Jean opened her eyes in a dark new world. Her entire surrounding was covered by darkness. There was no sun. There was no light. She could only see things within her immediately radius, and that was still thanks to the upgrade she purchased a long time ago known as the Eyes of the Seeker.
A figure stood in front of her quietly.
Jean was silent. The figure identical as her, except her eyes were pitch black. Her hair was dark instead of blonde. She wore a black dress. Her eyes were ice cold.
“Ahh...another visitor.” Dark Jean said quietly. She made no effort to pretend to be another Jean. “Tell me, girl, what are you here for?”
Jean looked around briefly before returning her glances to Dark Jean. This wasn’t quite what she has expected.
“Power. I am here for the Power of Death.”
Dark Jean smirked.
“The Power of Death. It is one of the ultimate powers in the Infinite Realms, and you seek to wield it. Fair enough. You are not a Protector, are you?”
“No.”
“I thought so from your black armor. I must warn you, ever since my deal with the Grand Protector, countless have attempted to hold my power, yet the only ones that have succeeded were members of the Protector Corps. Everyone outside the Corps, everyone like you, have perished. I understand that there was a survival rate given to you?”
“Yes. 98.9% death rate. I am willing to take my chances.”
“Something tells me you were never informed that the all the 1.1% that survived were Protectors. Everyone else have perished.”
Jean glanced around again. Her finger approaching her watch.
She wasn’t afraid of death, but she didn't want to die pointless either.
“I suspect it is too late to back out now.”
Dark Jean smirked. She waved her hand, and out of the surrounding came seas of beings. Men. Women. Beasts and supernatural beings.
Jean couldn’t even see it, but the numbers reached hundreds of thousands.
Some of them were Voyagers in black armor.
“This is the Realm of the Dead. This is my realm. Only those who have accepted the gift of my grace and lived can leave it. That was the pact I made with the Grand Protector.” Dark Jean tilted her head. “Those who have failed will become a part of my realm. A part...of Death.”
Jean nodded slowly. She didn't try to unload her forces. She has seen what Reapers and Reapresses could do, and they merely had a fraction of the power of Death. Death was sitting at the same table with the Grand Protector! She didn't have a fraction of a chance of winning the fight.
She had no choice but to take her chances with the Power of Death.
Dark Jean waved her hand again, and all of a sudden, pitch black energy came in from all over the realm and poured into Jean. It was nothing compared to the entire Realm of the Dead, but to someone as weak as Jean, it was apocalypse.
All of a sudden, Jean was starting to be ripped apart by the energy that went against all life. Her blood stopped flowing. Her heart stopped beating. Every single one of her cell started to decay. Her beautiful blonde hair turned white in fraction of a second.
One more millisecond and she would forever be a part of the Realm of the Dead, and a pawn of Death.
That millisecond never happened.
Dark Jean, Death in the form of her next victim, suddenly turned around. The mocking tone she had when talking to Jean was turned into a mixture of horror and anger.
“Who dare intrude on my world?”
A white figure appeared right next to Jean. On the surface he didn't do anything, but Dark Jean could feel all the energy that she was pouring into Jean was stopped by an invisible wall. A wall that not even the Power of Death could penetrate.
“You’re...you’re a Protector!” Dark Jean frowned as she saw the white armor. A hint of fear appeared in her voice. “What are you doing here in my realm? I have made a pact with your leader. I was given sovereignty over my world...”
Welch cut her off.
“This woman. She needs to absorb the Power of Death successfully. She needs to become a Reapress.”
Dark Jean snapped. It was obvious she was afraid of Welch, but what Welch said was enough to provoke some anger out of her.
“I will not allow it.”
“Why?”
“Tell me, Protector, do you know how boring this realm is? While you Protectors cruise through the Infinite Realms, I am stuck here in a virtual prison for an eternity! The only thing to relieve my suffering is reading the memories of my victims, and I haven’t had a victim in way too long!”
“I have heard of the pact you speak of. The deal you made with the Grand Protector never promised you a way into the Infinite Realms. We helped you convert your dimension into your realm of death. That was the full extent of our responsibility. Of course, we recognized your problem, which is why we turned a blind eye when you failed to uphold your end of the bargain honestly.”
“Which is?”
