Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 201 201: Yu Shen Vs RamosTimeless AssassinC201 201: Yu Shen Vs Ramos
(Sky-God Arena – Finals Match 1: Yu Shen vs. Captain Ramos)
The crowd's excitement hit a fever pitch when the two captains stood across from one another— neither of them speaking, nor moving, as they just glared each other down in absolute silence.
Most fighters, when looking into the eyes of Gu Ramos, trembled in their boots.
However, Yu Shen wasn't one of them.
The Rodova captain didn't seem fazed in the slightest that he was standing across from Geneva's finest, as there was no visible tension in his shoulders, nor any sign of hesitation, as though this was exactly where he'd always intended to be.
Then—slowly, almost ceremonially—he unsheathed both his swords and pointed them forward at Ramos, blades crossed like a hunter lining up his first strike.
Ramos didn't flinch.
He responded by drawing both his curved sabers with a swift snap of the wrists, spinning each in a tight circle before resting them back against his forearms—a gesture of both readiness and defiance as his crimson armor caught the light reflected from his blades.
"This… this is the fight of the tournament," Derek breathed through the mic, voice dropping into awe.
"Two captains. Two warriors at the peak of their academies. If this doesn't get you on your feet, nothing will," Lee added.
As from the stands, the roar only grew.
Chants overlapped. Fans screamed themselves hoarse, as Rodova's black and gold drowned in Geneva's silver and blue across the arena stands.
*BZZZZZ*
The camera drones zoomed in on both fighters' faces.
Neither of them blinking
As—
"Begin!" The referee's voice cracked through the comms, and just like that, both men exploded forward.
Yu Shen was the first to strike—his approach tactical, as he closed the distance with high-speed footwork.
His aim wasn't to overwhelm Ramos immediately, but to apply pressure early and test Geneva's captain's defensive tempo.
He had studied the tapes, and he believed he had the edge in speed, and if that proved true, then engaging fast would give him control of the center.
*CLANG—!*
The first collision came clean—Yu Shen's dual swords crashing against Ramos's curved sabers in a crossing parry, as sparks shot out from the impact.
Ramos held firm, blocking the incoming blow with crossed sabers, his boots grinding into the sand-grip floor beneath them.
But instead of pushing back, Ramos pivoted on his heel, letting Yu Shen's momentum overextend just enough before he slid under his arm and struck—
*CLANG—!*
*SHNK—!*
A cut opened on Yu Shen's right shoulder. Just a graze. But it was blood.
The first mark of the match.
"OHHHHHH!" the crowd erupted.
"Ramos with the first hit!" Lee shouted. "That looked like a calculated misdirection—Yu Shen thought he had the edge in that clash, but Ramos baited him perfectly!"
Yu Shen leapt back, eyes narrowed—not in pain, but in acknowledgment. A good hit. A clean read. Ramos had waited for the opening, and took it precisely when the opportunity presented itself.
'He's more reactive than I thought… can't take him on with just superior speed,' Yu Shen assessed mentally, shifting his stance.
Instead, he snapped his wrist forward and called his first technique.
[Snowpiercer]
A shimmering arc of ice surged forward in a narrow crescent, sharp as razors, gliding across the air like a slice of frozen death.
Ramos responded with a defensive spin, his sabers whipping through the air in wide curves as he activated [Stormguard Cut], a deflection technique designed to disperse elemental projectiles while maintaining rotational balance.
*CRACK—!*
The two abilities collided mid-air, the force of the clash sending an icy wind spraying out in all directions, peppering the front rows with fine frost.
"Whooooa—!" Derek said, laughing nervously. "If you're sitting ringside, you're basically in the splash zone!"
The moment the frost cleared, Yu Shen charged again—not to repeat the earlier mistake, but to follow up while Ramos's guard was still in mid-recovery.
A feint slash high—
A low strike sweeping from the left—
And a spinning cut from the right.
Each movement was calculated, meant to test Ramos's timing and reaction limits under compound pressure.
*CLANG—!*
*CLANG—!*
*CLANG—!*
Ramos blocked all three, but the last strike forced him off balance for just a second—long enough for Yu Shen to twist his blade downward and land a clean elbow to his ribs.
*THUD—!*
Ramos staggered—but didn't fall.
Instead, he retaliated immediately with a double saber uppercut, the curved edges scraping Yu Shen's chest armor and ripping through the outer layer.
Both men stepped back simultaneously now—each bleeding, as while Yu Shen bled through his chest. Ramos spat a mouthful of blood, the elbow to the chest seeming to have caused some internal damage.
'So this is the strength of the Geneva Captain—'
'So that's Yu Shen, the Rodova Captain—'
Both thought simultaneously, as they realized that the two of them were pretty much evenly matched, and that this was sure to be a dog-fight.
"Come on now, don't be scared, daddy won't hurt you if you approach nice—" Ramos taunted at this moment, as Yu Shen responded with a dry smirk, his blades lowering just slightly—not in surrender, but in preparation.
"I wasn't worried about you," Yu Shen replied coolly. "I was worried you'd be over too soon."
And then he lunged again—this time not with speed, but with cold control.
