow more terrifying than her screams. "Fine. I know exactly how to flush out little weasels like you."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The air itself seemed to vibrate with power as she raised one skeletal gauntlet toward the sky. Metal coalesced above her palm like mercury coming alive, growing and writhing until it formed a massive sphere that gleamed dully in the weak streetlight. The wrecking ball hung suspended like a promise of destruction, its surface drinking in what little light remained.

  "Oh fuck me," Angelo breathed, his whisper barely stirring the dust-filled air.

  The sphere crashed through the first house with devastating force, reducing it to splinters and dust that rained down like deadly confetti. "Not here," Jill's voice dripped false disappointment, the words carrying an edge of madness. The ball retracted with a sound like grinding metal only to smash through another building, sending more debris flying. "No, not there either. What about... here? Or here?"

  Each impact drew closer to their hiding spot with methodical inevitability, like the ticking of some monstrous clock counting down their final moments. Finally, Jill's silhouette appeared before their refuge, her perfect features twisted into something inhuman as she smiled - a predator's grin that held no trace of mercy or sanity.

  "Time's up," she purred, the words dripping with anticipation.

  The wrecking ball screamed toward them like a meteor promising extinction. Angelo's aura exploded to life in a desperate surge of power as he burst from cover, the sudden movement throwing Bill clear of the impact zone.

  The rookie tumbled behind a pile of rubble as Angelo fell to his knees in the middle of the street, chest heaving as he faced down death incarnate. Blood soaked his uniform, each breath sending fresh waves of agony through his battered body.

  "Hehehe, finally found you," Her voice carried the satisfaction of a cat cornering its prey, her evolved aura casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

  Desperation drove Angelo to action, forcing his battered body to respond one more time. With a cry that was half defiance and half fear, he unleashed an energy beam. Jill's response was almost lazy - her scythe swept up in a graceful arc, the void metal drinking in his attack until the weapon glowed with stolen orange light that danced along its curved blade.

  "Now now," she chided, as if speaking to a particularly slow child, "know when to admit defeat." Her eyes gleamed with twisted joy as she savored every moment of his growing despair, drinking it in like fine wine.

  The situation had deteriorated beyond Angelo's worst fears, reality crashing down around him like a collapsing building. His uniform, torn and bloodied, clung to him like a second skin as he crouched before The Grim Reaper.

  Each breath came in ragged gasps that sent sharp jolts of pain through his ribs where Jill's scythe had carved a path across his torso. Blood dripped steadily from the wound, each crimson drop a stark reminder of his mortality.

  With both Red and Blue's physical forms destroyed, forced to retreat within him to recover, Angelo felt more alone than he had in years. The constant presence of their shared consciousness felt muted and distant, like voices heard underwater.

  At the corner of his eyes, he could see Bill's terror-stricken face peeking out from behind a chunk of debris, his mentor's desperate situation etched into every line of his young features.

  Jill's laughter echoed through the devastated street, a sound that held no trace of sanity. She twirled her scythe with deadly grace, the orange glow of Angelo's absorbed energy dancing along its blade. Her perfect features twisted with malicious glee as she stalked closer, each step deliberate as a spider approaching trapped prey.

  "Look how far the mighty have fallen," she taunted, her voice rising with manic excitement. "The feared Angel of Death, cowering like a wounded animal! Don't worry - I'll make sure they engrave something fitting on your tombstone. 'Here lies another corrupt officer, reaped like the worthless trash he was!'"

  "Come on, think!" Angelo's desperate thought echoed in their shared consciousness like a shout in an empty room. "There has to be a way out of this."

  Red's response blazed with fury, his mental voice carrying helpless rage. "That evolved witch! One lucky break and she thinks she's invincible. If I could just materialize again—"

  "Focus!" Blue's mental voice cut through with razor precision, his usual calm replaced with desperate urgency. "We need to create distance. In our current state, close combat is suicide."

  Jill stalked closer, her footsteps deliberate and predatory as a cat playing with wounded prey. "I heard you give criminals an ultimatum. What's wrong, Angel? No righteous speeches about justice? No final judgments to pass?" Her lips curled into a cruel smile that made her beauty seem like a mask about to crack. "How disappointing. I expected more from Novaria's most infamous executioner."

  Panic surged through Angelo's thoughts like ice water in his veins. "We'll never outrun her in this condition! Other options, now!"

  But it was too late. Jill's muscles coiled like a serpent about to strike, her evolved aura flaring around her like a corona of deadly light. "Die knowing you failed, 'Angel.' Just like all the others!" She launched forward with explosive force that cracked the pavement beneath her feet, her weapon singing through the air with lethal intent.

