The final showdown.

"He's fast, just as expected from the legendary Killer Hunter, White Reaper!" The man in boots muttered, chasing after the figure ahead.

The one he pursued moved with superhuman speed, vanishing and reappearing like a phantom. He was White Reaper, a name whispered in fear across the underworld. A legendary assassin who hunted killers and criminals, leaving nothing behind but silence.

No one knew his true name, his real face, or even the sound of his voice, because those who did… never lived to tell the tale.

"Damn it, he's persistent." White Reaper muttered in annoyance, his breath steady despite the breakneck speed.

Of all days, why did he have to face that damn crow today?

Crow, a name spoken in hushed tones, a legend in the assassin world. Like White Reaper, he had never failed a mission. And tonight, someone had paid him to end the infamous Killer Hunter.

White Reaper didn't fear many things. But he hated trouble, and Crow was the kind of problem he didn't want to deal with.

Yet here they were racing through the neon-lit skyline, their shadows flickering against towering buildings. The city below had no idea that two of the deadliest assassins were locked in a battle of speed and survival.

A bullet whizzed past White Reaper's ear. He barely tilted his head to avoid it. Sniper shot. Precision. That was Crow's style, no wasted movement, no hesitation.

"Tch." White Reaper clicked his tongue, shifting his trajectory midair, his feet kicking off the side of a skyscraper. The instant he landed, he pushed forward, shattering the rooftop beneath him from the force. If he slowed down even for a second, he was dead.

Crow was gaining. Fast.

And White Reaper hated to admit it, but this might be the toughest hunt of his life.

And most of all, he was late.

If he didn't shake off Crow soon, he was going to fail his mission.

"Damn it." White Reaper clenched his jaw, dodging left and leaping across a rooftop gap. If someone had hired Crow to kill him, then this wasn't just another bounty. This was personal. Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were doing. They weren't just after his life. They were moving before it was too late.

A smirk crept onto his lips. Interesting.

"Mr. Reaper, why don't we slow down a bit?! I'm getting tired, you know!"

White Reaper's eye twitched. He didn't bother looking back. Was Crow an idiot?! Who the hell asked their prey to stop just because they were tired?!

If you're tired, then give up already, damn it!

But something about Crow's voice bothered him.

It wasn't as deep as he expected. Sure, it had that rough, confident tone, but, was that a hint of something… lighter?

No. No way. Crow wasn't-

"Ah, come on, Mr. Reaper! Don't ignore me!" Crow called out, closing the distance. "I really wanna see the face behind that ugly mask! I bet you're some kind of handsome figure under there, huh?"

White Reaper nearly missed his step.

Crow was flirting?!

He didn't know what was more dangerous, the fact that a legendary assassin was trying to kill him, or the fact that he might actually be a she.

A swift leg swung toward White Reaper, cutting through the air like a guillotine.

Tch!

He barely managed to block with his elbow, but the force sent him flying. His body crashed onto the rooftop, rolling once before he dug his fingers into the concrete, halting his momentum.

The chase was over.

The wind howled between them as they stood, predator against predator, locked in a silent standoff. A cat and a crow, poised to strike.

Crow was dressed in all black, blending into the shadows. White Reaper, in sharp contrast, stood in a white jacket, its color impossible to miss in the dark.

At first, Crow thought he was an idiot for wearing such a color. It screamed recklessness, a beacon for his enemies.

But now, Crow understood.

It wasn't stupidity, it was confidence.

The kind of confidence that came from knowing his prey would never escape his claws.

That white jacket wasn't a mistake.

It was a message.

And every killer who had ever laid eyes on it… never lived to see the dawn.

"Neh, Mr. Reaper, why do you hunt down criminals?" Crow asked, casually leaning against the rooftop's guardrail, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.

White Reaper remained silent.

Crow tilted his head, amused. "Was it because you didn't want to kill innocent people?"

Still, no answer.

A smirk curled on Crow's lips. "You know, Mr. Reaper, if you're too picky about your food, one day you'll end up starving with nothing left to eat." He tapped a gloved finger against the metal railing.

Clink! Clink!

"We're killers," Crow said, his voice low and almost mocking. "We can't be too picky about our prey."

White Reaper breaths slowly.

Then, he spoke. His voice is sharp as a blade.

"I'm not like you."

Crow's smirk twitched. "Oh? And what exactly are you, Mr. Reaper?"

Reaper's gloved fingers adjusted the mask over his face. His stance never wavered.

"A cleaner."

Crow let out a chuckle, low and edged with something unreadable. "How dramatic." He pushed off the railing, stepping forward. "Well then, Mr. Cleaner, shall we see if you can wipe me off the board?"

The tension thickened. The wind howled between them.

And then, Crow moved. A blur of black shot toward white. 

Then the battle of rooftop began.

Crow moved first, his gun flashing in the moonlight as he fired two quick shots.

Bang! Bang!

White Reaper twisted his body, dodging both with unnatural precision. His white coat flared as he closed the gap in a heartbeat, dagger flashing toward Crow's throat.

