Eternal Undying Chronicles

Two weeks had passed since the bloody incident at the club, and the nights in Evergreen had only grown more blood-soaked.

Each evening brought new horrors as the Reaper carved a path of carnage and death, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. The streets buzzed with whispers of his name, and fear clung to the city like a thick fog.

The city's population was divided. Some cheered the Reaper for his ruthless assault on the underworld, viewing him as a dark savior cleansing the streets of crime. Others, however, denounced him as a demon, a force of pure evil that brought nothing but terror and bloodshed.

Conversations in cafes and bars were filled with arguments about the Reaper's true nature—was he a hero or a monster?

What no one could deny was that the Reaper had proven that no one was safe from his wrath. Criminals and politicians alike fell under his judgment, and there seemed to be no discernible pattern to his attacks—except one.

"The guilty will know agony." Those five words had become a chilling mantra, spreading beyond the limits of Evergreen City, fueling both fascination and dread.

The Reaper was also known for giving his enemies two options, submission or death. Depending on how quickly one answered, they might leave with broken bones but still alive, unless they were members of larger underworld organizations—they received no such mercy.

Detective Jessica West had been deep in the investigation, though it felt more like a game of cat and mouse with her superiors than with the Reaper.

Each lead she pursued either hit a dead end or was blocked by higher-ups, who seemed more interested in maintaining order than catching a killer. It was frustrating, to say the least.

"There's a serial killer out there, and top brass won't even let me work in peace," Jessica muttered, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

She walked down the crowded streets of the Central District, weaving through people blissfully unaware of the darkness lurking in their city. Her destination was the towering skyscraper where the Reaper had made his violent debut. The building belonged to the Bureau of Intelligence, yet it had been breached by a single person—if she could even call the Reaper a person at all.

Jessica's thoughts churned as she approached the building, though she made no effort to enter. Instead, she walked past it, her eyes drifting toward a weathered statue of a woman standing nearby.

The statue was old, eroded by time. She had seen it countless times before. But what caught her attention this time wasn't the statue itself, but the young man standing in front of it, studying it with a thoughtful expression.

The young man had a confident, slightly intense demeanor. His dark, tousled hair framed cold, focused eyes that conveyed a sense of rebellious conviction.

He wore a white V-neck t-shirt under a black jacket adorned with patches, giving him a casual yet edgy look. His jeans and the guitar case slung across his back added to this relaxed yet stylish appearance. His brown eyes had a mild gleam she couldn't quite read—something rebellious, something dangerous.

Jessica's gut told her something was off. She never doubted her intuition, even when it seemed baseless at first—her sixth sense as a detective never failed her. The more she looked at him, the louder her gut screamed. His delicate skin and his height caught her attention, but there was more to it.

It wasn't because he was her type or anything like that—no, there was something else. Something she couldn't quite place, but it gnawed at her, urging her to stay.

"Did you know this statue is supposedly older than the city itself?" Jessica walked up to the young man, her gaze lingering on the ancient figure carved in stone.

The young man didn't seem surprised. He kept his eyes fixed on the statue, as if lost in thought.

"There are many stories about this statue," Jessica continued. "Some say when the first settlers arrived, they worshipped it. But over time, it was forgotten. I guess it's human nature to forget their gods when they find prosperity."

The young man remained silent, offering only a sidelong glance in her direction. He didn't seem surprised, and his eyes held the recognition of someone who had seen her before.

'Hmm, interesting. That look in his eyes—this isn't the first time he's seen me. Let's put that to the test,' Jessica mused.

"Apparently, it's at the very center of the city. Fifty years ago, during construction, they tried to destroy the statue, but no matter what they did, it wouldn't break. So they built around it instead."

The young man finally turned to face her, his expression piqued with interest.

Jessica smiled. "Hi, I'm Jessica West, a reporter," she lied smoothly.

The young man looked at her with a touch of skepticism. "Hi, I'm Alicarde Asad. Nice to meet you, Miss Reporter."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Jessica's smile deepened. 'I knew it—he knows about me. There's something about him...'

"Nice to meet you too, Alicarde," she nodded, skipping straight to using his first name.

"Shouldn't an old statue like this be part of city heritage? Why would they try to destroy it?" Alicarde asked.

"Not sure. Apparently, back in the day, there were rumors that the statue was alive or something. People in this city are very superstitious," Jessica responded.

Jessica casually pushed her blonde hair to the side. "I had no idea someone would be interested in this old statue."

"Well, I'm not really that interested," Alicarde admitted. "It just has an uncanny resemblance to my professor… but there's no way it could be her."

"Why not? Ah, right, because it's more than four hundred years old," Jessica remarked.

"No, that's not why. It's because my professor would never smile so sweetly," Alicarde added, a hint of dry humor in his voice.

Jessica's eyes widened before she burst into laughter. "You… I can't believe you'd say that about your professor."

Alicarde grinned. "Shhh… keep it between us, okay?"

Jessica nodded, still chuckling. His expression was making her laugh—a rare occurrence these days. "You're a college student. What brings you to the Central District? Are you on a date?"

He shook his head. "No date for me. Just wanted to check out the place."

"First time here, then?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah, I'm new to the city, so I don't know many places."

"You're in luck," Jessica offered. "I know every corner of this city. How about I give you a tour?"

