Timeless Assassin

Chapter 921: Trouble

(25 minutes later, Helmuth’s POV)

For twenty-five more minutes, Soron somehow managed to keep up what looked like peak performance, his movements still crisp enough, his timing still tight enough, that nothing about him outwardly betrayed the strain building beneath the surface, and for that entire stretch Helmuth continued to trade blows with him as though the balance between them had not shifted at all.

Yet around the two-hour mark since their fight had begun, the truth finally surfaced as Helmuth began to notice the evident loss in Soron’s performance, as the Cult God struggled more and more to produce the same output.

’He’s slowing down... even though I haven’t done anything significant, he’s slowing down.’

The realization slid into Helmuth’s mind with quiet certainty, and the moment it did, something predatory sharpened behind his eyes, his killing intent thickening like heat trapped beneath a closing lid as his focus narrowed completely onto the man in front of him.

Another exchange rang out, daggers scraping against his axe, force screaming through the air, and Helmuth felt it again, the timing just barely off, the pressure a fraction lighter than it should have been.

’There it is.’

He thought as his breath slowed, his stance adjusting by a small margin as he changed what he planned to do next ever so slightly.

’I couldn’t find an opening earlier... but if I can gain half a microsecond between his attacks now...’

The thought did not finish itself.

It did not need to.

The finishing sequence had already begun forming in his head as a chain, each motion building towards the next, each reaction accounted for, as his mind assembled the end of this battle with ruthless patience.

A low chuckle escaped his throat.

Then another.

"Ha... hahaha..."

The sound rolled out of him without restraint, thick with intent, the heat of his aura intensifying as it poured outward, dense enough that even Mauriss and Kaelith, watching from close range, felt the pressure spike and instinctively sharpened their awareness.

’He’s committing,’ Kaelith realized, fingers tightening around the Origin Dagger at his side. ’He’s going for the kill.’

Helmuth stepped in.

His first strike came heavy and direct, the axe sweeping down in a brutal arc aimed straight for Soron’s center, forcing an immediate response from the Cult God, as Soron reacted on instinct, crossing both daggers to intercept, steel locking as sparks burst outward.

*CLANG*

Helmuth felt the delay.

Tiny.

There.

He twisted his wrists mid-impact, letting the force slide, then snapped his shoulder forward, not to overpower, but to redirect, the axe head scraping along Soron’s right dagger at a precise angle.

*SHINGG–*

The dagger slipped from Soron’s grip, just slightly, as the excess pressure bent it away from his wrists in a way that the Cult God did not want it to.

’Shit...’

Soron thought, as Helmuth followed without pause, pivoting his hips and driving his elbow forward, the motion compact and vicious, as it smashed into Soron’s forearm at the exact moment his grip weakened.

*WOOSH*

The dagger was torn free, the momentum of the elbow hit causing it to spin away as it vanished into the distance where Soron could not reach it.

*Clang* *Clutter*

The sound travelled crisp and clean through the interior of the Chakravyuh formation, as Soron reacted instantly, his second dagger flashing up to compensate, his body flowing into defense with practiced precision, but Helmuth was already there, his axe haft snapping upward as he stepped inside Soron’s range, the shaft slamming against the remaining dagger and driving it wide.

*CLANG*

Steel rang.

Soron twisted to recover, however, Helmuth did not allow it.

The Berserker God surged forward, shoulder crashing into Soron’s chest, as the impact forced Soron into a full extension, a motion that he had avoided committing to for the entire fight, as the second he did, the origin-metal wound answered with a sharp, involuntary hitch that cost him the instant he could no longer spare.

*Hitch*

Helmuth’s axe came around again.

A brutal, horizontal sweep.

The second dagger was knocked free, torn from Soron’s hand and hurled aside as the force carried through, leaving Soron suddenly bare-handed and off-balance for the first time since the battle had began.

*Wobble*

*Backstep*

The universe seemed to narrow.

Helmuth did not hesitate.

He raised the axe high and brought it down in a third strike, a killing arc meant to split Soron from collarbone to waist, and Soron had no choice but to react with what remained to him.

He crossed his arms.

An X.

Bare flesh meeting descending god-steel, as Helmuth cleaved his wrists clean off.

*SPLAT*

*Sprrr—*

The impact was immediate and absolute.

Blackened blood burst outward in a violent spray, fragments of flesh spinning away as Soron staggered back with a sharp, involuntary gasp, severed hands falling toward the stone below.

Pain flared.

Divine.

Searing.

And then the regeneration began.

[Divine Regeneration] surged into action almost instantly, radiant energy flooding the ruined limbs as bone and muscle began to reform, tendons knitting, flesh crawling back into shape with terrifying speed.

But speed was not instant.

And Helmuth needed only micro-seconds.

He stepped forward, lifting the axe again, its edge humming with power as he aimed not for Soron’s chest this time, but for his head, fully aware that while his weapon could not end Soron permanently, it could prove that he won the battle against Soron fair and clean, establishing his dominance for once and for all.

*Gasp*

Soron’s eyes widened.

For the first time in the battle, panic broke through his composure as he felt the gap, felt the window where his body could not yet answer his will, where his hands were still forming, still incomplete.

Death stood directly in front of him.

And behind Helmuth, Kaelith moved.

The Origin Dagger slid free of its sheath without a sound, his aura tightening as he prepared to strike the moment Helmuth’s blow landed, the execution already unfolding in his mind.

This was the end.

This was the opening.

And the universe seemed to lean in, waiting to see the end of the tyrant that had kept the Cult safe for the past 2250 years.