(Meanwhile, inside the heart of the Chakravyuh, Helmuth’s POV)
"NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!
THIS IS NOT OVER!
STOP DEFENDING LIKE A COWARD AND COME FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!
NO!"
Helmuth burst out in anger, as his voice tore through the heart of the formation and rebounded uselessly off divine barriers that no longer cared for his frustration, his aura flaring violently as his grip tightened around his weapon, knuckles whitening while the moment he had been promised slipped further and further out of reach.
He could feel it.
The deadline had passed.
The narrow window they had all agreed upon, the one chance where Soron would face him alone, without interference, without layered pressure or divided focus, had closed while he was still forcing his way forward strike by strike.
’Soron would have been dead by now if he was not so stubbornly committed to defending instead of fighting properly.
This is not how a true warrior is meant to fight...’
He thought, as his breathing grew uneven and the heat of his rage sharpened into something more desperate, his gaze snapping toward the others almost against his will.
Mauriss stood nearby, posture relaxed in a way that only deepened Helmuth’s irritation, fingers lazily flexing as though this entire ordeal was nothing more than entertainment, his eyes reflecting amusement rather than urgency as the wider battlefield pressed ever closer to their position.
While Kaelith, on the other hand, did not look amused at all.
He looked resolved.
Helmuth turned fully toward them then, anger bleeding into something dangerously close to pleading as his jaw tightened, as though refusing to accept what the situation demanded even while understanding it perfectly.
Just a little more time.
That was all he needed.
One clean exchange.
One opening.
One moment where Soron could no longer retreat behind patience and endurance.
But neither of them moved to accommodate him.
"You had your shot, Helmuth," Kaelith said, his voice calm and unyielding as it cut cleanly through the noise of Helmuth’s frustration.
"But the Cult Army is through the Third Ring, and we don’t have time to dally around anymore.
It’s time to end this fight for once and for all...."
As he spoke, Kaelith reached behind himself and drew the twin origin metal daggers free, their surfaces catching the glow of the sun high above as he rolled them once in his palms, before stepping to the side, as he began to circle Soron deliberately, his movements measured and predatory as he claimed a separate flank.
*CRUNCH*
Helmuth’s teeth ground together audibly.
"I’m sorry, old friend," Mauriss added, his tone almost regretful as he finally straightened, eyes flicking briefly toward Helmuth before returning to Soron.
"But I am forced to agree with the Eternal Sovereign here. We did give you a fair bit of time to end this. But now we don’t have the luxury of time anymore....."
The words landed heavier than any blow.
Helmuth felt them settle in his chest as he drew in a sharp breath, the truth of them bitter and unavoidable, as his pride rebelled even as his reason acknowledged the necessity behind them.
The agreement had been clear.
The conditions had been fair.
And he had failed to deliver within them.
For a long moment, he said nothing, shoulders rising and falling as he forced his frustration down by sheer will, as though swallowing something corrosive that burned all the way to his gut.
Then he let out a loud snort.
It was harsh and humorless, more a release of tension than any sign of acceptance, as he turned his gaze away from Mauriss and Kaelith at last and forced his focus back where it belonged..... towards Soron.
The Cult God now stood enclosed within a tightening triangle of inevitability, Mauriss claiming the left with casual menace, Kaelith circling on the right with blades ready and intent sharpened, while Helmuth himself remained directly in front, aura flaring anew as he squared his stance.
The fight was no longer his alone.
And whether he liked it or not, the others were ready to interfere now.
"Alright, alright.... But don’t blame me if you get in my way and I accidentally injure you....
Because I’m not planning on slowing down to accomodate you slowpokes."
Helmuth warned, as Mauriss simply grinned wider at his words, while Kaelith chose not to react, the Eternal Sovereign’s focus locked on his brother alone, as he searched for openings to kill him fast.
*HUFF–*
*Long exhale*
Letting out a long exhale, Soron put back the normal steel daggers he had used in this fight so far, and instead pulled out his own shiny new origin metal blades, as he gripped them hard and steadied his breath.
"So you really did have origin metal blades on you, How interesting...."
Mauriss commented as soon as he pulled them out, as now, Mauriss felt even more confused as to why Soron did not pull it out for his clash against Helmuth? When it was literally his ace in the hole?
"These...."
Soron began, his voice calm and confident as he showed off his new blades to his enemies.
"... Are called the ’Grudgekeeper’ blades.
And they carry with them the grievances that my people have faced since the Great Betrayal...."
Soron spoke, his each word slow and deliberate, as he forced his enemies to listen even when they were not particularly interested in his lore.
"I did not use them against Helmuth, because simply put, the mindless barbarian is not worthy of me using these blades.
But since you three are now planning to shamelessly attack me together, I have no choice but to show you the strength of the Cult’s combined resolve.
If you think you can take me down?
Come try....
But be reminded.
A cut from this blade will force you to reckon your sins from here out to eternity."
Soron warned, as his words caused a chill to run down the spine of all three Gods facing off against him.
Not many things genuinely frightened Gods like them anymore.
However, ’Soron’ and ’Origin Blades’ was just the combination that could still put the fear of mortality back into their divine bodies.