  Angelo braced for the killing blow that never came, his muscles tensing for impact that seemed to stretch into eternity.

  When his eyes snapped open, the world seemed to swim into focus with cruel clarity, every detail burning itself into his memory. There stood Bill, with Jill's scythe protruding grotesquely from his chest. Blood bloomed across his shirt like a terrible flower, spreading outward from where the blade had punched clean through him.

  The weapon's handle slipped from Jill's suddenly nerveless fingers as horror replaced bloodlust on her perfect features. "No," she whispered, stumbling backward as if struck. "No, no, NO... not again... not like him..." Her brilliant aura flickered and died like a candle in strong wind as she retreated, all her earlier confidence shattered by this echo of her own tragic past.

  "BILL!" Angelo's scream tore from his throat like it was being ripped from his very soul. Angelo lunged forward with desperate speed, catching Bill's falling form before he could hit the ground.

  The young officer's body felt impossibly light in his arms, like something precious and fragile that might shatter at any moment. "Stay with me, rookie. That's an order!" His voice cracked on the last word, authority crumbling in the face of helpless grief.

  Blood bubbled at Bill's lips as he fought to speak, each word a battle against closing darkness. His usual bright smile now held a terrible serenity. "I really... messed up my first month... didn't I, boss?" He attempted a weak laugh that turned into a wet cough, crimson staining his teeth. "Mom's... mom's gonna kill me..."

  "Don't talk like that!" Angelo's voice cracked with desperation, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he cradled his dying student. His head snapped up, scanning the empty street as he screamed into the uncaring night: "MEDIC! SOMEBODY GET A DAMN MEDIC HERE NOW!" The words echoed off abandoned buildings and faded into silence.

  Bill's trembling fingers clutched at Angelo's shirt with surprising strength, leaving crimson prints on the already bloodied fabric. His eyes, though clouded with pain, held an intensity that demanded attention.

  "Listen... please..." Each word seemed to cost him tremendously, his chest rising and falling in shallow, desperate movements. "You showed me... what it means to be strong. Not just... powerful, but strong... inside..."

  "Save your strength," Angelo begged, tears finally spilling over to cut clean tracks through the dust and blood on his face. His voice shook with emotion he'd never allowed himself to show before. "Please, Bill. You've got so much to live for..."

  Through the pain and the approaching darkness, Bill's voice grew fainter but more urgent, like someone racing against time itself. His words carried the weight of prophecy: "Promise me something... you're not bound by your limits... You can reach the top... even the Arch Tournament... show everyone... what the Angel of Death... really means..."

  "Stop it!" Angelo's voice broke like glass, the commanding presence of the Angel of Death stripped away to reveal raw anguish beneath. "You'll tell them yourself! You hear me? That's another order!"

  Bill's bloodied lips curved into that same earnest smile he'd worn since day one - the expression that had lit up their first meeting, had brightened countless patrols, had never wavered even in the face of danger.

  That smile which had come to mean so much in such a short time now carved itself into Angelo's memory like a brand. "Sorry, boss... but this time... I've got to disobey..." His grip weakened, fingers sliding against the fabric of Angelo's uniform.

  "I believe... in you..."

  The hand clutching Angelo's shirt went slack, falling away like a leaf dropping from an autumn tree. Bill's eyes drifted closed with terrible gentleness, that unwavering smile still etched upon his features as if he'd simply fallen asleep.

  Even in death, he looked like nothing more than a rookie excited about his first day on the job - all that enthusiasm and potential now frozen forever in this moment of ultimate sacrifice.

  In their shared consciousness, Red and Blue remained utterly silent, their usual banter replaced by a heavy, grief-stricken quiet that seemed to fill every corner of Angelo's mind. The absence of their constant commentary felt like a physical wound, another reminder of all that had been lost in these few devastating moments.

  Behind them, Jill's broken murmuring continued like a distant radio playing tragedy's greatest hits. She seemed lost in her own private hell of memories and regret, her perfect mask cracked to reveal the broken mother beneath. Her evolved power flickered uncertainly around her like a candle in strong wind, all her earlier bloodlust replaced by horror at this echo of her own loss.

  The night air grew thick with unspoken grief as Angelo cradled his fallen student. The ruins of Wine Street stretched around them like a graveyard, bearing silent witness to another tragic chapter in Novaria's bloody history. Above it all, the moon continued its uncaring journey across the star-strewn sky, indifferent to the small dramas of life and death playing out beneath its cold light.