My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1052: The Interclan Tournament (Part-3)

Meanwhile, there was a heavy, disciplined silence, the kind that only existed when warriors understood that every movement would be remembered by their clans for decades.

The rookies stood in neat groups beside their adult counterparts, arranged according to bloodline and banner, while their mentors stood before them like guardians carved out of authority.

Some mentors spoke quietly to their disciples.

Some merely watched.

Some didn't even blink, their eyes sharp enough to cut through lies.

One hundred and eighty representatives.

And above them, the glass VIP chamber gleamed in the sunlight like a floating throne room.

Inside, Azzy rose.

His movement was slow, unhurried, but the moment he stood, the room seemed to acknowledge it, because demigods did not need to demand attention. Attention was forced upon everyone the moment they existed.

Azzy walked toward the balcony door, and the other clan leaders followed instinctively, one after another, their expressions controlled, their pride intact but their bodies still remembering the invisible hierarchy that ruled this gathering.

The companions they had brought with them remained behind in the glass chamber, watching silently through the barrier as the leaders stepped out.

The balcony itself stretched outward like a high platform overlooking the entire arena, and the moment Azzy stepped onto it, the air shifted.

The warriors below lifted their heads.

All of them.

Rookies and adults alike.

Some looked at him with admiration.

Some with fear.

Some with resentment buried under obedience.

And some simply stared as if they were looking at a myth that had become real.

Because it wasn't normal.

A demigod.

The strongest Arcana Master of the current Epoch.

And he was younger than almost ninety-five percent of the adults sitting down there, adults who were supposed to be the elite of their clans, the pride of their bloodlines, yet even they could feel the gap between them and him like a canyon that no amount of effort could bridge.

Azzy rested both hands lightly on the balcony railing, his gaze sweeping across the arena like a ruler surveying his domain.

Then he spoke.

His voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

It carried naturally, steady and clear, reaching every corner of the battlefield without effort, as if the air itself wanted to deliver his words.

"Welcome," Azzy said calmly, "to the first-ever Inter-Clan Competitions."

The arena's silence deepened.

"My name is Azrael Garcia," he continued, "leader of the Death Clan, and the current host of this competition."

Some rookies swallowed.

Some adults straightened.

Even the mentors, men and women who had lived centuries, narrowed their eyes slightly, because hearing that name spoken so casually still felt unnatural.

Azzy's expression remained composed.

"I believe you have already been notified of most of the rules and regulations," he said. "But let me remind you of everything in order."

He paused for a breath, and the entire arena waited like soldiers receiving a command.

"First," Azzy said, "this competition is divided into two groups. One, the rookie division. Two, the expert division."

His gaze moved slowly over the seated representatives, as if he was separating them with his eyes alone.

"In each division, there are three categories," he continued. "One, solo battles. Two, duo battles. And three, team battles of five."

A faint ripple moved through the rookies.

Five-man teams.

Duo battles.

Solo fights.

Everyone understood immediately what that meant.

It wasn't just skill.

It was coordination.

Bloodline chemistry.

The ability to fight not as an individual, but as a clan.

Azzy's voice remained steady.

"And for every group, each clan can challenge one hidden clan in one category," he said. "You are not allowed to challenge the same clan after you have challenged them in one category."

He lifted one finger.

"That means," Azzy said, "in every challenge of every group, you will battle three different clans."

Murmurs spread across the ground like a whispering tide.

Azzy continued without pause.

"The order of battles will be team first, then duo, then solo," he said. "Also, there is no separation of choices for rookie and expert division. Both divisions will challenge another clan in the same category."

Some mentors exchanged glances, already calculating the consequences.

Azzy raised a second finger.

"Second," he said, "each clan can only battle three times in the said category. That means you can only be challenged twice in one category."

The Minamoto representatives stiffened slightly.

The Blood Clan rookies leaned forward unconsciously.

"And once those two times are over," Azzy continued, "that clan cannot be challenged by the clans that choose afterwards in that category."

He paused, letting the meaning settle like a blade.

"It goes for the participants too," he added. "Even if you change categories between solo, duo, and team, you cannot fight more than three times for your clan."

Some rookies swallowed hard.

Three battles.

That was the maximum.

It wasn't a tournament of endless matches.

It was a tournament designed to measure quality.

To force strategic selection.

Then Azzy's gaze sharpened slightly.

"As for which clan goes first," he said, "we decide by the order of arrival to the arena."

He looked down at the arena, his tone unchanged, almost indifferent.

"So the order is as follows," Azzy said. "The Kuru Clan will go first. Then the Sun Clan. Then Asgard. Then the Moon Clan. Then the Blood Clan. Then the Minamoto Clan. Then the Dragon Clan. Then the Death Clan."

He paused briefly.

"And finally," Azzy said, "the Elves."

The murmurs grew louder.

Some clans looked irritated.

Some looked relieved.

Some looked nervous.

Being early meant more choice.

Being late meant less opportunity.

And being last meant you would be forced to accept whatever scraps remained, or else refuse and lose future chances.

Azzy raised a third finger.

"Third," he said, "a maximum of two substitutes are allowed."

Mentors immediately straightened.

Substitutes were lifelines.

But also sacrifices.

"The substitutes can replace any main participant in any match," Azzy continued. "However, once a substitute replaces any contestant in any battle, that main contestant is officially out of this tournament and cannot participate again, regardless of the situation."

The weight of that rule hit hard.

It wasn't a simple replacement.

It was elimination.

If you were swapped out, you were finished.

Azzy raised a fourth finger.

"Fourth," he said, "once a clan's turn comes, the team is decided first. Separated into solo, duo, and team of five."

He glanced toward the mentors, his gaze sharp.

"After this, the challenges will be put forth," Azzy said. "Until those three battles are over, the team cannot be changed. Mentors, choose wisely."

Several mentors nodded grimly.

Because choosing wrong meant humiliating the clan. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Azzy raised a fifth finger.

"Fifth," he said, "when a clan challenges another hidden clan, the other clan has the opportunity to refuse the challenge."

Some representatives blinked, surprised.

Azzy continued.

"You don't have to give reasons," he said. "However, when you refuse, you will be forbidden to challenge that clan in any category when your turn comes."

That rule was simple.

But brutal.

It prevented cowardice.

It prevented selective bullying.

And it forced clans to accept consequences for avoiding danger.

Azzy raised a sixth finger.

"Sixth," he said, "there is a special benefit for rookie division solo battle winners."

Now the rookies' eyes sharpened.

Some leaned forward.

Some held their breath.

"The rookies who win their solo challenges," Azzy continued, "will gain the benefit of issuing a challenge to any clan head here, apart from your own."

The arena's murmurs rose sharply.

Even mentors looked surprised.

Azzy's voice remained calm.

"Three minutes of spar," he said. "The clan head will have to oblige, while restricting their soul rank to match the rank of their challenger."

The rookies' eyes widened.

Three minutes.

Against a clan leader.

Even with rank restriction, it was still a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"And just like with your fellow representatives," Azzy added, "clan heads cannot be challenged more than two times."

Azzy glanced sideways toward the other leaders standing on the balcony beside him.

"To support you future pillars of your clans," Azzy said, "an additional rule is issued for the rest of us clan leaders. When you challenge a clan leader, the clan leader will provide a special reward under a condition of their own choosing. It may be number of hits, time limit, survival, or anything else. It will be up to that clan leader."

The clan heads beside him nodded slowly, as if they had already agreed to it earlier, though some did so with expressions that looked less like agreement and more like acceptance of inevitability.