Timeless Assassin

Chapter 902: The Start

(Execution Livestream Continuation, ’The Pit’)

The momentary stillness that followed Soron’s exchange with Kaelith did not last long, for Helmuth had never been a God built for patience, nor one inclined to tolerate silence when bloodshed remained pending.

Hence, at the first opportunity that presented itself, he stepped forward deliberately, boots grinding against the stone of the execution platform as the heat radiating from his body intensified.

"Hahaha—"

He chuckled, the air around him warping visibly as if scorched by proximity alone, his broad shoulders rolling once as he adjusted his grip on the massive battle axe resting against his back.

"Alright," Helmuth said at last, his voice carrying with it a raw, abrasive edge that cut cleanly through the tension, "I’ve waited long enough for you two brothers to finish your chatter."

He reached back and tore the axe free in a single fluid motion, the weapon screaming as it cleaved through the air before he brought it forward and leveled its edge directly at Soron, the blade glowing faintly as heat bled from its surface.

"Now it’s time for you to fight me one on one like a man, Soron!"

The declaration echoed across the execution grounds and spilled outward through the livestream, as Helmuth’s expression twisted further into something feral, veins standing out along his neck while the inferno-like aura pouring from his body intensified, heat rolling outward in oppressive waves that forced lesser beings to instinctively step back.

Soron did not flinch.

He remained where he stood, posture relaxed, gaze steady, as though Helmuth’s eruption was little more than noise, his eyes drifting lazily from the axe to the God wielding it.

"Just you?" Soron asked calmly, his tone almost curious, as he tilted his head slightly.

"Are you sure?"

His gaze shifted briefly, sliding toward Kaelith first, then toward Mauriss lounging comfortably on his throne, before returning to Helmuth with a faint glint of amusement, as the berserker’s lips curled upward in response.

"I’ve wanted to prove this for a long time now," Helmuth said, his voice rising as his chest expanded and his aura flared brighter.

"That it’s me. Helmuth. The God of Berserkers. Who stands as the greatest warrior to ever live in the history of the universe."

He took another step forward, axe dragging briefly against the stone, sparks flying as the blade scraped a shallow groove into the platform.

"Not you," he continued, pointing the weapon toward Soron.

"Not your father, the so-called Timeless Assassin."

His grin widened into something unhinged.

"But me."

He straightened fully, spreading his arms slightly as the heat around him surged.

"I am the strongest!"

The declaration rang out with absolute conviction, the kind that came not from doubt, but from obsession honed over countless wars.

For a brief moment, the platform remained silent.

Then Soron snorted.

As comically enough, at the exact same time, Kaelith did as well.

The sound was small, almost dismissive, yet the shared reaction drew attention instantly, the two brothers exchanging no glance at all as their mirrored expressions conveyed the same unspoken thought, that Helmuth even daring to place himself beside their father bordered on absurdity.

Mauriss laughed.

"Hahaha..." the Chaos God chuckled, leaning back against his throne as he clasped his hands together with theatrical delight.

"This should be fun."

He shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other as his eyes gleamed with interest.

"If only I had my maid servants here to feed me peeled grapes, then it would have been perfect," Mauriss continued, sighing exaggeratedly.

"Still, this is not bad either."

He leaned forward just enough for his presence to press subtly against the sealed space.

"I will respect Helmuth’s wishes and refrain from interfering in this little duel," he said lightly, lifting a finger.

"However, I have a condition."

His smile sharpened.

"The victor must allow me to drag away the corpse of the dead God," Mauriss said without hesitation.

"For I have certain desires, and a few experiments, that I would very much like to conduct."

Both Helmuth and Soron shot him identical looks, sharp and warning, before their attention returned to one another, neither offering Mauriss the satisfaction of a reply.

Soron exhaled slowly.

His shoulders rolled once, then twice, as he reached up and cracked his neck with a soft series of pops, the sound carrying faintly in the silence that followed, before his hands moved toward his waist.

With unhurried motions, he drew a pair of long daggers free.

Not the Grudgekeeper set.

Just his usual blades.

Simple in design, dark in color, their edges clean but unremarkable at first glance, lacking the unmistakable aura of origin metal that Gods had come to associate with weapons meant to kill their kind.

Helmuth’s eyes narrowed.

So did Kaelith’s.

Even Mauriss leaned forward slightly, curiosity sharpening as all three inspected the weapons in Soron’s hands.

’Not origin metal?’

The realization struck them almost simultaneously.

A faint ripple of surprise passed between them, for a normal blade, no matter how well-crafted, could not permanently harm a God, its effectiveness fading rapidly against divine regeneration, making its use in such a fight almost laughable.

"Ehh?"

Helmuth mused, as he let out a low, incredulous laugh.

"Do you not have an origin metal blade on you, Cult Master?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of offense beneath the mockery.

"Or do you simply believe I am not worthy enough for you to draw one?"

He asked sarcastically, as Soron’s lips curved upward.

The smile was slow.

Deliberate.

"Of course it’s the latter," Soron replied evenly, his eyes never leaving Helmuth’s.

"You berserker weakling."

He mocked, as the words landed cleanly, and Helmuth’s expression snapped.

The heat around him exploded outward as his aura surged violently, the stone beneath his feet cracking in jagged lines as he threw his head back and roared, the sound raw and primal, stripped of reason.

"ARGHHHH THATS IT! YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!"

He declared before lunging forward, as he brought the axe down in a blazing arc, the inferno surrounding him compressing into focused fury as he closed the distance in a heartbeat, his intent to kill clear and singular.

*Step*

Soron shifted his stance.

Daggers lowered.

Eyes sharp.

And as Helmuth’s charge tore across the execution platform, the livestream froze on the brink of collision, billions across the universe holding their breath as the first blow of a battle between Gods finally began.