Timeless AssassinC451: First Blood
Chapter 451: First Blood
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, The Battlefield, Leo's POV)
Once Veyr activated [Parallel Processing] and began fighting fire with fire, Leo once again found himself being pushed onto the backfoot, as he realized with growing dread that he no longer had the means to take this fight head on.
'He's too fast... too precise...'
'There are no obvious flaws in his fighting style. Everything from his striking balance to his footwork is elite.'
'He's a pure fighter, with instincts no worse than my own...'
'I can't win this head on... I'm completely outclassed here,' Leo admitted to himself, the confession landing like a punch to the gut, not because he feared losing, but because his pride could not accept the fact that he was the weaker fighter in this bout.
'If I can't win head on, then the only other option is to resort to tricks and experience....' Leo thought, as after blocking Veyr's latest attack, he stepped back instead of pushing forward, creating a small separation between them both.
[Mirror World]
[Vanish]
[StormFlash Traverse]
[Astral Hook Bind]
Leo activated four skills in seamless succession, starting with [Mirror World] to create a dozen clones and cloud Veyr's field of view, overloading his spatial judgment, before instantly following it up with [Vanish] to slip out of reality's grip, severing his presence entirely from both the eye and Veyr's senses.
His true body, now unseen and unreadable, pivoted sharply through the veil of chaos, casting out [Astral Hook Bind] to latch onto Veyr's form and limit his lateral movement, before coupling it with [StormFlash Traverse] to launch himself forward in a precise, high-speed line of attack, aiming to reach Veyr's blind spot and land a clean blow while Veyr's processing power was still catching up.
This was a maneuver he had come up after sparring countless times with Dumpy and Charles.
As of all the moves in his disposal, only these four when used in succession, usually gave him the best odds of landing a blow.
To his relief, the plan worked perfectly, as Veyr faltered..... not visibly, not foolishly, but subtly, in the smallest of hesitations that would have gone unnoticed by most, but to Leo, it was the stutter he had been praying for, the crack in composure caused not by panic but by precise sensory overload, as the sheer input of conflicting data interrupted his flow and allowed just enough room for Leo to land a strike.
*SLASH*
Leo's dagger lashed out, and a clean, thin line of red blossomed across Veyr's cheek.
It happened in the blink of an eye, the entire sequence barely spanning a second, as although Veyr reacted in time to angle his head away from the attack and avoid a critical hit to his throat, what he failed to achieve was a completely clean dodge, as by the end, his cheek was still sliced open.
"WHAT? IT'S SKYSHARD WHO DRAWS THE FIRST BLOOD!" Dana's voice cracked over the stadium speakers, incredulous and struggling to reconcile the outcome with what had seemed like a completely one-sided affair only moments earlier.
"What a combo by the Grandmaster... the speed, the execution, the strategic layering... it allowed him to breach the defenses of a Transcendent Tier opponent! Leo showing the entire Cult that he's not just here to block—" Joe added, his tone respectful.
"Although the cut is shallow, just the fact that he landed a blow is a victory in itself. Take a bow in front of this generational talent." Dana finished, as a massive cheer rose from the audience.
*ROAR*
*CHEER*
The collective sounds of the cheering audience rolled through the arena like a storm, not because they had sworn allegiance to Leo, nor because they detested Veyr, but simply because they had seen something in Leo's unexpected counter-attack that stirred within them an intense emotion.
"Yeah, Get in there Leo! Show him why the elders nominated you!"
"You can do this! You can take him down!"
"Don't lose hope! We are with you!"
The crowd began to cheer Leo, as although they did not have any particular bias towards him, just the fact that he was the weaker fighter and the underdog in this fight, managed to bring him more support than Veyr.
After seeing him struggle, many in the audience began to self project, as they placed themselves in Leo's shoes and began to pray that he overcame the odds and wrote a success story for the ages.
They didn't know why they felt this unsaid connection with Leo.
But they simply did.
As what started as a fairly neutral crowd, slowly stirred towards Leo now with every passing second.
"Ha— Hahahaha" Veyr chuckled when he touched the red of his own blood, as he refused to believe that he had been cut by a weaker fighter.
"What a sneaky little trick.... I did not expect you to be such a rat, Cuz. You fight like a scared bitch!" Veyr retorted, as he grabbed the handle of his one handed sword tightly with both hands and began channeling an incredible amount of mana through his body.
"You did well to injure me, but unfortunately for you, this shallow cut has taken away any hope of mercy that you may have received from me, as from this moment onwards I'm truly aiming to split your body in two—" Veyr declared, as the killing aura violently expanded around his body, growing from just five feet wide seconds ago, to fifteen feet wide now, as Leo felt the cold pressure of Veyr's killing intent press down on his skin.
'Do it.... Unleash your strongest move and waste tonnes of mana— I can block it no problem,' Leo thought internally, as having full faith in the strength of his necklace and his defensive move [Celestial Veil], he did not interrupt Veyr while he gathered his power, and instead simply braced for impact.
"Letting me gather my strength? That's a big fucking mistake—" Veyr said coldly, as a breath later, he exploded forward with blinding speed, unleashing his most powerful attack, the [Final Slash].
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*BOOM*
The instant Veyr vanished, Leo's heart skipped a beat.
The very air around him warped from the sheer pressure of compressed mana, as a blinding silver arc erupted toward him from the distance, tearing across the battlefield like a blade forged from the wrath of heaven itself.
'That's it... he's using it—'
[Final Slash]
'I can take this on, right?'
Leo questioned himself, as the attack came at him with an incredible strength that he did not expect from an opponent only a single tier higher than him.
[Celestial Veil]
Leo's fingers clenched instinctively, as his breath sharpened.
An invisible shimmer flared to life around his body, forming a dome of translucent armor that glowed with powerful energy.
*KABOOM*
The moment Veyr's slash connected, the impact was deafening.
The entire arena shook as Leo was consumed in a silvery storm, the crowd gasping as dust and debris kicked up around the epicenter of the collision.
His [Celestial Veil] held strong at first, its radiant surface absorbing the brunt of the energy with an almost arrogant confidence.
But then, fractures began to form.
Tiny at first.
Hairline, splinter-thin.
Then wider.
And wider.
And wider still.
'Well fuck, this is undoubtedly the strongest attack I've ever faced—' Leo gritted his teeth as his knees bent under the pressure. 'The barrier won't hold...'
*SHATTER*
The barrier exploded in a brilliant burst of energy, shards of mana scattering in every direction like broken glass, as the lingering edge of [Final Slash] surged forward, hungry and unrelenting.
From across the field, Veyr's eyes gleamed.
He saw the shield break.
He saw Leo defenseless.
He saw victory.
His lips curled with manic excitement. "It's over!"
As above the arena, in the VIP stands, the Fourth Elder also mirrored the same emotion.
