(MoD) Chapter 36: The River of Souls

Chapter 36: The River of Souls

“Where is this?” Takauji asked, looking around and finding himself standing in what appeared to be a lone alleyway, the pungent stench of filth and waste lingering in the air, combined with a strange metallic taste that remained on the surface of his tongue. A taste that he had never experienced before.

“Where we are is unimportant; the only matter of relevancy is what's happening around us.” Death pointed to something behind his Reaper-in-training.

“Help… Someone… Help me… Please… It hurts…” 

A middle-aged man was lying on the asphalt ground, his complexion pale, his eyelids constantly on the verge of shutting, and his voice weaker than that of a dying sloth. 

He was clutching his blood-stained abdomen with what little strength he could still muster, having suffered a stab wound deep enough to have punctured his intestine. 

“Kyoko… Aoi… I’m sorry…” 

Takauji walked over to him with his eyebrows raised, crouching beside the man and tilting his head in curiosity. 

“Why isn’t he able to see us? Is this an illusion?” 

“I assure you, we’re still grounded in authenticity. You’re in your Reaper Form right now, normal humans won’t be able to perceive you. Only those such as your family and the Devil you’re employed to will be able to see you.” 

“Reaper Form?” Takauji observed himself, not sensing anything especially different about himself.

Aside from the glaring fact that his entire biology had just been rewritten by the man currently instructing him.

New and improved, as they say.

“It’s because you’re touching your Death Scythe,” Death pointed to the cane he handed his protégé. “Doing so automatically puts you into your Reaper Form. When you have it sheathed, you’ll be visible to humanity once more.”

He hummed, twirling the cane around a little. “I have to say, for a Death Scythe, its design is awfully tame.” 

“That’s because creatures like us are different from other Grim Reapers. Their powers are stored in their Scythes. Consequently, they’d lose all their strength if they were ever to allow their Scythe to be destroyed. Which is a lot easier said than done.” 

“But our powers aren’t?” 

“Mhm. Simply put, we are the Death Scythe. Our very souls embody the concept of Death, therefore we do not need an instrument to play the closing symphony for whomever we’re reaping.” 

“Wait, if our powers aren’t stored in our Death Scythes, then what’s the point of even having them? Surely they aren’t just for show?” 

Death shook his head disapprovingly, “You’re jumping to conclusions, my dear pupil. Even though they don’t store our abilities, they do serve as a conduit for them. They allow us to channel the raw strength dwelling within us without excessively damaging everything around us. As I recall, you’ve already had a taste of the damage we’re capable of inducing if we’re not careful.”

“What are you talking about—” His eyes flashed in realization, recalling the sight of the sky turning pale upon his arrival. “Kamigyo!” 

Death wore a faint smile, “You catch on quick. I’ll admit, I happen to have a soft spot for people who don’t force me to speak more than I’d like to.” 

Takauji scratched his chin in deliberation, “Hold on. I didn’t have these powers back then, did I? How was I able to use them beforehand?” 

“You were connected to the tablet the second you stepped foot in Kamigyo, the power stored in it was always intended for you, therefore it responded to your will once the connection was formed.” 

“My will?” 

“If memory serves me correctly, you were a tad bit irritated upon your arrival, were you not?” Takauji looked like he was about to argue, but Death was able to keep him quiet with nothing more than a stern glare. “Hence, your powers expressed your irritation upon Kamigyo without restraint.” He gave a nod to Takauji’s Death Scythe. “The same logic applied to the heart attack you induced on your uncle. This is why it’s vital that our strength remains properly contained, of course, as you grow stronger, you’ll be able to use more of your strength without indiscriminately harming everything around you.” 

Takauji took a moment to let Death’s words sink in, “You mentioned something about strengthening my soul before you reincarnated me. If that’s the case, why is my soul so much weaker than the rest of my abilities?” 

The system had put his Dark Affinity at D+, which he could only assume was being compared to Death’s ability, whereas his Soul Affinity was ranked E. 

“We’re getting to that,” once more, Death directed Takauji’s attention to the bleeding man beside them. “You can see it, can’t you? The mark of death looming over him.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, noticing the dark smog that was gathering above the man’s head. One which seemed to resonate with him to his very core, or more accurately, to every Grim Reaper’s core. 

“When someone is marked in such a manner, their soul must be reaped. There can be no buts, ifs, or ands, lest you end up upsetting the natural order.” Death walked up to Takauji, his voice lowering to a threatening degree as he stared him dead in the eyes with an ice-cold chill in his pupils. “The natural order must be maintained; it is our duty. It is the very reason for our existence; without the natural order, nothing can exist. Understood?” 

He swallowed a nervous gulp and nodded, “Understood.” 

“Trust me, even if you try to bend the rules a little. The sheer amount of clean-up you’ll have to deal with afterwards will lead you to the brink of insanity, even at my level, it’s a headache. I’d suggest that you give the matter some serious consideration. Now then, go ahead and take his soul.” 

“And how exactly would I go about doing that?” 

“Tap him with your Death Scythe, it’ll rip the remaining life force out of his mortal composition and transform him into a neutral spirit.” Death sighed, “Speaking of which. Rouge and vengeful spirits are also bound to be an issue for you, but I suppose we can save that for another time.”

