Inside the Chamber, the siblings froze in disbelief.

  A goddess-like figure stood before them, smiling.

  Ming stepped forward, one hand gesturing respectfully. "Your Highness, they are Ethan and Elena Walker."

  The woman inclined her head. "I am Eva. Founder of Harvest." Her voice was warm, unhurried. "Thank you for taking the time to come here."

  Elena's throat felt tight. "You're... welcome."

  Ethan couldn't stop staring. The light in the room seemed to bend around her. Her presence wasn't just physical—it was heavy, like gravity had changed.

  "You seem exactly like a goddess," he blurted out. "Are you... are you a real goddess?"

  Eva's smile widened. Genuine. Kind.

  "Allow me to reintroduce myself." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I am Eva, Goddess of Life, Love, and Fortune. I prefer you call me Eva, though some choose to address me as Your Highness."

  Silence.

  Ethan's mouth opened. Closed. No words came out.

  Elena just stared.

  Eva gestured toward the chairs near the window. "Please. Sit. I imagine you have questions."

  They sat. Mostly because their legs had stopped working properly.

  Ming remained standing by the door, hands behind his back, Cookie sitting at his feet.

  Eva took a breath, her expression shifting—still kind, but more solemn now.

  "You deserve to know what you're facing. What REAPER truly is."

  Ethan leaned forward.

  "REAPER is an organization founded by another god. His name is Adam—God of Death, Despair, and Misfortune."

  Elena's voice was flat. "Another god."

  "Yes." Eva's gaze didn't waver. "His purpose is singular: to cause panic, war, and eventually, the complete destruction of Earth."

  "Why?" Ethan asked.

  "Because he believes it's the only way to be with me."

  The room went quiet.

  Eva continued, voice steady. "Adam and I are bound by an ancient Law of Earth. We are forbidden from ever touching. Ever being together. He has loved me for eons—obsessively, destructively. And now, he has decided that if he cannot rewrite the Law, he will erase the world and start again."

  Ethan felt cold. "That's... insane."

  "Yes." Eva's smile was sad. "It is."

  Elena crossed her arms. "You said he's the God of Death. Why doesn't he just... destroy everything himself? Why create REAPER?"

  "Because we are not almighty." Eva's tone was measured, careful. "The Law of Earth binds us. Adam cannot use his first power—Death—on living beings. I cannot use mine—Life—in the same way. We are limited to our secondary domains."

  "Despair and Misfortune," Ming said quietly from the door.

  Eva nodded. "Exactly. Adam can manipulate fate, sow despair, bend probability against humanity. But he cannot kill directly. That's why he created REAPER. To do what he cannot."

  Ethan's fists clenched. "And the Awakening?"

  "Also his doing." Eva's eyes dimmed. "Two months ago, Adam broke the seal on human souls. Memories from past lives began flooding back into the living. Chaos followed. Exactly as he intended."

  Elena's jaw tightened. "So this whole nightmare—millions of people losing their minds, society falling apart—that was all part of his plan."

  "Yes."

  Silence settled over the room like ash.

  Ethan looked up. "Why did you invite us here?"

  Eva's gaze softened. "I don't believe in coincidences. You, Ethan, were in that garden at the exact moment Merlin enacted his plan. You overheard him. You acted. You saved lives—including Ming's."

  Ethan blinked. "I... saved Ming?"

  Ming spoke from the door. "The gunshot you took? It gave me the extra seconds I needed to react. Without that warning, the bus would've hit the crowd dead-on. Dozens would've died."

  Ethan stared at him.

  "I didn't... I didn't even think about it."

  "That's exactly why I'm asking you to join us," Eva said. "You didn't hesitate. You ran toward danger, not away from it. That kind of courage is rare. Especially among New Humans."

  Elena's voice was sharp. "We're not soldiers. We're not Awakened. We're just ordinary people. What could we possibly offer?"

  Eva met her eyes. "Humanity. Heart. The very things this war is meant to protect." She paused. "I would like to invite both of you to join Harvest. To help us save the Earth."

  Ethan's chest tightened.

  For the first time in his life, he felt like he could do something that mattered. Something brave. Something like what Elena used to do when she was a war photographer—running toward the fire instead of away from it.

  "Yes." His voice was firm. "I'm more than willing."

  Elena turned to him, eyes wide. "Ethan—"

  "I have to, sis."

  She stared at him. Saw the determination in his face. The same stubborn resolve she used to see in the mirror, back before everything fell apart.

  She closed her eyes.

  Then nodded.

  "I'll join too."

  Ethan's face lit up.

  Elena's voice was quiet. Hard. "But only to keep you alive."

  Eva smiled. "That's more than enough."

  She stood, and the light in the room seemed to brighten with her.

  "From now on, Ming will be your superior. He is, without question, one of the finest strategists and teachers you will ever find. Learn from him. Trust him."

  Ming inclined his head.

  Eva's gaze settled on the siblings one last time. "Good luck. Have a safe journey. We'll meet again soon."

  Outside the Chamber, Ming stopped them in the hallway.

  "Go home. Pack your things. You'll be staying at Harvest HQ from now on. We travel often, so pack light but practical."