His right sword led the charge, sweeping horizontally while the left stabbed upward in a diagonal feint.
*Parry*
Ramos parried the horizontal strike—but the feint became real as Yu Shen twisted his wrist mid-motion, bringing the left blade down into a sudden arc aimed for Ramos's thigh.
*CLANG!*
*SCRAPE—!*
Ramos blocked it, but not in time to stop the edge from biting just shallowly into the meat of his leg.
"Yu Shen carves back!" Derek shouted. "That's one apiece now—these captains are bleeding and they're just getting started!"
Ramos grimaced, but didn't slow. He took the pain as fuel and pushed forward, cutting high with his right saber before looping the second in a reverse slash—aiming to force Yu Shen into retreat.
Yu Shen retreated two steps—but that had always been his intention.
He raised his foot and slammed it down with controlled force, activating—
[Frigid Bloom]
Frozen lotus petals bloomed out from his position, covering a small radius in sleek frost. A trap, meant to reduce foot traction, and Ramos—charging forward to capitalize—found himself slipping just slightly.
It was enough.
Yu Shen spun low, blades laced with shimmering cold, and slashed upward in a rising arc.
But Ramos was no fool—he let himself fall into the slip, rolling forward beneath the blow, and as Yu Shen's momentum left him exposed for a heartbeat—
*THWACK—!*
A heavy boot connected with Yu Shen's ribs, launching him back five feet into a rough skid.
"OOOOHHH!" the crowd wailed.
"He's using the terrain against him!" Lee said. "That Frigid Bloom backfired—Yu Shen lost footing after the follow-through!"
Both men were slower now, they were bloodied and breathing harder.
Yu Shen's ribs throbbed where the kick landed.
While Ramos's leg was stiff, and his lungs injured from where Yu Shen had landed his elbow.
And yet—
Neither looked away.
They dashed in again, colliding like titans in the center, blade against blade, teeth clenched, sweat dripping from their brows as every movement became heavier.
[Blizzard Fang]—
Yu Shen released a mid-range strike, sending jagged spears of ice outward in a starburst, forcing Ramos into evasive spins—but the Geneva Captain ducked under, absorbing a few shallow cuts along his shoulders and arm before closing the distance with a brutal shoulder tackle.
They slammed together, grappling briefly, weapons grinding between them, ice mixing with blood as Ramos hissed—
[Red Bloom Edge]—
With a flash, Ramos's sabers ignited with crimson energy as he performed a dual upward slash, the impact sending Yu Shen staggering again as the blades lacerated across his right bicep and collarbone.
But Yu Shen's response was immediate—
[Glacier Spikes]—
From the ground beneath Ramos's feet, jagged icicles erupted, forcing him to leap backward—but not before one of the spikes tore through the side of his calf.
*CRACK!*
*SLICE!*
*GASP!*
The crowd was screaming now, not in excitement, but in awe and horror as this was the exact bloody fight they'd come here to witness.
Both men were limping now—
Both bleeding.
Both exhausted.
But still—still—they circled each other, blades held high.
Yu Shen made one last dash, trying to end it with a final burst of energy, twin blades swirling in a final assault—
But Ramos saw through it.
He waited.
Waited.
And then—struck.
[Phantom Bloom]—a rare movement skill whereby it looked like his afterimage was dashing left, while he was actually moving right.
And unfortunately Yu Shen went for the wrong one, giving Ramos the opening he needed to circle to his back and slice his back open with a deep cut that stopped just short of his spine.
*THUD—*
Yu Shen fell forward, collapsing to one knee, as he desperately tried to push himself back up—but his body simply didn't respond.
The pain… the fatigue… it had caught up, and although his mind wasn't done with this fight, unfortunately his body betrayed him, as he couldn't get up before the five count.
"STOP!" the referee shouted, stepping in immediately once the five count was over, as he gave his verdict.
"Captain Yu Shen is unable to continue!"
"WINNER—GENEVA ACADEMY! Captain Ramos claims the opening bout!"
*ROAAAAAAAAR—!*
The Geneva side of the crowd detonated into cheers, their banners shaking the rafters as Ramos lifted a single saber in acknowledgment—bloody, staggering, but victorious.
"That was… insane," Derek said, stunned. "What a battle. That was the kind of fight you remember for the rest of your life."
"Both captains bleeding, both nearly collapsing—but Ramos finds the final edge. Geneva goes 1-0 up," Lee murmured, as at that point the medics rushed in, trying to save Yu Shen's life and stop the intense blood loss.
"I— I LEAVE THE REST TO YOU—" Yu Shen yelled towards the sky before passing out, as although he knew he had been defeated, he put his faith in his teammates, hoping that they would finish the job where he failed.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 202 202: Back Against The WallTimeless AssassinC202 202: Back Against The Wall
(Sky-God Arena – Finals Match 2)
Nobody on the Rodova bench expected Yu Shen to lose the opening fight.
They had all been on the edge of their seats as Yu Shen took on Gu Ramos, and while it was a respectable performance till the end—
Unfortunately, Yu Shen fell short of beating his opponent.