“You agreed to convert Reapers and Reapresses whenever we needed to, but when we sent Voyagers in for conversion, you killed them.”
“Conversion has its danger.”
“We both know that’s not true. If you want, you can make a bunny a Reaper, but out of selfish emotions such as hate and jealousy, you made all the conversions fail on purpose so these souls can stay here, with you. But this time, we will not turn a blind eye anymore. Make her conversion successful.”
“Or what?”
Welch glanced at Dark Jean. She was starting to absorb Power of Death from the Realm of Death at an alarming rate. This was, after all, her home field. She was nearly invincible here.
Nearly.
“I want to warn you, Death, that you are not the only incarnation of Death we have encountered during the Infinite March. Many of your kind have resisted us. None have been successful.”
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But the warning seemed to have served the opposite effect. Dark Jean hissed.
“Are you threatening me? Threatening Death?”
Before Welch could answer, Dark Jean raised her hand, and a stream of dark energy, the purest form of the Power of Death, smashed into Welch. Dark Jean was serious. For just this one strike, she used up one-tenth of the energy storage in her realm and fired them out in the energy form. She didn't bother with using wraiths or trying to strip out Welch’s soul. She went for the most direct way possible.
If this was a book, then she wanted to take some whiteout and cover Welch’s name.
Welch sighed. He stood there, not moving a single muscle. The Power of Death smashed toward him, but a meter in front of the Protector, the black stream suddenly stopped. A white layer of shield appeared. It was as thin as a paper, but it was simply impenetrable. Every single drop of Power of Death that made contact with the shield disappeared. It wasn’t deflected or converted to other forms of energy.
It was just gone.
When Dark Jean exhausted all her energy, Welch was still standing there. He didn't break a sweat.
Dark Jean smirked again, but this time, the smirk was toward herself.
Toward her ignorance. Toward her overconfidence. Toward her arrogance. Toward the very thought that she might be able to challenge a Protector.
“Have the Protectors already reached this height?”
“The Protectors have gone beyond death a long time ago.” Welch answered quietly. “You should consider yourself blessed. Some of the Protectors have considered you a burden. You don’t truly answer to the Protector Corps. You haven’t sworn your allegiance to the Grand Protector. You occupy a whole realm and one of the most powerful forces in the Infinite Realms, and yet you do nothing to help us in the Infinite March.”
“What Infinite March?” Dark Jean threw her hands up in frustration. “It’s over! Anyone and everyone that can threaten you are exterminated! You and your kind have won a long time ago!”
Welch’s expression changed the same way it did when Jean suggested the Protectors were the most powerful group in the Infinite Realms.
“Hardly, Death. I implore you not to say such a thing again. Overconfidence is the biggest threat to the Protector Corps. It will not be tolerated. This is your final warning. Any further attempt to insert that belief will be eradicated with the uttermost priority. As I was saying...a lot of Protectors have considered you a burden. They hoped to see you terminated just like the rest of your kind that we came across.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“The pact. The Grand Protector promised you sovereignty and protection in exchange for your Reapers and Reapresses. Perhaps we no longer need your contributions, but we will not desecrate the decree of the Grand Protector.”
“Then what are you doing now? Coming into my realm without my permission?”
Welch suddenly grinned.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?”
“As Death, you have the power to devour worlds, yet you are as foolish as a mere teenager. Do I really need to spell things out? You, Death, are no longer valuable to us. Your survival is hanging on a thread, a promise made decades ago. If you don’t follow the few instructions we have, then that’s it. I can execute you right now in the name of the Grand Protector and no trouble will fall upon me.”
Dark Jean stared into Welch’s eyes. The rash side of her wanted to smash the keyboard and fight Welch to the end. Either she dies or he dies. After all, she was Jean only in form. But eventually the survival side of her took control.
“Fine. I will make her the most powerful Reapress possible. By your standard, it should be a CAS of 800,000.”
Dark Jean has devoured the soul of many Voyagers. She knew about CAS.
800,000 CAS. That was close to the one million CAS of the Protectors...or at least what the Protectors claim to be.
From the perspective of Death, if the Protectors want to make Jean’s transformation happen, then they wanted it to be as successful as possible. If Death gave it her all and give away a significant amount of her grace, she could upgrade Jean to that level.
But Welch shook his head.
“No. I want you to only give her a start. A spark.”