  Ethan nodded, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins.

  Elena just stared at the floor.

  "Meet me at the east gate tomorrow at 0800," Ming continued. "Don't be late."

  Cookie barked once, as if agreeing.

  Ethan's apartment was small. Sparse. It didn't take long to pack.

  Clothes. Toiletries. His phone charger. A photo of him and Elena from five years ago, back when she still laughed.

  He stared at the photo for a long moment.

  Then tucked it into his bag.

  Elena's apartment was different.

  Larger. Quieter. Emptier.

  She moved slowly through the rooms, packing mechanically. Clothes folded with precision. Essentials sorted into a duffel bag.

  Then her hand stopped.

  On the shelf beside her bed sat a frame.

  Three people smiled back at her. Her husband, Daniel. Her daughter, Sophie. And herself—younger, brighter, whole.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.

  The glass was cracked. She'd never fixed it.

  She stared at their faces. Daniel's easy grin. Sophie's gap-toothed smile.

  The weight in her chest grew heavier.

  They're gone.

  You couldn't save them.

  You couldn't save anyone.

  Her vision blurred. Tears spilled over, hot and silent.

  The doorbell rang.

  She froze. Wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.

  "Coming."

  Ethan stood in the hallway, hands in his pockets, looking worried.

  "You okay?"

  Elena stepped aside. "I'm fine."

  "You sure? Because you've been packing for two hours and—"

  "I said I'm fine."

  Ethan didn't move. Just looked at her. Really looked.

  Elena sighed. "What do you want, Ethan?"

  "I came to help."

  "I don't need help."

  "I know. But I'm here anyway."

  She stared at him. Then turned and walked back inside.

  Ethan followed.

  He found it on the desk near the window.

  The camera.

  Old. Battered. Expensive once. A Nikon with scratches along the body and a lens cap held on with tape.

  Ethan picked it up carefully. "This is the one you used, right? When you were a photographer?"

  Elena glanced over. Her jaw tightened. "Yeah."

  "When's the last time you used it?"

  "Four years ago."

  Silence.

  Ethan turned the camera over in his hands. It was heavier than he expected.

  "Can I bring this?"

  Elena frowned. "Why?"

  "Because you might need it again."

  "I won't."

  "You don't know that."

  She crossed her arms. "Ethan—"

  "Just let me bring it. Please."

  Elena stared at him. Then at the camera.

  Finally, she nodded.

  "Fine. But don't break it."

  Ethan grinned. "I won't."

  He slipped it carefully into his bag.

  Elena turned back to her packing, but her gaze drifted to the photo frame on the shelf.

  She didn't pick it up again.

  She left it there.

  The next morning, they stood at the east gate of Harvest HQ.

  Bags packed. Resolve steeled.

  Ming waited for them, Cookie at his side.

  "Ready?"

  Ethan nodded. "Ready."

  Elena said nothing. Just adjusted the strap on her duffel.

  Ming studied them both for a moment. Then nodded.

  "Good. Let's begin."

  Ming led them deeper into the campus, past the Strategy building and toward a low structure marked WEAPONS.

  The sound hit them first—sharp cracks echoing from inside. Gunfire. Controlled. Rhythmic.

  Ethan's pulse quickened.

  Ming pushed open the door.

  Inside: a firing range. Targets lined up at varying distances. Racks of weapons along the walls—pistols, rifles, submachine guns, everything organized with military precision.

  A man stood at the far lane, bow in hand, drawing and releasing with fluid grace. The arrow punched through the center of a target fifty meters away.

  He lowered the bow and turned.

  Mid-thirties. Lean build. Sharp eyes. Calm expression.

  Ming raised a hand. "Yoichi. These are the new recruits."

  The man stepped forward, setting the bow aside. "I am Yoichi Nasu, age twenty. Former soldier. I specialize in weapons—guns, bows, blades. Pleased to meet you both."

  He extended a hand.

  Ethan shook it. Firm grip. Controlled strength.

  Elena did the same, her expression unreadable.

  Yoichi studied them for a moment, then nodded. "You're New Humans."

  "We are," Ethan said.

  "Good. That means you're not overconfident." Yoichi's tone was matter-of-fact. "Overconfidence gets people killed."

  Ming crossed his arms. "For the next few days, you'll be training here. Basics first—how to wear tactical vests, perform first aid, handle equipment under stress. If time allows, we'll move to weapons training."

  Ethan blinked. "How long do we have?"

  "Until the next mission." Ming's voice hardened. "Which could be tomorrow. Or next week. REAPER doesn't operate on a schedule."

  Elena frowned. "So we're going into the field without proper training?"

  "You'll have enough to survive." Ming met her gaze. "And survival is the priority. We can't save the world if we're dead."

  He said it like he'd said it a hundred times before. Like an old man nagging his grandchildren to eat their vegetables.

  Ethan almost smiled.

  Almost.

  The training was brutal.

  Day one: vests. How to strap them on quickly, adjust the fit, move without restricting breathing. Ethan fumbled the clasps three times before getting it right.

  Elena did it perfectly on the first try.

  Yoichi raised an eyebrow. "You've done this before."

