Look at me!! I'm the reaper now: Reincarnated as the Herald of Death-Chapter 58: Unnamed

# Chapter 52: "Aftermath"

**Virelia Institute – Student Cafeteria – Next Morning, 7:45 AM**

The morning news played on every screen in the cafeteria.

Hundreds of students sat with their breakfast trays, eyes fixed on the broadcast.

On screen: Milo DiMarco’s face. Bound. Terrified. Confessing.

*"Yes! I spread the rumors! I made the posts! I paid people to put up flyers!"*

The cafeteria was completely silent except for the audio from the television.

*"Yes! I helped them! I pointed them toward Alessia specifically!"*

A girl at the back started crying. Her friend wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

*"Because she’s close to you! Because I wanted to hurt you!"*

Someone dropped their tray. The clatter echoed.

*"Twenty! Twenty students!"*

The camera zoomed in on Milo’s face as tears streamed down.

*"Only eight are still alive! The rest died during the experiments!"*

The broadcast cut to the news anchor. Professional. Composed. But even she looked shaken.

"This confession, obtained last night during a rescue operation, has sent shockwaves through Vitalis. Milo DiMarco, a second-year Combat Legion student at Virelia Institute, has admitted to being complicit in the kidnapping and murder of her fellow students."

The cafeteria remained frozen.

Then someone moved.

A girl stood up. Combat Legion uniform. She’d been sitting with what looked like Milo’s training group.

She walked to the nearest wall and punched it.

Hard.

Her knuckles split. Blood smeared the white paint.

"How could she?" The girl’s voice broke. "We trained with her every day. We were friends. And she—she just—"

Another Combat Legion student stood. Male. Tall. He looked like he wanted to punch something too but instead just stood there, shaking.

"My roommate was taken," he said. "He’s one of the eight survivors. Because of *her*."

The cafeteria erupted.

Not into chaos. Into something worse.

Quiet, devastated grief mixed with rage.

Students hugged each other. Some cried. Others just stared at the screen in disbelief.

---

**News Broadcast – Continued**

The anchor shuffled her papers, cleared her throat, and continued.

"In a remarkable display of courage and skill, Vice-Magister Zelda of the Golden Chalice single-handedly discovered and dismantled the kidnapping operation."

The screen changed to footage of St. Raphael’s Cathedral. Arcanum vehicles everywhere. Body bags being carried out.

"Acting on her own initiative, Vice-Magister Zelda infiltrated the operation’s base of operations and successfully rescued eight students. Tragically, twelve others had already perished."

Split screen now. On one side, Sister Jewel in her white robes standing in the Golden Chalice’s main hall. On the other, Zelda kneeling.

Sister Jewel placed a hand on Zelda’s head, golden light emanating from her palm.

"For her heroism, Strategos Zelda has been promoted to Vice-Magister, filling the position left vacant by the previous Vice-Magister’s betrayal."

The camera zoomed in on Zelda’s face.

She looked uncomfortable. Like she wanted to be anywhere else.

"In a shocking parallel development," the anchor continued, "the former Vice-Magister of the Golden Chalice was apprehended the same night for connections to the seventh seal cult. After a confrontation with three Golden Chalice operatives, he was eliminated by Magister Sister Jewel herself."

Footage of St. Helena Church. Arcanum agents. Crime scene tape.

"The Golden Chalice released a statement saying they will conduct a full internal review to ensure no other infiltrators remain within their ranks."

---

**Destruction Report**

The broadcast shifted to aerial footage.

Buildings with massive claw marks. Streets torn apart. Scorch marks and destroyed infrastructure.

"In related news, significant destruction was reported across multiple districts last night. Arcanum investigators have recovered the bodies of several rogue Topplers from what appears to be the aftermath of high-powered combat."

The camera showed a building that had been cleaved in half. The cut was impossibly clean.

"Additionally, in the commercial district, authorities discovered the remains of a Class-A Variant that appears to have been destroyed in a single strike."

The footage showed a massive crater. Blood staining everything within a three-block radius.

"Witnesses report seeing a massive eye in the sky moments before the creature’s destruction. Arcanum officials have declined to comment, but sources suggest this may be the work of a high-ranking Toppler."

The anchor’s expression turned serious.

"In light of these events, a state of heightened alert has been declared across Vitalis. Students are advised to travel in groups and report any suspicious activity immediately."

---

**Wanted Announcement**

Milo’s photo filled the screen. Her student ID picture. She looked younger in it. Happier.

"Milo DiMarco is wanted for questioning regarding her involvement in the kidnapping operation. She is considered extremely dangerous. If you have any information regarding her whereabouts, please contact Arcanum authorities immediately. Do not approach her directly."

A tip line number appeared at the bottom of the screen.

---

**Milo’s Home – The Slums – That Morning**

Chief Santos stood in the doorway of a cramped apartment, surveying the scene.

The living room was small. Worn furniture. Peeling wallpaper. The smell of poverty and sickness.

In the center of the room, slumped in a wheelchair, was Milo’s mother.

Dead.

Poison, by the look of it. Foam at the corners of her mouth. Eyes still open, staring at nothing.

"Secure the scene," Santos said to her team. "I want forensics on everything."

She walked deeper into the apartment. Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A kitchen that barely qualified as such.

The first bedroom was clearly the mother’s. Sparse. Clean despite the poverty.

The second bedroom belonged to Milo.

Santos pushed open the door.

Purple and red pills scattered everywhere. On the floor. On the bed. On the desk.

And in the center of it all—

Milo.

She lay on the floor, eyes wide open. Tears had dried on her cheeks in tracks.

But she wasn’t moving.

Santos knelt down, checked for a pulse.

Still alive. Barely.

"Medic!" Santos called. "We need a medic in here!"

Two Arcanum medical personnel rushed in with a stretcher.

"She’s paralyzed," one of them said after a quick examination. "Complete motor function loss. Looks like an overdose of pneuma-suppression compounds mixed with... something else. I’ve never seen this combination."

"Can you treat it?"

"Maybe. But even if we reverse the paralysis, there might be permanent damage."

Santos stood and looked around the room.

A suitcase was visible under the bed. Partially packed. Abandoned in a hurry.

She pulled it out and opened it.

Women’s clothes. Not Milo’s size. Older. Cheaper.

Money transfer receipts tucked into a side pocket.

Large sums. All dated within the last week.

"The aunt," Santos muttered. "She did this."

An agent appeared in the doorway. "Chief? We found a note in the kitchen. Looks like it was left for Milo."

Santos took the paper. Read it.

*I’m sorry. They offered me enough money to start over. I couldn’t say no. You understand, don’t you? You would’ve done the same.*