Alicarde casually strolled toward a nearby bench, keeping his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't want to impose… Besides, I was kinda forced to have a change of scenery by a witch who claims to be a therapist."

Jessica raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his odd phrasing.

"I really don't want to be outside if I can help it," he added with a slight frown.

"Is that so?" Jessica asked, taking a seat next to him. "What would you rather be doing?"

Alicarde shrugged. "Well, it's a lecture-free day, so I guess playing video games all day."

Jessica's eyes twitched, though she kept a smile plastered on her face. "You're a gamer? That's good to know. Are you any good?"

"Good enough, if I do say so myself," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Really? What types of games do you play? Skyline? Drakharts? League of Champions?" she listed off a few titles, watching for a reaction.

Alicarde's expression brightened ever so slightly. "Yeah, I play a lot of games."

"I like games too, especially League of Champions. The voice lines and the lore are to die for," Jessica replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

Alicarde's excitement grew a bit. "Yeah, me too. I love those epic voice lines."

Jessica leaned in just a little. "My favorite line is, 'The guilty will know agony.'"

"Really?" Alicarde quirked an eyebrow, smirking. "If you like a psychopath who enjoys torturing people with a bow." Discover hidden stories at empire

Jessica laughed. "Is that so? Who do you prefer, then?"

"I love all the champions," Alicarde said, his tone light and teasing.

Their conversation continued about the game, but Jessica soon realized she had exhausted her limited knowledge on the subject. Sensing the need for a change in topic, she decided to switch gears.

"'The guilty will know agony'… Kinda makes me wonder if the Reaper also loves games," Jessica mused aloud, her tone thoughtful.

Alicarde paused, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, now that I think about it, that's where the original quote comes from."

"You mean you didn't know?" Jessica sounded genuinely surprised.

"Not really, no," Alicarde admitted.

Jessica leaned back on the bench, her mind turning over several thoughts.

"They say the culprit always returns to the scene of the crime. I wonder how true that is."

Alicarde smiled, but there was a deeper meaning in his words as he responded.

"I guess you'd have to ask a cop. They would know better."

Jessica's gut tightened, her instincts picking up on something just beneath the surface of his words. There was an unease she couldn't quite shake, but she wasn't sure why.

'Am I just being paranoid?' she wondered.

"Besides, who can stop the Reaper? That monster is just too powerful. He thinks he can do whatever he wants," Alicarde said, his expression darkening slightly.

"You don't like him? I mean, a lot of people in the city are cheering for him while others are afraid," Jessica pressed, curious to see where his true feelings lay.

"Who would like a serial killer? We have laws for a reason," Alicarde replied coldly.

Jessica's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. 'He's indignant, but he's not actually angry.'

Something wasn't adding up. "How do you suggest the police deal with the Reaper?"

Alicarde's response was measured. "By bringing him to justice."

"That's a bit vague. If I didn't know better, I'd say you don't actually mind the Reaper," Jessica remarked, her voice low, testing the waters.

Alicarde glanced at her but remained silent, his calm exterior betraying nothing. Yet, as she watched him, Jessica couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

His hands trembled slightly—so subtly that most wouldn't notice—and his build was strikingly similar to descriptions of the Reaper's silhouette.

'My gut is telling me something, but it seems absurd,' she thought, the idea so far-fetched it felt laughable. Yet, she couldn't dismiss it outright.

She mentally berated herself. The odds of running into the Reaper, especially in a city as large as this one, were astronomical. Millions of people, documented and undocumented, roamed the streets daily. It was sheer paranoia, nothing more.

Still, her instincts refused to let go. "Hey, Alicarde, it was really fun meeting you. Let's exchange contact info. You said you're new to the city, so how about I give you that tour this Saturday?" Jessica suggested, fishing out her phone.

"No, really, it's fine," Alicarde muttered.

"No, I insist," Jessica pressed, her smile warm and inviting.

"I'd rather not impose…"

"It's no imposition! Consider it a welcome to the city."

"I appreciate it, but…"

"I won't take no for an answer. Come on, it'll be fun!"

Alicarde hesitated, visibly conflicted before finally giving in. "Alright, fine."

They exchanged contact info, and though Jessica kept her outward demeanor light, that nagging sense of unease clung to her. Something was off about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She studied him more closely now, noticing how flawless his skin was—almost too perfect. There was something otherworldly about his appearance that sent a chill down her spine.

"If you don't mind me asking, what type of skincare products do you use?" Jessica asked, more out of personal curiosity than anything else.

Alicarde blinked in confusion. "What… I don't—"

Before he could finish, his phone buzzed. Jessica caught a glimpse of the name on the screen Mark Green. That name tugged at her memory.

"Excuse me, Miss West," Alicarde said, answering the call. Jessica observed his demeanor shift instantly—his eyes growing cold, his posture stiffening. Without warning, he stood and sprinted toward a luxury car parked nearby, moving with a speed that was almost inhuman.

Jessica rose to follow, but her own phone rang—a work-related call. She glanced at it in frustration as Alicarde's car sped off, vanishing into the city before she had the chance to react.

'He's fast...' she mused, recalling the name on his phone. 'Mark Green... Wasn't he one of the guys at that nightclub two weeks ago?'