My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 897: Spar against Aya (Part-1)

Dawn thinned the night into a soft gray as the training grounds of the Minamoto Clan filled up. Unlike with the Death Clan, here, the sky is original, and so the light was quite dim as it was in the real world.

Hundreds of people pressed close: clan elders, young warriors, clansmen, even a scattering of Minamoto girls who had spent the night whispering about the previous evening and now watched with wide, excited eyes and fully ready in their new attire, despite such time.

At the center of the ring, under a pale slice of sky, Azzy stood with his hands in his pockets like he was waiting for a carriage.

Across from him, Fujiwara Aya tightened the straps on her black armor, every muscle coiled. The guard on her hip glinted; the katana at her back hummed.

Shuichi stepped into the middle, the referee's face a mask of authority but with a tremor around the eyes that betrayed how high the stakes felt. He raised his voice, and it carried clean over the murmurs. "Ready?"

Azzy tipped his head, a small smile easing the crowd for a second. He looked almost tired. "Let us go through the rules again," he said easily. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Aya huffed a soft laugh—no nerves, only pride. The crowd leaned in.

Azrael spoke slowly, laying the terms out as if reciting gardening instructions. "Five-minute spar. I'll give you four and a half minutes of advantage. I won't attack you during that window."

A ripple of surprised whispers ran like wind through the stands. People exchanged glances — four and a half minutes was generous, bordering on reckless.

"And during these four and a half minutes," Azrael went on, folding his words into the air, "I will not use any sealing techniques. No Arcana spirit. No soul energy, aura, divine techniques, weapons, or skill cards to defend myself."

The air tightened. Aya's brows rose.

Azrael smiled and didn't correct them. "No tricks. On the other hand," he glanced at Aya, "you can use anything. Weapons, cards, spirits. You have free rein."

Aya's expression shifted from surprise to a slow, pleased grin. She pushed a strand of hair from her face, the motion casual but confident. "If you want to underestimate me that much," she said loud enough for the front rows to hear, "fine by me."

Shuichi's jaw tightened. He cleared his throat and said the wager aloud to make it binding. "If Lord Garcia knocks Lady Aya unconscious before the time expires, she joins the Shadow Guards by his command. If he either fails or got hit even once, he grants her anything she asks."

A collective intake of breath—some sharp, some incredulous. The title of Shadow Guard meant power, influence, a formal position under Death Clan command. The counter-offer carried weight, too: "anything you ask" could break families, give lands, or demand secrets. The elders blinked. Hence, for the elders and other disciples of the clan, whether she loses or wins, she gains something in the end.

Azrael's gaze slid over the crowd, landing on a few familiar faces from last night's banquet, and even a young girl peeking from behind a pillar. He didn't blink. "No one outside the barrier will be affected," he said, reaching a hand out.

In an instant, a translucent dome materialized in the surroundings, before he said. "With this, you can go all out without any worries, Aya. Your time starts in ten seconds."

Aya lowered her arm, flexing her fingers around a hilt.

The crowd counted down in whispers and breaths. Shuichi stepped back, hands folded. "Ten… nine…"

Azzy still looked too relaxed, like a man who had all the time in the world.

Taking a deep breath, she summoned her soul card.

And then, a massive white Nine-Tailed fox emerged from it and materialized behind Aya. Its fur shimmered like freshly fallen snow, tails flicking with lethal grace. Aya leapt onto its head, landing with precision as her eyes locked onto Azzy.

"Hidden skill: Merge," she declared, voice ringing over the silent crowd.

The transformation was instant and mesmerizing. White fur spread over her body, leaving only her face exposed, while her hair lengthened and shimmered in pure white.

Nine elegant tails unfurled behind her, each swaying with calculated menace.

Her form became both lithe and dangerous, and for reasons even the most seasoned spectators couldn't ignore, her figure shifted, accentuating a strange, irresistible allure.

The effect was immediate: dozens of male spectators froze mid-breath, some audibly gulping, others flushing deep red. Murmurs rippled through the stands like an electric current.

