Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 411: A WhippingTimeless AssassinChapter 411: A WhippingChapter 411: A Whipping(A few hours later, inside the prison cell, Leo's POV)
Twenty-three hours had passed since Leo first regained consciousness inside the cell, and despite racking his brain and testing every inch of his limited movement, he had made absolutely no progress in finding a way out, as he remained helplessly bound by the restraints, gazing upward at the lone hole in the ceiling through which the light poured in from an unfamiliar sky.
"Lord Father, if you allow me to speak, I believe I may have a solution to our problem," Dumpy said at that moment, flopping his belly sideways as he rolled next to Leo, his expression brimming with misplaced confidence.
"Go on... tell me what you think," Leo muttered, raising an eyebrow as Dumpy cleared his throat with the seriousness of a royal advisor.
"Lord Father, how about I teach you my size compression technique? These mana restraints make it impossible for me to expand, but you should surely be able to compress instead and slip through. What do you think?" he proposed, puffing up with hope as Leo exhaled a long, exhausted breath.
"Dumpy, I'm not a frog. I can't just compress or expand. My bones are a little too rigid for that," Leo replied dryly, as Dumpy immediately began cursing the heavens.
"Oh blimey! What a tragedy it is that Lord Father was not born with the divine gift of expansion and compression. When I reach the afterlife, I swear on all my ancestors, I shall march into the throneroom of the overlords and demand answers for this unjust partiality. I will fight them, Lord Father, if that is what it takes to right this grave wrong..... so have faith in me," Dumpy cried out passionately, leaving Leo to let out a soft, amused chuckle.
If nothing else, the little creature had managed to keep him entertained these past few hours, and although they had gotten no closer to escaping than when they started, the fact that he wasn't alone down here, after everything he had endured in the Time-Stilled World, still gave him a lot of psychological comfort.
*Crinkle*
It was at that moment that Leo heard a faint crinkling sound, as through the solid wall on his left walked the smoking man, a cigarette casually perched between his fingers, his body moving without urgency, as if phasing through stone was the most natural thing in the world.
After entering, he took one glance at the man and frog lying side by side on the floor with their belly facing the ceiling, before breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Look at you two fools! Hahaha! You both look hilarious lying beside each other like that," Charles remarked, pointing a finger straight at them while struggling to contain his amusement.
"How dare you, filthy human, mock my Lord Father! Let me out! Release me from these wretched bounds and I shall break that very finger you dare point at us. Let me out at once!" Dumpy roared in outrage, thrashing against his restraints with every ounce of strength he could muster, though his efforts proved entirely futile.
In contrast, Leo remained still and composed, his gaze locked firmly onto the strange man, as he quietly attempted to gauge his strength.
'I can't sense anything from his aura, he looks completely mundane to me, almost like a mortal, but there's no way he actually is one. There's no opening in the wall he just walked through, and yet he moved through it without resistance, like it didn't even exist. He's definitely a high-tier warrior, maybe even a Monarch,' Leo thought, as he decided to choose his next words carefully instead of speaking rashly.
"Who are you? And why am I bound like this? I haven't committed any crime under Cult law, so why am I being held here?" he asked, watching closely as the smug grin on the man's face faded just a fraction while he considered whether or not to answer.
Then, after a beat of silence, Charles seemed to reach a conclusion.
"I'll answer your question, but only if you answer mine first," he offered, to which Leo gave a silent nod, gesturing for him to proceed.
"How did you know I was approaching your house from the porch that day? A Grandmaster shouldn't have been able to see through my disguise, and I don't believe for a second that you just sensed my high-speed movement by luck," Charles asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
"I didn't see you. But I saw the trail of killing aura you left behind... a faint red streak that cut through the air like blood across silk. That's how I found you," Leo replied calmly, as Charles's face lit up with brief astonishment before he quickly masked the reaction.
"A Grandmaster training in aura perception? That's not too shabby," he muttered, nodding to himself with faint approval.
"Well then, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Vice Sect Master Charles of the Cult of Ascension. And no, you haven't committed any crime, but I've been ordered to train you, guide you, and make something useful out of you... and this is just my preferred method. Brutal, yes, but effective."
He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl in the air before continuing.
"If the righteous faction ever captures you, chances are they'll lock you in a holding cell like this for 24 to 48 hours before transferring you to a secured prison. That window, those few hours, might be your only chance to escape. You've already wasted 24 of them, which means your opportunity is already slipping away."
He paused again, pacing the room as he let the weight of his words settle.
"You want to live a life of danger, of freedom and power, then basic survival instincts like this are the bare minimum. I know Rodova Military Academy did not teach you how to escape from high-security cells, but here, that's lesson number one."
He stopped pacing and turned his full attention back to Leo, his voice firm and final.
"This is my first impression of you, and if you want it to be a good one, then break out of this prison in the next 24 hours. Do that, and I'll reward you with a piece of advice that might help you achieve a monumental breakthrough in your aura training. Fail... and I'll continue treating you like a pathetic bum."
With that, Charles slowly unbuckled the thick leather belt from his waist and pulled it free in a single, deliberate motion.
*Snap*
He tested the belt's tension with a swift tug, then began wrapping it loosely around his palms as he stepped forward toward the helpless pair.
"For now, as promised, one hundred lashes each... for wasting the first 24 hours doing nothing," he said with a grin, as Dumpy's eyes widened in terror and Leo braced himself in silence, already knowing there was no talking their way out of what came next.
*Thwack*
"AAAGHHH! By the swollen bellies of the holy frog gods! That hurt!" Dumpy yelped, his eyes bulging wide as the first lash struck him underneath the jacket across his soft green skin.
*Thwack*
"Mercy! Have mercy, you mongrel belt wielder! I have sinned, yes, but I am just a small, gelatinous creature with sensitive feelings and no life insurance!" he cried, wriggling in his binds like a fish out of water.
*Thwack*
"Curse you, Charles! I hope your soup is forever lukewarm and your socks never match!" Dumpy shouted dramatically, flopping onto his side with theatrical despair. "Tell my tadpoles that were never born that I thoroughly loved them!"
Meanwhile, Leo kept his jaw clenched tight and his eyes narrowed, choosing not to give Charles the satisfaction of hearing him scream or groan.
His body tensed with each lash, his breathing steady and controlled, as though he were already familiar with this kind of pain and had long since accepted it as a natural part of his life.
*Thwack*
*Thwack*
Dumpy, however, had not.
"Oh heavens! Is this what humans call training? I thought training involved stretching and light jogging, not being skinned alive by a leather demon!" he wailed, his entire body wobbling like jelly as he tried and failed to scoot away.
Charles continued without pause, his arm moving in a graceful, almost artistic rhythm as he delivered lash after lash, his eyes glinting with sadistic delight.
"Come now, where's all that bravery from earlier, little frog? Weren't you threatening to break my finger just five minutes ago?" he teased, not bothering to hide his grin.
"I was young and foolish back then!" Dumpy shouted mid-wince, "That was a different Dumpy! A naive, unlashed Dumpy! Please, let us speak of peace!"
By the time the final lash was delivered, both master and pet lay slumped on the floor, their bodies marked and sore, breathing heavy and defeated.
Charles dropped the belt onto his shoulder, lit another cigarette, and began laughing maniacally as the smoke curled through the air.
"Hahaha... I like you two. You're idiots, but you've got spirit."
And with that, the madman turned and walked right back through the wall he came from, his laughter echoing long after he vanished, leaving Leo to quietly recover his breath...
While Dumpy whimpered softly, "Lord Father, the day I become stronger than this Charles fellow, I'm returning this humiliation a thousandfold, I swear on everything green and swampy, I'll do it."
"You can count me in on that plan Dumpy, I don't care if he's the Vice Sect Master or The Sect Master's wife. Nobody enjoys belting my pet like this!" Leo corroborated, as he too felt adverse feelings develop in his heart.
