The Scumbag’s Second Life

8. Reaper History

A Reaper. There was so much responsibility in becoming one.

Not only must you guide the souls of those whose time has come and deliver them safely to the Sheol, but you must also maintain the world's delicate balance.

That's why another name for Reapers was BalanceKeepers.

They safeguarded the natural flow of life—ensuring the right deaths occurred at the right time, and the right judgments led to the right reincarnations.

Reincarnation itself was the domain of a God or Goddess… but not every soul deserved it.

A Reaper's duty was to know which fate belonged to which soul.

Only then could one become a child Father Death would be proud of.

Hazrad was learning all this information from the book he'd picked up.

He was barely blinking, flipping through page after page with wide-eyed curiosity, wanting to learn more of his new world.

Father Death?

The phrase kept sticking in his mind. Almost in every chapter, the phrase would be mentioned.

Who was that supposed to be? Was Death… a person?

The answer revealed itself as he dug deeper into Reaper history.

That's when he found the name: Thanatos—a being neither good nor evil. A presence born the very moment the Creator breathed life into the world.

He was a silent shadow prowling the edges of existence, collecting the souls of every creature whose time had ended—humans, animals, even fish lurking in the deepest seas.

In other words, he was the very first Reaper.

But as life multiplied, even Thanatos couldn't keep up. The dead became too many.

Souls wandered about, waiting to be led to the right place. Ghosts came to existence.

To prevent this, he created other Reapers forged from damned souls. These became known as the 'Elders'.

Given bodies resembling humans, and literally made from damned human souls, the Elders eventually partnered with one another, and from their unions came children presently known as the Naturals, far weaker than their parents.

Thus, the Reaper hierarchy was formed.

But Reapers were still living beings capable of emotion, thought, and terrible choices.

Thanatos feared they might abuse their power, killing those they disliked even if their time had not yet come, putting the world in imbalance.

So he established a sacred law: the Law of Balance:

No Reaper may kill or reap a living being whose time is not over.....except if the being is without a Deathmark

A Deathmark? Hazrad's curiosity spiked.

What does it look like? Does he have one?

He remembered the day he was born—the way his parents were killed right before his eyes by the very Reapers who weren't allowed to take life.

Could it be… they didn't have this Deathmark?

The book offered no further information regarding Deathmarks.

Even so, he finally understood the weight of this world.

This wasn't the simple cycle of living, striving, and dying like in his past life.

No.

Here, the world was literally where life and death were managed and endings delivered with precision.

And then his thoughts drifted to the beings Reapers feared most.

Soul Witches.

How powerful were they?

One thing was clear: they were terrifyingly strong. Strong enough that the Reapers had chosen to keep him alive—him, an abomination child whose very existence warped the Balance they swore to protect—just so he could kill the damn Witches.

He was basically a double-edged sword. And he knew that very well.

If he doesn't live up to their expectations… they won't hesitate to cut him down.

The bathroom door creaked open. Azra stepped out, her long hair dripping down her bare shoulders.

She'd put on fresh pants, but she couldn't find a clean bustier (since she barely does her laundry), so her chest was completely exposed, her boobs bouncing slightly with each step.

Unfortunately for Hazrad and fortunately for her dignity, he didn't turn around. His eyes stayed glued to the book in his hands.

Azra raised a brow. The kid was sprawled over a tome almost as big as his body, chin propped on tiny hands, reading like a miniature scholar.

She rolled her eyes and walked toward her room, assuming he was just playing.

No normal kid that age can read, right? she scoffed inwardly.

Time slipped by quickly. The sun sank into dusk as Hazrad devoured page after page, learning about the horrors of an unBalanced nature and the dimensional rifts it could give birth to.

He'd always been curious about rifts, what they looked like, where they formed.

But just as he turned the page to learn more about them, Azra emerged again, brows furrowed.

Something was off.

No "illiterate baby" could sit staring at a book for five hours.

And what made her gasp wasn't the focus Hazrad had.

It was the fact that he was already halfway through the damn thing.

"Time to bathe, kiddo! And—ew—what's that smell? Did you poop yourself again?" she groaned, lifting Hazrad by the napkin like he was a contaminated item.

Hazrad had been so engrossed in reading that he didn't realize he'd pooped himself.

Baby instincts are utterly ridiculous. Can't beat that! He winced inwardly.

And now that he thought of it—yeah, he was hungry too.

Just as Azra was removing his napkin, something fell off.

"Huh? My—my panty? YOU STOLE MY PANTY?!" Azra's scream erupted from the bathroom.

Oh....shit. I'd forgotten l stole her panty in the morning!!

That night, Azra discovered something shocking about the brat she'd been ordered to raise.

This kid wasn't remotely normal.

But what she didn't know was that this was only the beginning.

More abnormalities were coming.

And her life?

It was about to get far, far more stressful.

TBC