(Meanwhile, The Pit, Helmuth’s POV)
Helmuth stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the central basin of The Pit, his arms folded calmly behind his back, his expression tightened into a deep frown as the metallic ring of hammers, chisels, and arcane tools echoed across the volcanic plains beneath him.
*Chik* *Chik*
*Tap* *Tap*
*Grind* *Grind*
*Thrum* *Thrum*
The ground trembled every few seconds from the sheer density of power being poured into the earth, as teams of the Righteous Faction’s greatest runesmiths, blacksmiths, engineers, wardmasters, and geomancers crawled across the landscape like ants, each working on one segment of the colossal Chakravyuh formation being carved into the planet’s crust.
Lines of silver, gold, and bloody red etchings spiraled outward in concentric circles, forming a labyrinth so dense and intricate that even gods who mastered the laws of the universe could not help but pause upon seeing it.
It was a design they had only ever used once before.... Back during the Great Betrayal, with the ultimate goal of the formation being to cut off the subjects access to the fourth dimension and forcibly tether him/her to the brutally restrictive confines of the three dimensional world.
Which meant that in simpler words, it was a fancy cage for gods.
One where they could be reliably killed for good.
"Shameful..... What Mauriss and Kaelith want me to do is simply shameful...."
Helmuth mused, as the veins on his jaw tightened, the old pride in his heart stirring like an animal forced into a corner.
For him, this was not how a true warrior fought.
Nor how a real God was meant to prove his absolute strength.
For him, this was a disgrace, one that he wanted no part of, if the decision were left up to him alone.
"Tch..."
He said, as he clicked his tongue, his frown only deepening the longer he saw the construction progress.
"Only cowards fight like this."
He began, his tone unbelievably arrogant and prideful.
"Cowards, women, eunuchs..... Only they resort to cheap tricks like terrain advantages or ambushes to win battles.
Not real men.....
Never real men...."
He muttered, as he shook his head from side to side in disappointment.
"Real men do not stand inside circles drawn by trembling mortals, nor do they lean on puny advantages or cowardly traps; real men face their enemies in the open, chest to chest, fists to fists, soul to soul, with nothing but strength deciding the outcome."
He said, as he clenched his fists in unrestrained anger, the urge to just disobey the alliance and destroy the construction site before him growing stronger in his chest.
"Mauriss and Kaelith are both cowards. They might be gods, but they are not real men.
They’re powerful but they lack a spine."
He admonished, as he vented his frustration about his counterparts, who were forcing him to let this construction go through on his sacred soil.
The two of them had outvoted him 2-1 on this issue, and hence, despite his own disgust, he was forced to let the construction proceed, as the duo wanted every advantage they could get their hands on to take down Soron.
However, unlike them, he did not feel good about this whole situation as a man.
For if it were up to him, he would crush all of this under his heel, grind the ritual circles into dust, send the runesmiths home, and stand alone in this basin, waiting for Soron with nothing but his fists and his rage to accompany him.
If it were only up to him, he wanted to face Soron one on one, with neither tricks nor traps staining the ground between them, so that he could prove once and for all to the entire universe that he was always the better fighter....
That the shame he carried for the last two thousand two hundred years had been nothing but an ugly misunderstanding of fate.
"It is unfortunate," Helmuth muttered, his voice low enough that only the wind carried it.
"It is unfortunate that I will never be able to prove to you that I was the superior warrior."
He said, as his eyes followed the lines of the formation stretching to the horizon, his chest burning not with hatred but with a bitter nostalgia that had existed inside him ever since that day of defeat so long ago.
"For your sake, Soron," he murmured, "I sincerely hope you have found a way to break this Chakravyuh....."
"I truly hope you can tear through its layers and make your way out of it without being bound."
"For only then can our battle remain pure."
He said, as his gaze drifted beyond the workers below, and towards the silent sky where his thoughts wandered.
"But if you cannot do that," he added slowly, "and if you find yourself trapped within the third dimension, then I will step into the center of the array myself, suppressing my own divinity, as I shall limit myself to the third dimension as well."
He decided, as he refused to win through petty tricks.
He refused to fight as Mauriss and Kaelith wanted him to.
As unlike them who would take a victory any way it came, he refused to claim a victory that would stain his warriors pride.
"No matter what Mauriss and Kaelith demand of me, I will make our final battle fair."
He concluded, as he let the sentence hang in the air for a long moment, his jaw tightening, his heartbeat steadying into something fierce and grounded.
"I have lived with the shame of defeat for too long....
But now I will prove to the universe that it is I, Helmuth, who was always the strongest."
He said, as he first took one step back from the edge.
Then another.
Before then turning away from the construction site entirely, as he walked away without looking back even once, the anger simmering inside him growing sharper, heavier, hotter, with every passing step.
Execution day was approaching fast, being less than three weeks away now.
And Helmuth could not wait any longer to claim the title of the ’Strongest In The Universe.’
A title that he rightfully believed to be his own for the past 2200 years.