Timeless AssassinC412: Escape
Chapter 412: Escape
(Prison Cell, 25th Hour, Leo's POV)
About an hour after Charles left, Leo finally conceived a painful, yet plausible, plan to escape, drawing inspiration from famous escape artists back on Earth who seemingly managed to break out of inescapable binds by dislocating the joints in their bodies.
'If I can dislocate my shoulder... maybe I can slip one hand out of these restraints,' Leo thought, his eyes narrowing as he made up his mind to attempt the desperate strategy next.
"Dumpy, I have an idea. Let's see if it works," Leo muttered, beginning to roll toward the edge of the room, dragging his body inch by inch across the cold floor as the mana-locked restraints clinked faintly with every strained shift.
When he finally reached the wall, he let out a quiet groan, his breath shallow and uneven, as he twisted his body into position, turning so that his back was pressed against the solid surface behind him.
Next, planting his heels into the ground, he tried to generate enough leverage to push himself upright, but with both arms trapped behind him and his center of gravity skewed beyond control, he failed to lift himself and instead toppled once again, collapsing like a sack of bricks onto the stone.
"Tsk," he clicked his tongue in frustration, clenching his jaw as he re-tried the process all over again, only to arrive at the same conclusion, as he fell down with a soft *Thud*.
"Lord Father," came a muffled croak beside him, "I do not mean to interrupt your very graceful fish flopping routine, but perhaps this is the part where you consider using me as a stepping stool?"
Leo turned his head slightly, eye twitching as he met Dumpy's hopeful, upturned eyes.
"You think you can support my weight?" Leo asked, as Dumpy nodded with confidence.
"Most certainly I can, not only am I very strong, Lord Father, but I am also loyal and slightly squishy, which makes me the most comfortable fulcrum in this entire chamber," Dumpy reasoned, already beginning to roll his gelatinous body under Leo's back. "On the battlefield of life, my body shall be your trampoline."
With a quiet grunt of approval, Leo shifted his weight again, allowing Dumpy to wedge himself beneath the crook of his back and the floor, as with a single sharp breath, he pressed his feet hard into the ground and arched upward, using Dumpy's squish to gain enough momentum to tilt forward onto his knees.
"GAH–"
The strain that this movement left on his core was excruciating, but eventually, by curling his toes and leaning forward, he managed to angle his body upright, until finally, with a forceful hop, he stood.
"Told you it would work," Dumpy wheezed beneath him, half-flattened but still proud.
Leo took a moment to steady his breathing, feeling the burn in his legs and core as sweat gathered at his brow.
Once steady, he began hopping a few steps away from the wall, turning slightly so that his left shoulder faced it, as he narrowed his eyes in quiet determination.
This part was not going to be pleasant, but he wasn't about to let Charles whip him for a second time tomorrow, and hence despite his personal hatred for this plan, he decided to toughen up and go through with it regardless.
*Inhale*
Leo filled his lungs and braced for the pain, before jumping forward while twisting his body, as he rammed his shoulder directly into the stone wall with as much force as his restrained form could generate.
*Thud*
A blinding flash of pain exploded through his left side as his vision blurred and his legs buckled, but he remained on his feet, with teeth gritted so hard it felt like they might crack.
"Oh no, no no no, this is one of those human painful things again, isn't it?" Dumpy gasped in alarm, now fully alert and flailing in place.
"Lord Father, why are you willingly inflicting injury to yourself?" He asked, as Leo ignored him and jumped into stance yet again, this time lowering his center of gravity slightly before launching himself shoulder-first into the wall once more.
*Crack*
This time, something gave.
A sickening pop echoed through his own body as his shoulder dislocated violently from the socket, sending lightning bolts of agony through his torso, and yet, despite the pain, Leo growled low in his throat and began rotating his elbow inward, slowly....painfully.... maneuvering his wrist through the loop of the restraint until finally, with a breathless gasp, he pulled one arm free.
Dumpy's eyes widened in horror and awe.
"By the Mangroves of the Swamps of Lithos... Lord Father, you've escaped using forbidden contortion magic!"
"Dumpy, a moment's silence please," Leo replied through clenched teeth as he pushed his arm against the wall, forcing the shoulder back into place with a muted grunt.
"Are you sure you're not part frog, Lord Father? This maneuver is something I can only imagine frogs doing."
"No, Dumpy. I'm sure I'm not a frog," Leo replied, as without wasting another second, he repeated the process with his right shoulder, this time more efficiently, having learned the exact angle and pressure required.
In less than a minute, both arms hung loose at his sides, bruised and internally injured, but free from the bindings, as Leo slipped out of the now loose binds and felt the long-suppressed mana begin to circulate again through his veins like wildfire rushing through dry brush.
From the storage ring on his finger, a faint flicker of light pulsed as he summoned a curved dagger into his grip, letting the weight of it settle in his palm before turning toward Dumpy's restraints.
With a surge of mana, he activated [Dark Blade], coating the dagger's edge in a veil of pulsing shadow, and sliced clean through the layered binds wrapped around the little frog's limbs.
"Let's go!"
Dumpy immediately sprang up with joy.
"I live again!" he declared, twirling in the air before promptly landing belly-first on the floor. "Let it be known that Lord Father has liberated his faithful steed from the chains of tyranny! And for this favor, I, Dumpy, will forever be grateful to him."
"We're not done yet," Leo muttered, turning toward the wall as he pulled three more daggers from his ring, stabbing them into the stone in evenly spaced intervals, as he created makeshift footholds to climb.
Once near the top, he reached the small hatch covered by a reinforced grate and carved through it with another slash of [Dark Blade], the steel melting like butter under its corrupted edge.
With one final pull, he hoisted himself up and out, gripping the ledge with his forearms as Dumpy clung to his back like a slimy backpack, as the duo finally broke free from the prison.
"Free at last..... Oh no!" Dumpy declared, before suddenly freezing, as the shocking scene before him came into full view.
In front of them were barracks lined with soldiers, mana cannons primed and mounted on rotating turrets, surveillance drones flying overhead, and training grounds populated with hundreds of soldiers in uniform, all surrounded by fortified walls and watchtowers.
"What the fuck?" Leo muttered under his breath, blinking once as Dumpy let out a low groan.
"RIBBIT—"
"Oh...no. I think we've escaped the cell... and entered a battlefield, Lord Father, I think the next step is to kill them all.... But don't worry, I think I can handle 99% of these germs." He reassured, as Leo looked around in confusion, unsure of what to do next.
Contact - ToS
Timeless AssassinC413: The World He's Stepped Into
Chapter 413: The World He's Stepped Into
As Leo glanced around the rooftop, taking in the militarized compound spread out beneath him, he couldn't help but wonder where exactly it was that Charles was holding him, when suddenly, a thunderous explosion in the sky above jolted him from his thoughts.
*BOOM*
A craft erupted about ten or so kilometers directly above his head, its metal hull bursting like a firework as flaming shards spun out in every direction, scattering debris across the upper atmosphere like a meteor shower made of dying machinery.
Looking at the splintered remains descending in slow, spiraling arcs through the mana-dense air, Leo couldn't help but narrow his eyes and wonder just what exactly was going on here, as so far he had no idea about the Cult's border war with the righteous faction.
"Leo Skyshard?" a voice interrupted him at that point, as standing to his left was a well-built man clad in sleek black armor with an emerald trim running down the sides, a pair of heavy combat boots laced tight around his shins and a thick band of comms-gear wrapping around his jaw.
"Commander Charles told me to watch the roof just in case you escaped," the man said, nodding as if this outcome was somehow expected. "Said if you made it out, I should bring you straight to him."
Leo turned toward the stranger, his brow slightly furrowed as his eyes swept across the man's stance and scarred jawline, noting the precision of his gear and the clipped cadence of his voice, before offering a curt nod.