"It's over.... I've seen the boy split entire mountains with this move, Skyshard is going to be torn in half—" The Fourth Elder said, as he leaned forward and gripped the arena railing with excitement, ready to jump into the battlefield and celebrate with Veyr once the fight was over.
Only to be stunned, when the silver light did not pierce Leo's chest.
As at that moment, his smile froze.
Somehow, Veyr's most powerful attack did not slice open Leo's skull or sever his limbs.
Instead—
*CLANG*
A flash of white light rippled across Leo's collarbone as his indestructible necklace reacted, activating its hidden function.
The necklace cast a hardened shield of indestructible metal around his upper torso like a second skin, as despite the attack's best efforts, it failed to penetrate through the divine metal.
In the end, the remnant wave of [Final Slash] was stopped dead in its tracks, unable to land a scratch on Leo.
Nor form a dent in his armor.
.
.
.
The dust slowly settled.
The light dimmed.
The audience sat frozen in stunned disbelief.
Veyr blinked twice, confusion blooming across his face as the weight of the scene fully sank in. "No. That's not... you shouldn't be..."
His fists clenched.
His anger flared.
"You should be down on the floor choking on your own blood, what the fuck did you use to stop that? What is that liquid metal travelling across your body? Referee, is that even legal?" he asked Max, who only nodded in approval, that it was indeed legal, as Veyr let out a frustrated sigh.
*Sigh*
"More tricks Cuz, Disgusting fucking tricks.... I had nothing against you coming into this fight, but I can't help but hate the way you fight," Veyr said, as Leo didn't answer immediately.
He just exhaled.
His skin was drenched in sweat. His arms ached. His knees still shook from absorbing the brunt of the attack, but he was alive, and still very much in this fight.
'That was too close... The attack could have easily shattered my collarbone with how strong it was.
Thankfully I reduced its force using [Celestial Veil] or else I'd be toast.'
His eyes narrowed as he raised his gaze toward Veyr.
"You seem disappointed," Leo said at last, his voice calm, though there was a slight rasp in it.
"But they seem to love it." He said, as he pointed towards the crowd, who erupted in cheers.
*UPROAR*
The shockwave of noise slammed into the stadium walls, louder than before, as thousands of spectators jumped to their feet, shouting in disbelief and awe.
"WAYY TO GO SKYSHARD!"
"WHAT A FIGHT! MORE! SHOW US MORE!"
"How did Skyshard block that move?"
Even the commentators were at a loss.
"I—uh—Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm struggling to process what just happened," Dana stammered, eyes wide.
"That... that was [Final Slash], a move ranked as one of the strongest offensive attacks within the Cult's inventory, and Leo somehow survived it unharmed.
By Lord, what is this kid made of?" Joe added, voice hushed in disbelief.
Veyr stared at Leo with wide, bloodshot eyes, his breathing ragged, heart pounding like a war drum.
That attack was supposed to be his ultimate move, his finishing strike, the fruit of a month of relentless training, but now it was ruined.
He had poured everything into that blow, and yet Leo still stood.
Still alive.
Still fighting.
And worst of all... he looked calm.
"Well, I've got to give it to you, when I came into this fight, I did not expect you to last so long against me.
But now that you are.... I can't help but feel absolutely delighted!
Hahaha .... This is how it's supposed to be.
Come on Cuz, show me what else you got!" Veyr said, as he clapped his chest with his free hand and encouraged Leo to keep pulling such moves.
A weaker willed opponent would have mentally crumbled when facing an opponent as frustrating as Leo.
However, Veyr was not a weak man.
Arrogant as he was, he wasn't a coward, nor someone that shied away from a fight, and hence when Leo proved to be a worthy opponent, he was the first one to be glad.
Timeless AssassinC453: A Risky Choice
Chapter 453: A Risky Choice
"This match between Aegon Veyr and Leo Skyshard is heating up nicely now. Both candidates are showing the entire Cult as to why they're worthy of becoming the next Dragon, however, unfortunately, only one of them can," Joe said, as once the tempo of the match cooled down slightly, he took the opportunity to remind the audience of the stakes that this bout carried.
"Nobody expected Leo Skyshard to come this far, however, now that he's here, nobody knows what to expect of him anymore. The guy is truly full of surprises..." Dana added, as the action resumed between Leo and Veyr once more.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
Veyr pressed forward with utmost focus now, no longer daring to underestimate Leo or attempting to end the fight prematurely, as he finally began to approach this bout with the seriousness it truly deserved.
His breathing had grown slightly ragged, and while it did not drastically affect his speed or power, having just unleashed the [Final Slash], he still felt the subtle after effects of that move lingering within his body, which made it slightly harder for him to move fluidly.
On the other side, Leo understood that despite the handful of small victories he'd carved out during the battle, he was once again back at square zero.
When it came to pure combat skill and the ability to push Veyr back through sheer class, he simply did not possess the strength required to pull that off.
And so, before long, he found himself once again being driven onto the backfoot, with Veyr growing increasingly closer to landing a clean cut.
'I can't use that same combination again. Veyr will read right through it. And I don't have any other synergy-based combinations that worked consistently against fighters like Charles or Dumpy.
There are a few things I can try, but they're nothing more than desperate shots in the dark, with success probabilities lower than fifteen percent,' Leo analysed, as his heart began to pound harder in his chest.
He was approaching his limit, nearing the edge of his composure, standing at the precipice of a critical decision.
At this point, he could either continue fighting as he was, relying on his necklace to bolster his defense, while mixing up his attack patterns and throwing in the occasional odd combination of skills to push Veyr back.
But even though such moves could impress the crowd or buy him a few lucky strikes, Leo knew that none of them had the power to finish the fight.
Going down that road meant saving face, but also meant walking straight into the jaws of inevitable defeat when exhaustion finally robbed him of his footing.
The only other option was to wager everything on unlocking intent, and abandoning the mental chains still weighing him down.
It was a plan that could fail spectacularly, collapsing his momentum and leaving him vulnerable to being finished within ten moves.
Or, it could open the road to a proper victory.
So after asking his heart what it truly wanted, Leo made his decision.
He would put it all on the line, and take the riskier path.
'Fuck it... if I lose, I lose... but at least I'll know I did everything I could to win. I can live with that,' Leo decided, as for the first time, he stopped defending with angled slashes that minimized his exposure, and instead shifted his feet apart into a wide, grounded stance—planting himself fully as he braced to take on everything Veyr could throw his way, without dodging.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*SLASH*
Almost immediately within 3 seconds of him opening up his stance, he received the first cut of the fight on his left forearm, as a thin slice tore his skin just beside his arm guard.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*PUSH*
Leo staggered backwards, unable to hold onto his balance, as he left himself quite vulnerable to an aggressive Veyr who suddenly smelled blood.