But Crow was faster than most.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, his gun rotated, click! the blade extending from the barrel just in time to block the dagger. Sparks flew as steel met steel.

"Tch." Reaper clicked his tongue. The force of his strike sent Crow skidding back a few feet, boots scraping against the rooftop.

"Damn, Mr. Cleaner," Crow chuckled, spinning his weapon with a flourish. "I see why they all fear you."

White Reaper didn't respond. He never did.

Instead, he vanished.

Crow barely had a second to react before Reaper was behind him, dagger slashing toward his ribs.

Shit!

Crow twisted, barely avoiding a fatal wound, but the blade still tore through his coat, grazing his skin. Fast. Too fast.

He flipped backward, raising his gun mid-air, fire!

White Reaper lunged sideways, avoiding the bullet by a hair. Crow landed, leveling his weapon, but Reaper was already there.

A boot struck Crow's wrist, smack! his aim knocked off course. A blade followed, slicing toward his neck.

Block it!

Crow barely raised his gun-blade in time, locking weapons with Reaper once more.

The two assassins stood inches apart, the moonlight glinting off their clashing steel. Their eyes met, one masked in cold calculation, the other hidden behind a grin.

"This is fun," Crow whispered. "Isn't it?"

Reaper's dagger pressed harder. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"No."

Then he struck, faster than a bullet.

Crow felt the pressure of White Reaper's dagger pushing against his gun-blade, the force alone enough to remind him, this guy is a monster. But that didn't mean Crow wasn't one too.

Instead of retreating, he leaned in with a wicked grin.

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. Reaper, lighten up," Crow taunted, voice playful yet sharp. "We're both legends, aren't we? Shouldn't we enjoy a little dance?"

White Reaper didn't answer, he attacked.

He twisted his blade, forcing Crow's weapon aside in a sharp flick of the wrist. But Crow was already moving.

Shift weight.

The instant his guard was broken, Crow threw himself backward in a half-spin, kicking up his gun, fire!

White Reaper ducked, the bullet barely grazing his shoulder, but Crow used that opening, his coat whipping in the wind as he lunged forward.

Gun-blade swung. Clang! Dagger blocked it. A twist, Crow spun the blade around in his grip, forcing Reaper to shift his stance.

Then bam! Crow's knee slammed into White Reaper's ribs.

Reaper skidded back, boots scraping against the rooftop tiles.

"Not bad," Crow whistled, flipping his weapon in one hand. "You might be the best at close combat, but me? I'm great at everything."

White Reaper straightened, unfazed. Then, he was gone.

Crow's smirk barely had time to drop before,

A glint of silver.

A shadow behind him.

Too fast!

He twisted, bringing his gun up, too late. White Reaper was already inside his guard.

A cold whisper.

"Overconfident."

A dagger flashed toward Crow's throat.

White Reaper's dagger was inches from Crow's throat when suddenly, the world seemed to fade.

A cold, empty darkness surrounded him. It was as if he had been ripped away from reality itself, pulled into a vast void. His body felt weightless, like he was floating in a sea of nothingness. The sharp sounds of the battle, the city's hum, the wind, all of it vanished and silenced.

He attempted to shift, to stand, but his limbs were heavy. His head was a muddle, trying to process the vastness of nothing. Was he. alive?

No. Maybe he is dead. Did Crow kill him?! But how? Clearly, it was he who was in control at that time.

This is the worst! A poison?!

He tried to focus, to bring himself back, but the deeper he fell, the harder it became to think. Every thought felt like it was being swallowed by the void. The sensation of his body, his soul, slipping further and further away until there was nothing left but darkness.

The last thing he heard, just before his consciousness faded completely, was his own breath, shallow and weak, as it echoed in the vast emptiness.

No pain. No weight. Just emptiness.

Am I really dead?

He tried to remember what happened, but his thoughts were foggy, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He could still remember the chase, the kick from Crow, and the battle. But everything after that... was gone.

It was dark. Cold. Silent. But then, something broke through the silence.

A soft chime, like a bell, echoed in the void.

[Welcome to the Spirit World Gameshow! You have been selected as a player. Do you wish to continue?]

A glowing blue box appeared in front of him. The words were blurry at first, but they became clearer.

[YES] | [NO]

White Reaper stared at it, confused. A game? No. This wasn't some simulation. The sharpness in his thoughts, the weight in his chest, it was real. But how?

He didn't know what to do. But something inside him made him choose. Without thinking, he clicked YES.

PING!

The screen changed, and new words appeared.

[Congratulations, Player! Please enter a name…]

A name? He froze, unsure. But then, the name came to him. It was the name he had carried all his life.

White Reaper.

The name that had defined him. The name that had made him feared.

[We officially welcome Player WHITE REAPER to the Spirit World Gameshow.]

A chill ran down his spine. It was his name. But why was he here?

Something was watching him. Eyes in the dark, unseen but there. And no matter what happened, the name White Reaper would follow him. It would always be with him.