(Meanwhile, Execution Livestream Continuation, Soron’s POV)
*SWOOSH*
Helmuth’s axe screamed past Soron’s face again, close enough that the heat peeled at his cheek and turned the air into something sharp, as the execution platform buckled under the force of the strike and fractures raced outward like lightning trapped in stone.
Soron twisted through the gap instead of retreating, daggers crossing low as he let the berserker’s momentum carry past him, his feet sliding half a step and then another, while Helmuth recovered with brute instinct alone, the axe reversing direction in a way that should have been impossible under normal physics, yet still somehow falling short.
Every exchange carried weight.
Not the kind that could be measured in damage or blood, but the kind that bent attention itself, forcing every Monarch watching to lean forward as they struggled to follow movements that refused to remain in sequence, while the crowd screamed and gasped in delayed waves, their minds lagging behind what their eyes had already failed to process.
For Helmuth, this was a battle for dominance.
A chance to prove to the universe that he was the greatest warrior to have ever lived.
However, for Soron, it was never that simple.
He found himself fighting not to kill Helmuth, but to secure the future of the Cult, and because of that, he could not step into the lethal sequences he once used to dismantle his strongest foes, techniques designed not to trade blows, but to end wars in moments.
’I can’t kill him... not yet. If I damage his body too heavily, I lose control of the board.’
The thought passed cleanly through his mind as he felt the weight of dual constraints pressing down on his fighting style.
The first came from the Chakravyuh formation itself, as it pressed against his instincts and sealed away paths he would normally take without thought, binding him to linear time and three-dimensional space.
While the second restriction was self-imposed.
’You must not hurt his body.’
Leo’s words echoed from the stone castle, calm and deliberate, carrying the weight of a decision made long before this battlefield had existed.
And as the clash continued, steel screaming against heat and reality groaning beneath their feet, Soron felt his thoughts begin to drift.... not from distraction, but from necessity, as his mind wandered back to the conversation he had with Leo a few weeks ago.
—---------
(Flashback, The Stone Castle, Leo and Soron’s POV)
The cup froze halfway to Soron’s lips.
His eyes lifted slowly, disbelief written plainly across his face as he stared at the boy seated opposite him, steam curling lazily between them as though the conversation they were having was not about dismantling Gods and rewriting the balance of the universe.
"You want me to do what?"
Soron asked at last, his voice low, incredulous, as he set the cup down with deliberate care and pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache forming.
However, Leo did not flinch.
"Yes," he said calmly, nodding once as though he had just restated something obvious.
"I want you to fight Helmuth, the God of Berserkers, first.
And I want you to do it in a way where you don’t hurt him."
Leo reiterated, as Soron let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the stone ceiling for a moment as if appealing to the universe itself.
"So let me get this straight," he said, eyes returning to Leo, sharp now.
"You want me to fight a God... without actually fighting him...?"
He asked, as Leo remained unfazed.
"Yes, which means you can’t use the origin daggers," Leo continued evenly.
"Because the moment you do real damage to his body, it’s over.
That damage would be permanent. Irreversible."
He folded his hands together on the table.
"And a permanently damaged body is a far less valuable commodity for what comes next."
Soron stared at him.
Long.
Hard.
"Do you even hear yourself, boy?" Soron said finally, disbelief edging into irritation.
"You want me to fight a God without killing him, without crippling him, without using the tools that actually make that possible."
He leaned forward now, forearms resting on the table, gaze heavy.
"You do understand that I am not so superior to Helmuth that I can take that fight casually... right?
One mistake, one misjudgment, and I won’t get a second chance."
He explained, as Leo nodded without hesitation.
"I know it won’t be easy," Leo said.
"And I know there’s a very real chance you won’t be able to isolate him cleanly once chaos breaks out."
He paused briefly, then continued, eyes steady.
"But my reasoning for choosing Helmuth is simple....
Of all the Gods currently alive–
Helmuth, Kaelith, and Mauriss are arguably the strongest.
But Helmuth, in particular, has the strongest body and the weakest mind."
Soron’s brow furrowed slightly.
"Or at least," Leo added, "that’s what his reputation suggests."
He leaned back just a fraction.
"Assuming you intend to kill Kaelith.
And assuming Mauriss is as twisted and calculating as you’ve warned me he is."
Leo’s eyes hardened.
"That leaves Helmuth as the only viable target for my plan.
Because if there’s anyone whose body Moltherak could take over... it would have to be someone whose will is weaker in proportion to their physical power."
The room fell silent.
Soron exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across his face before shaking his head.
"...I hate that this makes sense."
He straightened again, eyes narrowing.
"But even if everything goes exactly the way you want it to," Soron said,
"even if I somehow isolate Helmuth from the rest of them..."
He gestured vaguely with one hand.
"There’s still an entire fourth dimension separating The Pit from the Time Stilled World.
It’s not like there’s a convenient door I can just shove him through and call it a day."
Leo nodded, unsurprised.
"I know there isn’t," he said.
"But I also know Moltherak can still travel through the fourth dimension."
Soron’s eyes flickered.
"The only thing he can’t do," Leo continued,
"is re-emerge back into three-dimensional space on his own."
He leaned forward now, voice lowering.
"Which means... if you find a way to open a fourth-dimensional gate and push Helmuth into it—"
Leo met Soron’s gaze.
"—we can arrange for Moltherak to be waiting on the other side."
Silence stretched.
Soron leaned back again, staring into the steam rising from his untouched tea.
"...and let things take their own natural course from there," the God murmured, as Leo nodded in agreement.
*Sigh*
Soron let out a long breath and shook his head.
"I get it," he said at last.
"It’s logically sound."
His eyes sharpened.
"But you’re forgetting one very important detail."
Leo raised an eyebrow.
"I can’t open fourth-dimensional gates while locked inside the Chakravyuh," Soron said flatly.
"So tell me... how exactly do you expect me to push him into the fourth dimension when I can’t tap into it?"
Soron asked, as for the first time since the conversation began, Leo smiled.
Not smugly.
Not arrogantly.
But with quiet certainty.
"You leave dismantling the Chakravyuh to me.... I’ll handle that part."
He assured, as the memory shattered.
Steel screamed.
Heat surged.
And back on The Pit, Soron’s daggers crossed once more as Helmuth’s axe came down, his eyes sharpening with renewed clarity, because now the fight was no longer about survival—
It was about execution of a precise plan... a plan that would decide the fate of the Cult.