My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1018: Dreams of the Past: Raphael meets Gabrielle

"Freeze."

The Vulcan Lord froze mid-swipe, its molten body locked in place for a single, crucial second.

Rael lunged forward, his scythe glowing with divine light as he carved a deep gash along its flank.

Artaigne followed up immediately, driving her blade into another weak spot. "Scoooo!" The Vulcan Lord howled in pain, but its rage only grew stronger.

Steam erupted from its back as it unleashed a high-pressure blast of superheated vapor, forcing them back.

"It's not slowing down!" Artaigne called.

Eon clenched her fists. "Then we end this now."

Rael smirked. "You're speaking my language. Let's move as planned."

They moved in sync.

Artaigne dashed forward, striking the beast's hind legs. At the same time, Rael came from the opposite side, his scythe trailing a golden arc as he brought it down upon the Vulcan Lord's neck.

Eon raised her palm. The air shimmered as she unleashed a concentrated blast of energy, striking directly at the Vulcan Lord's core.

The beast staggered, its movements sluggish.

"Now. Artainge." Rael shouted.

Artaigne leapt into the air. Her eyes gleamed with fierce determination. She gripped her blade in reverse, shifting her weight as she descended. With a final, decisive strike, she plunged her sword straight into the beast's head.

For a moment, the cavern fell silent.

Then—

*Scraaaaa*

The Vulcan Lord let out one last roar before its massive body collapsed, its molten energy fading away. A faint, fiery glow emerged from its remains.

Its spirit core.

Artaigne, breathing heavily, stepped forward and reached for it. As soon as her fingers touched the core, it dissolved into shimmering light—absorbing directly into her body. Her eyes widened as a powerful surge of energy pulsed through her. Her soul realm, which had long been at the peak of 4-star, finally shattered its limits— And ascended to 5-star.

A brilliant, radiant glow enveloped her as a pair of angelic wings burst forth from her back.

Rael stared at her in awe, his usual smugness absent for once. "An angel?"

"Congratulations," he said, genuinely impressed.

Artaigne, still breathless, gave a small smile. "Thanks."

Eon, however, clenched her fists. For the first time, she felt like the third wheel. She forced a smile and muttered, "Didn't know she had an Angel bloodline. Just like our eldest brother..."

But deep down, something stirred within her.

A flicker of jealousy.

Or perhaps…

**

Camelot, The World of Gaia.

The sun hung low over the vast emerald plains of Camelot's southern regions, casting long shadows as Raphael rode swiftly on a magic carpet.

He was carrying a scroll in his storage ring, which was given by his master during one of their journeys to the south in order to pass to the King.

His mission was clear—deliver a message to King Arthur.

However, as he approached a clearing, distant cries—muffled, distressed voices fell in his eyes. He was forced to change the direction midway and flew toward the source of the sound.

His sharp eyes scanned the area. Bandits. A group of them stood near their wagon, laughing crudely as they dragged along many people, tied to each other. While everyone else was crying out for help, Raphael's attention was grabbed by a small girl with silver hair, her expression unreadable, almost… lifeless.

Her porcelain-like skin, doll-like features, and delicate build made her seem helpless—but something felt off.

Raphael's instincts screamed at him. Without hesitation, he moved.

In a flash of light, his blade cut through the air, striking down three of the bandits before they could even react. As they were only low-level Arcana masters, they turned into corpses.

The remaining ones barely had time to scream before Raphael's golden aura flared, sending a pulse of energy that killed them instantly.

The battle was over in seconds before the captives could even realize it.

But just then, all of a sudden, the captives turned into specks of light, disappearing from his sight, leaving behind the silver-haired girl. And her eyes no longer lifeless but anger was evident in them.

"Wha..." As Raphael is still trying to wrap his head around what just happened, the girl snapped, glaring at him with crimson eyes. "What in the world have you done?"

Raphael blinked, taken aback. "Saving you?"

"You ruined my mission!" she huffed, crossing her arms. "I was infiltrating their base to rescue hostages, and now you spoiled it. I have no idea where the location is now."

Raphael's brows furrowed. "You were... infiltrating? Not a captive?"

The girl scoffed, releasing a small burst of pressure—a wave of energy that made Raphael's entire body tense.

His instincts screamed danger. 'She's strong,' he realized.

"You're rank… eight?" he asked in disbelief. The girl rolled her eyes. "Now, do you understand? The fact that those other captives were nothing more than an illusion I cast should have opened your eyes. You look like a kid. Don't tell me you are really a kid?"

Raphael was speechless. This girl, who looked barely twelve, had already reached such a level?

"Wait… how old are you?" he asked, stunned.

The girl sighed, clearly used to this reaction. "A century. I'm probably older than your grandma, kid."

Raphael nearly choked. 'She's been alive for over a hundred years?!'

Seeing his dumbfounded look, she sighed and turned away. "Look, it's fine. What's done is done. I understand. I'll just find another way to locate their hideout. You just leave."

But then— Raphael glanced at the bodies of the fallen bandits. His eyes gleamed as something popped up in his head. "Actually," he said calmly. "I can help with that."

"Hmm?" The girl turned around, looking at the boy. "What do you mean? Do you know about the bandits?"

Raphael shook his head with a smile. "No. But I can do this instead. Kneeling beside one of the corpses, Raphael placed a hand on its head. A soft golden glow spread from his palm and his eyes glowed.

Memories flashed before his eyes.

—Men marching through the rocky mountain paths.

—A hidden village, its original residents enslaved.

—The bandit leader, a brute with a scarred face and cold, calculating eyes.

Raphael's breath steadied as he exhaled sharply, the visions fading. "I know where they are," he announced.

The silver-haired girl—who had been watching skeptically—finally showed surprise. "You—" she paused. "You read the dead's memories?"

Raphael shrugged. "One of many abilities my master imparted to me."

She stared at him for a moment before crossing her arms. "Hmph. Not bad." Then, she extended a hand. "Gabrielle," she introduced herself.

Raphael took her hand. "Raphael."

"Alright, Raphael," Gabrielle said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Since you're so eager to make up for your blunder, show me where this hideout is."