'Come on... Come on...'
Leo thought internally, as he prayed for the faint wisps of red connecting him to Veyr to finally take a permanent form, as the battle raged on around him at a pace where his reactions could barely keep up.
*SLASH*
Another cut.
This time across his right thigh, not deep enough to hinder movement, but sharp enough to sting, as warmth trickled down his leg in a slow, mocking drip.
*CLANG*
Leo gritted his teeth, barely raising his blade in time to catch Veyr's follow-up, the sheer weight behind the strike pushing him back another step, his footing disrupted, his balance frayed.
'Come on... damn it, come on...'
He could see them—those elusive threads of crimson, flickering faintly like smoke on the edge of his vision, trailing from Veyr's body, connecting back toward his own like unfinished sketches yearning for clarity.
But they refused to solidify.
They danced just out of reach, taunting him.
'I'm close. I know I am. The strands are forming... they just won't stay. Why? What am I missing?'
*BLOCK*
His left shoulder seared with pain as Veyr's blade collided against the indestructible necklace.
Naturally, it failed to cut through, however, the sheer force of the strike still sent a shockwave down his body that was very painful to bear.
'Gah–'
Despite the pain, he neither screamed nor grunted.
He just held his ground, body swaying but never falling, never retreating, as his breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling like a bellows wheezing against the heat of war.
'Can't dodge. Can't back off. That's not how I will unlock intent. I need to face it head on. Feel it. Embrace it. That's the only way I can break through.'
He stared ahead at Veyr, who now looked equal parts excited and cautious, his blows landing, his cuts drawing blood, but there was something about the glimmer in Leo's eyes that told him that this was far from over.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
Leo's hands trembled slightly with each parry, not from fear, but from strain.
Every clash chipped away at his physical limits, but every moment of observing the red brought him closer and closer to unlocking intent.
Until at one moment—just for a second—he saw it.
The red wisp solidified into a line for the briefest of moments, before disappearing again, as he saw the exact trajectory at which Veyr's next attack was going to land, with 100% accuracy.
*CLANG*
Leo managed to block the move accurately thanks to that read, as a shiver of excitement ran down his spine.
'I saw it. Just now. I think I saw it for the first time.'
Leo thought excitedly, however, his excitement was short lived, as in the very next moment, he picked up his first major injury.
*SLASH*
A clean gash opened up along his ribs, making him reel slightly, but his eyes never left Veyr's weapon.
'Again. Keep going. Come at me with all you have. Come on Veyr, help me unlock intent for once and for all—'
The pain no longer mattered.
Each cut, each strike, each second of agony only narrowed the distance between his body and something far deeper.
Something unattainable for common prodigies.
A truth beyond skill.
A perception that could bend the rules of the battlefield.
'I don't want to beat him by luck. I want to cut him down because my blade is stronger. I want him to know it. I want everyone watching to know it. I want to show the whole universe that I'm not in the same league as the common prodigies like Veyr. I want them to know that I am The Boss.'
Leo thought, as his desire to breakthrough now burnt brighter than ever before.
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Timeless AssassinC454: The Realm Beyond
Chapter 454: The Realm Beyond
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, The Commentator's Box)
Both Dana and Joe watched the fight unfold with such unwavering focus that, for a brief moment, they forgot they weren't just spectators, but professionals with a duty to narrate the bout.
"The tide seems to have turned again, Joe... Skyshard looks like he's run out of tricks, and Veyr's dishing out steady damage now," Dana observed, his tone laced with a mix of concern and admiration.
"Absolutely, Dana. That last slash Skyshard took was brutal. No way that doesn't affect his movement, whether he wants to show it or not," Joe added, as both commentators leaned forward, eyes locked on the clash below, their usual banter momentarily replaced by silent intensity.
The two of them realized that their voice was only a distraction now.
And hence they spoke sparingly.
—------------
(Meanwhile, back on Planet Juxta, Charles's POV)
Groans echoed through the mess hall as the soldiers stationed around Monarch Charles slammed fists on tables or cursed under their breaths, visibly agitated by the shift in momentum on-screen.
"Damn it... he's taking too many hits."
"Why isn't he dodging? What's that kid doing?"
"Skyshard's gonna get himself killed at this rate..."
Their frustration filled the air, heavy and impatient, as dozens of eyes remained glued to the central TV screen where Leo struggled big time under Veyr's relentless assault.
But while everyone else in the room looked dejected, Charles was not.
The old Monarch remained seated calmly, his expression unreadable, as he leaned slightly forward and took a long, measured drag from the fresh cigarette nestled between his fingers.
'That's right, boy. That's the only way you'll break through. You're going good...'
Unlike the others in the room, Charles did not see Leo being outmaneuvered, or him fighting recklessly.
What he saw instead was Leo's resolve. As he figured out exactly what Leo was up to.
Where others saw a desperate youth cornered by a stronger opponent, Charles saw a warrior walking the edge of death, not because he had no choice, but because he chose to.
And he respected that more than anything.
'You've already won the contest of balls. To willingly force a breakthrough while dancing on the edge of defeat... that takes a kind of courage most fighters never find in their lifetime. You've already proven you've got bigger balls than most, kid.'
He tapped ash from the tip of his cigarette, eyes still fixed on the TV screen as a faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips.
'Now it's only a question of whether or not the heavens choose to reward you for your courage... or punish you for your ambition.'
—-------------
(Meanwhile back on the battlefield)
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*SLASH*
A few seconds passed since Leo saw the red mist solidify into a proper line for the first time.
However, the same success eluded him again, as he took hit after hit after hit, chasing that fleeting feeling.
This time the hit came across his chest, diagonal and shallow, but enough to leave a burning trail of pain that made his breath hitch.
His feet skidded slightly across the platform, but he didn't stumble. He held firm.
*Block*
*Parry*
*Deflect*
Every movement that he made, came slower now. His limbs ached. His vision blurred at the edges. But his grip never loosened, and his eyes never left Veyr's blade.
'Again. Keep going. I'm almost there, don't you fucking slow down now.' Leo thought, as just then, as another strike carved across his bicep, blood spraying in a thin crimson arc—
Something clicked.
As in that moment, everything else faded away.
The noise of the crowd.
The blinding stadium lights.
The blood dripping from his wounds.
It was all gone.....
Gone as if the entire world around him had faded into shadow, not literally, but in a kind of selective blindness that erased everything non-essential from existence.
Leaving only himself and Veyr behind.
The audience. The arena. The Cult. The referee..... they all faded into obscurity, leaving only the two of them facing off in an empty plane, where every breath felt louder than thunder, and every heartbeat echoed like a war drum.
And then... he saw it.
A solid red thread!
It flowed from the tip of Veyr's sword like a thread of crimson wool spun from blood and willpower, dancing through the air in a perfect arc, tracing the exact path of his next strike long before the blade ever moved.