"Name's Lieutenant Bart," the man added, tapping the emblem on his chestplate with two fingers. "You coming?"
Dumpy peeked from behind Leo's shoulder, his slimy eyes narrowed and nostrils twitching.
"I refuse," the frog declared flatly. "I do not trust anyone who keeps belts around their waist like that. Belts mean lashings. And I am still emotionally recovering from extreme trauma."
Leo exhaled slowly, flicking the little frog on the nose before shrugging him higher onto his shoulder.
"He's coming too," Leo muttered, beginning to walk, as Bart merely smirked and turned on his heel.
They walked along a narrow catwalk that connected the command tower to the barracks below, but Leo's eyes kept drifting upward, drawn again and again to the flashes of light flickering across the upper sky.
Another explosion rocked the heavens as a second enemy vessel was reduced to ash in a burning spiral, its remains bouncing harmlessly off the shimmering dome of light that hovered high above the planet's atmosphere like a second sky.
"What is that?" Leo asked, tilting his chin as the light shimmered once more in a rainbow hue. "That glowing layer across the sky... is that some kind of barrier?"
Bart glanced over his shoulder with a slightly incredulous look, as though the question itself had caught him off guard.
"You serious? That's the planetary mana barrier," he said, pointing upward. "One of the Cult's finest defense technologies. Ninety-nine percent of enemy ships can't even get past that thing without blowing themselves up first."
Leo stared in silence for a moment longer, eyes following the faint web-like patterns rippling through the barrier as another enemy ship slammed into it and was instantly vaporized in a brilliant white flash.
"If they can't get past it, then why are they flying straight into it? And what exactly is going on here?" Leo asked, as the Lieutenant shot him another incredulous look, as though struggling to believe anyone could be so out of touch.
Yet, upon noticing the genuine confusion on Leo's face and the seriousness in his tone, he slowly exhaled and began to explain.
"This is Juxta, one of the Cult's three border planets that make our boundary with the righteous faction.
Beyond this planet, all the space outside is controlled by the enemy, and behind us it's all Cult area ...." Bart began, as Leo nodded in understanding.
"We had relative peace here for the past few decades, however, ever since The Cult hit the Sky-God Arena, the border tensions have heated up yet again.
We have far superior technology when compared to the righteous faction, however, they have far more resources to burn.
So everyday, they force us to keep the protective mana shield running around the planet at all times, forcing us to deplete our strategic mana stone reserves, while they burn through their stock of low grade ships by having them collide against our shield." The Lieutenant explained, as he pointed towards yet another craft that touched the barrier and turned to dust.
"That ship that just blew up, it's junk anyways. Even if we let it come through, it probably can't even take down 2 buildings before being shot down.
They're all at least 40-50 years old and on the verge of being decommissioned, but the assholes over at the righteous faction send them here instead, so that we can't get a good night's rest.
As of now, we only have about 12 days worth of mana stones left to keep the shield running, but if the Cult keeps restocking us, we can hold out for much longer." The Lieutenant said, as it was only then that the realization truly began to sink in for Leo.
This wasn't some VR simulation or glorified guild war waged over medieval castles and petty territory, this was a real battlefield!
There were no respawns here, no overpowered buffs or game devs balancing the match from behind a screen.
Here, wars were fought with research, with command centers, with trained divisions and well-fed supply lines, with steel-plated air cannons and multi-tiered defense infrastructure designed to withstand orbital sieges.
And though he'd seen many wars unfold in the game world... none had ever looked like this.
This war wasn't chaotic. It was organized. It wasn't about glory. It was survival.
And for the first time since his turn to the Cult, Leo began to understand exactly what kind of world he'd walked into.
A world where you were the underdog fighting for survival against the bully who had heaps of cash to burn through for minimal results.
"Well, I must say, that shield is definitely some cool stuff," Leo said as he admired the efficiency of that barrier and silently complemented its maker.
If nothing else, the Cult surely did have some talented blacksmiths working for them who were capable of producing critical technologies like these, and that was something praiseworthy in Leo's eyes.
*Step*
*Step*
The Lieutenant led Leo across the upper deck and up a short flight of metal stairs that opened out into a viewing platform facing the distant skyline, where Charles stood alone with both hands tucked casually into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the barrier high above.
"I brought them here, as requested," Bart said, his tone clipped and respectful.
Charles didn't speak at first, merely turning to glance at the bruised and battered duo before lowering his eyes to the sleek pocket watch hanging out of his coat.
"Had you boys broken out two hours earlier," he said, his lips curling ever so slightly, "you wouldn't have had to be whipped like that, you know?"
He paused, then threw his head back and laughed once more, his voice carrying across the rooftop like distant thunder, as Leo's left eye fluttered in anger.
'Is this fool who the Cult assigned to teach me?' Leo wondered, as he clenched his fists and let out a deep sigh to not let his anger get the best of him.
Contact - ToS
Timeless AssassinC414: Valuable Guidance
Chapter 414: Valuable Guidance
(Active Military Base, Planet Juxta, Leo's POV)
Ignoring Charles's childish insults, Leo stood tall before him with both arms folded behind his back, his gaze fixed on the man with an unamused expression carved into his face, as though daring him to say something else ridiculous.
"You said if I manage to escape within twenty-four hours, you shall help me with my aura training. Well, I have escaped...." Leo stated sharply, his tone calm but pointed, as Charles paused his laughter mid-chuckle to properly examine the stubborn defiance on the boy's face.
"Alright, alright, Mr. Upright Man," Charles relented at last, brushing some imaginary dust off his coat as a smirk curled at his lips. "Since I'm in a good mood this morning, I'll honor my word..."
With that, he gestured to dismiss Lieutenant Bart and casually placed an arm around Leo's shoulder, letting his fingers hover just above Dumpy's head, coming dangerously close to making contact but stopping just short of brushing the slimy surface.
'Come on... just a little lower... let the poison from my skin melt your damned fingers!' Dumpy thought gleefully, his bulbous eyes twitching with anticipation as he stared at the hovering hand and silently prayed for Charles to make that glorious mistake.
"Before I give you my insights on aura, tell me what you've grasped so far," Charles said, gently steering Leo forward as he encouraged him to speak first, "so I can figure out where to begin."
*Sigh*
Letting out a long and deliberate breath, Leo began to explain how he was currently studying the Sevenfold Revelation Codex, and had so far managed to detect six of the seven foundational aura colors, which made Charles raise both brows in surprise, thoroughly impressed.
Though he didn't voice it aloud, a flicker of genuine astonishment passed through the old commander's mind, for he knew it had taken him over fifty years of dedicated training and countless brushes with death to comprehend all seven, yet Leo was standing before him barely a year into his journey and already nearing the end of the first path.
"Well, I can't exactly tell you what the final color will look like," Charles said, tilting his head as if weighing his words carefully, "because aura doesn't manifest the same way for everyone. It's tied to your interpretation of the universe."
"But based on the six you've already identified," he continued, his voice growing firmer, "I'd wager the last one you're missing is green."
Charles explained everything in plain, easy-to-understand words. There were no dramatic pauses, no cryptic metaphors hidden in his speech like most high-level warriors preferred, as Charles simply laid it all out straight like a crude man.
"Green is one of the hardest colors to witness," he added, his fingers rubbing along his chin with a touch of nostalgia as he searched his memory. "In fact, I think I've only seen it once in my entire life."
He fell quiet for a beat, then continued.
"I saw it during a rescue mission," he said, his voice quieter now, touched with a faint reverence. "We were sent to extract a Transcendent-tier operative trapped behind enemy lines. He had been tasked with retrieving something vital for the Cult... something irreplaceable."
Charles's tone hardened slightly, as his words grew more deliberate, each syllable laced with memory.
"But by the time we found him, the man was torn to shreds. Wounds across his chest, limbs severed, entrails spilling out... yet still breathing. Still clinging to life as though even death itself wasn't man enough to take him."