Takauji deadpanned, “You know. You’re not doing an excellent job at making this job seem all that endearing.” 

“That’s because it’s not, it’s the job everyone fantasizes about having, but one that comes with a burden only one person in every universe is capable of handling.” Death adjusted his tie, “Putting aside how difficult the job is on its own, people just love adding to our burden by offering us promises of gold, glory, and love in a pathetic attempt to deter us from our duty. They all believe that the things they possess amongst the living hold any value to us, who govern the dead.” 

“Great,” Takauji let out an exasperated exhale. “Now I’ve got two pain-in-the-ass jobs to deal with.” 

Death did not attempt to refute him. “We are the guardian angels of death, our role is to ensure that no one sullies the virtue that is death’s equality.” 

Takauji reached out with the brunt of his Death Scythe, tapping the dying man on the shoulder. “Alright, buddy, time to go.” 

The man’s heartbeat came to an immediate stop, the touch of Takauji’s cane finally putting him out of his misery. 

Seconds later, a translucent version of the newly deceased individual’s body, his eyes immediately widening as much as they possibly could the second he regathered himself, and understandably so. 

He stared at Takauji in silence momentarily before mustering up the courage to speak.

“Who are you…?” 

He offered no verbal response, simply pointing to the stabbed corpse on the ground as the man tracked his gaze. 

“Holy shit!” He recoiled, looking at his own body lying on the alleyway in horror. “Am I… Dead?” 

“No, you’re just asleep.” 

“Oh, that’s a relief—” 

“Of course you’re dead, idiot! You just died, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten that you were fruitlessly holding your open stomach a few seconds ago?” 

The newly minted spirit pinched his nose-bridge, “Sigh. I took a loan from some shady people, and it ended up in me getting—” 

“Shush,” Takauji put the bottom of his cane on the spirit’s mouth. “I didn’t come here to hear your life story, I’m just here to take your soul, that’s all.” 

“My soul?” He grew justifiably wary, “What are you talking about? Come to think of it, you still haven’t told me who you are!” 

“We’re Death, obviously, why else would we be here? You’re not exactly someone of high standing by the looks of things, so I hope you weren’t expecting an angelic choir to descend from the heavens or something.” 

“Hold on a second, what do you mean we?” He stared at Takauji with suspicion, looking over his sides and knitting his brows. “I don’t see anyone else here, Mr. Death. Aren’t you a little young to be Death?” 

“Please just shut up,” he facepalmed.

“He doesn’t need to see me, you’re this universe’s Death. Not me.” Death shrugged, “Now then. Once you’ve brought someone's soul out, the next step is to bring them to the River of Souls.” 

“And how exactly would I go about doing that?” 

“There’s a button on the side of your Death Scythe’s hilt; all you have to do is click it.” 

“Oh, that’s rather convenient.” Takauji pressed his lips together, noticing the small silver button in the shape of a skull.

Click! 

“Gah!” The spirit shielded his eyes as a bright, white, blinding light in the shape of a door appeared out of thin air. A fierce cold wind was prevailing through its entrance, which didn’t seem to affect Death Junior and Death Senior in the slightest, but caused the spirit’s teeth to start chattering.

“Let’s go, chop chop.” He glared at the spirit while tapping his wrist, eager to get accustomed to his second job as quickly as possible. 

“You could at least crank up the temperature or something!” 

Takauji rolled his eyes, appalled that a dead person could retain such a lively attitude.

“Welcome to your River of Souls,” Death said once the three of them stepped through the door. 

‘Oh boy, this place is going to need a serious amount of renovation.’ 

They had arrived at a bleak, desolate, stony expanse. A gray sky loomed above them, with an eerie, light-blue-colored moon hovering above. An endless sea of withered trees barely hanging on to what little traces of life they still had, and a temperature that was frigid enough to classify the place as an arctic tundra.

“Help!” 

“Mom? Where are you? Mom!” 

“It’s cold… I’m so cold…” 

“Please… Make it stop!” 

“Let me go… Someone… Please… I beg of you…” 

Takauji could hear desperate voices calling out to the void around him, their tones filled with pain, misery, and a profound sense of isolation. 

Death clicked his tongue, his displeasure more than evident. “This is what’s become of the River of Souls under Hades’ pathetic management, stripped of all semblance of order, leaving most souls unable to even move on to Heaven or Hell, where they’re supposed to be. The longer this place is allowed to remain in such an awful state, the more damaged the balance of your universe will become.” 

As jarring as all of these variables were, there was one particular area that was far more noticeable than anything else in the run-down expanse.

A river, or at least, that was what it was supposed to be. 

There wasn’t a single drop of liquid present in the giant depression running through the entirety of the expanse; it was completely dried up and barren, devoid of the luster it was supposed to have.

“You were wondering why your soul was so much weaker than it was supposed to be. Well, here’s your answer.” Death clasped his hands behind his back, “Your power is tied to the River of Souls. The more efficient this place becomes, the more powerful you become.” 

Takauji started shaking his head, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I’m not sure where to even begin.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” Death took a deep breath. “Get ready, because this lecture is going to be a long one.” 

━━━━

Being Death ain’t so easy after all, who would’ve thought?