—??? POV—

Weeks go by as forces are gathered, defenses primed and ready. 

At the moment, the positivity guardian was going over strategy with the squadron he was assigned. The blue one was training with the creator, all was going well, everything was going smooth. 

Even the seer was having luck with their sightings, calculating every multiverse to be attacked with stunning accuracy. Things couldn't be better. Nightmare really was in for it. Maybe positivity would finally reign supreme. 

Reaper sat on the railing at the very top of the planning facility. He sipped cold coffee. His legs swung as he hummed a happy tune. Distantly, he kinda hoped things would get better, that Dream would finally stop being a baby and just take his brother out before he could cause anymore struggles. 

A part of him was also tugged in the direction of Nightmare's allure. For no particular reason did he want the world to experience eternal damnation. For no exact purpose would he be fine with seeing cities burn and people live in misery. 

After all, a hero always rose. He'd been around since the dawn of time to see as much. 

He wondered if he should head back to Nightmare's yet. He was surprised that goopster hadn't caught onto his scheme after all these years. The guy was cunning, but too dumb to notice Reaper's shiftiness. Maybe all that ruckus he caused those couple decades ago desensitized him to Reaper's schemes. That'd be funny actually. 

Oh, and then there's you and Horror. No doubt Dream finally stopped being a numbskull and started planning something about you. No wonder everyone's down there working their asses off. Should he tell Nightmare? No. He wants to let this run its course. 

And then there was the other problem involving you. Maybe he should just outright admit it, but he didn't want to scare you. If word got out about him stirring trouble again... he'd be public enemy number one instead of either guardian. Last time he caused a ruckus those few years ago, things didn't really end too well. 

Rising from the railing, he stretched, breathing a small sigh and watching his breath appear before his teeth. Maybe he should give up on you. Being so cryptic and not just outright saying what he wanted to tell you wasn't very practical. You were oblivious to whatever he said thus far. He couldn't even loophole and put it on a paper. 

This was the problem with having so much responsibility. He let out a huff before the shapes around him shifted. He was in his room now. Why did the laziest being in the galaxy have to have such a heavy burden? He'd rather be Dream or Nightmare at this point. At least mortals could choose to be positive or negative. 

They couldn't choose whether or not they died. And it made his job all the harder. 

In a perfect world, Reaper wouldn't have this terrible job. He flopped on his bed as he thought such preposterous things. Then again, if he didn't do it, nothing would exist. Maybe that'd be the perfect world. What did perfect entail anyway?

He just wanted to sleep. Being the embodiment of death itself was hard. His only reprieve was messing with the other gods. Causing mischief and ruining the overall algorithm of everything. He wondered if it'd all explode in his face someday. Maybe some higher power pitied him so much that it wouldn't. Only time would tell at this point. The highest power of all. (Ya got it wrong dude. That's the power we call 'author brain.') 

Thoughts soon melted into dreams as the deity slipped into slumber. Coffee long forgotten as heavy eye sockets came to a close. Breathing slowed, motionlessness taking hold as his entire frame relaxed. Left to sleep alone in the dark. 

—Your POV—

You woke up that morning feeling strangely well rested. Thing is, you barely got any sleep last night. Killer and Dust were having some kind of rave party until who you assume was Error stomped in there and started strangling them. After that it was some whimpered apologies before finally whatever cursed music they were blaring shut off. 

However, it's nothing too notable as you make your way downstairs, early this morning. Before everyone else. You need to cook, and you can't do that coddled up in a mess of blankets. 

You settle for a simple breakfast. Nightmare is always stocking the fridge, just like a mom. It's not too terribly often that you catch the goopy goober down in the kitchen, shoving things like butter, milk, or eggs into the refrigerator. Sometimes if he's in a good mood, then an ice cream or two up in the freezer. It's amusing to say the least. Whenever he does it during the day he gets an audience for sure. 

Well, pulling our a carton of eggs, you check the label. Eighteen. That's enough for you, Horror, Killer, Dust, Reaper, and Lust. Three eggs. Should be enough. 

Then the sausage, there are just twelve of those. That's enough, two for each of you. Now to start cooking... where's the skillet...

Fifteen minutes later, and breakfast is done and plated. Everyone will be down in a few minutes, just enough time for the food to cool. You suppose you may as well go and get the cleaning stuff ready. You have a big day ahead. 

And off you go to clean the same mansion yet again. Wonder what'll happen today?

~~~~~~~~~~

To be honest I was not so sure about what to write about for this chapter. 13 kinda was just blank in my head, because I'm ahead of schedule. So have this considerable lore piece. Of course you get 0 context. And a slight cliffhanger but you'll live. I am excited for the next chapters.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

- De Moogus