As I silently weave,
Through the crowd of bliss.
I can make out an eye,
Watching my every move.

I leap from stone to stone,
On the pallid roof tops under the moon.
I know he follows.
His pressure is close.

From the peripheral vision of my eyes,
I see two swords fly my way.
My scythe comes to life.
Saving my hide.

My body halts and my head turns.
Once again,
A battle must be fought.

"You never give in Dark one."
He chuckles silently.
"I always get what I want."

"Not me..."

With a roar,
We collide.
Pressure builds.

When two reapers fight.
Only one can win.