Timeless Assassin

Chapter 973: Deceiver Out

(Meanwhile within the Fourth Dimension, Moltherak and Helmuth’s POV)

Helmuth never expected the battle against Moltherak to be the most intense experience of his life, as although there were no blades crossed and no physical wounds exchanged, he still felt as though it was the most difficult battle he had ever faced.

’What is wrong with this Foolish Dragon?

Why is he trying to override my very identity by taking over my physical vessel?

Does he not feel pain like I do?’

He wondered, as every time their souls clashed, he felt a kind of agony surge through him that was entirely unfamiliar, a pain that did not tear muscle or shatter bone, but instead attacked the very concept of self, leaving him disoriented and furious in equal measure.

There was no direction within the Fourth Dimension, no up or down to orient himself by, as Helmuth instead felt as though he was suspended inside his own consciousness, watching Moltherak’s presence press inward from all sides, like an ocean rising without urgency, yet impossible to stop.

’What is he trying to do? At this rate we will both fall into a void gap and never be able to return to the normal universe.’

He thought, as the longer Moltherak pressed against his soul, the more disoriented he felt within the Fourth Dimension, his sense of belonging beginning to blur as though something fundamental was being slowly shifted out of alignment.

"Fuck you, Red Dragon, your era is gone, this is my era now!"

He roared, as he pushed his will outward with berserker ferocity, however, much to his dismay, Moltherak did not meet that resistance head-on, but instead endured it, his ancient consciousness flowing around Helmuth’s fury rather than breaking against it, as it seeped patiently into every gap Helmuth did not even realize existed.

"You rely too much on force," Moltherak’s voice rumbled, not spoken aloud but resonating directly within Helmuth’s awareness, as it carried neither mockery nor anger, only an unsettling certainty that made Helmuth’s instincts recoil in terror.

"You have never learned how to be still the way I have when I did not have a body for over 2500 years."

Moltherak pointed out calmly, as Helmuth snarled in response, his rage flaring violently while he tried to seize control of his vessel more tightly, driving his will deep into his own soul like claws into flesh, as he attempted to assert ownership with everything he had, flooding the shared space with visions of endless slaughter, conquered worlds, and broken enemies in a desperate effort to overwhelm Moltherak through sheer brutality.

Yet instead of recoiling, Moltherak accepted those memories, allowing them to wash over him as though they were nothing more than ripples upon a vast surface, as ancient recollections far older and heavier began to bleed back into Helmuth in return, overwhelming him with impressions of collapsed civilizations, dying stars, and ancient Beast Gods screaming as they were erased from existence.

Helmuth staggered internally, his sense of time warping as seconds stretched and compressed unpredictably, causing him to struggle to maintain cohesion while Moltherak’s presence coiled tighter, as it did not attack his strength directly, but instead pressed against his identity, as it tested which parts of Helmuth were truly immutable and which were nothing more than habits forged through violence.

"This vessel is strong," Moltherak acknowledged, his will tightening further as he began to press deeper, threading himself through Helmuth’s divine circuits like molten gold poured into fractures.

"But strength alone does not impress a being as ancient as me."

Pain flared again, sharper this time, as Helmuth felt pieces of himself momentarily blur, fragments of instinct slipping out of alignment as Moltherak’s consciousness brushed against his core, attempting to synchronize rather than dominate, as though he were rewriting Helmuth’s soul into something that could contain him.

"ARGHHHHHH—"

Helmuth roared in defiance, forcing his will outward in one last brutal surge, as he anchored himself to rage, pride, and dominance that had defined him for so long, as he refused to yield even an inch of control.

And yet, beneath that fury, a cold realization crept in.

Moltherak was not rushing.

He was not desperate.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Helmuth to exhaust himself.

Waiting for his resistance to fracture under its own intensity.

Waiting for the moment when Helmuth’s will burned itself hollow, and left behind an empty vessel ripe for the taking.

As for the first time since becoming a God, Helmuth felt a flicker of something dangerously close to fear, as he realized this was not a battle he could win through violence alone, and that Moltherak was perfectly content to let his own soul be destroyed if it meant conquering his, the ancient Dragon showing no intention of retreat now that the soul-takeover had truly begun.

—---------

(Meanwhile, back on The Pit)

After claiming ownership of Soron’s dagger, Mauriss looked at all the Gods present around him, as he chuckled softly and gave them a slow, unapologetically nasty look, his eyes lingering just long enough on each of their faces to savor the discomfort his presence now inspired.

"I don’t know where Helmuth is... however, with Soron dead, I feel like there is no longer any need for us to remain in an anti-Cult alliance," he said lightly, as though announcing the end of a dull meeting rather than the collapse of a universe-shaping pact.

"So as of today, you can all consider me an independent God. I will follow my own will from here on out."

The declaration hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, as no one immediately moved to challenge him, the weight of him now possessing an origin dagger still pressing down on every thought, every breath, as Mauriss smiled wider at that silence, as though it were confirmation enough that he had made the right choice.

"Adios, fellow immortals. Deceiver out!"

He said before offering them a shallow, mocking bow that carried none of the respect such a gesture was meant to convey.

As at that moment, without waiting for permission or retaliation, he stepped back and tore open a Fourth Dimensional Tunnel with practiced ease, its edges rippling violently as distorted space screamed under the force of its creation, before he slipped into it without a second glance, leaving six extremely conflicted Gods behind to deal with the aftermath of his decision.