Angelo's knees pressed into broken concrete as he held Bill's body, the weight of his student feeling impossibly heavy in his arms. The night air carried the smell of dust and destroyed buildings, but Angelo barely noticed. His mind was trapped in a flood of memories that felt as real as the tears rolling down his face.

  He saw Bill's face that first day, eyes wide as saucers when Red appeared out of nowhere. He heard Bill's excited voice in the pizza shop, chattering about Auron rankings like a kid talking about his favorite superheroes.

  He felt that surge of pride in his chest when Bill's wind attack had saved them all from the Infernian terrorists. Every moment they'd shared now played like a movie in his head, each scene more painful than the last because he knew how the story ended.

  "Three times," Angelo whispered, his voice cracking like thin ice. A tear fell from his chin onto Bill's peaceful face, leaving a clean track through the dust. "You saved my life three times, and I couldn't even..." His words died in his throat, too heavy to speak.

  A broken voice cut through his grief like a knife Jill, the Grim Reaper herself, muttering nearby. "Not like this... not another child... I didn't mean..." Each word hit Angelo's ears like needles, making his stomach twist.

  The rage came then, rising up inside him like boiling water in a sealed pot. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt, but the pain felt distant, unimportant. Red and Blue, usually chattering away in his head, had gone quiet – or had they? Everything felt muffled, like he was underwater. The world started to blur, not from tears this time, but from pure fury that made his vision swim.

  Jill spun to face him, her perfect face twisted with madness. Her voice rose to a shriek that echoed off the broken buildings around them. "This is what you bring! Everything you officers touch turns to death! You're the real monsters here!" Her eyes blazed with pink fire as her evolved aura lit up the night. "YOU MADE ME DO THIS!" She raised her blood-stained scythe high, moonlight catching on its curved blade.

  Then their eyes met, and Jill froze mid-motion. Angelo was still on his knees, still cradling Bill with heartbreaking gentleness, but his face had transformed into something that made even the Grim Reaper take a step back. Tears still ran down his cheeks, but his expression held such raw fury that the air around him seemed to ripple like heat waves off hot pavement.

  "Monsters?" The word came out between his clenched teeth, each sound sharp as broken glass. "I'll show you a real monster."

  His orange aura started flickering like a faulty light bulb as his stomach rolled with sudden nausea. Heat raced through his body, feeling as if his blood was replaced with molten lava. Still holding Bill, the pressure building inside him demanded release.

  Six smoky tendrils burst from his body like angry snakes, whipping through the air and striking at everything around them. But like trying to hit something with a shadow, the tendrils lashed out wildly, driven by Angelo's rage but completely useless against their targets.

  Then something changed.

  It started small – his flickering aura shifted, like watching a match flame suddenly become a bonfire. The orange glow grew brighter and brighter, eating up the darkness around him. The smoky tendrils began to change too. Instead of striking uselessly, each impact now landed with real, physical force, the ghastly energy somehow becoming solid. Jill watched in horror as the smoky ropes began to solidify, becoming as real and solid as steel cables.

  "No... impossible..." Jill's perfect mask cracked as understanding dawned in her eyes. Her hands tightened on her scythe until her knuckles went white, ready to attack, to stop what was happening. But the writhing mass of tendrils left no opening, each one moving with wild, unpredictable fury, carving paths through anything they touched like white-hot wires through butter.

  The tendrils moved with terrifying precision, as if guided by pure rage rather than thought. They weren't just energy anymore – they had real weight, real power behind them. Angelo screamed, the sound carrying all his grief and rage and newfound strength.

  The now-solid tendrils glowed like liquid metal as they smashed into the street and nearby buildings. Concrete split like dried mud, steel bent like paper, and spiderweb cracks raced out from where Angelo knelt like lightning frozen in stone. The destruction spread in an ever-widening circle as his new power lashed out at everything it could reach.

  Jill stumbled backward, pure animal instinct telling her to run. She knew exactly what she was seeing – she'd gone through the same thing herself, her own evolution born from the same mix of loss and rage that now transformed Angelo before her eyes. But watching him change, she realized her terrible mistake: in trying to punish what she saw as corrupt authority, she'd created something far worse than what she'd fought against.

  "What have I done?" The words slipped out in a horrified whisper as she watched the Angel of Death rise, made stronger by the very pain she'd caused.