Leo raised his dagger.
*Block*
His weapon met Veyr's sword at the perfect angle, instinct and insight fused into one seamless motion.
*Block*
Another strike came, and Leo made another effortless block as if he had lived through this sequence a hundred times before.
*Block*
The third strike arrived faster, sharper, more precise... but Leo was already there.
His steel met Veyr's again in a clean, decisive parry that required no guesswork, no gamble, no improvisation.
Because for the first time—
He wasn't reacting.
He was seeing.
He could see the exact trajectory of his opponent's attacks and place his blade precisely where it needed to be— without hesitation, without thought.
'This is it... this is the realm beyond aura understanding...' He realized excitedly, as for the first time, he began to see what fighters like Charles and Soron saw on the regular.
It wasn't mere perception, nor was it something as simple as premonition or sharpened reflex..... It was something deeper.
A raw, unfiltered connection to the very will behind each strike, as Leo no longer needed to read the twitches in Veyr's muscles, or the tension in his grip.
He could now perceive the intent before it became action.
And could now see the blade's destination before it was ever drawn.
'So this is what it means to fight with intent... to see the red thread before it wraps around you...' Leo finally understood, as when Veyr attacked him yet again, not only did he dodge the move by side stepping it with ease, but he also launched an easy counter-attack against Veyr's exposed shoulder, his dagger carving through flesh, leaving a brutal wound that tore through Veyr's upper arm, stunning everyone.
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Timeless AssassinC455: Asking The Difficult Questions
Chapter 455: Asking The Difficult Questions
Veyr looked absolutely stunned by Leo's sudden burst of sharpness, unable to comprehend what had just changed.
Leo hadn't moved faster than before, nor had he activated any obvious skill. Yet something about him— the gleam in his eyes, the poise in his stance, the subtle shift in aura had fundamentally transformed.
*Drip*
*Drip*
Blood trickled down Veyr's shoulder, running along his arm and slipping off his fingers, as he watched Leo with renewed caution.
His opponent stood bruised and battered, blood leaking through the gashes lining his frame. But the look in his eyes hadn't dimmed in the slightest.
That same dangerous smile from the beginning of the fight still curled his lips, as if the pain had only sharpened his edge.
*CLANG*
*DODGE*
*SLASH*
Once again, Veyr pressed forward, aiming for a clean horizontal slash to Leo's side. But Leo blocked it easily with his left dagger, his movement fluid and timely.
The follow-up swing at the knees was dodged with a light jump, as Leo twisted mid-air and carved a clean line across Veyr's bicep, drawing yet another fountain of blood.
"Gah–"
Veyr staggered back, completely stunned, his body burning with fresh pain, as the confusion of how Leo was suddenly faster unsettled him a lot.
Nothing about Leo's physical prowess had changed. He was still slower. He still lacked the same explosive power.
Yet somehow, he always arrived at the right place at the exact right time, as though every one of Veyr's attacks had been telegraphed to him in advance.
Veyr couldn't explain it. Couldn't understand it.
Because he wasn't seeing what Leo saw.
———–
(Leo's POV)
The world around him remained dim, not in color, but in presence.
The crowd, the arena, the noise, none of it existed anymore.
Only two things moved.
His opponent and the red thread.
The thread curved forward once more, bleeding from the edge of Veyr's blade, looping high before aiming toward his injured thigh in a downward crescent.
'I see it… there it is again.'
Leo planted his heel, adjusted his stance, and swung his dagger to intercept the opponent's arc at the perfect moment.
*CLANG*
Their blades met exactly where they were supposed to, and Veyr's eyes widened yet again.
Leo didn't flinch. He stepped into Veyr's open right side, dragging his other dagger across his ribs in a tight, arcing slice — not rushed, not frantic… just inevitable.
*SLASH*
He saw it all before it happened. The red thread danced before his eyes like a painted prophecy, and all he had to do was follow its guidance.
'Every attack… every swing… every shift in weight. It's all here. Written in red. As long as I can see it, I can answer it,' Leo thought, as the faint smile on his lips widened just a tad more.
In contrast, Veyr staggered back, eyes burning with disbelief, as if he had just seen a ghost dodge lightning.
'No, I need to figure out what Skyshard is up to before continuing my assault. His last few counters were not normal…' Veyr thought, clutching his bleeding side as he took a full step back, eyes narrowed with grim caution.
For the first time in the duel, Veyr chose not to attack.
And with that single choice, Leo's rhythm faltered.
The red thread vanished.
No arc guided him.
He saw no new openings to exploit.
No divine guidance helping him.
Leo's eyes sharpened as he stepped forward cautiously, blades raised with killing intent, yet the clarity that had carried him this far had completely evaporated.
'Where is it? Why can't I see it…?'
He circled, attempting to bait an attack out of Veyr, but the man's stance remained tight. Elbows tucked, feet rooted, every vital area shielded with textbook precision. He had no intention of striking first.
Eventually, it was Leo who had to move.
He lunged in with a low feint, followed by a real strike toward the ribs.
*CLANG*
Blocked.
Veyr swatted the attack aside with ease, as if batting away a fly.
Leo tried again, flicking his wrist mid-swing to alter the angle.
*CLANG*
Blocked again, as despite his new attack attempt, the result remained the same.
Without the thread guiding him, Leo lacked the raw speed or brute power to create an opening from thin air.
'So that's it… I only see the threads and have an advantage when he's the one trying to kill me. Not when I'm the one trying to kill him,' Leo realized, as the moment Veyr stopped playing predator, his edge vanished.
He now stood in a dead zone — a strange limbo where instinct and logic collided, but no thread appeared to tip the scale.
But then… something shifted.
He saw it.
A faint red dot.
A small, glowing smudge just above Veyr's left hip.
His eyes darted, as he saw a few more.
Right shoulder. Inner knee. Side of the neck.
They were isolated points— small, pulsing crimson blemishes that shimmered faintly with an unsaid promise.
'What… are these?'
He didn't hesitate.
Leo pivoted sharply and aimed straight for the red glowing spot on the hip. And the moment his dagger aligned with the glowing point, something clicked into place.
A red thread sparked to life — not from Veyr's weapon, but from his own blade.
It curved like a tether of fate, stretching forward toward that exact weak point, its arc revealing not just the destination, but the perfect angle to slice clean through.
*SLASH*
The dagger tore through cloth and flesh, drawing a pained grunt as Veyr staggered again.
The red dot faded the moment impact landed.
But two more flared up immediately.
One on the collarbone.
One behind the knee.
'These are the chinks… the gaps in his defense. Having unlocked intent, I don't just see how to survive… but also learn how to kill.'
Veyr stumbled back, adjusting his footing, trying desperately to reinforce what little defense he had left.
But it was too late.
