My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 956: The Devil’s whisper

Azrael woke slowly, as if his mind had to swim through darkness before breaching the surface.

His breath hitched the moment he opened his eyes. The cold stone ceiling above him wasn't the same one from the pocket dimension. The air smelled different, too. It felt clean, metallic, and almost sterile. He pushed himself upright, blinking hard as his vision adjusted.

A bed. A real one at that. And a room with light, walls, and furniture. And—

He felt something around his neck.

A metal collar?

Before panic could settle in his mind, a voice cut through the room.

"You're awake."

Azrael jerked his head toward the sound. Azzy stood at the far end of the room with his hands folded behind his back. His expression was calm but firm. His presence filled the space, not with pressure, but with an unspoken warning—don't do anything stupid.

Azrael glared, ready to snap, ready to curse, and still ready to fling whatever hatred he had left...

But Azzy spoke first. "Before you go on a rampage again, listen carefully."

Azrael stayed silent, but his fingers curled around the blanket.

Azzy stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away. "I defeated you easily, and I can suppress the devil inside you. If I want, I can kill you any time." His voice remained steady, no arrogance or bragging—just truth stated plainly. "So there's no reason for me to deceive you or entertain your delusions."

Azrael's jaw clenched, but he didn't speak.

"So first of all," Azzy continued, "put away the idea that you can kill me or even be able to hurt me. If you could do that, you wouldn't be in such a state. And second, try to think calmly about what I'm going to say next."

He raised his hand, cutting Azrael off before he could interrupt. "Don't worry. I won't insist that we are the same person. I won't force you to accept that you belong to the Death Clan. I know you won't believe anything I say right now. Not after what you've been through."

Azrael's eyes narrowed, defensive and confused all at once.

"That's why," Azzy said, "I'm giving you another option. One you might prefer over rotting inside a prison pocket dimension."

Azrael frowned, voice rough. "What option?"

Azzy gestured around the room. "For now, I brought you here. A place where you're free to move inside these walls. Free to rest. Free to breathe. But you will also be temporarily contained. That collar will suppress your demonic power. You won't be able to use even a fraction of Satan's essence."

Azrael reached up instinctively, fingers brushing the collar. It vibrated in response, almost like it sensed his touch.

Azzy continued, "You will stay here for a while. Use this time to calm down." His eyes softened, just barely, as he added. "And don't try to escape."

Azrael scoffed quietly but didn't argue.

"Oh, and one more thing," Azzy added, turning toward the door. "You might want to look in the mirror. Consider it a meeting present."

Without another word, he stepped out, the door sliding shut behind him.

Azrael sat there for a moment, breathing heavily. His mind felt heavy too—torn between confusion, anger, and something unfamiliar…

Is it relief?

He pushed the feeling down and slid off the bed. He crossed the room slowly, the collar humming with each step. There, in the corner, stood a tall mirror.

He stopped.

His breath caught in his throat.

His face—

His face was whole.

The burns were gone. The scars erased. The twisted flesh healed.

He touched his cheek with trembling fingers, half-afraid it would crumble away like ash.

He then looked down at his right hand. The black glove was also gone.

The diamond-shaped mark on his palm remained, but the black lightning didn't crackle across his skin anymore. It sat quietly—dormant, calm, almost peaceful.

"Is this… real?" Azrael whispered.

His reflection didn't answer.

But another voice did... inside his head. "Azrael… come to me."

The world around him twisted soon after. His consciousness slipped like sand through fingers, and his body collapsed to the floor, lifeless but breathing.

Meanwhile, his spirit drifted into darkness… then emerged into a familiar yet terrifying place.

In his mindscape, standing there, calm and waiting, was the man he had never truly seen.

Lucifer, the Devil himself.

Tall, elegant, not monstrous nor grotesque, but impossibly composed. Too beautiful for even an angel. His hair dark as void, his eyes luminous gold like burning suns.