Even Shuichi, trained in controlling his instincts, clenched his fists, muttering under his breath, "She's affecting everyone again… even me…" His jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, hiding his own rising arousal.

Azzy, however, remained calm, his expression unreadable. The chaos around him didn't sway his composure. He simply tilted his head, observing her, letting the transformation play out fully.

Aya chuckled softly, white tails curling and uncurling as she stepped forward, claws tapping against the training ground. "Indeed," she purred, "just as I expected, Lord Azrael is mighty as always. I can see… You are completely immune to my charm."

Azzy's gaze narrowed slightly, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "Do you plan on wasting your time merely because you think you have all the advantage? Overconfidence suits no one," he said, voice steady and calm.

Aya's grin widened, showing sharp canines. "No," she said, voice low but fierce. "Even if my rank temporarily rose to 9-star, I don't think I could match a demigod. But… not even landing a single hit? That feels insulting, doesn't it?"

Azzy simply shook his head, his tone even. "No."

Aya's grin faltered for only a fraction of a second before it returned, sharper than ever. "Alright," she hissed, crouching low, her tails whipping behind her.

She lunged forward, all four limbs striking the ground like a predator ready to pounce. The crowd gasped as her claws slashed through the air, aiming straight for Azzy.

Just as her claws reached him, they passed through him as if he were a ghost.

She skidded slightly on the ground, fur bristling in irritation, tail lashing behind her. "This…"

Azzy's expression remained calm, almost lazy. "I'm not using any special technique, in case you wonder," he said softly, voice carrying the weight of absolute control.

"I know… I can see that you are using your speed…" Aya crouched, snarling low as her tails flicked with precision, each one poised to strike.

Aya hissed under her breath, retracting slightly but not letting her posture fall. "You'll see…" she muttered. Her eyes, glowing faintly in white, narrowed with determination. "This fight isn't over yet."

Azzy tilted his head, watching her move, letting the tension build like a taut string. "I'm waiting," he said simply, hands still in his pockets.

The training grounds shook with the force of her onslaught. Aya moved like a living storm—claws flashing, tails whipping, every strike faster than the eye could follow, almost hypersonic in speed. Each attack was a blur, leaving afterimages in the air, but every one of them struck nothing but passing through Azzy. Not a single claw, nor the tip of a tail, nor her enhanced speed could breach it.

The spectators watched in awe, mouths slightly open, some whispering nervously to each other about the overwhelming difference in control between the two combatants.

Minutes passed. Aya's panting became heavier, her chest rising and falling as she paused briefly to catch her breath while slowly exhausting her stamina. Her nine tails twitched aggressively, and the air around them crackled with barely contained energy.

Not willing to yield, she drew from her arsenal—a shimmering instant soul energy recovery card—pouring it all back into herself. Her aura flared, white fur glowing faintly as her stamina returned in full.

Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a roar that resonated across the arena. The tips of her nine tails rose high above her, coalescing energy at each tip. Slowly, they began to gather together, forming a concentrated nexus of her recovered soul energy.

"Soul Skill: The Oblivion Sphere!" she bellowed.

From the gathered tips, a black sphere began to form, small at first, then growing at an alarming rate, consuming every bit of the energy she had restored.

It expanded rapidly, dozens of feet in diameter, a rolling mass of shadowy darkness that hummed with destructive potential. Without hesitation, she launched it straight at Azzy. "Die."

The sphere struck his raised hand like a meteor. Time seemed to slow as the black energy clashed against the barrier, exploding outward in a deafening roar. The impact tore a massive crater into the training grounds, sending smoke and dust billowing in all directions. Rocks and debris were scattered like leaves in a storm.

When the dust settled, the audience gasped in awe. Azzy was still standing in the same spot, unharmed.

Around him, the earth had been hollowed into a giant crater, and a massive stone pillar now rose beneath his feet, supporting him as if he had emerged untouched from the storm. His clothes were lightly dusted, but otherwise pristine, and his expression remained calm, almost casual.

"What the…"