"And that," Charles said, his voice dropping to a murmur, "was when I saw green."
His eyes momentarily glazed over, lost in the memory.
"And the man... despite it all... looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Commander, don't worry. I will not die.'"
Charles placed a hand to his chest, pride swelling in the gesture as though honoring a fallen brother-in-arms.
"I believe the emotion he felt in that moment was the pure, undiluted will to survive," he said slowly. "Not the shallow desire to live longer. Not the instinct to avoid death. No... it was deeper than all that."
"Don't confuse it with fear or the desperation of someone who clings to life out of panic. This wasn't that. This was something only the rarest of men possess."
His voice sharpened now, like he was trying to emphasize the importance of his next words.
"That soldier had reached a point where most would beg for mercy, where the pain alone would drive a weaker soul to choose death over continued suffering. A point where the average man would give in, not out of cowardice, but because their will would break."
"But not him. That man endured it all. Through sheer willpower, through nothing but refusal to die. He kept going."
Charles fell silent for a moment, letting that idea sink in, before speaking again.
"I can't explain it with absolute clarity... no one can. It's something you must feel yourself before you truly understand. But if I had to summarize it : I'd say green is the color that stands in direct defiance of death, the aura of life at its most stubborn and unyielding."
He smiled faintly, the kind that carried both sadness and respect.
"The soldier lasted another two days after we brought him back. And I swear to this day, he did not die until the moment that emerald aura finally faded from his body."
"As long as that green light was wrapped around him... not even death could lay a finger on him."
Leo's eyes widened in surprise when he heard these words.
He had never expected Charles to casually teach him something so valuable when the stubborn Codex would not even give him a single hint on what he was supposed to be searching for.
He still did not understand the concept fully and would likely have to see it for himself before he understood what it really signified, however, at least now he had a rough direction to look towards.
The chances of him randomly stumbling over a dying guy that had this tremendous will to survive were pretty low.
However, now that he had an idea as to what he was supposed to be looking for, he could actively visit hospitals and other institutions where individuals were often found near the verge of death, to hopefully increase his odds of spotting green, as compared to walking around randomly, just this little insight was unbelievably valuable.
'Holy shit, this goofball doesn't look like it, but he's quite knowledgeable when he's serious.
Maybe I was too quick to judge him.
Maybe I can really learn a thing or two from him.' Leo thought, as he bowed his head slightly in appreciation.
"Thankyou," he said with genuine gratitude, as Charles began to laugh out loud yet again.
"A grateful student? I never thought I'd have one of those...HAHAHAHA" Charles laughed, as if this was one of those things in life he never expected himself to experience.
"If you don't mind me asking? How far along are you in learning the Codex?" Leo asked, as Charles paused in his laughter for just a moment, before bursting in laughter yet again.
"HAHAHAHA.... BOY! The Sevenfold Revelation Codex is not the only Aura meditation technique in the universe.
However, the first layer of almost all Aura meditation techniques is to understand the seven basic colors.
The technique I'm following is the one taught to Soron, the younger brother.
The technique that you're learning is from Kaelith, the elder one" Charles said with a smile as he ruffled Leo's hair and pointed towards the sky.
"Look at that white cloud in the sky...." Charles pointed, as both Leo and Dumpy looked towards where he was pointing, only to be immediately knocked out unconscious by Charles who hit their pressure points.
"HAHAHAHAHA! ABSOLUTE IDIOTS!" Charles laughed, as he put them both over his shoulder and carried them towards the second prison building, where they would wake up and try to break out, all over again, this time with a different set of conditions.
Contact - ToS
Timeless AssassinC415: The Council Meet Begins
Chapter 415: The Council Meet Begins
(One week later, Planet FrostBurn, The Annual Elders Summit)
While Leo continued to struggle alongside Dumpy, forced to break out of a new prison setup each day, the long-awaited time for the Annual Elders Summit finally arrived.
A lot was riding on this summit, as there was an untold understanding amongst all twelve elders that a consensus on who the next Dragon was going to be, might be reached in this meeting.
*WHISTLE*
The cold punishing winds of planet FrostBurn whistled past the Twelfth Elder, as he made his way towards the hidden entrance as per tradition.
"Well fuck.... I know that years ago the Elders were paranoid that the Cult may be fully destroyed by the Righteous Faction one day, and that we may not have another safe meeting spot to gather at every year.
So they devised this tradition to visit FrostBurn every year on this day and walk down the hidden tunnels to reach the meeting spot, but fuck me, do I hate coming here every year...." Noir muttered to himself, as he continued to waddle against the snow and the sharp winds.
Eventually, he did reach the hidden entrance, and then as per his memory, made all the perfect turns down the tunnel labyrinth to eventually reach the meeting room, where he was the last elder to arrive.
"Lord First. Lord Second," he said with a respectful bow, acknowledging the two senior-most seats by name, before offering only a silent nod to the remaining members, as he quietly made his way to the far end of the black obsidian table, where he settled into his seat just as the council meeting finally stirred into motion.
"Everyone be calm, we have a lot of agenda to cover today, so it will be best if we avoid needless internal chatter and try to minimize ruckus.
For this meeting only, I propose that only the individual I yield the right to speak, may stand up and address the Council, while everyone else holds their tongues until they're given a chance." The First Elder began, as he made eye contact from behind his mask with all the other elders present in the room.
"All those in favor of my proposal, please show support by raising your right hand–" He said, as all twelve elders raised their hands together, showing that they all agreed with his idea, however, internally, they all knew that this proposal was not going to be followed five minutes into the meeting when things started to get heated up.
"Very well. Then I yield the first speaking rights to the Fourth Elder, who had informed me prior to the session that he wished to address the Council first," the First Elder declared, as he gestured for the Fourth Elder to take the floor.
The Fourth Elder rose slowly, bowing in formal acknowledgment toward the First Elder as per custom, though the motion lacked any genuine humility.
"Thank you, First Elder..." he said with a carefully measured tone, laced with the kind of politeness that felt more performative than sincere.
"Today, I would like to follow up on the discussion we had during the emergency council session held two months ago, where we finalized the terms for how the next Dragon would be chosen.
If it has slipped anyone's memory, allow me to reiterate that the conditions presented at that time established two premier candidates under consideration.
The first was Leo Skyshard, put forth by the Twelfth Elder, who was tasked with retrieving the Cult's lost scroll to earn the title of Dragon.
And the second was my own nominee, Aegon Veyr, who had been challenged to reach the Transcendent Tier within these two months in order to qualify for the same honor.
I'm pleased to announce that Veyr has fulfilled his end of that bargain, successfully breaking through to Transcendent Tier at the age of just twenty-three, thereby becoming the youngest in history to achieve such a feat," the Fourth Elder declared, as the chamber echoed with the sharp, rhythmic pounding of fists against the obsidian table, signaling their unanimous approval.
"Although the council allotted Leo Skyshard 6 months time to retrieve the scroll, of which 4 are still left, it's my understanding that the Twelfth Elder, with the help of the boy, already gave retrieving the scroll their best shot, however still failed to bring it home.
Agreed, as per the mission report, that I'm sure all you fine gentlemen here must have already read.
The boy did perform admirably, and the mission failure is no fault of his own.
The fact of the matter remains that the Cult does not have the scroll, and I don't think this situation is going to change in the next four months....." The Fourth Elder said, as many elders within the room nodded in agreement to his words.
"So today, I would like to open this session by giving a chance to the Twelfth Elder to explain his position on the failed mission, and request him to withdraw his candidate from nomination, so that we may not waste 4 more months to arrive at the same conclusion that we can arrive at today.
My independent intelligence sources within the righteous faction indicate that the Universal Government is planning to forcibly seize the scroll from the Serpents now that we came so close to stealing it.
Which means that the difficulty of bringing it home is only going to increase exponentially in the future.
