I Became God's Reaper in Another Universe

AN: Hey y'all sorry for going a-wall for a little while there. I lent my nephew my laptop and the little shit pretty much broke it. I'm currently saving to buy me a new laptop and had to type this out on my phone, which is annoying, to say the least. I'm also thinking of shifting toward shorter 2000-3000 word chapters rather than 5000+ word chapters since I guess I'm also starting to get burnt out spending 6-8 hours typing a single chapter when I used my laptop.

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*First Person POV*

When the timer hit 0, it wasn't like an actual death as I had expected. There was like a suction force that pulled me out of my body and I was able to witness my body loosen its grip on the cup of hot coffee. I watched it fall in slow motion before a sudden gust of wind propelled me forward. As it did, I turned my head back only to see my body slowly slip off of Barbatos' frame and into the soft snow.

A bright baby blue light then blinded me before coming to inside the simulator pod. My eyes were a little weary and my mind felt drained. I could feel a major migraine starting though my body itself felt as if I had just taken the best nap. I looked to my right and saw Ghost waking up as well.

I clenched my fists and looked at my hands, grunting as I sat up on the chair. "My head is killing me," I said.

"Yeah, no kidding, I feel like I've been through the wringer," Ghost said, grunting as well as he sat up. "It's disorienting as hell."

"The disorientation and headaches you are feeling are a side effect of the boost you receive," the pod's AI stated. "You have gained a thousand hours of piloting experience plus an extra 500 hours from the boost. Due to the enhancements done to your bodies and your neural links, this won't last long. Less than 20 seconds for pilot Aspen Del Santo, and 10 minutes for pilot Simon Riley."

"That doesn't sound fair to me," Ghost said while rubbing his temples.

"Unfortunately, there's a vast difference in neural link quality between both pilots, therefore the processing of information and further recovery will also vary."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as the last traces of the headache faded. "Ghost, there's something I want to tell you about these 'simulations.' They're not simulations, not in the way we know them to be."

Ghost frowned as he kept on rubbing his temples. "Just what are you saying now? If they're not simulations, then what are they?"

"They're real," I said, my voice heavy. "The places we go, the people we meet—it's all real. Don't know exactly how it works, but it's not just data or some program. It's actual life. The things we do, the choices we make—they feel real because they are real, and that's something I've had confirmed."

Ghost was about to respond, but the pod's AI interrupted, "Pilot Aspen Del Santo's understanding is partially correct. These sessions are not simulations but experiences in parallel realities. Your consciousness temporarily inhabits the bodies of alternate versions of yourselves for the duration of the training exercise."

Ghost narrowed his eyes at the AI. "Alright, you seem ready to spill the beans. How does that even work? Are we taking over someone else's life without screwing everything up?"

The AI continued, "To ensure compatibility and avoid disruption, the system identifies alternate versions of yourselves at the precise moment of their natural death. These moments are typically due to sudden, irreversible conditions such as cardiac arrest. At the time of transfer, the original consciousness of the host body is ceasing, allowing your consciousness to inhabit it seamlessly."

Ghost nodded. "So… they're already dead when we show up?"

"Correct," the AI said. "Your presence does not alter the natural course of their lives. However, the host body ceases function entirely once your consciousness departs. Without a soul to inhabit it, the body cannot sustain life."

I nodded as it was something I had figured out thanks to Jarvis. "When we leave… they die. Again."

"The host body's continued existence is predicated on the presence of an active consciousness," the AI explained. "Once you return to your own body, the host body is no longer viable. This process ensures minimal disruption to the natural order of the alternate reality."

Ghost let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. "So we're just borrowing corpses? And when we're done, they're back to being dead? That's one hell of a way to train."

I clenched my fists, staring at the floor. "Yup, and the things we do while we're there, the choices we make, they matter. We leave a footprint."

"Correct," the AI replied. "Your actions during the training session persist within the timeline of the alternate reality. The system is designed to minimize potential disruptions by selecting scenarios where your impact is neutral or beneficial. However, the consequences of your decisions are a natural part of the program."

Ghost leaned back, shaking his head. "Well, shit. We go in, blow shit up, and back out, leaving the mess for others to clean up."

"Not precisely," the AI said. "The training system prioritizes pilot development. Any unintended consequences are regarded as acceptable within the parameters of the program."

I rubbed my eyes before once again turning to Ghost. "Ghost… I don't know if we have a choice in this. But we need to start thinking about what we're doing when we're out there. If we're the ones calling the shots, it's on us to make sure we're not leaving behind something worse."

Ghost let out a long breath, his jaw tight. "You're right. But it doesn't make this any easier to stomach, does it?"

"No," I said as memories I didn't want to think about resurfaced. "It doesn't."

Ghost nodded as he understood the weight I now carried on my shoulders. "Well, you can't change the past, you can only learn from it. Now what about that bonus 500 hours? How does that work?"

"The 1.5x boost," the AI began, "is applied to your total time spent in the simulation. Since each of you lasted the full 1,000 hours, you have already received the additional 500 hours upon exiting. This boost is a partial cause of the headaches and disorientation you're experiencing."

