My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 968: The Battle Puppet

For months now, the Death Clan members had whispered about the restricted zones Azzy had marked around their new territory.

On the map, they were labeled politely as "guest manors," but everyone knew they were forbidden regions. Entire areas were sealed under powerful enchantments that even the elders dared not probe. Azzy had overseen the construction of mansions in those lands, and one of them was sealed under a barrier so dense that even Supreme Beings hesitated to draw near.

Now, stepping through those territories alone, Azzy passed through the triple-layered barrier with ease, each layer parting for him like calm water around a stone.

The moment he stepped through the final shield, he entered through the gates of the mansion that stood at the heart of the forbidden zone.

He approached the entrance walkway, boots pressing into the immaculate stone path. Before he touched the steps, the doors of the mansion opened on their own.

Azzy stepped inside.

The living room was filled with shifting golden light.

Qridus, his ancestor and the former clan head, sat in deep meditation at the center of the room. Sigils, the color of starlight, rotated slowly around him, glowing in rhythmic pulses.

Seated not far from him was Devorah, the founder's living daughter and currently the oldest mortal still alive in the world, a demigod who lived more than a hundred thousand years despite only being a demigod. She was watching the sigils with sharp concentration, occasionally flicking her hand to adjust one of the floating symbols.

Both of them froze the moment they sensed his arrival.

Qridus opened his eyes and smiled warmly. "Azrael."

Azzy stepped forward, his tone respectful but threaded with concern. "Ancestor… what's happening?"

Before Qridus could speak, Devorah answered instead, her gaze sharp and assessing as always. "We are splitting his soul orb."

Azzy blinked. "Splitting… his soul orb? Why?"

Devorah lifted her hand, the golden sigils rearranging themselves in a smooth, practiced wave. "A demigod has too many restrictions, Azrael. Your ancestor has been feeling useless lately, with nothing to do. He wished for a way to contribute without violating divine law. So, I am assisting him in creating a battle puppet."

Azzy raised a brow. "Battle puppet?"

Devorah nodded. "You can say it is the same, but also different from an avatar. An avatar splits your soul or creates a new identity, and its destruction often causes a heavy backlash. A battle puppet, however, is more akin to an Arcana spirit. Instead of dividing your soul, you infuse a form with your soul energy alone. The puppet acts as your extension—able to fight, move, follow orders, and protect your clan—yet its destruction poses no threat to your body."

"So," Azzy murmured, "he's trying to create a vessel that can fight in his place."

"Exactly," Devorah said. "A battle puppet that inherits a fraction of his strength—enough to be devastating, yet not enough to break divine rules. It will obey commands, follow orders, and act as a representative on the battlefield."

Qridus exhaled slowly as one of the golden sigils expanded into a ring of light encircling his chest.

Azzy studied the swirling golden sigils around Qridus with genuine curiosity, but his mind was already dissecting the implications. A battle puppet sounded useful on paper, but in practice… it raised many questions. So he asked the most important one.

"Are there any demerits?" he said, folding his arms.

Devorah didn't hesitate. She nodded once, firmly. "Of course. Every technique has a price."

Azzy raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"A battle puppet," Devorah explained, "cannot recover its own soul energy. Once depleted, it becomes useless until its master pours energy back into its core."

Azzy hummed thoughtfully. Devorah continued, lifting another sigil with a flick of her wrist as she spoke.

"If you possess any artifact that can autonomously absorb natural energy and store it, the puppet will last longer. But without such assistance… it becomes a constant drain."

She tapped her fingers together. "There is also the matter of distance. A battle puppet cannot stray too far from its master. It is bound to your soul energy. The farther it goes, the weaker it becomes."

Azzy frowned. "How far are we talking?" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Devorah explained, "It is fine in the same world. You can practice operating your battle puppet anywhere in the world, but it only works in the same dimension. Let's say... If you remain here and your puppet somehow ends up on Gaia or in some pocket dimension, it will become a corpse. You had to search for your battle puppet and reactivate it. Worse, a skilled energy manipulator could refine the weakened puppet and turn it into their servant if they find the puppet before you. So, that's the risk you have to take..."