“Is it because of the repercussions?”
Death knew the Protectors put in some care for its people. During the first days of the Infinite March, the Grand Protector prohibited the creation of high level Reapers and Reapresses because too much contact with the Power of Death can transform the living into a strange situation between life and death. They couldn’t taste food or drink beverage. They couldn't feel the pleasure of sex. They could neither feel physical pain nor grow old. In essence, they are no longer human.
“No.” Welch shook his head, but he didn't explain. In reality, he didn't want Jean to be alerted. Jean was a smart girl, and a sudden boost of power from CAS in the hundreds to eight hundred thousand would no doubt warn her something was wrong.
But he kept quiet about it.
Dark Jean nodded. The white armored Protector took a step to the side and allowed Power of Death to continue floating into Jean’s body. This time, Dark Jean took more caution. First, she removed all the rogue powers that were draining Jean’s life and soul. Then, she slowly moved fresh energy into Jean inch by inch. Whenever there were signs of trouble, she would retreat and try again.
Welch observed it the entire time.
The transformation took three years. Finally, everything within Jean Turner has been changed. To make sure Jean wouldn’t be transported into her next mission still in the process, Welch even coordinated to change the temporal link between the Realm of Death and the City of the Voyagers. Three years in the realm only took an hour in the city.
He was really giving everything to benefit Jean...except for the wrong reason.
By the end of the three years, Jean finally woke up.
At this point, she was a completely different person.
The first thing different was her eyes. Her beautiful purple eyes, a result of the primal zerg essence, was turned completely black. Eyes were the window to the soul, and Jean’s eyes were the channels to her Power of Death. They swallowed in whatever light that came their way.
The next obvious change was her hair. Right now, the top half of her hair were just like that of Dark Jean, completely black. The bottom half was a mixture of black and blonde. The Power of Death was located in her soul, which was in her mind. Its energy was so corrosive that it spread out to some of Jean’s hair.
Perhaps the most subtle changes were done to her body. Jean’s primal zerg essence were completely demolished, ripped apart and devoured by the Power of Death that washed over her. But that was hardly an issue. In no condition should she need to use raw physical strength to fight the enemies anyways. Unlike soul manipulation that only worked on living beings, the Power of Death influences everything, even machines. Perhaps the one downside was that she lost the ability for rapid regeneration, but, ah well, there can be no gain without losses. No one’s perfect.
Jean’s eyes remained shut as a surge of instinct took over her body. She stretched her hand out, as if doing something she has done a thousand times before. Power of Death condensed in her grip and solidified into something material.
When Jean’s eyes snapped open, she found herself looking down at a two meter long halberd.
Already, Welch has cloaked himself, but Dark Jean couldn’t do the same thing. Seeing Jean’s slight confusion, Dark Jean, Death, took a step forward.
“It’s your Soulbringer, a weapon tightly connected to your very existence as a Reapress. It can help you manipulate and use the Power of Death more efficiently. It can also act as a platform to store souls.”
Jean nodded. She didn't realize it, but she was giving off an icy scent. It wasn’t the same as when she didn't bother to put up a smile and instead faced people as her true emotionless self. As a Reapress, she was technically on a different field as the living. As a result, whenever anyone alive saw her, they would feel compelled by their most basic instincts to avoid her.
Neither of the two other entities here would be affected, but this practically eliminated Jean’s chance of playing the trustworthy comrade in the future.
A small price to pay.
But Jean still had some questions.
“Am I free to leave now?”
“Yes. I will help you find your way out to your city.”
“I don’t understand. You said every Voyager who have sought this power has failed and died, so how did I live?”
Death wanted to slap herself in the face. Why the hell did she bullshit all those before the transformation? Now it was up to her to fix things. If, because of her reasons, Jean suspected something and whatever Welch was conspiring failed, Death suspected Welch would come after her, and this time, not just with words.
“I was joking. Living here is boring. Whenever someone outside comes in, I toy with them before giving them what they want. There have been some Voyager survivors. Not that many, but some.”
Jean nodded as if she accepted the explanation. She held her fist tight. Power of Death coursed through her veins. She couldn’t wait to find out how much her power has grown.
Little did she know that between now and what she felt like a few moments ago, several god-like entities have made countless exchanges that would decide her fate.