So I suggest we not waste any more time, and name Veyr Dragon here today, so that the people finally have a messiah to believe in after three long decades" The Fourth Elder said, as many elders on the table banged their fists in approval, showing their support for his words.
*Bang*
*Bang*
*Bang*
"Hear! Hear!"
"I agree! No more time wasting!"
Said a couple, as the First Elder raised his hand to demand silence once more.
"Since the Fourth Elder has yielded the position of the speaker to the Twelfth Elder, let's see if he wants to take the chance and address the Council...." The First Elder suggested, as he gestured towards the Twelfth Elder, who nervously stood up and cleared his throat, as he prepared to deflect as much blame as possible for the failed scroll retrieval mission.
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Timeless AssassinC416: Panic
Chapter 416: Panic
The Twelfth Elder glanced around the obsidian council table, his confidence wavering at an all-time low, as he lowered his gaze and sheepishly began his account of how his team had failed to retrieve the scroll.
"As the Fourth Elder rightfully pointed out, my team did indeed fail to bring the scroll back... and I accept some responsibility for that shortcoming," he said, his voice steady but his tone tinged with self-reproach, as murmurs and subtle nods began to ripple across the room.
"As all of you must already know from the mission report I circulated prior to this meeting... The Dragon Candidate Leo Skyshard fulfilled his part of the assignment with remarkable precision.
Not only did we manage to infiltrate the Serpent Vault undetected, but we also succeeded in stealing several of the most priceless artifacts in the known universe, delivering a critical blow to the Serpents' reputation and financial reserves.... so to call the operation a complete failure would be an oversimplification," he added, making a measured attempt to salvage his standing and defend his nominee.
"That being said, I will not deflect blame where it is due... for the truth remains that I selected a team unfit for the difficulty of this mission, and a more capable unit might very well have succeeded under the same constraints. For that grave miscalculation, I offer my sincere apologies to the Council."
With that, he bowed his head once, and then turned deliberately to offer a separate bow toward each of the other eleven elders in the room, fulfilling tradition and acknowledging fault without excuse.
"However... I must firmly disagree with the Fourth Elder's recommendation to withdraw Leo's nomination as Dragon Candidate.
Despite the team's collective failure, I believe Leo himself demonstrated immense clarity of thought, courage under fire, and a degree of individual excellence that no other operative of ours has come close to displaying in decades.
And for that reason, I still consider him more than worthy of the Dragon title.
I urge this Council to evaluate his candidacy not through the lens of the team's failure, but through the undeniable brilliance of his individual role in the heist," Noir concluded, his tone more resolute now, as the words hung in the air longer than expected.
Across the table, the Fourth Elder already started to fume under his mask, for he had not expected the Twelfth Elder to still press Leo's candidacy despite the mission failure.
Yet, even so, he remained unconcerned, believing the argument lacked real weight, and that the tide of the Council had already begun to shift.
"While I have no desire to waste another four months of the Council's time, waiting in vain for the scroll to be retrieved when I already know in my heart that it may never be," Noir said, his voice calm but edged with urgency, "I instead propose that we evaluate Leo Skyshard's candidacy through a different lens."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words gather, before continuing with a faint raise of his hand toward the ceiling and a subtle tightening of his voice.
"A perspective I deliberately left out of the mission report.
And one that, in my opinion, makes Leo far more deserving of the Dragon title than Aegon Veyr ever could be."
"Like the Fourth Elder already acknowledged, the odds of the Cult recovering the scroll in the near future are growing increasingly slim. And if that scroll is truly lost to us, then so too is our only remaining access to one of the most feared and fundamental skills of the Timeless Assassin—the very technique that elevated him beyond the realm of mortal killers, and into the annals of legend."
"But under such grim circumstances, we have discovered an unexpected glimmer of hope... in the boy."
"For Leo Skyshard, during his brief and perilous time within the Serpent Vault's inner sanctum, managed to commit the entire scroll to memory.
Every diagram, every verse, every fragment of technique, absorbed and engraved within his mind, waiting patiently for the day he reaches the peak of the Transcendent Tier, so that he may finally begin to learn it." The Twelfth Elder revealed, as his revelation caused quite the stir within the council members, who couldn't believe what they were hearing.
"The entire purpose of the scroll was to pass down the secrets of that technique to the next Dragon—a technique that can only be mastered by someone who carries the blood of the Timeless Assassin. And Leo is one such boy."
"In my eyes, that makes him the ideal candidate to inherit the title of Dragon, and I strongly urge the council to view him the same way," the Twelfth Elder concluded, his words hanging in the air for only a moment before the chamber erupted into chaos.
Voices exploded across the council chamber, as several elders rose from their seats all at once, their robes sweeping the air while their fists slammed against the table, unleashing a clutter of overlapping protests, demands, and startled gasps that all bled into one another until it became impossible to discern who was speaking and who was simply shouting to be heard.
"He memorized the entire scroll? Are you serious?"
"That cannot be possible! According to your own mission report the scroll was put behind 7 layers of glass, how did he even reach it to read it?"
"This changes everything. We must not decide on who the next Dragon should be with such haste! Let's wait another year to make this decision."
"No! We vote today!"
"Enough! Lets see some proofs first! How do we know the Twelfth Elder didn't fabricate the entire tale to buy time?"
Amidst this eruption of disbelief and scattered conviction, the Fourth Elder sat frozen, his heartbeat growing louder in his ears with each passing second, as a cold dread slowly coiled through his gut, dragging his confidence down with it like an anchor hurled into the sea.
He had walked into this chamber thinking the battle had already been won, believing firmly that the votes had long been secured and that today's session would be little more than a ceremonial act to affirm Aegon Veyr's rise, yet now, that illusion crumbled before him with every new voice that discussed Leo's candidacy seriously.
He had not seen this coming.
He had not accounted for this variable.
The revelation that Leo had thoroughly memorized the scroll was not just unexpected, it was potentially devastating, for in a single stroke, it had cast a doubt over everything he had so carefully orchestrated until now.
'No! No! No! I can't let the Twelfth Elder set the narrative like this.... I must take charge!' He thought, as his breathing grew uneven and his lips trembled.
For a while he waited to see which way the wind was blowing, only to realize that he could no longer tell, as even his staunchest allies like the second elder seemed to discuss this topic with passion, which made him realize that his advantage was slipping.....
Forcing him to intervene at once.
"BULLSHIT!" he suddenly roared, his voice cutting through the storm of chaos like a dagger across silk, as the other elders fell quiet for a moment, all turning to look at him.
"How do we even know whether what you said is true or not?" he snapped, his voice high and ragged, betraying the rising panic he was no longer able to hide.
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Timeless AssassinC417: A Split Council
Chapter 417: A Split Council
The Fourth Elder's sudden outburst stunned the entire council chamber into silence, as the sheer volume and unrestrained emotion in his voice, forced even the most outspoken of elders to momentarily still their tongues out of deference, if not to the man himself, then to the fire that so rarely ignited within the hallowed halls of this otherwise composed and measured assembly.
He spoke with a fury seldom witnessed within these walls, where civility and protocol were usually maintained regardless of the situation, and perhaps because of that, the others chose to remain quiet, not out of agreement, but out of curiosity—curiosity to see just how far he would go.
"Without mincing my words, Twelfth Elder, I'll say this to your face," the Fourth Elder began, his tone harsh and unapologetic, "I don't trust any claims that you make here that are not backed by hard evidence. Maybe the boy is lying to you... maybe you're lying to us... so unless you show some proof, something concrete that makes us believe in this story of yours, I for one, call this bullshit."
His words, though blunt and inelegant by council standards, struck a chord within the room, as many nodded along, not necessarily out of loyalty to the Fourth Elder, but because the story presented by the Twelfth Elder indeed felt far too convenient, far too perfectly timed, and far too reliant on faith rather than fact, as they were being asked to trust now and verify later—an arrangement that did not sit well with those who had spent centuries navigating webs of deception and half-truths within the political sphere.