"The hell? Yu Shen lost?" Su Yang barked out, throwing his hands in the air.
"I told you, Skyshard— that bum doesn't deserve to be captain. It should've been one of us, we could've cooked Gu Ramos–" Su Yang said, as Minerva shot him a piercing glare.
"Watch your mouth, Yang…. This is not the time to blame your teammates, be serious in your life for once—" Minerva reprimanded as she stood up and headed for the tunnel.
According to Rodova's plan, if Yu Shen fell, she would step in next.
With her role being to stabilize, fight smart and pull a win back for the team— delivering big time as the second most senior fighter on the roster.
And hence, that's exactly what she intended to do.
*Step*
*Step*
The roar of the crowd built to a crescendo as Minerva stepped into the arena, black hood fluttering behind her, silver bow already strung and ready.
"MIN-ER-VA! MIN-ER-VA!"
"She's back!" Derek shouted, rising from his chair slightly. "Rodova's archer steps up after sitting out the semi-final. That injury she picked against Orion had us wondering if she would be fit to fight today?… but by the looks of it, she's healed and locked in."
"True," Lee added, "but this matchup doesn't favor her at all."
As from the Geneva tunnel emerged her opponent—
Damien Aroth.
The shield-wielding juggernaut. A natural predator to all ranged fighters.
"That's a nightmare matchup for Minerva, Derek," Lee continued. "This is exactly why winning the first bout is so important in the circuits, because it lets you dictate favorable counters. But now? Rodova's forced to stick to rotation—and that puts Minerva up against her class-counter."
Damien raised his massive tower shield with one hand and pounded his fist against it with the other, letting out a deep bellow that echoed through the stadium.
*ROAR—*
The Geneva fans roared in support for him, as he tried his best to intimidate Minerva, however, to his dismay, Minerva didn't flinch, as she glared at him back with guts.
"Fighters—ready?" The referee asked at this moment, as both nodded, giving him the green light to begin the fight.
—----------
"BEGIN!"
The referee's voice cracked out, and the second match of the finals commenced.
Minerva moved first—light on her feet, sliding backward as she drew an arrow and let it loose.
*TWANG—!*
*CLANG—!*
The arrow struck Damien's shield and shattered instantly. A test shot. She already knew it wouldn't land—what she needed was to test his reaction time and mobility, and so far both looked pretty good.
*Thud*
*Thud*
Damien charged, footsteps thunderous, using his wide shield as cover while closing the gap, as Minerva responded with [Phantom Trail], instantly weaving behind a cluster of illusory versions of herself, repositioning to the side for a clean shot.
*SHHHK—!*
This arrow came faster. Coated with a wind-imbued charge, as she used [Gale Spike]—aiming not for damage, but to force Damien to stumble by hitting the gap near his foot.
And it worked!
The giant staggered slightly, and Minerva took advantage with two rapid follow-up arrows that zinged toward his shoulder joint.
*CLANG—!*
*CLANG—!*
Both blocked again—but he had to shift, giving her a few more seconds of breathing room.
"She's playing the angle game. Trying to chip him down through gaps in the armor," Derek narrated. "That's how an archer handles a tank— making smart shots and applying surgical pressure."
But Damien was done playing.
As with a sudden burst of mana, he activated [Shield Advance] and propelled his body forward like a battering ram.
*BOOM—!*
Minerva barely dodged in time, rolling to the side—but even as she rose, she was forced to immediately fire another arrow just to keep him at bay.
*Clang*
The arrow rang against his shield, breaking his charge, as Minerva breathed a small sigh of relief.
That was too close—
Way too close—
"Come on, come on," she muttered, as she triggered [Rainfall Volley]—her signature skill, which made a single arrow that she shot towards the sky, split into multiple arrows on its way back, that remained suspended briefly in the air by wind magic, before descending like a storm over Damien's position.
*THUMP—!*
*THWAP—!*
*TWING—!*
Some arrows struck his shield. A few glanced off his armor. One clipped his leg and made him grunt—but unfortunately, the rain of arrows wasn't enough to bring down Damien.
This time, he charged and he kept coming despite Minerva's best efforts to stop him, until he suddenly accelerated once again, when he found himself in range of activating [Shield Advance].
*CRASH—!*
Unable to dodge, Minerva found herself tossed away like a ragdoll, as Damien's shield slammed into her body like a truck.
*Skid–*
Despite her best efforts to steady her body, she skid across the sand with little to no control over her body's momentum, as she picked up some minor scratches and bruises, along with a severe rib injury from the first impact.
*OOOOHHHHH—*
The crowd gasped, sad to see her rolling away like a helpless doll. However, there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Eventually, She did stop and get back to her feet, however, it was clear from how hard she was coughing that she had definitely sustained heavy internal injuries.
Still… she didn't yield.
She raised her bow again, fingers shaking, and fired another shot—aimed straight at Damien's head this time.
However, Damien blocked it with ease.
*CLANG—!*
He blocked it.
And then—
*CLANG—!*
He blocked another, as he walked towards Minerva nonchalantly.