Azzy's expression shifted at that. Battle puppets sounded powerful, but incredibly risky.

"And one more thing," Devorah added. "A battle puppet cannot possess elemental affinities or Arcana spirits. They are extensions, not independent warriors. But they can wield weapons, artifacts, or tools just as any warrior could."

Azzy rubbed his temple. "Then why bother creating one? What's the point if it's so limited?"

Qridus actually chuckled—a soft, amused sound that filled the room with warmth. "You are strong and wise," he said fondly, "yet sometimes you forget to look from another perspective."

Azzy blinked at him.

"I am a demigod, Azrael. My well of soul energy is vast. Even if I sacrifice ten percent of it, I can create a battle puppet equal in strength to a Supreme Realm warrior. And I would still remain a demigod afterward."

Azzy paused… then exhaled slowly, acknowledging the point.

Right. When a demigod pours power into something, the result is never small.

"I see… I got it… But I would prefer controlling my undead army..."

Devorah didn't respond to his comment and continued guiding Qridus' sigils as she asked, "So, what brings you here anyway?"

Azzy straightened. His expression shifted into something more serious—unease mixed with caution.

"Yes," he said quietly. "There's something I need to show you both."

He explained everything from the dream—the battle with Eros, the intrusive force that pulled him back into it, and the strange moment his consciousness slipped without permission.

Then he described what he saw in his mindscape: the irregular black mass suspended like a living anomaly, the surge of primordial death energy, and the illusion that revealed multiple similar masses drifting in a void.

By the time he finished, Devorah was no longer calm. Her brows were furrowed deeply, and Qridus' eyes had grown sharp with concern.

"A new… thing being born inside your mindscape?" Devorah murmured, voice tense. "And your soul weapons orbiting it?"

Azzy nodded once.

Devorah exchanged a look with Qridus, then back at Azzy. "Show us."

Azzy lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs. He extended both arms, palms facing outward.

His right palm reached toward Qridus.

His left toward Devorah.

Both ancients placed their hands over his, completing the connection.

A faint pulse of energy rippled outward as Azzy closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink deeper.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Let me take you into my mindscape."

The world shifted around them in a single heartbeat. The warm glow of the mansion vanished, replaced by a chilling wind and the distant echo of something ancient and restless.

Qridus, Devorah, and Azzy opened their eyes at the same time—now standing upon a vast, jagged cliff overlooking an expanse that seemed to stretch into infinity.

It was their first time inside Azzy's mindscape.

They quietly absorbed the view—an inner world more like a realm of the dead than a reflection of a living man's mind. Far below the cliff, an endless barren wasteland writhed with movement. Countless undead beasts roamed the barren lands.

Up in the sky floated two distinct islands—one bathed in a dim green aura, the other in cold silver light. Qridus and Devorah instantly sensed the presence of Arcana spirits residing in each.

The wind on the cliff carried the scent of ancient dust and cold steel. And there, near the edge of the cliff, hung the anomaly that had brought them here.

A black irregular mass floated in midair like a malformed star. It pulsed faintly, contracting and expanding as if breathing. The death hourglass and the Reaper's scythe orbited it slowly, drawn in like planets circling a dangerous sun.

Devorah stepped forward first, her eyes widening as she took everything in. "I did not expect your mindscape to be this… large," she whispered. "This is not the mindscape of an ordinary demigod."

Qridus walked beside her, gaze locked on the floating mass. "So," he asked calmly, "this is what concerns you?"

Azzy nodded. "Yes. This thing appeared suddenly. And the dreams started right after."

Before Qridus could speak, Devorah let out a small gasp—almost amused, almost horrified. "You absorbed the Reaper, didn't you?"

Azzy let out a resigned breath. "Yes. That is how I became a demigod. I absorbed the Reaper's essence when my vessel couldn't hold it."

Qridus did not share Devorah's reaction. Instead, his brows knitted tightly, his jaw stiffening as he observed the swirling black core. "I'm less worried about the past Reaper," he said slowly, "and more worried about that."