My Soul card is a Reaper

The sky above the city darkened as Claire descended, her golden wings folding neatly behind her as she landed gracefully on the rooftop of Radiant Tower. She exhaled slowly, allowing her divine senses to expand across the cityscape. Within moments, her gaze snapped toward a specific point—Abaddon's location.

Her brows furrowed. Something was off.

With a single step, she blurred through the air, landing atop the tower where she found Abaddon, his once-mighty form now bound in chains, unconscious and unmoving. Divine energy radiated from the bindings, preventing any regeneration. Someone had defeated him—and not just anyone.

As she scanned the rooftop, her sharp eyes caught another presence. A lone figure stood before her.

He was clad in black, a mask covering the lower half of his face. Though his presence exuded an overwhelming divinity, it did not feel angelic. Instead, it carried an ancient authority, something far beyond what most celestial beings possessed.

Claire instinctively placed her hand on her sword's hilt. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The masked figure took a step forward, his voice smooth yet distant. "Earn the right to know."

Claire's eyes narrowed. She didn't waste time with words. She moved.

A flash of golden light streaked through the air as she lunged forward, aiming to strike before he could react. But the moment her blade came within inches of his body—

His hand caught her wrist.

A controlled grip. No pain, no struggle. Just overwhelming speed and precision.

In the next instant, Claire felt her body being thrown backward, but not with brute force—with exact precision. She landed on her feet several meters away, sliding against the rooftop tiles. Her breath hitched.

He had toyed with her.

"Who… are you?" Claire whispered under her breath, but she didn't wait for an answer.

She drew Agatha, her divine sword blessed by Archangel Michael himself, and her aura flared with celestial radiance.

"Let's see if you can keep that arrogance."

She attacked.

The Clash

Blades met in a violent burst of divine power.

Claire's Agatha struck down with enough force to shatter mountains, but the masked figure summoned a radiant blade of light and met her assault head-on.

Clang!

The impact sent shockwaves across the city, bending the air around them. The moment their weapons connected, Agatha—the divine sword—let out a shriek.

"Impossible," Agatha's spirit gasped. "That is—a Sword of Light!"

Claire's mind reeled. Only Olympian Gods wielded Swords of Light!

Her opponent… who was he truly?

Gritting her teeth, she leapt backward and steadied herself. "Whose apostle are you?" she demanded.

A slow smile formed beneath the mask.

"You are not yet qualified to know."

The words barely registered before he moved.

In an instant, he was in front of her. Faster than light. His sword lashed out, slashing downward.

Claire instinctively raised Agatha to block—

And then it happened.

A single strike. A clean, precise cut.

Agatha—Michael's Treasured Sword—split in half.

The divine spirit of Agatha let out a wail before vanishing into Claire's mindscape, severed from its physical form.

Claire's heart pounded. She barely managed to land on her feet, gripping the broken hilt of her weapon. He broke Agatha? No—he erased its connection to reality.

Her golden wings flared open, her breath uneven. "Who… the hell are you?"

The masked figure tilted his head. "Do you have any other tricks?"

Claire's fury ignited. Fine.

She raised her hand to the sky.

"Pillars of Heaven!"

From the heavens, six divine pillars descended, encircling her enemy. The moment they hit the ground, golden runes blazed, forming a barrier that even Seraphim would struggle to break.

Claire's breathing was heavy, but she smirked. "Let's see you escape from this."

But the masked man… simply smiled.

He raised his hand—

And summoned an hourglass.

The Sands of Time

Time froze.

The entire world stood still.

The divine pillars, the rooftop, even Claire herself—motionless.

Only he could move.

With unhurried steps, he walked forward, placing a hand on one of the pillars. He then raised **another weapon—**a massive, dark-bladed scythe.

With a single swing, the pillars shattered.

Time resumed.

Claire gasped as she felt the spell break. "What?!"

The masked figure stood before her, completely unharmed, the remains of the divine pillars turning into nothingness.

His voice was low, almost amused.

"You are not ready."

Claire stood there frozen, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. The masked warrior—the one who had shattered her divine weapon, the one who had defeated her so effortlessly—was standing right before her. Her eyes darted left and right, looking at the hourglass and the death scythe.

She already knew who it was.

And then, he removed his mask.

The moment she saw his face, a jolt shot through her entire being. Her throat tightened, her breath hitched, and her golden eyes widened. She parted her lips, barely able to whisper the name that surfaced from the depths of her memories.

"Azzy!"

Azzy gazed at her, his expression unreadable, his deep eyes reflecting emotions she couldn't quite grasp. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable weight behind it.

"It's been a while, Claire." His voice carried years of longing, of pain, of countless hardships endured just to see her again. "And I have some questions for you."

Claire took a deep breath, gathering herself. The trembling in her hands subsided as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, her gaze was cold.

"There's nothing to talk about, Azzy," she said. Her voice was firm, but there was something beneath it—something hidden, something she wasn't willing to acknowledge.

Azzy's expression darkened slightly. "Nothing?"

She exhaled sharply. "We were together for barely a year and a half. Then you left. More than three decades passed, Gaia's time." She looked at him, her golden wings spreading slightly, as if creating distance. "I found my destiny. Our paths no longer align. It's as simple as that."

Azzy's fingers clenched slightly.

Simple?

The sheer absurdity of that statement made something inside him snap.

"As simple as that?" He took a step closer, his divine aura pressing against hers, the intensity of his emotions spilling into his voice. "Do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed just to find you? How much I've endured? How many worlds had I had to infiltrate? How many years have I spent waiting for the right opportunity?"

Claire remained silent, her eyes unreadable.

Azzy continued, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered intensity.

"I left my family. I left my village. I abandoned my world." He exhaled, his gaze unrelenting. "*I crossed entire dimensions. I fought gods, demons, beings beyond comprehension. I was stranded in this forsaken world, all while tracking down a Fallen Angel—all in the hopes that it would lead me to you."

He paused, his next words slow and deliberate.

"And now, after everything, after all the blood and sweat I spilled, you tell me you just… 'moved on'?" His jaw tightened. "You tell me you no longer love me, and that's just it? Do you want me to just take that simple statement as it?"

Claire's gaze faltered for a fraction of a second—so quick that even Azzy almost missed it.

But he saw it.

A flicker of hesitation. A shadow of something buried deep beneath her cold demeanor.

She closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them, her expression turning unreadable again.

"Yes, Azzy," she said, her voice softer this time. "It is as simple as that."