"First Elder, if I may speak?" came the voice of the Seventh Elder, who raised his hand calmly at that precise moment, requesting the floor with measured restraint, which the First Elder, seated at the head of the obsidian table, granted with a single nod of acknowledgment.
"I look at this entire situation through a different lens," the Seventh Elder began, his tone casual but laced with undertones of finality. "I say what difference does it make whether the boy has really memorized the scroll or not? The task before us is to name the next Dragon. That is our duty. And I say, if the boy has memorized the scroll for real, then we extract those memories and present them to Veyr as a substitute for the scroll."
He paused only briefly, letting his next words hit with more impact.
"If he has not, then we made the right choice by appointing Veyr in the first place. But I say.... Why let the issue of the scroll factor into our judgment at all? Why make the appointment of the next Dragon dependent on the scroll's fate? If the Cult had never lost the scroll, none of us would even be thinking this way. The Dragon is selected based on his talent, not on his contributions to the Cult."
His voice grew sharper, more condescending now, as he leaned back ever so slightly.
"I mean, hell, if you feel like we owe something to the Skyshard boy, then we give him a castle to live in, or sponsor his Transcendent Tier breakthrough potion as a reward for his services. But naming him Dragon? Over a 23-year-old who has already reached the Transcendent Tier? I can't even believe that's a debate—"
He said before sitting back down, as the Fourth Elder, seated across from him, felt a surge of triumph ripple through his chest, his lips curling into a faint smile beneath the polished mask, as he silently thanked the Seventh Elder for so deftly shifting the perception of the room and gaslighting the chamber into believing that the matter at hand was never up for true debate to begin with.
'Thank you, Lord Seventh. I'll send you some of my finest tea leaves as a reward,' he thought smugly, as he watched several elders nodding in thoughtful agreement, as the tide of the debate seemingly began to turn back in his favor once more.
However, just as the Fourth Elder allowed himself to believe that control had returned to his grasp, the Third Elder raised his hand with the calm, deliberate poise of a man who did not speak often, but when he did, expected the room to listen.
"You may go ahead, Third Elder," the First Elder said, granting the floor, as a hushed silence once again descended upon the chamber.
"I completely agree with Lord Seventh on one point," the Third Elder began, his voice steady and precise, "and that is that we should not make this a debate solely about the scroll, but instead focus on the merit of the two candidates. However," he said, shifting slightly in his chair, "I completely disagree with his conclusion that Aegon Veyr is the more suitable candidate to be named Dragon over Leo Skyshard."
He took a breath, letting the weight of his hot take settle across the table.
"Leo Skyshard is a battle-tested talent. He's won the Circuits for Rodova. He's infiltrated the Serpent ranks. He's made it into their impenetrable Vault and managed to set up a dimensional portal inside, undetected."
His gaze swept across the room as he continued.
"Regardless of the success or failure of the mission, which was no fault of his own, the fact remains that the boy performed impeccably under pressure and has achieved far too much in the real universe to be dismissed so casually."
His voice rose slightly, not with anger, but with conviction.
"All twelve of us sitting here are Transcendent Tier warriors, and we know damn well that while we are not weak, we are not something to be revered in the broader scheme of things either. I doubt any of us could replicate what the Skyshard boy has done, were we placed in the same shoes.
So regardless of him being a tier lower than Veyr, what truly matters is his record....his real, tangible accomplishments!"
He leaned forward, his voice tightening just slightly.
"What has Veyr even achieved in the real world? Has he completed a single field mission? Has he gone up against a peer-level opponent of similar skill and found a way to overcome them?
In my eyes, there's more to life than raw strength alone, and I fear this Council is in danger of forgetting that."
A quiet settled over the chamber as he finished.
"It's my understanding that the Skyshard boy has everything that the Council wants in a Dragon.
He's popular.
Handsome.
Marketable.
Good at completing tough missions.
And if it were up to me, I wouldn't even spare Veyr a second glance."
The ripple effect of those words was immediate and unmistakable, as murmurs returned once more, but this time with no unified direction, only uncertainty, as minds began to wrestle with two clashing truths.
On one hand, what the talent that Aegon Veyr displayed was unheard of.
To become Transcendent Tier at 23 years old was unparalleled.
However, it was also true that he had no real track record.
And in contrast, Leo, who although was not as strong, had proven himself to be a soldier like no other, and had the perfect credentials to be named Dragon.
Hence, the neutral elders inside the council room could not help but feel confused now, as they couldn't decide which criteria deserved more weight, and how exactly should they go about selecting the next Dragon?
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Timeless AssassinC418: The Mighty First Elder
Chapter 418: The Mighty First Elder
The First Elder sat quietly throughout the growing debate, his fingers loosely interlocked and resting atop the black obsidian table, his gaze unchanging and impassive as he allowed the others to exhaust their arguments, for he was not a man who chose to speak early, but rather one who preferred to speak last, at the precise moment when the room was divided and the outcome uncertain, so that his words would carry the most weight.
"Alright, silence in the chamber please, silence in the chamber..." he finally said, rising slowly to his feet with the calm authority of someone who did not need to raise his voice to command it, and at once, the elders fell quiet, the scattered hum of private discussions evaporating as all eyes turned towards the head of the table, waiting with measured anticipation for what he had to say.
"I've heard many meaningful perspectives shared here today, and before we delve deeper into the heart of this debate, I feel compelled to first address the matter that lies beneath all of this: the Twelfth Elder's failure to retrieve the scroll."
His tone remained measured, but the cold edge beneath it was unmistakable.
"In my eyes, this failure, despite the opportunity presented, reflects not just misfortune or miscalculation, but a fundamental lapse in foresight and strategic judgment. This was not a mission to be approached with a half-measured hand or trusted to improvisation, and for that, I must openly and firmly condemn the outcome."
The words, though spoken with a certain diplomatic restraint, carried enough sting to draw subtle shifts in posture from the Twelfth Elder, who lowered his head slightly under the scrutiny, as the rest of the chamber nodded along in collective approval, for the sentiment reflected the general mood surrounding the mission's disappointing conclusion.
"I can only hope," the First Elder added after a pause, "that the Twelfth Elder takes this failure not as a defeat, but as a lesson, and allows it to serve as a catalyst for personal growth and maturity moving forward."
Having offered his obligatory criticism, thereby reaffirming his reputation as the neutral compass of the Council, the First Elder let the topic settle before shifting direction with a gentle clearing of his throat.
"Now... regarding the appointment of the Dragon."
He paused, letting the words hang just long enough to reset the mood of the room.
"I see merit in both candidates, and I discount neither of them. However, after weighing the arguments placed before us today, I find myself inclined to agree with the Third Elder's assessment."
There was no need for dramatic flair, for his voice had already drawn the chamber into stillness.
"In this era, where theory and promise must bow to the pressures of reality, it is real-world accomplishments that stand as the truest measure of one's talent. And when viewed through that lens, it becomes difficult to ignore a rather glaring truth that many of us have long been aware of, yet some have chosen, perhaps out of loyalty or political convenience, to overlook."
His tone sharpened ever so slightly, laced now with something far less forgiving.
"Aegon Veyr has not achieved his transformation naturally."
He smiled beneath his mask, a cold, amused smile that never reached his eyes, before continuing, now with pointed directness.
"I know this will not come as a surprise to certain individuals in this room—individuals who were already aware of this unlawful practice, but nevertheless remained silent. But for those of you who still sit in ignorance, allow me to enlighten you."
He reached beneath his robe, pulling out a neatly sealed envelope, and with one fluid motion, scattered its contents.
*SCATTER*
An array of photographs scattered across the council table, their glossy surfaces catching the overhead light as images of ritual markings, strange tattoos, and lifeless bodies splashed across the surface like spilled ink upon parchment.
