REAPER: The Young God

Chapter Thirteen

As Simz and Robyn arrived in Citadel, they followed the gentle glow of floating lanterns, their soft luminescence replenishing nearby souls with restorative essence. The Citadel, once a bustling hub when Simz first arrived, was eerily quiet.

"Hope we're not late for the celebrations," Robyn hurried towards the Fifth Division barracks, her voice laced with concern.

"Celebrations?" Simz echoed, bewildered. The captains, he'd learned, had organized a welcome party for all the new reapers and Captain Amoli's return.

They reached their barracks, only to find hushed whispers replacing the usual camaraderie. Inside the Citadel, only patrolling guards roamed the halls. Confused, Simz and Robyn navigated towards the First Division, the unmistakable clamour of a gathering drawing them closer.

The First Division's barracks resembled a small suburb, housing a vast number of reapers who lived in communes of sixteen. Each reaper had their own room within the communal dwelling, a concept that left Simz awestruck. The heart of the barracks was a buzzing clubhouse, overflowing with socialising reapers.

Trent, his cloak styled into a kimono and his hair meticulously tied in a bun, materialised at the entrance, greeting Simz and Robyn.

"Missed the speeches already!" he announced, his voice jovial. Robyn mirrored his kimono style with a flick of her wrist.

"Seems you're obsessed with him," Simz mumbled, earning a playful shush from the acolyte.

Trent led them through the crowd, his arm casually slung around each of their shoulders. The party's energy was infectious, a vibrant mix of reapers from every rank, all mingling freely. Food overflowed from tables, a testament to the festive spirit. Upstairs, a quieter lounge area housed most of the captains. Trent, ever the maverick, was the sole captain downstairs, socialising with the lower ranks.

Heimer leaned against the wall, his gaze sweeping across the room. When his eyes landed on Simz, a suggestive smirk played on his lips.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, "a royal in the flesh."

Simz, relieved to finally be treated normally, offered a genuine grin. Trent, eager for feedback on their visit with the Aviannas, launched into a detailed account, using Robyn as his interpreter.

Despite being a Tykonion and possessing the ability to understand all languages fluently, Simz noticed Heimer and Trent exchanging glances whenever Robyn used specific keywords.

"Alright, alright," Trent finally conceded. "Robyn, maybe we should head upstairs before people start getting suspicious."

As they ascended the stairs, three hulking reapers approached Heimer and Simz. The middle one, towering over Simz, sported an axe strapped to his back.

"Royal blood amongst us now, huh?" he sneered. "Here to grease the Council's pockets with your dirty money?"

Heimer remained silent, gauging Simz's reaction.

Simz squared his shoulders and met the reaper's gaze. "The moment I stepped through the Citadel's gates, I became my own person. Don't associate me with my family."

The middle reaper scoffed. "Oh, and does your 'daddy' know you're mouthing off like that?"

Ignoring the taunt, Simz rolled his eyes. "Don't ever speak to me like that again."

Before the reaper could react further, his attempt to shove Simz sent a ripple through his outstretched hand, momentarily dissolving it into thousands of threads before reforming. He recoiled in shock, his bravado dissipating.

Heimer, unable to suppress a grin, witnessed the scene unfold. The news of this ability spread like wildfire, causing a hush to fall over the party.

"Well, this party was boring anyway," Heimer declared, leading Simz out of the building.