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--donation bonus (day #1, post 3/5)--
“I suppose I did,” said Geoffrey. “The soul, as your friend called it, is always destroyed when I take them for my own. Now out of my way. I wish to inspect your phantom.” He tried to push past, but Hector held him back.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

In an instant, something red flashed across Hector’s vision, and suddenly, his forearm was gone, flesh and bone cut so cleanly off that it took a moment to start bleeding. Geoffrey held the severed limb by the wrist.

Hector remained unfazed.

Geoffrey tossed the meat over his shoulder and stared. “Did that not hurt?” he asked.

Hector clocked him in the mouth, and Geoffrey flew back, toppling over the sofa. “Did that?”

Geoffrey stood up immediately, shaking his head. “That was surprising,” he said. And when he looked up, a crimson shade was covering his mouth.

Hand growing back, Hector’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?”

“I see no reason to tell you.” Geoffrey bounded forward and swung, but Hector just took the hit and punched him in the gut, launching him even farther back than before. When Geoffrey stood, this time the red shadow covered his stomach. He began to laugh. “Interesting! You certainly hit hard!”

Hector waited as the young man approached. The reapers fell back into the corridor, observing from beyond the doorway. “What the hell are you?”

“A good question,” said Geoffrey. “I would like to know as well. But right now, I am more interested in what they are. You are not going to let me touch them, are you?”

Hector made no response.