My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1043: Dreams of the Past: The Triplets fight with Aurelius (Part-4)

His coat sleeve had been cut.

A thin line of blood ran down his forearm.

It wasn't a serious wound.

But it was proof.

The Reaper could harm him.

The audience's breath caught.

Raphael's eyes narrowed, and something unreadable flickered in his expression.

Aurelius looked down at the blood, then back at the Reaper, and his voice was calm, but it carried something heavier than before.

"Good," he said quietly. "Now I can stop pretending this is a lesson."

The Reaper didn't answer.

It raised its hand again, and the remaining undead shifted formation, circling Aurelius like wolves around a lion. Some launched soul skills immediately, spears of cursed flame and black lightning ripping through the air, while others reinforced their bodies with dark armor, their spirit cores glowing brighter.

Aurelius moved through them like a storm given flesh, his fists breaking skulls, his palms shattering ribs, his simple energy bursts erasing attacks mid-flight.

But this time, the Reaper joined the battlefield directly.

It stepped in with the scythe, its cloak flaring, and every swing carried death energy sharp enough to rot stone. Aurelius dodged the first strike by twisting his torso, but the scythe still grazed his shoulder, and the fabric of his coat decayed instantly where the blade passed, turning brittle and falling away like ash.

Aurelius' eyes narrowed.

His fist shot forward.

The Reaper shifted, the Hourglass pulsing, and time froze around it for a heartbeat, just long enough for Aurelius's punch to pass through empty air.

Then the Reaper reappeared behind Aurelius.

The scythe came down.

Aurelius turned at the last moment, raising his forearm, and the blade slammed against his arm with a shriek of death energy.

The impact sent a shockwave outward.

Aurelius' feet sank slightly into the ground.

The Reaper's cloak fluttered violently.

Then Aurelius grabbed the scythe's handle.

For the first time, someone other than Rael touched the Death Scythe without immediately recoiling.

The spectators' eyes widened.

The Reaper's aura surged.

Death energy crawled up Aurelius' hand like poison.

Aurelius' expression tightened slightly, and he released a pulse of demigod energy that shattered the death aura clinging to his skin, then he twisted, yanking the scythe forward to pull the Reaper off balance.

The Reaper let go instantly, its body flowing backward, and the Hourglass in its left hand flashed.

Time Reduction.

The world slowed.

Aurelius' movement became clearer, his muscle shifts visible, his breathing readable, and in that slowed world, the Reaper moved like a ghost. It grabbed the scythe again mid-air, spun, and launched a diagonal slash that cut across the battlefield.

The slash didn't aim for Aurelius.

It aimed for the ground beneath him.

The earth split.

Black mist surged.

Hands emerged again, skeletal and cursed, reaching upward in dozens, trying to bind Aurelius' legs and drag him down.

At the same time, the undead launched a combined assault, their soul skills converging into one massive wave of destruction, cursed flames and bone spears and spectral chains crashing toward Aurelius from every direction.

For the first time, Aurelius took a step back.

Not because he was afraid.

Because he acknowledged the threat.

He raised his palm, releasing a wide burst of energy that erased half the incoming attacks, then he stomped down, shattering the cursed hands beneath him, but the remaining undead continued their assault, forcing him to keep moving.

The Reaper used that opening.

It blurred forward, time freezing for a heartbeat, and the scythe thrust toward Aurelius' heart.

Aurelius twisted.

The blade missed by a fraction.

But the death energy still grazed his chest.

His skin darkened where it touched, the wound not bleeding normally, but releasing a faint black smoke like life itself had been scraped away.

Aurelius' eyes narrowed sharply.

Now the air around him changed.

The spectators felt it instantly.

This was no longer a demigod holding back.

This was Aurelius Garcia beginning to awaken his true pressure.

The Reaper's aura flared in response, and its voice echoed again, distorted but steady.

"We won't lose," it said.

Aurelius' gaze sharpened. "You already have," he replied.

He moved.

The next moment, he was inside the undead formation.

Not stepping.

Appearing.

His fist struck one undead's skull and shattered it, then his elbow crushed another's chest core, then his palm released a focused blast that pierced straight through three undead in a line, destroying their spirit cores simultaneously.

The arena erupted into chaos.

Undead bodies exploded into mist and fragments.

Spirit cores shattered like glass.

The Reaper swung its scythe to intercept him, but Aurelius caught the blade with his bare hand, the death energy crawling up his arm again.