  Moving with impossible gentleness that contrasted sharply with the storm of power around him, Angelo lowered Bill's body to the sidewalk. He positioned his student like someone adjusting a sleeping child's blanket, making sure he looked peaceful. Jill stood frozen, watching his every movement the way a mouse watches a cat approach.

  Angelo's face changed into something beyond cold – an emptiness so complete it burned. He raised his arm with slow, deliberate grace, and an energy tendril rose with it like a snake being charmed. As he closed his fist, the smoky appendage transformed - condensing and hardening until it looked like a tentacle made of flowing, molten metal that pulsed with inner light.

  Angelo opened his palm, watching as the metal-like tendril blurred back into orange smoke. His face remained a mask of cold fury as understanding clicked into place. "I see," he said quietly, his voice steady as winter frost. "The power to forge energy into something solid... 'Forged Energy' then."

  When he turned to face Jill, the hatred in his eyes burned so hot it made the air ripple and dance around him.

  "Two can play at your game." He declared.

  Orange energy poured from him like water breaking through a dam, but instead of splashing away, it wove itself into flowing robes that glowed like molten metal.

  The hood he created cast deep shadows over his face, making his eyes glow like hot coals. Above his head, a ring of solid energy formed – not the gentle halo of a guardian angel, but the crown of death's messenger. With a sweep of his arm that cut through the night air, he shaped more of his power into a scythe. The weapon's blade seemed to drink in the moonlight, leaving the space around it darker than before.

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  They faced each other in the ruined street like dark reflections in a broken mirror – the Angel of Death and the Grim Reaper, their robes billowing in a wind that smelled of ozone and fear. Loose papers and debris skittered across the cracked pavement between them, carried by the energy crackling in the air.

  "Look well upon death's true messenger," Angelo's voice rang out, each word sharp as broken glass. "Your judgment has come. For your crimes, the sentence is death." The words hit like physical blows in the darkness. There would be no mercy – Jill had killed any chance of that along with Bill.

  Terror finally cracked Jill's perfect mask. She spun and ran, her boots scraping against broken concrete as she pushed off with enough force to leave cracks. But Angelo moved like her own shadow, impossible to shake. His new power let him match her enhanced speed step for step, each footfall echoing with unstoppable purpose.

  Their scythes collided in an explosion that turned night to day. Forged energy met void metal in a shower of sparks that rained down like deadly stars, each one hissing where it hit the ground. "NO!" Jill's scream rose high with dawning horror as Angelo's free hand shot forward.

  Orange energy wrapped around his arm like liquid metal, building and spreading until a giant gauntlet three times the size of a normal hand had formed. The massive fingers closed around her throat and yanked her into the air like a child's doll, squeezing tighter with each heartbeat.

  Jill's void metal gauntlets scraped and clawed at the energy hand, trying desperately to drain its power like she'd done before. But this new solid energy stayed firm as steel under her touch. Pure panic filled her eyes as she realized her usual tricks wouldn't work.

  Only a desperate slash of her scythe finally cut through the giant fingers, sending her crashing to the broken street below. She rolled just in time to avoid Angelo's downward strike, his energy scythe leaving a glowing gash in the concrete where she'd been. Scrambling backward on hands and feet, she screamed, "Get away from me!" before turning to run again.

  The ground in front of her erupted like a giant hand reaching up from below. Orange tendrils burst through the concrete, whipping at her like angry snakes. She slashed wildly with her scythe, cutting through one tendril after another, but more kept coming. They drove her back step by step until she almost ran into Angelo's next attack – a wave of energy that lit up the whole street like a second sun.

  Jill spun to face it, falling back on old habits as she spread her arms to absorb the power. But her confident stance crumbled as she watched the wave of energy change mid-flight. Instead of staying fluid, it condensed into a massive tendril as thick as a tree trunk. The impact lifted her off her feet before the energy wrapped around her like a python, pinning her arms to her sides.

  Angelo's boots crunched on broken glass as he approached, each step measured and inevitable. Jill thrashed in her bonds and, with one last surge of desperate strength, called up a storm of metallic shards. The razor-sharp pieces shredded through the energy holding her – but Angelo was already moving.

  He launched himself skyward, his scythe carving a perfect burning arc through the darkness. Their weapons met one final time, the impact sending a shockwave that rattled windows for blocks around.

  For a single frozen moment they stood locked together, orange energy straining against void metal – until crystalline spears of Forged Energy punched through the street behind Jill like angry stalagmites, piercing through her body as if it were made of tissue paper.