He weighed 160 kilograms, and when he came charging towards someone at full speed that was accelerated via [Shield Advance], he reached peak speeds of nearly 140 km/ hour at times, which created enough of an impact force to break the bones of even Grandmasters.
And although Minerva looked intact for now, he knew for sure that she had sustained heavy internal injuries that would make it hard for her to maneuver anymore in this fight, which was why he walked towards her in a leisurely fashion, knowing full well that she was going to be unable to run away even if he took his time.
"Sorry…. I'm usually not this rough with pretty ladies like yourself, but this is the end for now–" Damien said, as he activated another [Shield Advance] and slammed into her body, as he sent her flying out of the arena, as she crashed into the boundary wall.
*BOOOOOM—!*
"WINNER, DAMIEN AROTH OF GENEVA!" The referee announced, as
*ROOOAAAAAR—!*
The Geneva fans exploded again, erupting into a wave of cheers as Rodova's second loss was cemented.
"This is huge, Derek," Lee said. "Geneva is 2–0 up. Rodova's back is officially against the wall."
"Both the senior Grandmasters are out! It's all up to the juniors Leo Skyshard and Su Yang now…. And of course there's Enzo too!"
"Enzo can't do anything worthwhile here Derek…. There's no way he comes in handy.
It's essentially a 2v5 now—" Lee said, as Su Yang made his way towards the arena.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 203 203: Su Yang Vs Su RanTimeless AssassinC203 203: Su Yang Vs Su Ran
"A second consecutive loss for Rodova, this makes things very hard—"
"It's Su Yang who steps up now for Rodova. Can he turn things around?" Derek said, as Su Yang walked onto the arena amidst muffled cheers from the Rodova supporters, whose dream of winning the championship after 22 years now hung by a thread, unraveling with each breath.
He walked with the calm confidence of someone who had mastered his craft, as he did not seem worried about who he was going to face at all, and was confident in defeating anyone that dared step up against him.
And while he was ready to face anyone, if there was one man he wanted to face more than anyone else, it was Su Ran—and to his joy, as if summoned by fate, it was Su Ran who appeared from the opposite gate.
A faint smile touched Su Ran's lips as he raised his silver spear and bowed slightly. "Good luck for the fight, brother—may the best fighter amongst us win," he said smoothly, his voice low, calm, and cordial.
As just listening to his disgusting voice made Su Yang's blood boil with rage.
If any other fighter said those words, and offered him that innocent-looking smile, Su Yang would have smiled back or offered him good luck—but never for Su Ran.
Because he knew that smile very well.
Knew that tone.
Knew that bow.
And knew just how fake it all was—
Everything about Su Ran was fake.
That display of nobility and grace—designed solely for the Patriarch watching from above—was an act meant to please and nothing more.
Just another performance in Su Ran's lifelong play to appear dignified and respectable, just like a snake wearing silk robes.
In truth, he was nothing more than a bastard child trying to play prince. A half-blood who had to pretend to be humble at every step of his upbringing because deep down, he knew what he really was.
And his fakeness repulsed Su Yang more than anything else.
"Rot in hell, commoner—" Su Yang spat, pointing his sword at Su Ran's chest as his mana surged, flaring with razor-sharp intent.
The camera panned to the private viewing box, where the Su Clan Patriarch remained motionless, his expression unreadable as he watched one legitimate son and one mistake prepare to tear each other apart.
"Begin—" The referee said at this moment, and the arena exploded.
Su Yang jumped into motion without hesitation, vanishing and reappearing beside Su Ran in a flash of white energy, his sword already mid-swing in a vicious upward arc.
But Su Ran didn't flinch—his spear spun into position with [Serpent Coil], wrapping around Su Yang's blade mid-strike, forcing the clash to be locked in a stalemate, as neither could push the other back.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second—both blank, both furious.
Then Su Ran twisted his spear and pushed forward with the move [Drifting Spiral], shoving Su Yang back with a spinning shockwave of compressed air that cracked the floor beneath their feet.
Despite taking the blow head-on, Su Yang landed on his heels, barely skidding before lunging forward again with [Cross Fang], a two-slash combination meant to cleave Su Ran's body in half.
Su Ran was quick, countering with the technique [Seven Petal Bloom], deflecting the first strike and absorbing the second with the spear's flexible shaft, parrying it perfectly—like someone who had studied Su Yang's every move since childhood.
"Using the same old moves, brother? Have you learnt nothing new at Rodova?" Su Ran said at this moment, mocking Su Yang as he tried to look cool for the camera and their father. However, this was his big mistake, as Su Yang did not respond with words but rather action.
He activated the move [Flickering Step], which was a move he had never shown in the circuits before, and as he activated it, Su Ran was left at a complete loss over where his real location was, as Su Yang reappeared behind his back and slashed low to cut off both his Achilles tendons at once.
*SLASH*
The hit connected.
And a shower of blood sprayed outwards from Su Ran's heel as he screamed loudly, his voice cracking from pain.
"Aaaghhh—!"
But he didn't fall.
He didn't even stumble.
He limped—wobbling backward with each strained step, his wounded legs dragging across the arena floor as his spear came up in a shaky guard.
