Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 220: The Reaper’s scythe

Chapter 220: The Reaper’s scythe

The Reaper’s scythe descended, a gleaming arc of obsidian mist slicing through the midnight air.

Schlkk—

Lila’s head parted from her shoulders with a sickening, clean cut, her body collapsing in a lifeless heap a heartbeat later.

Her severed head bounced once—twice—then rolled into a shallow oil puddle at the edge of the shattered street, black liquid rippling outward, swallowing the moonlight.

Her face, frozen in an unreadable calm, stared upward, her black eyes dull, lifeless, reflecting the fractured sky.

No blood spilled.

Only thick, inky fluid oozed from the stump of her neck, shadowstuff pooling like tar, not human, a chilling reminder of her true nature.

Tila’s breath stopped, her world fracturing.

Her fingers trembled, her legs buckled, her black eyes locked on her sister’s head—her twin, her other half, her soul.

"Lila...?" Her voice was a broken whisper, barely audible, her body swaying as she took a shaky step forward, her gown tattered, her shadow form flickering, unstable.

Her lips moved, soundless, her mind unraveling, the void of loss clawing at her chest.

Then something snapped—not in her bones, but in her very being, a fracture that shattered her humanity.

Her pupils vanished, her black irises fading, her entire body cracking apart like glass under pressure.

Her skin melted to vapor, features erased like chalk in a storm, leaving only a silhouette—a solid-black, faceless phantom, standing perfectly still amidst the oil and death, a void given form.

Lila’s remains stirred.

Her broken corpse dissolved into black smoke, her shadow liquefying, slithering across the cracked concrete like water seeking its mirror.

It crept into Tila’s feet, seeping up her legs, vanishing inside her, a dark fusion that pulsed with unnatural energy.

The Reaper, hovering above the bloodless wreckage, her cloak billowing, narrowed her red eyes, her grin faltering for the first time. "...What in the name of—"

Tila grew.

Her silhouette stretched upward and outward, towering, her form elongating—taller, stronger, regal.

Her chest swelled, her limbs lengthened, her posture straightened, a dark queen rising from the ashes of grief.

No skin, no face, only two glowing white eyes, expressionless, seething with a silent fury that made the air grow heavier, the street dim, the shadows deepen.

The Reaper took a step back, her scythe glinting, her voice laced with unease. "...You’re different now."

Tila charged, the street fracturing beneath her first step, a sonic boom splitting the air.

She vanished into shadow, reappearing inches from the Reaper’s chest, her fist a black comet.

BOOM—!

The punch landed like a cannon, the impact shattering the night.

The Reaper flew back, her body crashing through the husk of a delivery truck, metal screeching as it crumpled, her form tumbling across asphalt like a broken doll, skidding into a heap of debris.

Before she could recover, Tila was above her, a shadow storm descending.

The Reaper swung her scythe in a desperate crescent slash, lightless flames trailing its edge—but Tila didn’t dodge.

She caught the blade with her bare hand, her white eyes unblinking, her grip unyielding.

The Reaper’s eyes widened, a flicker of fear breaking her composure.

Tila crushed the scythe, the obsidian splintering into smoke and shards, dissolving into the night.

The Reaper reeled back, summoning shadows to shield her, but even her darkness recoiled, shrinking from Tila’s presence, her dominion faltering.

"You—!" the Reaper hissed, her voice cracking, her red eyes darting, searching for an escape.

Tila struck again, a spinning elbow slamming into the Reaper’s chest with a sickening CRACK, her ribs splintering audibly.

The Reaper flew backward, landing on her hands and knees, gasping, blood trickling from her lips, her cloak torn, her pale skin bruised.

Tila was already there, a relentless shadow, her form looming like death’s own judgment.

Tendrils exploded from her back—blades of living ink, sharp and sinuous—slamming into the ground around the Reaper, pinning her in a web of black spikes, their edges glinting with malice.

The Reaper screamed, trying to dissolve into mist, but the tendrils tightened, their grip unyielding, anchoring her to the mortal plane.

She summoned twin daggers, their blades forged from shadow, and lunged with a scream, her red eyes wild.

Tila caught both wrists mid-air, her white eyes burning, her strength inhuman.

She crushed, the Reaper’s wrists shattering with a wet pop, bones jutting through pale skin, her daggers clattering uselessly to the ground.

Tila threw her down, the pavement cracking under the impact, and climbed over her, a shadow colossus, her form radiating a silent, apocalyptic fury. Her fist descended, a hammer from hell.

THUD.

The Reaper’s mask cracked, shards flying.

CRACK.

Her cheekbone caved, blood spraying.

THUD.

Her jaw shattered, a gurgle replacing her scream.

Tila didn’t stop, her punches relentless, each blow a deafening explosion, her white eyes unblinking, her silhouette a void of vengeance.

The Reaper’s face broke apart—flesh splitting, bone collapsing, her skull pulping into an unrecognizable ruin, blood and shadow mingling in a grotesque smear.

Tila’s fists were drenched in black ichor, her punches wet, muffled, ugly, the sound of flesh giving way under her wrath.

The Reaper writhed, clawing at the pavement, trying to crawl, to flee, her body a broken husk.

Tila grabbed her ankle, yanking her back with a force that cracked the concrete, the Reaper’s plea—"Plea—" cut off by a fist through her mouth, shattering teeth and caving her nose, her face a bloody, mangled wreck.

Finally, Tila stood, her silhouette towering, her white eyes glowing like twin stars in a void.

She planted one foot on what remained of the Reaper’s chest, her form a dark monolith against the shattered street.

STOMP.

SPLAT.

The Reaper’s body ruptured, blood, bone, and shadow exploding into a ruined smear beneath Tila’s heel, a grotesque stain on the pavement, her existence erased in a single, brutal act.

The street fell silent, the wind whispering through the wreckage, distant sirens wailing like mourners.

Tila stood motionless, her silhouette a pillar of darkness, her white eyes unblinking, her form radiating a primal, unyielding rage.

RRRAAAAHHHH

A guttural growl rose from her mouthless form, building into a roar that shattered the night—a bone-rattling, earth-shaking bellow, like a primordial beast clawing free from the abyss.

It echoed down alleys, across rooftops, a declaration of fury, of loss, of power reborn in blood and shadow, the world trembling in its wake.

RRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!