After getting injured by Soron once, Kaelith did not rush back into the battle to exact his revenge, as instead he paused to gather his thoughts, staring at the fresh red blood dripping from his cheek and pooling into his palms, the warmth of it unfamiliar in a way that unsettled him far more than the pain itself.
’Blood... my blood...’
Kaelith thought, as for the first time in centuries he felt disturbingly mortal again, the consequences of this fight crystallizing in his mind as the fear of death surfaced in a form he had long forgotten.
’I will make you pay for this... brother.’
He thought soon after, as his gaze shifted back toward Soron, who was now struggling more visibly with the two fresh wounds Kaelith had carved into his body.
Unlike Kaelith’s bright crimson blood, Soron bled a thick, brown-black tar from his cuts, the color alone revealing the severity of the origin metal poisoning that had accumulated within his bloodstream over the years, rotting his body from the inside out.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*SLASH*
And yet, unlike Kaelith, who felt constantly dragged down by the lingering pain burning across his face, Soron showed no such hesitation, as despite limping and struggling to maintain his grip on his blades, he continued pushing back relentlessly, his expression stoic and unmoved, as though the injuries meant nothing at all.
’How can you be so indifferent when I’ve damaged you forever, brother?’
Kaelith wondered, unable to grasp that Soron had entered this battle already convinced he would not walk out of it alive.
Which was precisely why a few more permanent wounds did not matter to him in the slightest, so long as his body could still move, and his hands could still strike back.
—----------
(Meanwhile, inside the innermost ring of the Chakravyuh)
Raymond watched his father bleed with evident shock written all across his face, as a complex flood of emotions poured through him all at once, his breath catching as his eyes locked onto the fresh scar carved across Kaelith’s face.
For a brief, shameful moment, something warm and vicious sparked inside his chest.
’Take that, you sick bastard.’
He thought, as the image of Kaelith recoiling burned itself into his mind, the sight of that perfect, untouchable face finally marked sending a surge of vindictive satisfaction through him that he had never allowed himself to feel before.
Yet that feeling did not come alone.
Almost immediately, confusion followed, as Raymond’s thoughts spiraled toward consequences rather than pleasure, as he wondered whether this injury would make his father less imposing in the eyes of the universe, or whether a visible flaw would weaken the myth that had kept everyone in line for so long, as although he wasn’t worried about his father, he did feel worried for his own influence becoming muted by association.
’If he looks less invincible... then what does that mean for me?’
He wondered uneasily, as his gaze flicked between Kaelith and the countless Gods watching his downfall like vultures.
But as the seconds passed, and Raymond saw how Kaelith still stood tall despite the pain, how his aura remained suffocating and his presence remained unchanged, realization dawned that this wound was not a collapse of authority, but a different kind of punishment entirely.
Permanent.
Painful.
Enduring.
And harmless to Kaelith’s rule as the Eternal Sovereign, as that realization calmed his anxiety to a great degree.
The unease faded, replaced instead by a slow, satisfied calm, as his lips curled upward into a smile he did not bother to suppress.
’I’m glad it happened.’
He thought simply, as the mark across Kaelith’s face felt less like a threat to the order of things and more like a reminder that even monsters could be made to suffer.
Nearby, Yu Kiro observed the scene in silence, his expression composed as always, yet his eyes lingered on Kaelith’s blood just a fraction longer than necessary, a subtle shift that betrayed his true thoughts far more clearly than words ever could.
Though none of the Great Clan Gods spoke, a quiet, shared understanding passed between them, as faint smiles tugged at the corners of their lips, restrained yet unmistakable, each of them savoring the sight in their own way.
’I hope you both kill each other today.’
Yu Kiro prayed inwardly, his thoughts steady and calculating, as he imagined a universe without Kaelith’s suffocating shadow looming over every decision made by the great clans.
’That would be the most ideal outcome.’
He mused, as he pictured a power vacuum wide enough for the Great Clans to finally step forward and claim universal domination.
’As much as you believe that you’re better than the Timeless Assassin, the reality is that you’re not.
We follow you because you’re a leader of convenience, not because you’re a leader we respect or fear.
And it’s about time someone put you in your place....’
Yu Kiro thought, as his gaze drifted away from Kaelith’s bleeding face and returned to Soron standing at the heart of the Chakravyuh, as he thought about how the choice the Great Clan leaders had made earlier was undoubtedly the right one.
’Thank God we haven’t fought this demon in the past 2250 years.
He’s still got it....’
He thought, as the implications of that realization settled heavily in his chest, his fingers curling slowly at his side while he imagined what this battlefield would look like if he, or any of the other Great Clan Gods, had been standing where Helmuth and Mauriss now were.
As he watched Soron continue to fight despite a body that should have collapsed long ago, Yu Kiro felt a rare sense of relief wash over him, as he acknowledged that power like this was not something meant to be tested lightly, nor confronted unless absolutely necessary.
As battered and corroded as Soron was, he was still dictating the flow of the battle, still forcing Gods to bleed and hesitate, and that alone convinced Yu Kiro that avoiding direct confrontation with him over the years had not been cowardice, but brilliance.
’Let the old monsters tear each other apart,’ he thought calmly, as he resolved that no matter how this battle ended, the Great Clans would never willingly place themselves in Soron’s path, for the man was too dangerous even at the edge of death.