(Execution Livestream Continuation, The Pit, Veyr’s POV)
Veyr watched Leo move again, watched him throw himself into danger without hesitation, watched him bend his own limits for the second time in under a minute just to keep Veyr standing, as something inside his chest twisted painfully as the realization finally settled in.
This wasn’t protection anymore.
This was liability.
Every time Raymond struck, Leo adjusted.
Every time death reached for him, Leo stepped in.
Every time the battlefield demanded sacrifice, Leo paid the price instead of him.
’I’m... holding him back.’
The thought came uninvited, sharp and merciless, as Veyr clenched his fists and felt how little strength answered his call, how shallow his aura felt compared to the titans clashing around them.
He wanted to help.
He wanted to stand beside Leo, to strike Raymond together, to repay even a fraction of what had been done for him.
But he knew better.
Charging in now would not wound Raymond.
It would only force Leo to split his focus yet again, while also granting the devious Demi-God another lever to pull.
’I wouldn’t be helping...’
Veyr swallowed hard, jaw tightening as shame burned through him.
’I’d just be another weakness for him to protect.’
The truth was suffocating.
For all his titles, for all the fear his name inspired as the Dragon of the Cult, in this moment he was powerless, stripped down to a body that could barely endure the pressure of the battlefield, let alone shape it.
’Why...’
His vision blurred slightly as his shoulders sagged.
’Why am I so useless?’
The thought echoed hollowly, unanswered, until something else caught his attention.
His pupils dilated.
The ground beneath his knees.
The soil.
Red.
Dark.
Heavy with iron and residue, saturated with the aftermath of divine conflict.
Veyr’s breath hitched as his hand brushed against the folds of his robe, fingers grazing something soft and unmistakably familiar.
A flower.
Still there.
Still intact, tucked carefully where he had placed it long ago, untouched by chaos, untouched by blood.
’Right...’
His breathing steadied.
’Even if I can’t fight... there is still something I can do.’
He thought, as resolve replaced despair.
*Thud*
Almost instantly, he dropped fully to his knees, ignoring the tremors running through his legs, as he plunged his hands into the red soil beneath him.
*Scoop*
He grabbed fistfuls of earth, rough and gritty against his palms, and began pulling it up desperately, dumping it into his robe as he gathered more and more, folding the fabric inward, twisting it, shaping it into a crude, makeshift bag.
*Scoop*
*Dump*
*Scoop*
*Dump*
Handful after handful, he kept collecting as much as he could, because he knew that this soil was worth more than anything money could pay for.
’If I can’t stand beside him today....’
’Then let me at least ensure that I give him a smoother tomorrow—’
Veyr thought, as he collected the second crucial ingredient required to brew a Demi God Potion, knowing full well that Leo might need it someday soon.
—----------
(Meanwhile Soron)
Meanwhile, as Leo handled Raymond and the Cult army retreated back into the transport crafts, Soron finally lured the Righteous Gods to the heart of The Pit, to the destination he wanted them all to arrive at, so that he could perform his final duty as the Cult’s Sect Master.
’This is it, this is the spot I’m supposed to open the fourth Dimensional Portal at—’
He thought, as he weaved through a wave of long ranged attacks, and a dangerous thrust by Kaelith which missed him by the breath of a hair.
*SWOOSH*
The attack breezed past him, as he tried to counter by slicing Kaelith’s neck off, however, before he could do so, it was Mauriss who came in for the block, as he saved Kaelith’s life with a gleeful expression on his face.
*CLANG*
"Not today—"
The Deceiver said, as their origin metal weapons collided, only for Soron to roll through and disappear within a moment.
[Seconds Walk]
Despite being battered and at the door of death, Soron controlled the battlefield still, as he slowly but surely isolated everyone from Helmuth, in a way where he could create a pocket where no-one could interfere between the two of them.
However, while all the Great Clan Gods now fought at a cautious distance from him, it was only Mauriss who became a constant annoyance, the Deceiver not giving him the final bit of space he needed to execute his plan, as he lingered annoyingly close.
"What’s your plan here? Cult Master?
Why haven’t you run away yet?
Surely you don’t think you can push us all back forever..."
Mauriss asked, his expression intrigued, as he tried to strike a conversation while fighting.
*SWOOP*
*ROLL*
*DODGE*
Dodging through yet another wave of attacks, Soron pretended as though he had not heard Mauriss at all, however, the Deceiver still continued to talk as though he did not care for Soron’s indifference.
"While I don’t understand how you walk between moments, what I do understand is that altering the flow of time even by the slightest margin consumes a tremendous amount of Divine Essence, which should most definitely surpass your rate of regeneration.
I remember vividly even back in the day that the Timeless Assassin never fought long wars.
He was an assassin precisely because his battles were short and decisive.
Which is why, I am intrigued as to how long you can keep up this offence?"
Mauriss asked, as Soron could not help but smile as to how accurate his assessment was.
Walking between the seconds indeed consumed tremendous amounts of Divine Essence, and he had almost run out now, which was why he had to make his move now.
However, what Mauriss did not understand was that he did not plan to run away.
That he did not care about retreating.
Which was why he did not mind fighting till his reserves ran out completely.
"You think I won’t run away?"
Soron asked at this moment, his eyebrow raised as he tried to bluff all the Gods surrounding him, as he opened a portal to the Fourth Dimension, as if trying to run away, when in reality, it was the trap he meant to lure Helmuth into.
*SLASH*
*Ninety four point four four degrees*
*THRUMMM*