My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1051: The Interclan Tournament (Part-2)

The words sounded polite.

But the weight behind them felt like a warning.

The atmosphere became awkward.

Because Azzy, despite being terrifyingly strong, still carried youth in his presence, and his temperament was calm enough that even enemies could speak with him like he was merely a powerful young lord. He didn't flaunt authority. He didn't demand worship. He didn't speak like a monarch.

But Qridus…

Qridus was different.

He was not only ancient, more than nine thousand years old, but he had ruled for over seven thousand eight hundred years, and that kind of reign carved authority into a man's bones. His words didn't need aggression to be terrifying, because every syllable carried the invisible weight of history.

Even the Dragon Clan leader, who had mocked the Death Clan's arrogance earlier, now remained silent.

Even the Sun Clan leader, whose pride had been loud, now looked careful.

No one wanted to offend Qridus.

Not because he would attack.

But because offending him felt like offending death itself.

Azzy glanced around, his expression calm, and he lifted his hand slightly.

"Anyway," he said, voice smooth. "Let's take our seats."

The leaders slowly sat down again, their posture more restrained than before, and Azzy took his place without ceremony. Qridus sat beside him like a monarch returning to his throne, and the room remained tense, filled with unspoken fear and respect.

Azzy leaned back slightly, then turned his head toward Estella, who sat beside him with composed elegance.

Her eyes were warm, and her voice carried a casual familiarity.

"When is Leiza's due date?" she asked.

Azzy's expression softened faintly. "Still a few weeks away."

Estella nodded with a small smile. "Good. I hope she's resting properly."

"She's stubborn," Azzy replied, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. "But she listens… sometimes."

Estella chuckled quietly, then Azzy asked, "How are the kids doing?"

Estella's smile widened. "Great."

Then she added casually, almost as if she was discussing the weather, "They're also participating today." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Azzy blinked, his calm expression finally cracking into genuine surprise.

"They are?" he repeated.

Estella nodded. "Yes."

Azzy sat up slightly. "Both of them?"

"Yes," Estella confirmed, her tone calm.

Azzy's brows furrowed. "Gideon could have been here."

Estella waved her hand lightly. "Don't worry. He said he will be."

Azzy's eyes narrowed slightly, disbelief flickering across his face.

"Really?" he muttered. "He didn't send any message to me about his presence. I thought since Orion stayed back, Gideon would also stay back. That's why I didn't invite him as my plus one."

Estella shrugged lightly, her expression casual. "Well… they might be late."

Azzy stared at her.

"Late?" he repeated slowly.

Estella's smile turned faintly strange, like she knew something he didn't.

"Gideon also informed me," she added, "that he was taking his son and Orion to explore some underground ruins that were found at the South Pole."

Azzy froze.

His eyes sharpened instantly, and the casual warmth in his face vanished like a candle blown out by wind.

"South Pole?" he repeated, voice low.

Estella nodded, still calm. "Yes."

Azzy's fingers tightened against the armrest, his mind already racing, because he knew Gideon wasn't careless, and Orion wasn't foolish, and if they were exploring ruins at the South Pole on the day of the tournament… then it must be more important than this competition, atleast in the eyes of Orion.

"I see…"

Azzy nodded slowly in the end, his gaze still lingering somewhere distant. His expression remained calm, but there was a subtle heaviness behind his eyes, the kind that only appeared when he was calculating something too dangerous to speak aloud.

Estella watched him for a moment, then leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his slightly as she tilted her head and lowered her voice into a near-whisper, playful but sharp.

"Do you know," she murmured, "that many of us here are interested to hear your choices?"

Azzy's brows lifted faintly, and the corner of his lips curved, not into a smile, but into something faintly amused.

"My choices?" he repeated.

Estella nodded. "Yes. Which three are you going to pick."

Azzy turned his head toward her slowly, and the look in his eyes became mysterious, almost teasing, as if he had suddenly decided to entertain himself.

"Who do you think I will pick?" he asked.

Estella narrowed her eyes, studying him like she was trying to read the future on his face. Then she shrugged lightly, speaking in a tone that sounded casual but carried careful logic.

