(anwhile, Yu Kiro's POV)
After Soron drove the shattered shaft of Yu Kiro's own spear straight into his face, it took him several disoriented seconds to realign his vision, blood and divine essence blurring the world as his senses struggled to catch up to reality.
And in that brief mont of clarity, Yu Kiro finally understood.
The figure standing before them was no longer the battered, decaying Cult Master worn down by centuries of poison and attrition.
This was Soron as he once was.
The most gifted son of the Tiless Assassin.
The monster who had once dominated the universe in his pri.
Everything about his fighting style had shifted.
Gone was the cautious, defensive rhythm Soron had adopted against Helmuth earlier, where every movent had been asured, restrained, and conservative.
As now, he was relentless.
Aggressive.
Utterly unbothered by the fact that he stood alone against eight Gods, as though the nurical disadvantage was an inconvenience at best, and irrelevant at worst.
'Even after centuries... even after all that damage...'
Yu Kiro thought grimly.
'He's still as sharp as ever!
He admitted begrudgingly, as he saw Soron perform the impossible, as he dodged a strike from Du Trask, before then countering in a way where reality altered the trajectory of his attack, as a heartbeat later,
blood appeared across Du Trask's forearm, origin tal having already done its work by the ti the pain arrived.
"GAHHHH!"
Du Trask scread, staggering back as the wound refused to close, flesh rejecting regeneration entirely as the poison of origin tal settled in with cruel permanence, as Yu Kiro could not help but wince despite himself.
"Thank the heavens...'
He thought darkly.
'If it had been his origin blades instead of my own spear that pierced earlier, I wouldn't be standing here right now!
He realized, as that understanding hardened his resolve.
From that point onwards, Yu Kiro consciously kept his distance from Soron, as he abandoned any thought of close engagent and instead unleashed long-range spear attacks, divine essence detonating across the battlefield in violent succession.
*BOOM*
*KABOOM*
*BLAST*
The planet trembled beneath their exchange, tectonic plates screaming as mountains warped and terrain permanently deford, yet no matter how many attacks rained down, Soron remained untouched, weaving through destruction as though the world itself was moving too slowly to reach him.
'I don't understand how he does it...'
Yu Kiro thought, frustration and envy twisting together.
"The Tiless Assassin did the sa thing!
'We're all Gods... but our control over ti is nonexistent compared to theirs.'
His mind latched onto the answer with reluctant clarity.
Movent.
That was the difference.
The ability to walk between the seconds, to exist in the cracks between monts, was what made Soron, and his father before him,
so terrifying.
Without it, Yu Kiro knew, Soron would be formidable yet manageable, yet, with it, he was simply untouchable.
*CLANG* *CLANG*
*SLASH*
Unwilling to decipher the early warnings, it was Helmuth and Ru Vassa who charged in next, fury and pride driving them forward despite the glaring red flags, as Soron t their attacks cleanly, deflecting both in a single fluid exchange, before then continuing his movent to land a counter.
*SPLAT*
His blade kissed Ru Vassa's side in a shallow arc, slicing across her hip with deceptive gentleness as blood sprayed thinly from beneath her armor, the cut small in size but infinite in consequence, as Ru Vassa
froze in disbelief.
*Pupils Contracting*
Her expression darkened as the pain settled in, her lips thinning into a frown as she realized that this wound was never going to heal.
"Fuck..."
She muttered, retreating instinctively as she pressed a hand to her side, only to be horrified when blood pooled in her fingers.
"That bastard cut ....
He said, as the divine essence separated into three attack paths.
*SLASH*
*SLASH*
*SLASH*
Three distinct arcs of intent peeled away from Raymond's blade, each one sharp enough to slice an ocean by itself, as each one carried with
it a different promise of loss.
One cut bent outward, wide and indiscriminate, its trajectory fanning toward the densest cluster of the Cult Army, where injured soldiers and dics were still scrambling to board the nearest evacuation craft, utterly defenseless against a strike of that magnitude.
While the second was narrow and precise.
Its path locked cleanly onto Leo's throat, the killing intent behind it
cold and absolute, as though Raymond had already decided that this was the mont he would end the biggest nuisance of this war.
While the third-
The third curved slightly, almost lazily, its edge humming with cruel
deliberation as it aligned itself with Veyr's chest, aid not to kill instantly, but to cripple, to remind him exactly where he stood in the
hierarchy of gods and prisoners.
As in that frozen heartbeat, Leo understood.
Raymond was not attacking to win.
He was attacking to force a choice.
Save the army.
Save the Dragon.
Or save himself.
And no matter what Leo chose, Raymond intended to take sothing
from him.
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