’the white reaper.’

that was Guest’s nickname, a genuine beast in the snow. Numerous bodies and counting, a shot that never missed.

precision, position, accuracy, speed, stealth.

the name was a myth, a story told around fires to scare people off.

because people like that didn’t exist.. did they?

katsuki wanted to find that out himself.

Katsuki Bakugo, a myth hunter. Barbarian origins, high bounty. well known, not a myth.

he’d chased down numerous beasts. Slayed dragons, whatever the hell else you’d expect from a damn barbarian prince.

but this was different, this was someone, or something, who’s face was never seen. He had no leads, no appearance to look out for, just blood. but he knew one thing—while the white reaper can be spotted anywhere, from forests to villages, their primary kill spot is in the snowy forest.

the white reaper didn’t kill off random, though. They had targets, selective shots. whether it be murderers or thieves, she hunted down any bad person to step foot in her domain. Or, tracked down anyone whose name reached her.

Katsuki had already found himself in the snowy forests, large boots crunching through the snow, fog leaving his mouth as he climbed in altitude, and dropped in temperature. his explosive mana keeping his body temperature stable despite the conditions. The snow hit harsh, it was foggy and in general a terrible day. he even considered turning back and trying tomorrow—but no. he was Katsuki. ‘Trying tomorrow’ was basically saying he was worthless.

but after hours, he had nothing. The moon scaled the black ink of the sky, and the temperatures dropped below freezing. He found nothing. No prints, no blood, no leftover traces that would lead to the white reaper. so he set up camp for the night, fire crackling in the shelter of a cave, weapons to his side, arms crossed.

blissfully unaware of what was to come.