"Well," she said, "Blood Clan is an obvious one. Second… perhaps Asgard. And third will either be Kuru or Moon Clan."

She paused, her lips curling slightly.

"You challenging the Elves or the Minamoto doesn't make sense," Estella added, "since you all live in the same country. It would only create unnecessary tension. Even you wouldn't do something that foolish."

Azzy didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once against the armrest, and his eyes flickered toward the VIP chamber's glass walls.

Through the transparent barrier, he could see the leaders pretending to converse normally, pretending to focus on the arena below, yet their gazes kept drifting toward him like knives drawn halfway from their sheaths.

They were listening.

Not with their ears.

With their hunger.

Azzy exhaled quietly.

Then he spoke.

"I actually have no idea."

The words fell like a stone.

Estella blinked. "What?"

Azzy repeated calmly, his tone completely sincere. "I said, I don't have any idea."

The atmosphere inside the VIP chamber shifted instantly.

Several leaders stiffened.

A few companions narrowed their eyes.

Even Francis Blood, who had been sitting with controlled composure, paused slightly as his fingers tightened around his cup.

Estella leaned back, her expression openly surprised. "You… don't know?"

Azzy shrugged lightly, his voice casual, almost lazy. "The decision was left to Lady Yashna. I'm just here to bet."

Silence.

Not complete silence, because the leaders still spoke quietly among themselves, but the feeling in the room changed, like the temperature had dropped by several degrees.

The leaders' eyes darkened.

Some frowned.

Some scoffed quietly.

Some looked irritated, and others looked humiliated without even knowing why.

Because in that single sentence, Azzy had reminded them of the truth.

He wasn't here because he needed to prove anything.

He wasn't here because he feared losing.

He was here because he was bored.

He was here because it amused him.

He was here because a tournament between hidden clans, an event that could shake reputations and spark rivalries for decades, was nothing more than entertainment to him.

And the more they understood that, the more their pride began to bleed.

After all, the Death Clan didn't need a tournament to prove strength.

Azrael Garcia was not even forty years old, yet he had already reached demigod rank, a realm that many of them would never touch even if they lived for another thousand years. Worse, he had resources no clan could rival, hundreds of spirit cores within his mindscape, enough to uplift loyal elders into terrifying heights whenever he pleased.

The Death Clan's future was already secured.

Their dominance was inevitable.

Win or lose, it did not matter.

But for the other clans…

It mattered.

They needed to prove themselves.

They needed to show that their bloodlines still had value, that their pride still had weight, that they weren't simply relics waiting to be swallowed by the shadow of House Garcia.

That was why Azzy's words stung.

Because they were honest.

And honesty, in a room full of monarchs, was sharper than any sword.

Estella stared at Azzy, then shook her head slightly with a helpless smile, as if she didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.

"You're really unbelievable," she muttered.

Azzy's eyes remained calm. "It's not my job to satisfy their expectations."

Estella's smile faded, and her gaze flickered briefly toward the leaders. "That's exactly why they hate you."

Azzy didn't deny it.

He simply leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed, but his aura remained quietly overwhelming, like a sleeping dragon that didn't need to bare its fangs for everyone to remember what it was.

Below them, the arena finally began to stir.

One by one, representatives stepped onto the battlefield.

Not ordinary warriors.

Not young students.

But chosen weapons of their clans.

Each clan had sent twenty representatives.

Twenty warriors.

Each with a mentor.

Each with a guardian.

Each with someone powerful enough to step in if something went wrong.

As they entered, the arena floor filled with movement, a sea of armored bodies and spiritual pressure, until the number became clear.

One hundred and eighty warriors.

They stood in scattered formation across the enormous battlefield, their weapons gleaming under the sun, their eyes sharp, their breathing controlled, and their auras clashing faintly like invisible storms colliding.

Some wore heavy armor.

Some wore robes.

Some carried swords.

Some carried spears.

Some carried bows crafted from ancient trees.

Some carried nothing at all, because their bodies themselves were their weapons.