The tide had shifted again.
And this time, it was Leo who was asking the difficult questions.
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Timeless AssassinC456: No Room To Interfere
Chapter 456: No Room To Interfere
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, The Commentator's Box)
"Oh my Lord! Ladies and Gentlemen, Leo Skyshard has suddenly upped the ante! He's raining blow after blow on Veyr and the mighty Transcendent warrior has no answers!" Dana exclaimed, voice cracking with disbelief as he grabbed his own headset in shock.
"You're absolutely right, Dana. Just two minutes ago, Veyr had the upper hand, but something seems to have flipped. Leo's reading him like an open book," Joe added, shaking his head in awe. "This isn't just speed or strength. This is calculated brutality."
"What's going on though? How has there been such a huge shift in momentum? In all my years commentating fights, I've never quite seen anything like this and I can't understand what's going on?
Do you have any idea Joe?" Dana asked, as Joe simply shrugged his shoulders in response.
"I'm just as clueless as you are, Dana. But whatever Leo Skyshard just unlocked... it's made him stronger than a Transcendent-tier warrior while still being a Grandmaster.
I don't think I need to explain just how monumental such a breakthrough might be..." Joe said, unaware that in this very moment, he had just uttered one of the most iconic lines in combat history.
—-------------
(Meanwhile on the Battlefield)
*CLANG*
*SLASH*
*STEP*
*CUT*
Leo moved with an unnerving rhythm, weaving between Veyr's sluggish defenses with eyes that saw more than simple motion.
After every few clashes, a new glowing red dot flared up on Veyr's body, and every time it did, Leo attacked it without delay.
*SLASH*
Just like the red line showed him, Leo followed the path it outlined precisely, twisting at his waist, rolling his wrist, bending his elbow in a way that looked too relaxed for combat— yet the moment Veyr went to block the wrong part of his body, Leo straightened sharply and delivered the attack to the exposed area.
*SLASH*
A brutal cut to Veyr's tricep drew a lot of blood.
*SWIPE*
Another hit to the ribcage left Veyr gasping for air.
*STAB*
A third attack, this time to the collarbone. A perfect thrust, which left the transcendent warrior reeling backwards as his left arm momentarily lost feeling.
*CLANG*
Veyr tried to hold, as he desperately parried a strike to the throat, dodging a dagger aimed at his thigh, and even managing to land a backhanded swipe that forced Leo to retreat half a step.
But it wasn't enough.
Leo's eyes remained sharp.
Focused not on Veyr's blade or footwork, but on the red.
The crimson guide that danced between them like a living script of the fight.
*SLASH*
*CUT*
*JAB*
Every blow that landed created more red dots.
The more damage Veyr took, the more his body began to betray him.
And the more his defense faltered, the clearer the next target became.
As soon, Leo saw another red dot.
This time on the lower abdomen. Near the navel.
A soft spot. A place Veyr had no strength left to cover properly.
Leo stepped in, fainted a high jab to force the arm upward—
And then came the real strike.
*SWOOSH*
*SLASH*
A devastating horizontal cut swept cleanly across Veyr's gut, his armor offering no resistance as the blade ripped through the soft tissue underneath.
"OOOFFF—!" Veyr gasped, staggering backward, a mess of blood soaking through his midsection as he clutched his stomach with both arms, breath shallow and uneven.
"My god... Leo just sliced him open!" Dana shouted. "That's it! That's a clean hit to the core! Veyr's wide open!"
"He's not just hurting him, Dana... he's psychologically humiliating him," Joe said quietly, stunned into a rare pause. "Veyr's in a world of trouble now.... If he moves too sharply, his innards might spill, this is a huge turning point for this fight."
*Gasp*
*Shock*
*Isolated Cheers*
The crowd was stunned into silence for a heartbeat.
And then—
A thunderous wave of noise exploded through the arena. Cheers. Gasps. Screams. Even cries of disbelief.
"HE GOT HIM!"
"That's it! That's a fatal cut!"
"No way! Veyr might really lose this fight."
Some members of the audience said, as they watched on anxiously.
—----------
(Meanwhile, in the VIP stands)
The Fourth Elder gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly that the veins in his forearms bulged through his robes.
His eyes were wide, his jaw slightly slack, as he stared at the blood-soaked figure of Veyr staggering across the battlefield, barely upright, clutching his stomach like a man trying to barely hold himself together.
"No... no no no... this wasn't how this was supposed to go," he muttered under his breath, his voice too soft to be heard over the roaring crowd, but loud enough for the dread to echo inside his skull.
He shifted in his seat, legs jittering, eyes scanning the crowd as if searching for someone, anyone, who might confirm this was just a nightmare and not the slow-motion implosion of his entire political career.
'How is he losing?! Veyr is a Transcendent. He was supposed to crush Skyshard in under five moves!'
His heart pounded, not for the sake of Veyr probably not becoming Dragon, but for self-preservation.
The entire foundation of his political relevance depended on the outcome of this fight.
And if Veyr lost, he would be done.
'Is this fight rigged? Did someone interfere? Was Leo Skyshard hiding this level of power the whole time? No... no, it doesn't make sense. This is impossible...'
His eyes darted toward the edge of the battlefield where Soron sat.
The great god watched the action unfold with a calm expression, as the Fourth Elder's hands twitched with anxiety.
He had a fleeting thought, a desperate whisper from the back of his panicked mind—
'Stop the fight. Jump in. Call foul. Disqualify the brat. Do something. Anything.'
But the moment his eyes returned to Soron... that thought died a quiet death.
He slumped back into his seat, the illusion of control ripped from him like a curtain caught in a storm.
There would be no interference.
Not while Soron was present.
Not unless he wanted to die before he ever touched ground.
And so, all he could do like everyone else in the stadium was watch the inevitable unfold, hands trembling, throat dry, as the boy he had thought of so lightly, now methodically dismantled his champion.
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Timeless AssassinC457: Choice
Chapter 457: Choice
Veyr had never felt as helpless in his entire life as he did in this moment, standing across from Leo.
Almost every inch of his body throbbed with pain, each movement making it worse, especially the sudden ones to dodge or launch a counter attack, that sent sharp jolts shooting through his limbs.
'I can't move my left arm at all. Everything from the shoulder down feels completely numb,' he realized, gritting his teeth as he tried once more to lift it.
But with his shoulder, bicep, and tricep all severely damaged, the arm hung uselessly by his side.
The only thing he could manage to do with it was to wrap it around his gut, holding tight to keep more blood from spilling out.
'I'm on the cusp of losing this fight. I'm bleeding far too much, and if I don't end this within the next two minutes, I'll start blacking out from blood loss,' Veyr calculated, sharp and clinical even as his body trembled.
As despite the agony, despite the odds, he didn't lose his composure or his will to fight.
