Reborn with my killer's looks-Chapter 30: The Witness

The blue reaper lowered his hand, the bible verse echoeing across the rooms four corners.

The blue glow in his eyes hadn’t faded. If anything it had intensified, casting ethereal light across the faces of the Trinity who could only watch on.

Calvin’s hand had moved instinctively, Josephine’s fingers curled into fists and Luna simply stared, but her breathing had definitely gotten a lot more intense.

They could all feel it.

Something was wrong, the air had grown heavy like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

"Reaper," Said Calvin quietly, his green eyes never leaving the box. "What did you just do?"

The blue reaper didn’t answer immediately. His eyes still carrying that unnatural blue were fixed on the box like he was waiting for something.

"I asked it to show us the truth," Finally he answered. "Everything this box has witnessed in the last three days."

And then it all turned white.

Calvin’s first thought was that he’d been hit by Josephines disorienting light .

But this white wasn’t blinding, it was rather empty Like staring at a canvas before the first brushstroke or at a page before the first word.

He tried to move his hand and found that he infact could, but when he looked down, he couldn’t see his own body.

Just endless white

"What the hell?" Calvin’s voice echoed in strange in the emptiness. "Where—"

"We’re still in Azzuri’s office." Luna’s managed to keep her voice calm. "I can feel the desk behind me, but I can’t see it."

"Im sure it’s this charis thing." Said Josephine. "The Reaper’s ability. He’s showing us what happened with the box."

The white began to fade gradually, like watercolor spread across paper and shapes emerged from the emptiness. Walls, floor, ceiling.

This space they were in now was vast, palace-like in its proportions, stone pillars rose toward a ceiling lost in shadows and torches burned along the walls, their flames an unnatural crimson that cast everything in shades of red and black.

And in the center of it all stood thirteen figures. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Twelve wore white robes that covered them from head to toe, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. They stood in a perfect circle, hands clasped in front of them and as motionless as statues.

The thirteenth figure stood at the circle’s center.

They were barefoot, wearing a red robe and on the back, clearly visible even from this distance was a symbol they all immediately recognized.

Seven interlocking lines, The seventh seal.

"No," Josephine breathed. "That’s—that can’t be—"

"The massacre," the Blue Reaper said quietly, his masked face turning toward them. "St. Helena. Eight months ago. The very same symbol...."

Calvin’s jaw tightened. "Then this is—"

"Just a memory," Luna finished. "The box was here and this is what it witnessed."

The vision didn’t seem to register their presence at all.

within the circle, the red robe was pacing slowly around its perimeter. When he spoke, his voice carried across the vast space despite being barely above a conversational volume.

"Peter"

One of the white-robed figures stepped forward, lowering his hood.

Calvin recognized the face immediately from the news broadcasts. Peter. The serial killer they’d been calling "Burn" because of the distinctive way he took out his victims.

He’d expected a confident monster but Peter looked... diminished. His shoulders were hunched slightly and his head bowed. His posture affecting a scolded child rather than a remorseless killer.

"Master," Peter said quietly. "I can explain the—"

"Explain?" The red-robed figure’s voice was still barely above a hush yet it sent chills down their spines."Explain how you allowed yourself to be seen? Explain how you drew the attention of Lionheart before we were ready? Explain how your lack of discipline has jeopardized months of careful preparation?"

Peter flinched. "The targets were isolated. I took precautions...."

"You took credit." The red robe’s voice was even colder now. "You wanted them to fear you, to know your name and Your ego compromised the operation."

"I—"

"Silence."

Peter’s mouth snapped shut.

The red-robed figure turned, addressing the rest of the circle. "This is what happens when we forget our purpose, when personal gratification supersedes the mission, when the self becomes more important than the collective."

He stopped in front of Peter, who seemed to shrink under that hidden gaze.

"You were given power beyond mortal comprehension. You were baptized in the blood of our father. You were remade as an instrument of divine will." A pause. "And yet you still give in to your base desire for recognition."

Another of the white-robed figures shifted slightly. A small movement that was barely perceptible, but in the absolute stillness of the circle it stood out like a shout.

The red robe’s head turned.

"Phillip. Do you have something to say?"

The figure hesitated, then stepped forward and lowered his hood.

This man was younger than Peter, maybe mid-twenties, with sharp features and dark hair that fell across his forehead.

Where Peter looked diminished, Phillip looked determined.

"Master, with respect," Phillip began. "Peter’s actions, while... ill-advised in their execution, did serve to....."

"To spread fear," Phillip said, and there was steel in his voice now. "The people of Vitalis are terrified. They don’t feel safe in their own city. That terror serves our purposes, does it not? Chaos breeds chaos. Peter simply....."

"disobeyed." The red robe took a step toward Phillip. "As you are doing now."

Phillip’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. "I’m advocating for...."

"You’re making excuses for your brother’s failure." The red robe’s voice was soft now, almost gentle. "How touching. You’ve always been protective of him, haven’t you? Ever since you were reborn together. The purifier and the purger, two sides of the same coin."

"Master"

"But protection requires strength." The red robe raised one hand, spreading his fingers. "And you, Phillip, have yet to prove yourself worthy of protecting anyone."

And clenched the hand into a fist.

"If you truly want to help your brother," the red robe continued, "then you’ll need to make a sacrifice."

Phillip’s eyes widened. "Master, please"

"Your hand."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

Phillip looked down at his left hand, then back up at the red-robed figure. "I... I don’t understand."

"You offered to pick up your brother’s slack. To do his work for him until he can redeem himself." The red robe tilted his head slightly. "Until Peter has proven himself worthy of my trust again, you won’t be needing your left hand."

One moment the red robe was standing several feet from Phillip. The next he was directly in front of him, one hand raised high.

But when that hand came down in a sharp, cutting motion, Phillip’s left hand separated from his wrist as cleanly as if it had been removed by a master surgeon.

Phillip staggered back, clutching the stump, his face had gone white with shock.

The severed hand hit the stone floor with a wet sound.

And then it began to... change.

The flesh rippled, becoming translucent and the bones dissolved. Within seconds, the hand had transformed into a sphere of water roughly the size of a baseball, floating just above the ground.

The red robe reached down and picked up the sphere with his remaining hand, examining it with what seemed like mild interest.

"Impressive," he said. "Your affinity for water has grown stronger. This will serve nicely."

He produced a small wooden box from within his robes identical to the one on Azzuri’s desk and placed the water sphere inside. The moment it made contact with the box’s interior, it seemed to freeze in place, neither liquid nor solid but in between.

The red robe closed the box with a decisive click just before the vison shifted.