He gritted his teeth and absorbed Su Yang's follow-up blows, barely parrying a vicious [Overhead Strike] and catching the edge of a [Flickering Step] feint that nearly took his arm off.
At this point, every block looked like it would be his last.
His mobility was nearly gone, his usual fighting stance was broken, and his overall prospects did not look good at all.
But still, his eyes—were wide, alert, and waiting, as despite his disadvantage, it was clear that he had not given up yet.
He kept baiting Su Yang by keeping up with his defense and doing nothing else. After a few seconds, Su Yang broke his discipline and went for the move—
[Mountain Splitting Slash]
He tried to end the fight at once.
However, this was the exact moment Su Ran had been waiting for. He tilted his spear at just the right angle, sliding Su Yang's blade off its axis with [Deflect], then twisted with a violent snap of his hips to drive a [Piercing Stab] straight through his opponent's core.
*SHINK!*
The spear went clean through Su Yang's body, as he choked and spat blood, his eyes going wide as his breath was knocked from his lungs.
*Splat–*
Blood splattered the floor in front of him, and his sword arm twitched, beginning to fall.
But he didn't drop.
Not yet.
Just like Su Ran before him, he too hardened his eyes and forced his body to move as he unhooked himself from the spear by willingly stepping back, as despite the gaping hole in his body, he seemed hell-bent on continuing the fight.
*...*
Silence engulfed the stadium.
Nobody in the audience could understand how Su Yang was still standing… especially the referee. And yet, with Su Yang still upright—sword raised, eyes locked—the referee had no choice but to let the fight continue for now.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 204: UnbrokenTimeless AssassinC204: Unbroken
Blood poured from the wound in Su Yang's abdomen, hot and unrelenting as it painted the arena floor beneath him red—but Su Yang did not glance down.
He couldn't afford to.
Not when Su Ran was still breathing, as doing so while his trash brother was still alive, would give him a moment of immense satisfaction.
*Tremble*
His sword trembled in his grip, not from fear or hesitation, but from the sheer strain of forcing his mangled body to keep moving.
His breaths came in ragged, shallow gasps, each one scraping through clenched teeth, but his eyes—they were still sharp. Still locked onto his brother with a fury that could burn through steel.
The spear wound had torn a hole straight through his abdomen, but Su Yang still stood tall with his feet planted and his sword raised, as he did not show signs of slowing down at all.
He refused to stagger.
He refused to kneel.
And that too out of sheer pride and nothing else,
Because he knew that if he did falter here—Su Ran would win.
And that… was something he would never allow.
*Surge*
His mana surged erratically now, no longer flowing smoothly but flaring in violent bursts, like sparks from a dying fire.
He could feel his body breaking down from within, muscle fibers tearing, nerves screaming—but none of it mattered.
Not anymore at least, when hatred was his painkiller and adrenaline his shield.
"You thought that would finish me?" he rasped, blood seeping down his side as he took a step forward. "Unfortunately that's where you're wrong, trash blood…. That's the difference between the True heir, and trash like you."
The crowd remained silent, stunned into stillness as they saw Su Yang continue despite bleeding so profusely, while Su Ran looked pale like he had just seen a ghost.
"H-how are you still moving?" He asked in shock, as by all logical means Su Yang should have fallen down unconscious by now, however he did not.
"I'm still moving because this fight ain't over bitch—" Su Yang said, the expression in his eyes turning near maniacal, as he did not look like someone who was hurting or afraid of death anymore.
But instead, looked like someone,who planned to burn the universe down around him, just in case he did go down.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing Lee? There's a hole in Su Yang's body that we can see through, but he's still fighting—" Derek said at this moment, as his voice sounded genuinely concerned.
"In my entire career as a commentator I've never seen anything like this Derek. The circuit's are the pinnacle of gladiator sports, and we often see people with immense willpower competing here, but this is beyond willpower….. this is madness….. pure and untamed madness!" Lee added, as he clutched his hair in disbelief.
"If he pulls a win from here… t-that… I can't even put it into words how that would be—" Derek said, sounding unsure of how to even feel about something like that, as he checked himself mid-sentence.
"No! No! No!" Su Ran suddenly screamed from the center of the arena, his voice shrill and cracked. "You're on the verge of dying! Just one small push and you'll fall over!"
He limped forward, dragging his injured leg as he closed the distance between them, eyes wild with disbelief and panic. His spear shot out in sharp, precise jabs—one after the other—like a man possessed, each strike aimed not to kill, but to shove, to tip Su Yang over the edge and make the nightmare end.
But Su Yang…
He didn't block.
He didn't parry.
He moved.
Like smoke.
Like a ghost.
Each stab missed by inches. One grazed past his cheek, another came close enough to ruffle his hair, but Su Yang glided around them—effortless, almost weightless, as if his body had transcended pain and fatigue.
His eyes never blinked. His blade never lowered. He simply kept stepping forward, dodging each thrust as though he knew exactly where they'd land before they were even launched.
And the more he moved… the more Su Ran's confidence began to unravel.
Because Su Yang wasn't slowing down.
He was closing in, in what seemed impossible movement for a man with as heavy an injury as him.