"You got some serious moves, Cuz... Guess you're not just a coward after all," Veyr muttered with a faint smile as he pointed his sword at Leo, his legs shaky but his spirit unyielding.
"Well you're not too bad yourself, cousin... but unfortunately for you, there can be only one winner here today, and that's going to be me," Leo said, his voice calm but resolute, each word carrying the weight of finality, as he stepped forward yet again.
*Shuffle*
Veyr adjusted his footing, lifting his blade as best he could with just his right arm, the left still clutched tight to his torn gut, as Leo gave him no time to brace.
*CLANG*
A precise flick of the wrist knocked Veyr's guard wide, as with his stomach sliced open, he failed to reposition himself in a good enough angle to completely avoid the next blow.
*SLASH*
A swift cut across his right forearm followed, that although not deep enough to sever the arm completely, was still sharp enough to rupture nerves.
"Gah–"
Veyr grunted and stumbled as the sword slipped slightly in his grip.
Leo advanced again, carving a diagonal strike that forced Veyr to lift his blade to defend, however, with his right forearm now hurting so bad, he couldn't hold on against Leo's strength.
*CRACK*
The collision sent shockwaves up Veyr's right arm, as the blade tumbled from his hand and clattered onto the arena floor, leaving him completely disarmed and without any means to defend himself.
*SWOOSH*
Leo didn't stop.
As despite Veyr being completely defenceless, he still went forwards and sliced cleanly behind Veyr's knees, forcefully bringing him down.
*THUD*
Veyr collapsed, both legs buckling beneath him as he crashed to the ground, landing in a bloodied heap, his arms trembling and body quivering from exhaustion and defeat, while Leo stood over him with a complicated expression etched across his face.
"Do you yield?" Leo asked, his voice calm and firm, as he chose not to raise a dagger to his cousin's throat, which would instantly end the fight under legal rules.
Instead, he offered the question plainly, as he gave Veyr a choice in a moment where no real choices remained.
*Spit*
Veyr spat a thick mouthful of bloodied saliva onto the ground as he glared up at him with bloodshot eyes that burned ablaze with defiance.
"Oh, fuck you, Cuz," he muttered, baring his crimson-stained teeth in a bitter grin, the barest shake of his head signaling his refusal.
"I was raised an orphan on the streets," he rasped, his voice frayed and hoarse. "And the day I clawed my way out, I swore something to myself. No matter what happens, I'll never let myself down. Not ever. So even if I die right here, I won't yield."
He drew in a painful breath, his entire body flinching at the motion.
"So go ahead. Kill me if you want, cuz. But I'd rather die on my feet than live with surrender."
Leo said nothing.
He just stood there, watching.
His hand hovered inches from the dagger at his waist. One move, one light tap against Veyr's throat, and the match would be over.
Under Universal Circuit Rules, a clean gesture like that would count as complete incapacitation and seal the victory, as just a few meters away, Max the referee stood in silence, eyes fixed on him, as he waited for the final blow to come.
But Leo didn't move.
He hesitated.
Because somewhere deep in his chest, something pulled at him.
Having achieved everything he set out to achieve in this fight, he now found himself facing the million MP question.
'Did he even wish to be Dragon?'
His gaze drifted, not to Max and not to Veyr, but to the edge of the battlefield. To the one man who had sat in unbroken silence throughout the entire match.
Soron.
The old god watched from his seat, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, observing the scene with an expression that was neither judgmental nor approving, only faintly amused.
His eyes met Leo's, calm and piercing, as though he too was waiting to see what the boy would choose.
"Why are you even here to watch this fight?" Leo asked, his voice quiet, not loud enough for the audience but not whispered either, as he turned his eyes skyward, searching the heavens for answers to the conflict now stirring in his heart.
Because while he hated the idea of becoming this cult's holy messiah— a title that would chain him to the will of the Elders Council like a puppet— he couldn't deny what he had seen in the eyes of the people.
He couldn't ignore the faith the commoners of the Cult placed in the Dragon.
It was, in its own twisted way, the closest thing to godhood without actually becoming divine.
And whether he liked it or not, the way those people looked at the Dragon was the same way they looked at Soron. With reverence. With devotion. With absolute belief.
And now, they were ready to look at him the same way.
He could become a God while being mortal.
All he needed to do was to point his weapon and choose.....
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Timeless AssassinC458: Decision
Chapter 458: Decision
(Juxta Military Base, Planet Juxta, Charles's POV)
Charles watched the near-victorious Leo standing over his defenseless opponent with a barely contained smile, unable to help himself as a wide grin stretched across his face.
"You really did it... you pulled off a breakthrough mid-battle... What a crazy little bastard! Hahaha," he laughed softly to himself, while the mess hall around him erupted in absolute celebration.
"Holy shit! He's gonna win!"
"I don't know how the commander trained him to beat a Transcendent warrior while still being a Grandmaster, but somehow he did it!"
"So is he really going to become the next Dragon? Are we seriously going to see the Dragon training right here on our military base? Surely we can't be so blessed, right?"
The soldiers cheered wildly, their supposed neutrality forgotten in the face of pride and excitement, as they couldn't help but root for the candidate that was personally trained by their commander.
"But why isn't he ending it? What's the delay?"
"Yeah... Aegon Veyr already said he won't surrender, so he should just end it now..."
The murmurs turned into questions, voices tinted with growing impatience as Leo remained still.
Despite half a minute having passed, he had yet to move, still looking toward the sky, then toward Soron, then down at Veyr at his feet— his expression unreadable, his posture tense with thought, as if wrestling with a decision heavier than any blade.
"What's going on, Commander? Why's he not ending the fight? Doesn't the match conclude when a fighter points his weapon at an incapacitated opponent?" one of the soldiers asked, turning to Charles.
To which Charles responded with a booming, hearty laugh.
"Hahaha!"
"Well, son, I don't know the boy well enough to tell you exactly what's going through his mind," Charles said, amusement fading into something more thoughtful as he leaned forward, "but I've got a rough idea..."
The room quieted. All eyes turned from the screen toward the Monarch.
"The boy is wondering right now whether or not he even wants to be the Dragon. Whether he's worthy enough to carry that title on his shoulders... or whether Aegon Veyr might be the better one to bear it...."
His voice was calm, but each word landed like a slow, heavy drumbeat.
"Being the Dragon isn't just about being the best fighter out there. The Dragon is the hope of our people. And that's a weight not everyone can carry..."
A hush fell over the mess hall as the implications began to set in.
For the first time, the soldiers realized that the prize for winning this match was far more than glory or gear: it was the right, and the burden, to carry the title of Dragon.
"Imagine having your every move broadcasted to the masses daily. Imagine being in a foul mood and talking sharply to a commoner.
