(anwhile, inside the the heart of the Chakravyuh, Soron's POV)
Across his vast lifespan, Soron vividly rembered participating in so of the most bloody and brutal battles history had ever witnessed.
However, everything he had experienced so far paled in comparison to the difficulty he faced today, as of all the battles he had fought, as a mortal and as a God, this one today was undoubtedly the hardest.
*Pant*
*Pant*
*Block*
Blocking yet another swing from Helmuth, Soron shifted his weight backwards, as old injuries and limping ankles caught up to him, his body threatening to lose all sense of balance, while his will forced it to stay functioning.
'Not yet..... not now....
He thought, as he kept an eye out for Leo's progress just beyond the inner ring of the Chakravyuh, and realized that the boy was less than an hour away from making it to the core.
'Must endure till he's here...!
Soron resolved, as he kept the rising pressure from three distinct fronts at bay.
From a purely technical standpoint, it was a miracle that he had even endured this far into the fight without picking up any new major injuries, for his opponents were so of the strongest Gods in the universe, and yet, the reason behind why he managed to do it was less because of his own rit and more because the enemy Gods were terrible at working together.
Helmuth fought like a storm given form, his axe swings wide and devastating, each strike carrying enough raw power to shatter divine constructs, yet his movents were blunt and predictable, driven by rage rather than coordination, as he repeatedly overextended and left openings that Soron exploited to slip away.
Mauriss, on the other hand, fought with a cruel sort of opportunism, his slab of origin tal coming down whenever he sensed weakness, yet his timing was erratic, as he prioritized disruption over precision, often forcing Helmuth or Kaelith to adjust mid-attack, just to avoid being struck by their own ally.
While Kaelith, while being the most sensible fighter, showed a likeliness to overwhelm Soron's personal space, as while he did not interrupt others, his body positioning often left no room for Helmuth or Mauriss to attack Soron's vitals, as he beca an involuntary at shield for Soron.
The three pillars of the Universal Governnt, while all overwhelmingly dangerous as individual fighters, failed to translate that strength into true coordination, as it was precisely their lack of cohesion that allowed Soron to endure for far longer than he should have.
*Block*
*Step*
That flaw manifested clearly on the battlefield itself, where their assaults interfered with one another at critical monts, as Helmuth's axe repeatedly forced Mauriss to abort killing swings, while Mauriss's slab disrupted Kaelith's lines of attack, and as Kaelith's positioning in turn compelled Helmuth to restrain his own strikes to avoid cutting down an ally.
*CLANG*
Soron turned Helmuth's axe aside at the last mont, letting the edge scrape his shoulder deliberately, as pain flared and blood spilled, yet the wound imdiately began sealing itself, his regeneration kicking
in with extre efficiency.
As that was a price he was willing to pay.
Helmuth's axe hurt, but it did not linger.
While Kaelith's daggers did.
*SWOOSH*
*Step*
Soron pivoted away from a descending slab, feeling the displaced air
of Mauriss's strike brush past his ribs, as the weapon smashed into the ground behind him and forced Mauriss to wrench it free with a
grunt of irritation.
"Stay still, damn you," Mauriss snapped, his voice sharp with mounting frustration.
Soron did not reply, because talking required breath, and breath was
a resource he could not afford to waste, not while three Gods tried to tear him apart at the sa ti.
"ARGHHHHH-"
Helmuth roared and charged again, boots cracking stone as he closed the distance, and Soron angled his body just enough that the axe passed close, forcing Kaelith to pause his own attack for a fraction of a second to avoid being clipped.
"Control yourself," Kaelith said coldly, irritation seeping into his tone despite his composure.
"Don't tell how to fight," Helmuth shot back, shoving past him, the two colliding shoulder to shoulder as their montum clashed.
*Thud*
That single mont was enough.
Soron slipped between them, blades low and tight, as he repositioned with minimal movent, preserving strength while forcing the three
to reorient once again, their lack of cohesion buying him another precious second of survival.
*Pant*
His breathing grew heavier, chest burning as fatigue crept deeper into his limbs, as centuries-old wounds protested the strain of constant motion, yet soron kept moving, because stopping ant death, and death ant the end of everything his Cult believers were fighting for
outside the ring.
Kaelith adjusted first.
His daggers flashed, cutting through the narrow gap Soron had just vacated, forcing Soron to twist hard to the side, muscles screaming as his footing slipped on shattered stone.
Helmuth followed imdiately, axe coming down in a brutal vertical arc, as Soron raised both blades to et it, the impact sending a violent shock through his arms and rattling his bones.
*CRACK*
Soron staggered, pain blooming across his forearms, as his grip threatened to fail for the first ti since the battle began.
'Careful....
He warned himself, as Mauriss moved in at the sa ti, slab swinging low with the clear intent to break his legs and end his
mobility for good.
*Jump*
Soron leapt backward, the edge of the slab grazing his calf as pain
flared, teeth grinding together as he absorbed it, knowing that even
partial injuries were beginning to stack faster than his body could comfortably handle.
"Still standing?" Mauriss laughed, though there was no humor in his
eyes. "Your head is mine!" Helmuth growled.
Kaelith said nothing, but his gaze sharpened, as Soron could feel the shift in pressure that ca when Kaelith decided to escalate.
The next exchange happened faster.
Kaelith's first dagger slipped past Soron's guard, slicing deep across
his forearm, origin tal biting into flesh in a way that imdiately resisted healing, pain detonating up his arm as Soron hissed through clenched teeth.
Before he could fully react, the second dagger followed, carving across his stomach in a brutal diagonal slash, tearing muscle and skin apart as blood poured freely, the wound refusing to close no matter
how hard Soron focused.
*GASP*
His body recoiled on instinct, balance faltering as the realization of
permanent damage hit him like a hamr.
Kaelith stepped in, poised to finish it.
And in that instant, Soron understood that retreat ant death, that
hesitation ant collapse, and that the only path forward was through pain.
So he stepped into it.
Ignoring the agony screaming from his wounds, Soron twisted his
torso and drove his blade upward in a vicious arc, not toward Kaelith's
throat, but toward his face, because that was the one body part their father forbid them to hit during friendly sparring and hence was the one part that they naturally never learnt how to defend.
*SHRRRK*
The blade tore across Kaelith's face from forehead to chin, slashing
past his eyes and lips, blood spraying as Kaelith staggered backward, his composure shattering for the first ti as a sound escaped him that was half snarl, half gasp.
"Garghhh?"
The wound did not fade.
It did not heal.
It remained.
Kaelith retreated, his feet moving sideways in escape, while his
fingertips hovered near his face without touching it, eyes wide with disbelief as pain and permanence settled in.
"M-my eyes..." Kaelith thought, as a searing, liquid agony blood across his face
and burrowed inward, the origin blade's mark burning with a permanence he imdiately recognized.
The cut had grazed his eye, not enough to blind him, yet enough that
every blink sent waves of tornt through his skull, vision shimring at the edges as he realized with dawning horror that this pain would never fade, never dull, and never heal.
"Do I have to bear this pain for an eternity now?"
He wondered, as the realization struck him harder than the pain itself, as he understood that the mark carved across his face would never fade, no matter how much ti passed or power he wielded.
This war, which he had entered with absolute certainty and control,
had finally left him with sothing permanent, as the consequences of crossing blades with Soron settled into him at last, not as fear, but as the knowledge that this damage would follow him for the rest of
his existence.
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