He grimaced.

Not from pain.

From annoyance.

Then he released a burst of power.

A pure demigod wave.

The Reaper's body was blasted backward, sliding across the ground, its cloak tearing into black fragments that reformed again like smoke.

The Hourglass pulsed.

Time froze for a heartbeat.

The Reaper vanished.

Then it reappeared above Aurelius, scythe raised, death energy condensed into a single perfect line meant to split the world.

Aurelius looked up.

And he smiled faintly.

Not warmly.

Not proudly.

But like a warrior who finally found something interesting.

His aura erupted. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The spectators' knees buckled.

Several knights were forced to kneel instinctively, their bodies refusing to remain standing under the pressure.

Raphael's eyes widened as he felt it.

That pressure.

That rank.

Aurelius' power rose sharply, and the air screamed as if reality itself was being crushed.

Rank Nine.

The demigod's true strength.

Aurelius raised his fist.

He punched upward.

The punch collided with the scythe slash.

For a moment, death energy and demigod force clashed like two worlds colliding, black mist and golden arcana exploding outward in a spiral that tore apart the arena.

Then the death slash shattered.

The Reaper was sent flying, crashing into the ground hard enough to create a crater.

Aurelius didn't stop.

He extended his hand.

A single concentrated blast of energy erupted from his palm, sweeping across the battlefield like a divine wave.

The remaining undead were erased.

Not destroyed.

Erased.

Their spirit cores shattered instantly, their bodies dissolving into nothingness as if they had never existed.

Fourteen Rank Seven undead.

Gone.

The spectators stared in horror.

Even the noble attendants, who had seen arcana battles before, looked pale, because this was not a duel anymore.

This was a god showing his true weight.

The Reaper rose slowly from the crater, its cloak reforming, its scythe trembling slightly, the Hourglass glowing as if it was screaming under strain.

Its voice echoed again, layered with Rael and Eon's stubbornness.

"Again," it growled.

Aurelius' eyes narrowed.

"No," he said calmly. "Enough."

He raised both hands.

A sphere of golden energy formed between his palms, bright and dense, like a miniature sun being compressed into a weapon.

The spectators' eyes burned just looking at it.

Then Aurelius thrust forward.

The blast erupted.

A beam of pure demigod force struck the Reaper head-on.

The Grim Reaper's cloak exploded into fragments, its scythe flew out of its grasp, the Hourglass spun through the air, and the fusion body was launched backward like a comet, tearing across the arena and smashing into the far end with a thunderous impact.

The ground shook.

Dust exploded.

Silence followed.

For a moment, the world held its breath.

Then, from the cloud of dust, two figures were blasted out separately, their fusion broken by the sheer force.

Rael.

Eon.

They flew backward, bodies spinning, blood trailing from their mouths, their eyes wide with shock and exhaustion, their limbs trembling as if their bones had been shaken loose.

The spectators gasped.

Aurelius lowered his hands slowly, his breathing steady, his expression calm again, though his eyes remained sharp.

"You did well," he said, his voice carrying clearly. "You surpassed my expectations. But this is where it ends."

Rael's body twisted mid-air, his eyes wide, and Eon's fingers reached out instinctively toward him, their hands stretching toward each other again, desperate to fuse, desperate to refuse defeat.

But before they could touch…

The ground erupted.

A massive hand rose from the earth, not skeletal, not cursed, but formed from dense arcana energy, solid and overwhelming, and it caught them both like a giant palm catching falling birds.

Rael and Eon slammed into it, trapped instantly.

Their eyes widened in disbelief.

The hand tightened.

Not crushing them, but holding them firmly, preventing movement, preventing fusion.

Rael's head snapped upward.

Eon's breath caught.

And there, standing at the center of the battlefield, was Raphael.

He had risen.

His injuries were gone.

Blood was gone.

Bruises were gone.

His body was covered in a radiant divine glow, a pure light wrapping around him like a cloak of stars, and his Zodiac spirit hovered behind him, no longer flickering weakly but shining with terrifying clarity, as if it had been purified.

Raphael's eyes were cold.

But there was something new in them.

Resolve.

His gaze locked onto Aurelius.

The giant hand holding Rael and Eon remained steady, controlled with absolute precision, and Raphael's voice finally broke the silence, low and firm, carrying across the ruined training grounds like a vow.

"Father," he said, "I think… It's enough."