—--------
(Meanwhile, the Su Family Patriarch)
While the majority of the audience in the arena couldn't fathom how Su Yang was moving so well even with such a massive injury, the Su Family Patriarch knew exactly why.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, lips curling into the faintest shadow of a smile, as he nodded in acknowledgement—
'So… it's finally awakened.'
It was a matter of great joy for him—not because his son was surviving, but because this was the first time he had witnessed this ability naturally manifesting in one of his descendants.
There was no mistaking it. Su Yang had awakened the Su Clan's most prestigious bloodline skill—[Unbroken].
A trait that only revealed itself when death was near… and defiance ran deeper than the marrow.
Two minutes. That's all the skill gave.
A window of near-invincibility in a near-death state, allowing the body to keep fighting with no regard for pain, injury, or exhaustion.
But to the Su Patriarch, that wasn't the impressive part.
The impressive part… was that Su Yang had unlocked it on his own.
He had not unlocked the skill via the clans divine skill scroll, or by forcefully stimulating a certain portion of his genetic potential, but rather through pure instinct alone.
'Good,' the old man thought, as although he didn't cheer for his son out loud. Deep down, a sense of satisfaction coiled inside his chest like a snake basking in the warm sun.
This—this was exactly what Su Ran had been raised for.
Although he had long allowed the illusion to linger that both his sons were candidates for the Patriarch seat, the truth was far more calculated.
Su Yang had always been the only choice. The true heir. The bloodline holder.
Su Ran… was merely the whetstone.
A necessary rival.
A narrative device.
A tool.
From the moment of his birth, the Patriarch had known the boy's role. He lacked the blood purity, the natural instincts. But what he did have—was value.
He could grow strong. Strong enough to provoke. Strong enough to challenge. Strong enough… to push Su Yang beyond his limits.
And today, he had done just that.
"You've played your part well, Su Ran, for that I must commend you—" the old man muttered coldly. "But this is where your relevance ends–"
He exhaled slowly through his nose, gaze fixed on Su Yang's relentless advance, as he already knew what the outcome of this battle was going to be from this point forward.
Su Yang's win was a done deal, however, it wasn't going to come without a cost.
Activating [Unbroken] came with a trade-off.
For once those two minutes of invincibility passed, assuming the user survived, their body would be crippled for six full months— where strength, speed and mana sensitivity— would all be reduced by 20%.
A heavy price to pay for surviving what should have been fatal.
But to the Patriarch, that didn't matter, as he knew that Su Yang won't need his full strength for the next six months anyway after the circuits were over.
And that him activating this skill on his own was already proof enough of his pure blood and sheer willpower.
Su Yang was already walking the path of a ruler. A man willing to die just to not lose.
And that… was the only kind of man fit to inherit the Su Empire.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 205: AloneTimeless AssassinC205: Alone
As Su Yang continued to dodge and weave under the mounting pressure, Su Ran's concern deepened—his opponent moved with such composure and precision, it was as if the gaping wound in his abdomen didn't exist at all.
"What kind of a freak are you? Why can you still move like that?" Su Ran asked in disbelief, voice cracking with frustration and fear.
However, Su Yang didn't answer.
His silence spoke louder than anything else—like a monster who no longer needed words to assert dominance.
*SHUA–*
Su Ran thrust forward with a sharp, piercing jab meant to pin Su Yang in place, but Su Yang tilted just enough to let it pass by his shoulder.
*SHUA—*
Su Ran followed it up with another jab towards his neck, however, Su Yang rolled under it, before sidestepping a sweeping cut.
"Just stay in one place damn it–" Su Ran complained in panic, as Su Yang's movements became increasingly cleaner, as though his body had forgotten it was dying.
And it was this panic that spilled into his technique, as he launched [Venom Bloom], which was a six-hit rapid combo infused with spear energy, where each strike he dished out was faster than before.
*Shua—*
.
.
.
*Shua—*
The thrusts were blinding in speed, however, despite him doing his best, Su Yang managed to weave through all of it, before pivoting low, as he countered with [Flickering Step]—vanishing for a split second before reappearing directly in front of Su Ran, blade already in motion.
*CLANG!*
Their weapons clashed.
But only Su Yang pressed forward, as he unleashed [Phantom Cleave], feinted left, and then spun into a devastating [Mountain Splitting Slash]—powered by pure momentum and rage.
*CRACK!*
Su Ran's defense shattered at this moment, as his spear flew from his hands.
And in the same motion, Su Yang drove his shoulder forward, slamming into his brother and knocking him flat onto his back.
Su Ran gasped, the wind knocked from his lungs. His limbs flailed as he tried to roll away, but it was already too late.
Su Yang raised his sword.
And brought it down—stopping just one inch above Su Ran's throat.
"Yield," Su Yang growled, voice low and final, as Su Ran's eyes widened, his face betraying a thousand emotions, as it went from shock, to relief, to humiliation, to anger, to resignation, and finally to acceptance all within a split second.
His mouth opened, but no words came, as he just nodded—twice, quickly.