If you or I do it, nobody cares. But if the Dragon does it... the one on the receiving end of the lashing might break down completely. Maybe even take their own life. Maybe get shunned by society forever."
He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle in.
"The Dragon needs to live his life like a Saint. Not just in the open, but also behind closed doors, with the spotlight always on him. And that's not as easy as it sounds..."
He looked out at the crowd of wide-eyed soldiers.
"Having the bloodline of the Timeless Assassin means nothing in that role. That blood doesn't turn a man into a Saint. It doesn't cleanse his sins or purify his soul. Dragons are still human. They have emotions, doubts, regrets. But they're treated like Gods who can do no wrong."
He folded his arms, nodding slowly.
"So naturally, like any good Dragon would... The boy is wondering if he's ready to take on that challenge. Or whether deep down, he finds himself too lacking to bear it."
A long silence followed his words, as the weight of what Leo was grappling with sank deep into the bones of every man in the room.
It wasn't a small choice.
Not when the title came with the power to change the Cult... and the responsibility to carry it without breaking.
Not when, in the depths of one's soul, you weren't sure you were the right one for the job.
—--------
(Back inside the Lewis Hamilton Arena)
A full minute had passed since Leo had asked Veyr to surrender, and in that time, he had not moved an inch.
"What are you waiting for? Still debating whether to kill me or spare me? Let me make that choice easy for you... You'd better kill me, Cuz, because you know I'm coming for that rematch otherwise, and next time, I won't show you the same mercy," Veyr growled, his voice hoarse but unyielding, even as his body refused to obey his commands, limbs twitching with effort but devoid of strength.
Yet Leo said nothing.
He remained quiet, staring up at the sky, his chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.
*Murmurs*
*Ruckus*
The crowd stirred with impatience, growing restless with every second that passed. The longer Leo delayed, the more the commoners fidgeted in their seats, unable to hold back their desire to see the next Dragon being crowned.
But despite the growing wave of pressure from the thousands watching, Leo did not rush. He stayed still, taking his time to be certain— to make a decision he could live with.
"You can end the fight just by pointing your weapon at Veyr's neck. There's no need to kill him if that's what's holding you back," Max offered gently, stepping a little closer as his tone tried to nudge Leo toward resolution.
Leo turned to face him and smiled, calm and clear, then gave a soft shake of his head.
"Ref... I think I've made my choice," he said quietly, as the haze of uncertainty in his gaze disappeared, replaced by the sharp, unwavering glint that usually accompanied him.
*Thud*
*Thud*
The sound echoed loudly through the chaotic arena as Leo let both daggers slip from his hands, the twin blades clattering against the arena floor beneath him.
Then, with both arms raised high toward the sky, he spoke.
"I surrender."
His voice rang out, firm and resolute.
And for a moment, the entire arena froze, locked in absolute disbelief at what they were witnessing.
Thousands of voices stilled, eyes widened, mouths hung open— none able to process what had just unfolded.
A Grandmaster had just defeated a Transcendent, clawed his way to an impossible victory, stood at the doorstep of becoming Dragon... and had then chosen to walk away.
Not out of fear.
Not out of doubt.
But out of choice.
Out of clarity.
Out of rebellion against a destiny he refused to be shackled by.
As his decision stunned everyone.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you properly.... What did you say?" Max asked, as both him and Veyr looked at Leo with their eyes wide in disbelief.
And once again, Leo let out a long sigh, this time making eye contact with Soron, as he said....
"I surrender, Aegon Veyr is the winner of this fight,"
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Timeless AssassinC459: Not Your Place To Decide
Chapter 459: Not Your Place To Decide
(Lewis Hamilton Arena, Leo's POV)
Leo continued to stare into Soron's eyes after making his decision, as the Great God returned the gaze with a calm, unreadable expression.
Leo had considered countless factors before making this choice, but in the end, he walked away from becoming the Dragon not because of the political complications or the power struggles that came with the role, but because deep down, he simply did not feel comfortable in his own skin taking it on.
By nature, he was a man driven by freedom, someone who moved on his own terms, acted on his own whims, and answered only to himself. The idea of living a life devoted to serving others felt alien to who he was.
He recognized that he was far too selfish to care deeply for anyone outside his family, and in his heart, he truly believed that the commoners of the Cult deserved better.
For all their faith, their reverence, and their unwavering devotion, they deserved a Dragon who could love them with equal intensity. Someone who would carry their hopes and burdens as his own.
And Leo just could not see that man in his reflection.
So in the end, because he felt a genuine ache in his chest at the thought of accepting a mantle he knew he could not wear with honesty, he made the only choice that felt right.
He let it go.
"Well Joe, are my ears ringing, or did Leo Skyshard really say that he surrenders?" Dana asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion as he turned to his co-commentator, wondering if he was dreaming.
"No, your ears aren't ringing, Dana. Leo really did just say he surrenders... but why? Why would he do that when he's just one step away from becoming the Dragon?" Joe responded, equally baffled, as both commentators struggled to comprehend what was happening.
*Murmurs*
*Chaos*
The murmurs in the arena started out soft, confused whispers passed from one stunned spectator to another, but soon swelled into full-blown pandemonium as the crowd erupted, unable to make sense of Leo's decision.
"Winner by submission — Aegon Veyr."
The referee finally declared, raising Veyr's hand in victory while helping him stand, though the young warrior still looked too stunned to celebrate.
Meanwhile, Leo turned and began walking back toward the warm-up room.
"WAIT!"
Veyr shouted, his voice cracking as he caught sight of Leo leaving.
"Why?" Veyr demanded, his tone sharp and raw. "Why did you throw this away? You had me beat... so why give it up? What is this.... some kind of pity?"
"It's nothing personal, cousin, truly," Leo said, his expression calm as he shrugged with casual ease.
"I just don't think I'm the right person to be the next Dragon.
You, on the other hand, seem like someone who actually fits the role.
You were raised inside the Cult, shaped by its traditions, and you've lived through the hardship and struggle that define its people.
You're also incredibly gifted, having broken through to the Transcendent Tier by age twenty-three.
And there's also the fact that you pushed me harder in this fight today than nearly anyone I've ever faced.
So yeah... when I weighed the two of us, my selfish self against someone like you, it wasn't really that hard.
My heart told me it should be you."
Leo's voice remained steady and sincere, and as his words reached Veyr, the fury in the young man's face softened, slowly replaced by disbelief and silence.
"Huh?" was all Veyr could manage, barely more than a whisper, as once again, he found himself too stunned to speak.
—---------
"Ha... Hahahaha!"
The Fourth Elder burst out laughing, clapping his hands together and wiping the sweat from his brow in pure disbelief, as relief flooded every inch of his body.
Just moments before Leo made his choice, he had felt as if he was about to lose consciousness and blackout.
His champion was on the cusp of losing the fight and he could already see the consequences of that loss cascading down to him.