Azrael froze. "This is…" he whispered, almost dazed. "Unexpected. I thought you would be more like…"

Lucifer's chuckle echoed softly through Azrael's mindscape. He stepped forward with elegant calm, his long coat flowing behind him like drifting smoke.

"You mean this?" he whispered.

At first, he looked like an angel. A perfect one at that. But then, his holy aura snapped before twisting into a swirl of black flames. His wings blackened, feathers melting into jagged scales. His face sharpened, his body stretching into something terrifying and monstrous. Heat rolled off him like a blast furnace.

Azrael's spirit trembled for a moment at the sight of the devil's true form.

Then, just as quickly, Lucifer let the demonic form fade and returned to the radiant angel again with a soft glow, white wings, and serene expression.

Lucifer then said, gesturing to himself, "This is my true form, host."

Azrael stared, heart pounding.

"As Lucifer," he continued, "I am the Lightbringer. The brightest and the most radiant of all angels." His voice carried both pride and bitterness when he told about himself. "The form you saw earlier is my Satanic form. It was a manifestation created from my hatred. Born from the betrayal of my siblings."

Azrael's brows knitted. "Betrayal?"

Lucifer's eyes darkened, gold fading into amber as he explained. "After our father, the Supreme Angel, died, I was meant to inherit the throne. But my siblings… jealous of my strength, my power, and my brilliance… threw me out of Heaven. My own home." His wings flickered, feathers shedding light. "I rebelled, but I and my followers were defeated and cast into Hell."

He placed a hand over his chest, putting up a pained expression. "But fate gave me a chance to return. I could have taken my revenge, but that damn champion of the Olympian Gods, Williard Ravens, killed me. He could have destroyed my body, but my soul escaped. And then, things happen one after another, eventually leading me to you."

Azrael felt his anger quiet for the first time as if he shared the pain with the devil.

Lucifer saw it instantly.

He stepped closer, softening his voice. "Azrael, both of us have faced injustice by those who pretend to be protectors. In my case, it was the Angels. And in your case, it was the hidden clan." His wings dimmed as he stared straight into Azrael's eyes. "We are more alike than you think, Azrael. We are fated to be together."

Azrael swallowed his saliva. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Lucifer continued, lower and smoother. "Listen, Kid. I am the only one who will help you. The only one who will never betray you or lie to you. Give me your faith… and I will give you power. Enough power to avenge your family."

Azrael's eyes trembled. "But… what about that man? The one who called himself the leader of the Death Clan? The one talking about timelines?"

Lucifer laughed softly. "It is just nonsense. All of it. Think rationally, Azrael."

He leaned closer, golden eyes piercing. "Why do you think the Death Clan wanted you dead?"

Azrael's breath caught. "What do you mean?"

Lucifer's smile widened, "You noticed it, didn't you?" he asked softly. "You and that man… You look the same."

Azrael's brows knitted, but he didn't deny it.

"And based on the life force in his body," Lucifer continued, pacing in a slow, graceful circle around him, "I estimate he is around nineteen years older than you."

Azrael stiffened. Nineteen years only? And yet a demigod?

Lucifer leaned closer, lowering his voice into a whisper. "So it is very possible that both of you are brothers… perhaps sharing one parent. Or both."

The words struck Azrael like a blow to the chest.

He opened his mouth to protest, but Lucifer kept going, weaving the most poisonous logic Azrael had ever heard, but also the most believable.

"If I must boldly assume," Lucifer said, "the parent you share might have cheated their spouse. And you were the result." His eyes glowed—with sympathy or manipulation, Azrael couldn't tell. "A scandal the clan would never accept."

Azrael's heart pounded.

"So they sent you away." Lucifer shrugged lightly. "Because you were a child born from adultery. A shame they didn't want inside their gates."

Azrael clenched his fists, knuckles whitening.

"But then… You awakened a celestial grade Arcana spirit," Lucifer added, "A celestial grade means you were guaranteed to atleast become a Supreme Being, and when they discovered your potential, they wanted you back."

Azrael froze, feeling like it was the truth.