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In any city, in any country, go to any morgue you can get yourself into. Walk up to the front desk and ask if you can visit someone who calls himself the “Holder of the Harvest.”
The worker’s expression should turn to a cold, impassive one, an expression so chilling you’d be sure you were looking at a corpse. You will be transfixed by his eyes, unable to look away while millennia-old messages of death and despair burn themselves into your mind. At this point, you must not under any circumstances break eye contact with the worker, for if you do, you risk becoming part of this message of the damned.
This ordeal will last for what seems like centuries, but as these images drill into your mind, you must keep alert; if you are sharp enough to keep your wits, you will notice that while the worker’s eyes are sternly riveted to yours, his soul will stand up and leave his body. Breaking eye contact while this happens will grant you eternal damnation - to safely break the infernal bond between your eyes and those of his body, you must muster your courage and strength to shout out, “It’s not yet my turn!”
Should the visions and images continue, you will soon join them, as your body experiences excruciating pain, your mind finally giving way to the madness that you've felt for so long.
If the visions stop, however, then look for the worker’s specter and follow him. The ghost should pass through a wall; follow him and you, too, will pass through that wall. The area beyond will be similar to a museum exhibition, but these exhibits are ghastly figures - displays of war and disease, moving images of murders and rapes, mothers wailing over their dead sons, fathers mutilating themselves over their raped and murdered daughters. These figures of unrelenting horrors line the walls, ceilings and the floor. Make sure you are directly behind the ghost - if you stray from his path, you will become part of the exhibits for all eternity.
Soon, the ghost will again pass through a door. This time, you must not follow as you did before. There is no turning back now. On this door is a relief of a little girl, peacefully kneeling down as if in prayer, your first image of peace a midst this museum of death. (Say hello to your new dwelling, should you see any other relief other than the one described.) If the relief you see is the little girl, steel yourself and open the door.
You will find yourself in a wheat field. In the middle will be a black-robed figure gracefully dancing. Upon closer inspection, you see that he is actually holding a huge scythe, slashing it about and cutting off stalks of wheat as he goes along. The figure wields it with skill attainable only with centuries, if not millennia, of practice. Every slashed stalk of wheat secretes a liquid – fresh blood. Listen closely enough, and you will hear cries of unspeakable pain coming from the severed stalks.
When he turns to your direction, he will be surprised to see a living entity in his world. Before he decides to add you to his ever growing collection of souls, you must ask one and only one question: “Where are the workers in this field?” After you ask this, he will again start dancing while laughing wildly, and he will narrate a story that predates the earth itself: the story of how death came to be. Many go mad at this information, as death was not the simple phenomenon one might think. He will then tell you a secret that only the ancients know: the truth about death.
If you did not go mad after all of this, the robed creature will stop dancing, strike his huge scythe down on the ground, and say, “I know what to do with you in time.” Give a respectful nod and close your eyes. You will then feel a burning feeling in your chest, as if you were being stabbed. Do not open your eyes, as this is your final test. The pain will start spreading throughout your entire body, you will feel as if you're at the brink of death, you will hear crying around you, and it will irritate you and you will want to stop it. You can give in to the pain if you want to, but if you are resilient, you will see yourself in the wheat field with the robed creature's scythe jutting out of the ground. Take it and start hacking away at everything you see, and do not stop until the pain in your body goes away.
When you are finished, you will realize that the stalks of wheat that you cut down in your frenzied state were actually every person you have ever loved. Feel no remorse, nothing whatsoever, for if you do, the robed creature will mow you down without hesitation. Find the head of the person you love most, and strike it with the scythe you wield. You will be overcome by the darkness coming out of the point of impact.
When you wake up, you'll be at your local cemetery, and a funeral will be taking place nearby. Beside you will be the scythe wielded by the robed creature. Take it.
That scythe is Object 145 of 538. The harvest is coming and the workers are few.