My Soul card is a Reaper

Uriel nodded solemnly, the words hanging heavy between them. "Just like Claire and Celeste were the personifications of the Jewel of Light, your soul is the personification of the Jewel of Death. You carry the primordial death energy, which has the potential to erase any being from existence—even the Supreme Angel."

Azzy went awfully silent and murmured, looking down at his feet "I'm the Angel of… Death?"

"You have three Seraphic months," Uriel said, his voice as firm as a stone, not intending to care about what Azzy was going through. "Exactly three months from now—one Earth year—Claire will attempt to absorb all the pillars of heaven. Once she succeeds, she will become a transcendent being—an Archangel. But then the merge will be complete. The Supreme Angel will be reborn, and chaos will reign."

Azzy stayed silent and he still couldn't get out of the shock about his own existence.

"If you fail to stop her," Uriel continued, "Claire will either be killed by the Archangels or cease to exist entirely. The other Archangels won't take that risk. They can only wait for a while, on my word. Remember, you only have 3 Seraphic months. I recommend you to breakthrough to the ascendant realm, just in case."

Azzy watched as Uriel faded into the shadows, his form disappearing into nothingness, leaving him alone in the quiet, empty space. His mind was still spinning from the revelations, his thoughts like scattered shards of glass—sharply fragmented, impossible to grasp.

For a long moment, Azzy remained frozen, trying to process everything Uriel had just told him. The weight of it all seemed too much, too overwhelming to fully comprehend.

His voice shook as he muttered to the air, almost as if hoping that Uriel was trying to fool him. "Chronos... is this true?"

There was a brief silence before a familiar, cold voice echoed in his mind.

"Yes," the Reaper replied simply, the voice as neutral as ever.

Azzy stumbled backward, his heart racing. Suddenly, everything clicked—everything he had experienced, every strange moment in his life.

Why had the Reaper chosen him as the successor to Death?

Why had his future self warned him not to trust the Reaper?

Why had the Reaper kept so many secrets from him?

Why is it almost impossible for a normal human to be able to bond with a cosmic jewel but he had been able to bond with three cosmic jewels without a single issue?

Why had he been able to handle a sword of light, something that should have been far beyond his reach?

And then there was the Guardian God, who had taken him on as a disciple... and Gaia, who had supported him in ways he could never understand.

All this while, he wondered whether he was not ready to hear the answers from the Reaper. When he is ready, the Reaper will tell him. But now that he got his answers, it made him realize why the Reaper kept these things from him.

He was the Angel of Death. His soul, the very embodiment of the Jewel of Death—also created by Michael as a vessel for their Supreme Angel, and now, he is being used by the Reaper to dethrone Thanatos.

Azzy's breath became shallow as the weight of the realization pressed down on him like a crushing force. His heart thudded loudly in his chest. His head swam with a thousand thoughts, all colliding at once.

"This… this is too much," Azzy whispered, his voice breaking. His hands trembled as he grabbed his head, his vision blurring as the digested truth overwhelmed him.

"I… I can't…" His chest tightened, and his breath hitched in panic. His vision flickered, the world spinning around him in dizzying circles. The room seemed to constrict, the air thinning as if the weight of the truth was suffocating him.

Suddenly, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground. His heart raced, his breath came in ragged gasps, but it was no use. The truth, the overwhelming flood of knowledge, was too much for him to bear.

Everything blurred, his mind fading into darkness as he fainted, the last thing he heard being the distant whisper of the Reaper's voice in his mind.

"Rest, Azrael. You'll need your strength."

Many hours later;

Azzy slowly stirred, blinking as his mind began to clear.

The dim light of the room filtered through the curtains, and his senses gradually returned to him. His head was pounding, and he felt strangely disoriented. As his vision sharpened, he realized he was lying on their bed.

Leiza was sitting beside him, her hand resting gently on his forehead. She looked worried, her brows furrowed with concern. The moment she noticed him wake up, her eyes softened, relief flooding her expression.

"Rael…" she whispered, her voice tinged with worry. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Azzy took a deep breath, still feeling the weight of the revelation that had nearly broken him. He turned to face her, his heart heavy with everything he had learned.

"I… I'm sorry, Leiza," Azzy began, his voice shaky as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn't mean to worry you. I learned some things from a visitor…" His gaze dropped to his hands as if he could somehow make sense of everything by looking at them. "Things about Claire... and about myself."

Leiza's expression grew more serious, and silence stretched between them as she waited for him to explain.

"Claire is in deep trouble." Azzy continued, his voice quiet but steady. "And it seems only my powers of death can help her."

Leiza's eyes widened as she processed what he was saying. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but she remained silent, watching him intently.

"I'm sorry," Azzy added, his voice thick with affection. "But there's something I need you to understand. While it's true that Claire may have her reasons for breaking up with me… I don't want to get back together with her. I've moved on, Leiza. You… you are the love of my life now."

Azzy reached for her, his hand gently cupping her face as he looked into her eyes with unwavering sincerity. "You're the one I want in my future."

Leiza stayed quiet, her expression unreadable, her eyes searching his. It was clear she wasn't entirely convinced by his words, and her doubts hung in the air like a heavy fog.