  Blood spilled from her lips as her fingers went limp, letting her scythe fall. The weapon didn't even reach the ground before dissolving into wisps of smoke. Her brilliant pink aura sputtered and died like a candle in a storm.

  As she met Angelo's burning gaze one last time, the terror in her face melted into something almost peaceful – the look of someone accepting their fate. Then she crumpled to the broken street, just another soul harvested by the Angel of Death.

  The power that had filled Angelo moments ago drained away like water down a drain. His orange aura flickered once, twice, then went out completely. In the distance, sirens wailed their way closer, but Angelo barely heard them. His legs wobbled and gave out, sending him crashing to his knees in the middle of the destroyed street. Every inch of him hurt – cuts and bruises painted his skin in shades of red and purple beneath his torn uniform.

  Medics rushed to him from all directions, their urgent voices blending together into background noise as they worked. But Angelo wasn't paying attention to them or their careful hands checking his wounds. His eyes were locked on something else – a group of medics huddled around Bill's body a few yards away.

  They moved with the quick, efficient motions of people who'd done this too many times before, pulling out a white sheet to cover him. Just before the fabric fell over Bill's face, Angelo caught one last glimpse of that smile – the same bright, earnest expression his student had worn since day one.

  Now it would stay frozen like that forever, a reminder that hit Angelo harder than any physical blow. He'd gotten stronger, evolved, even killed the woman responsible – but none of that mattered. All the power in the world meant nothing when he looked at that familiar smile, now still as stone.

  Tires screeched against pavement as Chief Ramirez's car pulled up to the scene. Red and blue lights from the roof spun across his face, making the horror in his expression even more stark. The chief stepped out into a scene from his worst nightmares – Angelo kneeling in the wreckage while medics swarmed around him, and two bodies lying still as statues on the broken street. The only tiny comfort was that one of those bodies belonged to the Grim Reaper instead of another officer.

  Ramirez walked toward Angelo like his legs were made of lead, each step heavy with dread. Angelo's shoulders shook as he cried without making a sound, staring at the ground like he wished it would split open and swallow him.

  "Are you alright, son?" The chief's usual rough voice had gone soft, gentle in a way that somehow hurt worse than shouting would have.

  Angelo's shoulders trembled harder as he stared at his hands, still spotted with dried blood. "I evolved..." His voice cracked like thin ice. "I got all this power... and he still..." He had to stop and gulp air like he was drowning. "Chief, I couldn't save him! Bill just wanted to help me, and I let him die!" His hands clenched into fists so tight they shook. "What kind of mentor does that make me?"

  "Angelo—" Ramirez tried to speak, but Angelo wasn't done.

  "He believed in me!" The words burst out of him like they hurt coming up. "He kept saying it right until the end – that he believed in me! And I failed him!" His voice rose until it was almost a scream, bouncing off the broken buildings around them. "I FAILED HIM!"

  Ramirez dropped to one knee beside his broken officer. His hands shook as he took off his hat, holding it against his chest like a shield. When he spoke, his voice carried the heavy weight of someone about to confess their darkest sin. "No, Angelo. I'm the one who failed. I knew..." He had to stop and steady himself before he could continue. "I knew about the Grim Reaper."

  Angelo's head snapped up so fast it must have hurt. Tears had cut clean lines through the dirt and blood on his face. "What...?" The word came out small and lost, like a child learning a terrible truth.

  "I thought I could use you as bait," Ramirez admitted. Each word seemed to add years to his face. "Spread those rumors, set a trap for the killer who'd been taking my officers... And because of my pride, my arrogance..." His voice finally cracked and broke. "I got that boy killed. His blood is on my hands, not yours."

  "Chief..." Angelo's voice came out barely louder than a breath.

  "You can blame yourself all you want," Ramirez said, his eyes shining with tears he wouldn't let fall, "but I'm the one who has to tell that boy's mother why her son isn't coming home." He put a heavy hand on Angelo's shoulder, the touch carrying all the weight of his guilt. "That burden belongs to me, son. Not you."

  The sirens continued their mournful song as mentor and superior sat in shared grief, each carrying a weight that would never truly leave them. That night, two souls were claimed by the Angel of Death – mother and son, united in tragedy. The grieving parent who became a monster died by his sword, while the earnest rookie who dreamed of being a hero died as his shield. In the end, they were not so different – both lives cut short by the unforgiving hand of lady justice, their stories forever intertwined in the dark legends of Novaria's streets.