Ghost frowned, "Alright, so we get an extra 500 hours. But how do you just… hand us that kind of experience? It's not like we lived through more time."

"The additional 500 hours," the AI explained, "are not random. They are carefully synthesized from your key moments during the simulation. These are the instances where you demonstrated significant growth, adaptability, or critical decision-making. The system identifies these moments and amplifies their impact, refining your understanding and honing your skills as if you had repeated and mastered them over time."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "So, it's not about giving us more time. It's about making the time we had count for more?"

"Correct," the AI replied. "The boost focuses on moments that are deemed pivotal to your development. For example, maneuvers performed under extreme stress, strategic decisions that led to successful outcomes, or adjustments made to complex scenarios are prioritized. These moments are analyzed and condensed into refined experience, which is then seamlessly integrated into your neural pathways."

Ghost let out a low whistle. "So, we're getting better at the stuff that mattered most without even realizing it?"

"Correct," the AI said. "This approach ensures that the additional hours are not simply arbitrary but targeted to enhance your growth as pilots in the most effective way possible."

I leaned back, letting that sink in. "So that's why it feels so… intense when we come out. It's not just the time we spent in there; it's the weight of those key moments being etched into our brains."

"The disorientation and headaches are temporary," the AI assured. "As your neural pathways adapt to the additional experience, these symptoms will diminish over time."

Ghost sighed, shaking his head. "Great. So, not only are we messing with alternate realities, but we're also getting force-fed the highlights of our trauma for good measure."

I smirked bitterly. "I guess it's better than having to learn it the hard way. Besides, it's allowing us to grow."

"Yeah, well," Ghost muttered, "I just hope I can keep my head on straight with all this 'key moment' stuff burned into my brain. Don't think there's much room left up there."

I chuckled, though the weight of what I had done still lingered in the back of my mind.

We waited a few more minutes until Ghost was able to fully recover before leaving the pod and subsequently the basement level. I took it up until the lobby while Ghost stayed on, choosing to go rest a little bit more or whatever he wanted to do up in the room.

I walked to the office where I knew I would find Michael working. I knocked on the door and it was opened by Charlie, a smile plastered on his face as he looked up at me.

"Mr. Pilot!" Charlier said with excitement and hugged my legs.

I smiled and ruffled his hair, "Hey there, kid." I then looked up and saw Michael standing up from his desk, the holographic image with multiple renters' inquiries behind him. "Michael."

"Aspen! How're you doing?" he said as he walked toward me and stretched his hand out.

I shook his hand and walked to one of the chairs in the office. "I'm… alright. Since when have you been up working?"

Michael sat down across from me. "Since about 6, I've been getting all of this sorted out. We've gotten more requests to rent out the apartments than we have. So I'm looking into them all, making sure these people are right for us. Looking at their renter's history and all that babble."

I nod at his statement. "Well done, but don't overdo it, man, don't wear yourself out on your first day. Its already 12 pm, that's 6 hours you've been at this. Get some rest, go grab something to eat."

"Will do, once I've finished renting all of these out. Only have the single-bedroom apartments from the top floor to rent out. So, just 3 more applications to snoop through." Michael replied.

"Alright, you do that. I'm going to my apartment and then going out. Hit my Nexus up if you need anything." I say, standing up from the chair.

"If I need you for anything, I'll let you know," Michael replied.

With that, I went up to my apartment and promptly showered. I then sat on my bed as I looked over the system shop. With 171,119 CSP, I didn't really know what to do. Did I summon some more of my crew, or what? I mulled over things for a few more minutes before closing the shop and laying on the bed.

I was at a loss, not really sure on what I wanted to do next. That's when I remembered the Eternium Nova Reactor blueprints I had gotten as part of my stupi- ahem, genius moves. I looked over the materials required and checked their prices on my Nexus. They were relatively cheap, extremely cheap if I think about it. 

All of the materials for the reactor itself would cost around 150,000 credits. Then a Vacuum Chamber System would add 33,000 to 78,000 credits, a Controlled Plasma Furnace about 58,000 to 134,000 credits, and all the other systems and generators and yadi yada needed for a dream to become a reality would fetch another 84,000 to 182,000 credits. 

So, a grand total of somewhere in between 325,000 to 544,000 credits for the smallest configuration that would fit a mech. And looking at my current balance, this won't be happening for a few months at least…

*Third Person POV*

Over the next month, Aspen fell into a routine of progress and planning for the future. Every week, he and Ghost would enter the simulator pod to refine their piloting skills and accumulate piloting hours. This allowed them to steadily push themselves to new heights as by the third week, Aspen had reached the Gamma pilot level, reaching the 6,000-hour mark required for the promotion. 

By the end of the month, his total accumulated piloting experience had reached a grand total of 9,150 hours. Ghost, on the other hand, did not fall behind, managing to also reach the Gamma pilot level by the third week and accumulating a total of 8,850 piloting hours by the end of the month. Each simulation session they participated in sharpened their instincts and their decision-making skills. The difference was palpable in their combat readiness.