"For those who demand proof before belief, let me assure you that I have come prepared. These images were not conjured by rumor or supposition. They are facts. Verified. Documented. And damning."
The chamber remained frozen as the elders leaned forward, inspecting the disturbing evidence with growing unease.
"With the support of the Second Elder, the Fourth Elder has broken more Cult Laws than I care to count, teaching Aegon Veyr forbidden techniques.....techniques that are meant to be passed down only to the next Dragon and were still taught to him without council approval.
As the two have willingly broken countless Cult laws and a long standing tradition not from ignorance, but rather pure ambition."
"Aegon Veyr's body is covered in ancient runes and secret tattoos meant to aid in life essence absorption.
And absorb he did....
As over the past year, he's absorbed an average of 30-100 lives every single day.
Captured men, women, and children alike, drawn from the colonies and planets under the jurisdiction of the second and fourth elder, all sacrificed under the guise of cultivation, all so that he could absorb their life force and soar through the Grandmaster Tier like a beast fattened on stolen flesh."
"And so I ask you," he said, his voice growing colder now, "is it any wonder that he reached the Transcendent Tier by the age of twenty-three?"
He let the question hang, the silence that followed as heavy as a blade pressed to the throat.
"The two of you," he said, turning his gaze toward the Second and Fourth Elders, "have committed crimes that would warrant execution if reported to Lord Soron. But I am not a petty man. I know your intentions were not born out of malice, but out of blind devotion to the Cult's future. And so, I will let this matter rest... for now."
"But do not sit there and insult our intelligence by preaching about Veyr's so-called 'talent.' The boy is not gifted. He is groomed. He is a lab rat, molded through stolen blood and broken oaths. And if he is not named Dragon today, he will cease to be an asset, and become instead a liability to the very men who built him from forbidden clay."
His words left a chill in the air, as the final syllables faded into silence, leaving the chamber frozen in a moment of collective reckoning, where no elder dared to speak, and the Second and Fourth Elders sat hunched in shame, their masks doing little to hide the weight of what had just been exposed.
Seconds passed, and neither man stood up to defend their honor, as soon the Elders who were waiting for their defence, rose up in anger, feeling unable to believe that something so ridiculous sounding was actually true.
"Propostrous! How can this be true? How can you teach forbidden technique to someone who is not the Dragon? That's akin to committing high treason!"
"Lord Second, Lord Fourth, please tell us your side of the story..... this can't be true.... This is surely a misunderstanding is it not?"
The neutral elders asked, however, neither man had anything to clarify, which brought the atmosphere within the Council room to a boiling point.
The elders who were unaware of this plot could not believe just how far some of their peers had fallen to break centuries of tradition like this, as they looked genuinely stunned by this revelation.
The others who had some clue on what was going on, but had chosen to turn a blind eye towards it regardless, whispered behind trembling fingers, as they reassured each other that they still had the others' backs.
But no one could deny the shift that had occurred within the chamber's walls, as the facade of unity and discipline had been cracked straight through the middle, revealing ambition, secrecy, and desperation buried just beneath the surface.
And amidst the quiet unraveling, the First Elder said nothing more.
He simply watched.
Watched as the Second and Fourth Elder refused to lift their heads.
Watched as the flames of indignation sparked from seat to seat.
And watched as the very men who once moved votes with a single nod now sat crippled by shame, unable to salvage the very cause they had sacrificed everything for.
But beneath his still exterior, the First Elder's thoughts flowed dark and calculating, for this moment was not something he had won by chance or luck, but was rather something he had silently worked on for months, with whispers traded for truths, and favors exchanged for confessions, until the web had grown tight enough to strangle even the boldest conspirator.
He had purposefully positioned himself to look weak.
He had let the Fourth and Second Elder think that they were the only ones gathering intelligence on him.
Because while they had been busy watching him, he had already learned whatever he needed to learn about them, and had secretly saved the evidence for this precise moment here today.
As with this truth bomb, he expected to win this war for once and for all.
"All those in favor of appointing Leo Skyshard as the next Dragon..."
A pause.
"...please raise your hands."
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Timeless AssassinC419: Gang Of Shame
Chapter 419: Gang Of Shame
When the First Elder called for the vote, fully expecting the majority of the Council to fall in line, especially after how brutally he had exposed the misdeeds of the Second and Fourth Elders, what he did not anticipate was that only five hands would rise to support his proposal.
A quiet gasp passed through the chamber, carried by the silence that followed the tally, as he slowly turned his gaze toward the elders seated around him, registering the raised hands of the Third, Fifth, Eighth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Elders.....
Which when included with his own, brought the total tally supporting Leo's nomination as Dragon to six.
Just one short of the seven required for majority.
And in that instant, the expression beneath his mask, calculated and steady up until now, visibly cracked.
The remaining six elders, whose hands had stayed motionless, avoided his gaze.
They hid behind their dark masks like cowards clinging to anonymity, but their shame radiated through their posture alone, as they could clearly not puff their chests while doing something so cowardly.
'Oh? So this is how it really was—' The First Elder finally realized, as he began to understand just how deeply the odds had been stacked against him before this meeting even began.
The Second, Fourth, Sixth, Seventh, Ninth, and Tenth Elders, were all in bed with one another before the meeting ever began.
All shackled to the Fourth Elder by whispered threats and buried sins, who had long promised him their votes, before the meeting even began.
In the end, it did not matter how compelling the truth was, nor how grotesque the facts had been, as what really swayed votes in this Council was not justice, but insurance.
"All those in favor of naming Aegon Veyr as the Dragon..." the Second Elder finally spoke. His voice was oily with restraint, rising to fill the void left by the First Elder, who now remained silent, too sickened to carry on.
Six hands rose again, this time from the other side of the chamber, as the deadlock was complete.
Twelve elders, six on each side, making it so that it became impossible to reach a majority.
The First Elder stood motionless as the chamber began to fray at the seams.
Elders whispered behind gloved fingers, nervously shifted in their seats, and some already prepared rebuttals while others looked away in discomfort, unwilling to acknowledge the rot that had settled into the core of their Council.
In the end, the only vote the First Elder truly managed to flip was that of the Eleventh Elder, a vote that had originally been promised to the Fourth Elder but was withdrawn after the truth behind Veyr's so-called 'talent' came to light.
*Clap*
*Clap*
*Clap*
The sound echoed through the dome-like ceiling, sharp and mocking, as the First Elder began to clap, slow and deliberate, before allowing a bitter chuckle to escape his throat.
"Ha–"
"Hahahaha–"
That chuckle quickly turned into a low, unrestrained laugh.
"So this is how it's going to be," he said with scorn. His voice rang with fury barely hidden beneath sarcasm. "The gang of shame sticks together."
And then chaos erupted.
The chamber devolved into a storm of raised voices and vicious accusations.
Robes flared, chairs screeched against the stone floor, and elders turned on one another with the kind of venom reserved not for enemies, but for betrayed kin.
Slurs and insults flew freely. Fingers were pointed. Fists clenched, and even the most refined voices of the Council dropped their filters to hurl accusations of cowardice, bribery, incompetence, and treason.
"You spineless old leech, you sold your soul in tonight's vote!"
"Says the snake who gave up an entire planet last year to the First Elder just to remain in his good graces! Go suck someone else's dick, don't mess with me, cocksucker!"
"You call me dishonorable when you tutored Veyr behind the Council's back?"
"You're a disgrace to the robes you wear!"
Hands gripped robes. Shoulders were shoved. The chamber of ancient order became a pit of schoolyard squabbling until—
"SILENCE!"
The First Elder's voice cracked like a whip. It was sharp enough to freeze every breath in the room, as he slammed his fist against the obsidian table.
The echo of the strike reverberated like a gavel through the mess of broken decorum.
"This meeting has proven to be a failure," he declared coldly. "And I no longer have faith that the Council is working for the best interests of the Cult."