His political career that he had worked so hard to build over a lifetime was on the verge of ending once Veyr lost.
However, then out of nowhere, as if the heavens had decided to play a cruel joke on the universe, Leo surrendered.
The Fourth Elder could not understand why Leo did it. He didn't care enough to ask.
All that mattered to him was that his political career, his status, his power, his pride, had miraculously been saved.
Whatever moral reasoning or existential crisis Leo was going through meant nothing to him. The only thing that mattered was that the right name now won the match.
But before he could bask further in the absurdity of his unexpected fortune—
"OUTRAGEOUS!"
The shrill boom of a furious voice shattered the air, turning heads across the arena, as the First Elder pointed a finger straight towards Leo.
He was seated just a few booths away, face red, veins visible, finger outstretched, as he looked ready to explode.
"It is not your place to decide whether you are worthy or not! That is the Council's right, not yours!" he roared, clenching that finger into a fist, which he slammed on the railing in front, deforming it completely.
Clearly, Leo's choice had struck a deep nerve.
But before the First Elder could rant any further, before his indignation could erupt into a full tirade....
Soron shifted.
He didn't rise.
He didn't speak.
He simply lifted the smallest finger from the armrest of his makeshift stone throne.
And in that instant, an invisible pressure surged across the entire arena.
The atmosphere collapsed into a crushing stillness, thick and suffocating, as if the air itself had been bound in chains.
Every breath got caught. Every whisper died. Every movement stopped.
The divine weight of Soron's presence descended without warning, silencing thousands, freezing even the Elders where they sat.
All eyes turned to the one being who didn't need to speak to command obedience.
Soron looked forward, eyes calm, his little finger still raised.
And without a single word, he turned the roaring coliseum into a cathedral of silence.
As only then, with the weight of all eyes upon him, did Soron finally speak.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 460: The SubstituteTimeless AssassinChapter 460: The SubstituteChapter 460: The Substitute(Lewis Hamilton Arena, Soron's POV)
Soron cast a calm glance toward the First Elder before shifting his gaze slowly across the arena crowd. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a heavy stillness, and his words came at a deliberately slow pace.
"The stakes of this match were established well in advance. And since this boy has chosen to forfeit the fight, Aegon Veyr will ascend as the Cult's next Dragon. That decision is final."
His voice left no room for doubt, and none in the arena dared to question his authority.
"As for Leo Skyshard's claim that he is unworthy or unprepared to shoulder the title of Dragon... I disagree."
"I watched the entire battle. I observed every decision he made, every moment of hesitation, every burst of courage. And based on what I saw, I am convinced that he does possess the qualities needed to be the Dragon."
"However, since he currently lacks the confidence to carry that role, here is what I've decided."
"Leo Skyshard will continue his training under Vice Sect Master Charles, learning the ropes of the military under him whenever Dragon Veyr is dispatched on official missions.
While on all other times, he is to receive the same resources, access, and education as the Dragon himself, including the Cult's most guarded techniques—those typically reserved only for the Dragon or the heir to the Sect Master's throne."
"His performance today makes it clear that he is far too gifted for the Cult to ignore his future growth. He must be shaped into the strongest version of himself that we can produce."
"But such support must also come with responsibility. And so, we will hold Leo accountable."
"If Aegon Veyr fulfills his duty without incident, serving with distinction and surviving the challenges of the role as expected, then Leo Skyshard will follow a parallel path within the military. Under the guidance of Monarch Charles, he will gradually rise through the ranks and, over time, ascend to the position of Vice Sect Master."
"However, should fate take an unfortunate turn and should Veyr, for any unfortunate reason fall in battle or meet with a tragedy, then from the very next day, Leo Skyshard will inherit the mantle of Dragon without delay or deliberation."
"In other words, he is to be trained and prepared as the designated substitute for both positions: the Vice Sect Master of tomorrow, and the emergency Dragon should the need ever arise."
Soron concluded, his tone as calm at the end as it was at the start.
Silence clung to the arena like a suffocating fog, thick and unmoving, as thousands sat frozen, unable to fully grasp the weight of what had just been declared.
And amidst that sea of stillness, Leo's eyes widened.
This was not the outcome he had intended when he chose to surrender.
He had not walked away from the Dragon's crown to be handed its shadow.
He had hoped to disappear quietly back into a life of freedom, to train at his own pace, to explore his power without responsibility anchoring his every step. But instead, he had been placed directly into the very path he was trying to avoid.
He wasn't the Dragon—but he was now its ghost. The one standing just behind the throne, waiting for tragedy to hand him the crown whether he wanted it or not.
He wasn't free. He was on call.
The spotlight he had tried to dodge had simply been angled differently. He would be followed, watched, and scrutinized with just as much intensity as Veyr, because now he was the Cult's emergency heir.... its backup plan, its unspoken safeguard.
The crowd didn't cheer.
The Elders didn't speak.
Even the announcers couldn't find the words to fill the air.
It was as if the entire arena had been turned into a grand theatre where the final twist had rendered the audience speechless.
The only sound that Leo could hear, was the one of his own laborious breath, as he looked towards Soron in confusion, however, the Great God never met his gaze.
In the end, after a few quiet seconds had passed since delivering his verdict, Soron vanished from his stone throne without so much as a ripple in the air.
There was no flash of light, no sound, no grand farewell. He simply ceased to be there, disappearing without ceremony, leaving the Elders, Leo, Veyr, and the stunned audience to grapple with the weight of his decision on their own.
—------------
(Meanwhile Charles)
Charles shook his head from side to side in an extremely disappointed fashion when he saw Soron deliver his final verdict.
"So that's why you were there you sly old Fox..... you were there to make sure that you tethered the boy to the fate of becoming Dragon, whether he was destined to be one or not...." Charles spoke to himself, as he lit up a cigarette in agitated disbelief.
"You don't care for the boy, only the Cult as a whole..... and while your decision is better for the Cult's future.
I don't like it for the sake of the boy.
He's a good kid....
But he's just like me.
The only people who will ever truly accept him as their own are the soldiers, or civilians who understand the debt of blood.
While the others will just see him as a war machine and nothing more...."
"You should have left him with me.... You should have just let him pursue a career in the military.
He's safe here.
He's amongst his own.
In a place where they won't pray to him for miracles.
But if you put him out there with his talent, then the brighter he shines the more the commoners will start to expect.
He defeated a Transcendent as a Grandmaster?
Next they'll expect him to beat a Monarch as a Transcendent or a Demi God as a Monarch, and they won't be satisfied no matter what.
I don't understand you.... Old man.
And I don't like the choice you made here today.
You unnecessarily complicated the lives of both Veyr and Skyshard by making the kid a substitute."
Charles said, as he let out a long puff of smoke, feeling unhappy with how things turned out at the end.
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