"Winner Su Yang of Rodova!" the referee declared at this moment, pushing Su Yang off Su Ran, as the Rodova supporters popped like crazy.
*CHEERS*
Deafening cheers covered the entire arena, as even the Geneva supportres could not help but clap for the iron-man performance that Su Yang had just shown, as even if they did not support him, they could not help but respect him after this fight.
"That's what I thought…. I'm better than you, commoner tra—" Su Yang spoke in a haze, as he tried to get back to his feet and raise his fist in celebration, however, before he could do that, he just collapsed face first into the floor.
*THUD*
Blood spread from beneath him like an ink blot on the pale tiles, and the crowd collectively gasped.
The referee blinked, then turned toward the Rodova bench for instruction, as although Su Yang desperately needed treatment, as per tournament rules, he could not receive it until he was either defeated or the team yielded his spot.
And with Yu Shen and Minerva out, all eyes landed on Leo, who sat on the Rodova bench with his arms crossed and his face convoluted into a frown.
"He's out of the tournament,"
"He won't return. Get him treated." Leo said flatly, conceding Su Yang's spot, as he knew that delaying Su Yang's treatment would be for naught.
There were absolutely no chances of Su Yang recovering from such an injury by himself without external help, and since he couldn't get that on the bench, having a dead body around was pointless for Rodova.
"Fighter Su Yang of Rodova is declared unfit to continue by his team and will no longer participate in the tournament—"
"Medical team please take him away!" The referee announced, as the jumbotron screen turned from showing a 2-1 score to a 3-1 score, as the healers rushed in.
Su Yang was in a pretty rough shape, and needed intense surgery to save his life, however with how competent the doctors present at hand were, his life was in no critical danger.
However, what did suck though, was how he was down and out after a single fight, as this essentially left Leo to pull back Rodova from a 3-1 disadvantage, while being the last Grandmaster fighter on the roster.
—------------
"What a valiant effort by Su Yang to put a point on the board for Rodova," Derek said, his voice a blend of admiration and concern. "But unfortunately, that win is only as good as a tie—because Su Yang is now officially out of the tournament."
"What a fight indeed," Lee agreed. "The kid fought like a man possessed. But with his exit, the weight of the entire team now falls on one man—Leo Skyshard."
"To be fair, Leo has pulled off miracles before," Derek added. "He once turned a 4–0 deficit into a 5–4 win against Button Academy. The man is built for clutch moments."
"Yeah, but this isn't Button Academy," Lee cut in, sharper this time. "This is Geneva. The number one ranked academy. These aren't scrappy underdogs he would be fighting—these are the best fighters of the tournament.
So turning around a 3–1 deficit against them? That's bordering on impossible."
"Especially," he continued, "when your only remaining partner is still stuck at Master level, because that means Leo's essentially fighting Geneva alone from here on out."
Derek let out a breath, the weight of the situation sinking in.
"Well… it is what it is. The question now is—what can he do about it?"
—-------------
Following Su Yang's defeat, it was Leo who walked out to the Sky-God Arena—amongst a faint cheer from the Rodova faithful.
The cheers sounded half-hearted and subdued now, instead of the roaring support that Yu Shen got when he walked out, as it was the sound of a crowd that had already buried its hope.
They clapped for Leo because they had to.
Not because they believed.
The jumbotron still read 3–1, and everyone in the stadium knew exactly what that meant.
Rodova's bench was depleted, their stars were gone and their chances to win it all were slim to none.
And yet—
Leo walked like none of it mattered.
He didn't worry about things beyond his control.
Things like—could he really win four matches in a row against some of the finest fighters in the universe?
Could he really carry a broken team to the championship?
Or about who his next opponent was going to be?
As he knew that all those thoughts were nothing more than noise.
He let the doubts drift to the far edges of his mind, like mist sliding off a blade, and instead focused on the only thing that grounded him, which was the cold steel of the daggers in his grip, and how familiar they felt in his hands.
'One at a time….'
'Let's just take this one at a time—'
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 206: It's called Strategy.... BitchTimeless AssassinC206: It's called Strategy.... Bitch
(Sky-God Arena, Finals match 4)
Mikhail Serrin was the next fighter to step up from Geneva, and he was expected to defeat Leo by his team.
Afterall, Mikhail specialized in neutralizing close-range, high-speed fighters, with his unique combination of short sword and pointed shield combat—designed not just to defend, but to control spacing, intercept movement, and dismantle momentum.
"This is it kid…. You're going down—" Mikhail said, giving Leo the thumbs down sign as he took his starting spot, as the Geneva supporters roared in approval.
"Bozo…." Leo muttered under his breath, not letting the opponent's pointless theatrics get under his skin, as he maintained his state of calm and focus.
"Both fighters ready?" The referee asked at this moment, as both Leo and Mikhail nodded.
"Alright, then begin—"
—---------
As soon as the fight began, Leo disappeared from Mikhail's view in an unusual battle strategy that he hadn't used in the circuits so far.
Mikhail scrunched his eyebrows, and followed the faint trail of footsteps on the sand, which kept him informed about Leo's real location, as although Leo was moving soundlessly, on the sand-trap arena, the soft layer of sand always betrayed his true position.