  "War photographer," she said flatly. "Conflict zones don't come with safety guarantees."

  Yoichi nodded. "Good. Then you can help him."

  Day two: first aid. Tourniquets. Pressure bandages. How to stabilize a gunshot wound without panicking.

  Ethan's hands shook the first time he tried to apply a tourniquet to the dummy.

  Ming stood behind him. "Breathe. Think. Then act."

  Ethan exhaled. Tried again.

  This time, it held.

  Elena moved through the drills with mechanical efficiency. She didn't speak. Didn't ask questions. Just did what was required.

  But her eyes were distant.

  By the end of day two, Ming and Yoichi exchanged a glance.

  "They're faster than expected," Yoichi said quietly.

  Ming nodded. "Potential."

  "Should we move them to firearms?"

  "Yes."

  Day three: guns.

  Yoichi set a pistol on the table in front of them. Compact. Black. Efficient.

  "Glock 19. Standard issue. Fifteen-round magazine. Simple. Reliable."

  He picked it up, demonstrated the grip, the stance, the sight alignment.

  "Your goal isn't to be a sharpshooter. It's to hit center mass at ten meters. Anything beyond that, you retreat or call for backup."

  He handed the gun to Ethan.

  It was heavier than Ethan expected. Cold. Real.

  "Safety's on. Familiarize yourself with the weight."

  Ethan nodded, turning it over in his hands.

  Yoichi handed the second pistol to Elena.

  She took it. Stared at it.

  Then set it down.

  "I can't."

  Yoichi frowned. "Can't what?"

  "Use this." Her voice was tight. "I've never... I'm not..."

  She trailed off.

  Yoichi studied her. "You've been in war zones. You've seen combat."

  "I photographed it. I didn't participate in it."

  Silence.

  Yoichi didn't push. Just nodded. "Understood. We'll go slow."

  Ethan fired first.

  The recoil kicked harder than he expected. The shot went wide, punching a hole in the foam wall behind the target.

  "Again," Yoichi said.

  Ethan adjusted his grip. Fired.

  Closer. Still off.

  "Again."

  Five shots. Three missed entirely. Two clipped the edge of the target.

  Ethan lowered the gun, frustration boiling in his chest. "I'm terrible at this."

  "You're an amateur," Yoichi corrected. "There's a difference."

  Elena's turn.

  She raised the gun. Hands trembling.

  Fired.

  The shot went so wide it didn't even hit the range wall.

  She lowered the weapon immediately, jaw tight.

  "I told you. I can't do this."

  Yoichi didn't respond. Just reset the target.

  "Try again."

  "It won't—"

  "Try. Again."

  Elena's eyes flashed. But she raised the gun.

  Fired.

  Another miss.

  She slammed the pistol down on the table. "This is pointless."

  Ming stepped forward. "It's not pointless. It's difficult. There's a difference."

  Elena turned on him. "I'm not a soldier. I'm not Awakened. I don't have memories of past lives telling me how to kill people. I'm just—"

  "Human," Ming finished. "Yes. I know."

  He gestured to the gun. "And that's exactly why you need to learn. Because you don't have superpowers. You don't have centuries of combat experience. All you have is what you can learn now."

  Elena stared at him.

  Ming's voice softened. "Nobody is perfect at the start, Elena. Not even me. I've failed more times than I can count. The key is finding the right method. The right approach. Forcing yourself down the wrong path is just wasting time."

  He paused.

  "Find your way. Not mine. Not Yoichi's. Yours."

  Ethan took Ming's words to heart.

  That evening, he found Yoichi in the armory, cleaning a rifle.

  "Can I ask you something?"

  Yoichi glanced up. "Go ahead."

  "How do you handle guns? Like... what do you think about when you shoot?"

  Yoichi set the rifle down. "I think about the gun."

  Ethan blinked. "What?"

  "The gun. Its weight. Its balance. The parts that make it work." Yoichi picked up a pistol, disassembled it with practiced ease. "Barrel. Slide. Recoil spring. Trigger mechanism. Every piece has a purpose. If you understand the purpose, you understand the weapon."

  He reassembled it in seconds.

  "Recoil isn't your enemy. It's physics. The bullet goes forward. The gun goes back. If you fight it, you lose control. If you expect it, you can manage it."

  Ethan stared at the gun. "So... stop fighting it?"

  "Exactly."

  The next day, Ethan's shots improved.

  Not perfect. Not even good.

  But better.

  He started anticipating the recoil. Adjusting his stance. Breathing between shots.

  By the end of the session, he hit the target four times out of ten.

  Yoichi nodded. "Progress."

  Ming watched from the observation deck, arms crossed.

  Cookie sat beside him, tail wagging.

  "He's learning," Ming murmured.

  Yoichi joined him. "What about her?"

  They both looked at Elena.

  She stood at her lane, gun in hand, staring at the target.

  She hadn't fired a single shot in twenty minutes.

  Ming's expression was unreadable. "Give her time."

  "We might not have time."

  "I know."

  Silence.

  Then Ming turned and walked toward the exit, Cookie following.

  "But we'll make it work. We always do."