His voice carried not only anger, but something far worse: disappointment.
"I am henceforth dissolving this council until further notice."
A stunned hush fell across the room once more.
"I will inform Lord Soron of my decision and let him decide who the next Dragon should be. Because, unlike you fools, I still carry the Cult's future in my heart above my own political ambition."
His gaze moved slowly across the room, pausing briefly on each of the six who had raised their hands against him, as he burned their betrayal into memory.
"Lord Second is free to accompany me if he wishes, to put forward your side of the story" he added with cold finality. "But I will be damned if I ever convene a council with you traitors again."
And with that, he turned from the obsidian table. His robes swirling as he walked out of the chamber, leaving behind eleven elders, five stunned, five ashamed, and one smiling faintly in bittersweet vindication, as the Council chamber stood dissolved after this disaster of a session.
In the end, no conclusion was reached regarding who should be named the next Dragon, but what did emerge was a far more unsettling truth about the Council's current state of decay.
The original purpose behind the Elders concealing their identities and refraining from sharing their real names had always been to prevent such covert alliances from forming, maintaining impartiality and unity above all.
Yet over time, those ideals had withered away, and what remained was a council firmly in the grip of block politics, an internal rot that now resembled a spreading cancer, threatening to consume the very soul of the Cult.
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Timeless AssassinC420: Verdict
Chapter 420: Verdict
(The next day, Ixtal, on the front steps of Soron's Castle)
When the First and Second Elder arrived at the doorstep of Soron's secluded castle on Ixtal, they did not dare lift a hand to knock, nor raise their voices to call for him, as both men were certain without needing confirmation that the great God had already sensed their presence the moment they approached, and that he would come to greet them only when he deemed the time appropriate, never a moment earlier.
And so they waited.
Not for minutes, but for hours, standing in complete silence before the grand doors of the old stone castle, each man lost in the weight of what he had come to say, though for very different reasons.
The First Elder stood with furrowed brow and clenched jaw, carrying the simmering fury of betrayal beneath his skin, while the Second Elder shifted uncomfortably every few seconds, wiping at his palms and adjusting the edges of his robe, the nervousness clearly visible in his every action.
Only when the sun had dipped low into the horizon, after the two elders had waited outside the doorstep for nearly half a day, did the grand door finally creak open.
*CREAK*
Both men dropped to their knees at once, bowing low in reverence as they greeted the figure before them.
"We greet Lord Soron, Sect Master of the Cult of Ascension and protector of our way of life," they intoned in perfect unison.
Soron looked down at them with impassive eyes, offering no warmth in his expression.
"Hmmm," he murmured, releasing just a fraction of his aura.
That sliver alone was enough to make the two elders tremble, their foreheads dampening with sweat as they remained kneeling beneath the crushing weight of his presence.
He looked entirely different today compared to the frail image he had presented when meeting Charles just days ago.
Gone was the hunched frame and the modest attire. In its place stood a man draped in ceremonial robes of gold and deep crimson, his back straight, his shoulders broad, and his eyes gleaming with an energy that spoke of both age and authority.
His black hair was slicked back neatly, his gaze sharp and commanding, while powerful muscles pressed against the embroidered sleeves of his robes.
Even in silence, his presence alone forced the elders to remain bowed, not by choice but by instinct.
He looked not like a scholar nor a sage, but like a war god returning to claim his seat.
And only once he had let them feel his pressure long enough, did he turn without a word and began walking deeper into the castle.
*Step*
*Step*
The two elders followed in solemn silence, their steps echoing faintly through the vast hallway.
Yet to their surprise, Soron did not lead them to the modest living room where such discussions were usually held.
Instead, he guided them toward the heart of the castle, toward the high-domed throne room, where stained glass filtered sunlight into slivers of red and violet.
There, he climbed the steps and took his seat upon the elevated throne, resting one leg over the other and leaning slightly forward, his eyes cold and indifferent as they settled upon the two men before him.
"Speak," Soron commanded, his tone devoid of patience or warmth, as it was the Second Elder who stepped forward first, clearly hoping to ease into the subject with pleasantries.
"You look well, my Lord—"
He began, however, Soron raised his hand in protest immediately, as he refused to indulge in pleasantries today.
"My time is precious, Second Elder. Cut straight to the chase." Soron said coldly, as the Second Elder swallowed hard, his voice hitching for just a moment before he bowed his head and obeyed.
"My Lord... we come before you today because the Council has reached a deadlock. A tie that cannot be broken."
He hesitated, but continued.
"There are two candidates for the title of Dragon. Leo Skyshard and Aegon Veyr. The Council has split down the middle, with six elders voting for each, and while usually we would resolve such issues amongst ourselves, by discussing some more and reaching a consensus, we are unable to do so anymore.....
As immediately after the vote ended, the First Elder dissolved the Council, forcing us to come to you as per protocol."
"Now, as for why the First Elder decided to dissolve the Council, please allow me to tell you my side of the story, because it will come off as far more inexcusable if someone else says it first.
So I humbly request you to let me finish....." The Second Elder requested, as Soron continued to stare at him with a blank expression.
"Myself and the Fourth Elder... have indeed committed a transgression. One we cannot defend."
He paused again, not to think, but to breathe.
"We taught Aegon Veyr forbidden techniques. Techniques that should only be passed down to the next Dragon.
We did it without council approval and without your knowledge. But it was done not out of rebellion or ambition, but out of desperation, at a time when there was no other viable candidate for the post of Dragon.
Back then, we believed Veyr would inevitably be the one to be chosen as the Dragon, and our only intention was to shield him from the limelight and start his training early."
"But the First Elder and his supporters believe our actions cannot be pardoned, and due to that disagreement, the Council is now suspended. We cannot proceed. We cannot vote. We cannot decide."
As the Second Elder finished his admission, Soron's eyes turned slowly toward the First Elder, who straightened his spine and spoke without flattery, his tone unwavering and clipped with restrained frustration.
"The Council, as it stands, is unworthy of continued operation."
He spoke the words not with malice, but with the calm assurance of a man who had witnessed rot take root in sacred soil.
"The faction led by the Fourth Elder has too much dirt on each other. Their alliances are not based on ideology, but on mutual blackmail, on cover-ups, on favors exchanged behind closed doors.
I will not claim to be a saint myself, nor deny playing politics when necessary. But I have always placed the Cult's wellbeing above personal ambition, but these Elders do not.
And as such, regardless of who you ultimately name Dragon, the six men who voted for Veyr today must not be allowed to remain councilmen after this."
He finished without embellishment, letting his statement hang in the stillness of the throne room.
*Huff–*
Soron leaned back, folding his hands loosely in his lap as he took in both arguments, exhaling a deep breath through his nose, and allowing the silence to stretch just long enough to unsettle them.
"Very well," he said finally, his voice low and deliberate, each word dropping like stone into still water.
"I have made my decision."
He let his gaze alternate between the First and Second Elder before continuing.
"There will be a public combat match. Aegon Veyr versus Leo Skyshard. Two months from now. The winner shall be named Dragon."
The room did not stir, but both elders stiffened.
"However," Soron continued, "since there is a tier disparity between the two, the match cannot be held under equal terms. So here is what we will do."
"If Leo Skyshard wins, he will be named Dragon without question. If he loses, he shall be groomed under my direct guidance and raised to become the next Vice Sect Master."
"If Veyr wins, he too shall be named Dragon. But if he loses..."
Soron's eyes now locked onto the Second Elder with an intensity that stole the breath from the room.
"Then every elder who voted for him today shall resign from their position and permanently abdicate their seats on the Council. You placed your trust in his talent, so if he proves to be insufficient, you will also fall with it."
The Second Elder's lips parted in disbelief, but no sound emerged. He stood frozen, stunned by the irrevocable terms laid before him.
There would be no further negotiation.
The Sect Master had spoken.
Contact - ToS