Apart from the sharpening of their skills, Aspen focused on financial growth. The eight-story building continued to generate around 150,000 credits monthly from renters. After paying Michael 8,000 credits for management and accounting for minor maintenance costs, he pocketed a significant profit. 

However, he also owed 140,000 credits to the contractor Jarv which was weighing on him. Determined to clear his financial slate, Aspen directed the bulk of his profits to pay off the debt. By the third week, he had completely settled the amount, feeling a sense of relief as Jarv sent confirmation of the final transaction.

But he wasn't left penniless since the arc reactor he had made was proving to be quite the moneymaker. By selling surplus energy to nearby buildings, he was raking in approximately 175,000 credits throughout the month. This steady cash flow allowed Aspen to move on with his plans for larger projects.

With the debt cleared, Aspen set his sights on revitalizing the second building he had taken from the Vultures. A fourteen-story building that was just across the street. Aspen got his hands on the building's floor plans and made various changes, including a fifteenth-floor penthouse to use as a temporary Base of Operations. These changes would turn the property into a prime asset in Kloln's business district. 

The total cost of this renovation was projected at 1 million credits, but Aspen was confident with the money he was currently bringing in to help finance it and therefore initiated the early stages of repair and gave Jarv the money needed for sourcing materials. 

*A/N:*

Anyone who's worked in the contracting or architecture field knows materials tend to be the cheapest things, all money gets dumped into labor and the experience brought with it. For example, painting a small bathroom is easily $800, but the paint for doing so is only, what $65 to 80 if you use Superpaint. Doing the cabinets for a kitchen. Materials would cost maybe $900 to $2,000, but the price for the total project would run your pockets for somewhere in between $14,000 to $19,000, painting them included. Anyways, back to your regular programming. 

*End of A/N*

During their free time, Aspen and Ghost would wage a silent war against the city's underworld. They were ruthless, only leaving a trail of chaos without ever revealing their identities. It was such that the rumors of Ghost and Reaper, the 2 mercs, had started to fade as a new and unknown force was taking the underworld by storm. No one knew just how many attackers there were and those that did would find themselves with a bullet between their eyes as their brains lay splattered on the ground.

They prepared for every single one of their strikes, identifying the weak points in the power structures of gangs—black-market weapon depots, hidden drug labs, and underground meeting spots. Their strikes were fast and efficient, only leaving smoldering ruins and lifeless bodies for the authorities to uncover.

During this month, they snuck into a well-guarded hideout belonging to the Red Jackals, a gang notorious for its "business dealings" in human trafficking. They rigged the entire building to blow, taking out not only the gang leader but his entire inner circle. The resulting explosion lit up West side of Kloln for a whole night. By the time the smoke had cleared and morning had come, all that remained of the Red Jackals was a bunch of police reports detailing a "mysterious act of urban warfare" between an unknown organization and the underworld.

But they didn't stop there. They hunted down any rat that escaped, sabotaged supply chains, and planted false information to incite infighting among rival factions. In addition to the simulations, Aspen's tactics were starting to become outright a nightmare to face. 

One week, they would ambush a convoy of the Steel Vipers, intercepting illegal shipments and disappearing into the night. The next, they would storm a drug lab, taking out enforcers and destroying the place before the alarm could be raised.

When taking on smaller gangs, Aspen and Ghost left no survivors and pocketed their credits, allowing Jarv to advance the restoration of the building. Their work had become a grim legend in the criminal underworld—an unknown group with unknown capabilities that struck without warning and left behind nothing but fear and questions without answers. 

Gangs that had once formed alliances turned on one another, each suspecting the other of orchestrating some of the deadly attacks. The streets buzzed with rumors of a shadowy militia cleansing the city, but the police, overwhelmed and often corrupt, couldn't find a single lead other than bullet casings that were of no use.

Despite the violence, Aspen's growing power to determine those worthy of death in conjunction with his moral code ensured that civilians and innocents were never harmed, sending to judgment those who were wicked. 

In another particularly intense operation, they dismantled the Silver Thorns, a gang who had long preyed on the city's poorest neighborhoods. After a night full of gunshots, explosions, and close-quarters combat, the leader and last member were left clutching in a fetal position in total fear as Aspen stood over him. 

"God gives life… yet He has sent me to take it away," he said before putting a bullet through the gang leader's temple.

The underworld in the city of Kloln had begun to crumble, its power fading as its leaders disappeared one by one. By the end of the month, Kloln's criminal hierarchy was in disarray, its leaders either dead or too afraid to act openly.

Their actions hadn't gone unnoticed by those in power. Corporations grew interested on this mysterious force. Though not at their level since the corporations had mechs and their own private militaries, it was enough to raise an eyebrow. The efficiency of this new faction and the fact that some of the gangs destroyed had their dealings with the corporations had elevated Aspen's and Ghost's threat level to that of a thorn on their sides. However, they could only wallow in their anger as there was nothing they could do with no traces being left behind to follow.

Word Count: 3110 Words 👍

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