*Clang*
An invisible dagger came flying towards Mikhail, which he deflected with ease, as it seemed like not only was he tracking Leo's movements with his eyes, but he was also sensing movement in his surroundings via some perception skill, as he could easily make out the projectile coming his way, despite it being invisible.
"I don't know what you're trying to achieve by being invisible, Skyshard…. But these kindergarten tricks won't work on me.
I wasn't born yesterday, and basics of perception is a class that I took in my first year too—" Mikhail said, as he tried to discourage Leo from continuing with his invisibility route, however, despite his warning, Leo never flicked into plain view, keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats on what exactly was going on?
Then…. As if he were purposefully messing with Mikhail, Leo activated [Mirror World] creating a dozen clones of himself, who moved haphazardly in the sand around him, creating a dozen new footstep trails that crossed over and covered his real steps.
"What? What is this pointless nonsense? You know I can see you moving there right?" Mikhail said, as he traced the real invisible Leo with his short sword, pointing towards him constantly as he moved, until he did not.
As suddenly, Leo used [Blade Switch] and teleported right above Mikhail, before coming crashing down on him with an overhead strike.
*Block*
Mikhail blocked the move with his shield, the impact putting pressure on his knees as he sank slightly deeper into the sand, however, he took no damage.
*Push*
Pushing Leo back, he followed up with a stab towards his gut, as Leo, still invisible, dodged by turning to the left, as his dozen clones ganged up on Mikhail and tried to stab him all at once.
*Slash*
*Slash*
*Dodge*
*Slash*
Forced to handle the small fries, Mikhail lost a precious couple of seconds trying to dispatch all clones, where-by he completely lost track of the real Leo, or what he was up-to.
Then, as he tried to find him again using his perception skill, Mikhail panicked when he could sense him nowhere, as it appeared like Leo had completely disappeared from the battlefield entirely.
"What? Where is he? Reff… is he still within the arena bounds?" Mikhail inquired, with the crowd growing restless, as the response came in the form of a stunning slash across his cheek, which drew a thick line of blood.
*SLASH—*
A dagger whistled past his head, with him only surviving being impaled, due to the instinctive jerk of his neck at the last possible second.
However, this close encounter made him widen his eyes in surprise, as he could no longer figure out what was going on?
"What? Why can't I sense you? Where are you motherfucker?" Mikhail complained, as he turned around frantically, trying to look for any traces of Leo's footwork amongst the sand, however, he could find nothing with how messy the battlefield looked with dozens of footsteps going in all directions.
*STAB*
Another invisible dagger impaled him at this moment, this time in the thigh, as "AGHHH—" Mikhail screamed, his eyes wide with panic.
He couldn't sense this one coming his way at all either and that made him break his composure.
In his head, he couldn't make sense of how Leo Skyshard was evading his senses so thoroughly! However, for the transcendent and monarch level fighters sitting in the crowd, they could perceive Leo's trick as plain as day.
Mikhail's perception ability was called [Sectoral Search] and how it functioned was that it searched for any signs of danger in a 100 meter radius, sector by sector.
For the first 0.2 seconds, it searched the battlefield at 0-72 degrees from the host.
For the next 0.2 seconds it searched 72-144 degrees.
And so on until it completed a full 360° search in 1 full second.
However, this made the technique prone to leaving momentary blind spots, as at any given moment in time, while it searched 1 sector, it left 4 others blind open.
And Leo, having researched this weakness of the ability before the finals began, had already formulated a strategy on how to exploit it.
First, he created a footstep storm around Mikhail using [Mirror World] so that his real movement would not be given away by his steps.
And then, once he was overwhelmed by the clones, Leo tactically slipped into his blind spot and began running at his top speed clockwise, as although he was running in just a 3 meter narrow radius around Mikhail, and that too at his top speed—
At that radius, his speed let him stay ahead of each scan—slipping through the gaps in Mikhail's detection before it could ever lock on, making him completely invisible to his opponent.
*Stab*
*Stab*
*Stab*
Three more daggers hit Mikhail, this time along his hip, spine, and shoulder in rapid succession, as the impact sent him buckling to one knee, before he regained his footing and began limping wildly as his composure shattered.
At this moment, Mikhail ran simply for the sake of running, as he felt like a sitting duck by fighting from the same spot where he was being repeatedly hit, however, this proved to be his final and costliest mistake.
"Got you—" Leo whispered coldly, as he reappeared into public view from Mikhail's blind side and rushed in for the kill, as he stabbed Mikhail on his back, before pulling his dagger down along the full length of his spine, to leave a long diagonal blow, that while wasn't lethal, made Mikhail feel like he was being torn in half.
"AGHHHH—" Mikhail screamed, before falling face first into the sand, as Leo stood over him, waiting to deliver the finishing blow.
"AGH! AGH! AGHHHH—" Mikhail screamed writhing on the ground, as the amount of pain he felt in this moment numbed his mind and killed any desire he had left in him to continue this fight.
"I YIELD…. I YIELD—-" He yelled like a bitch, as the referee called the match in Rodova's favor.
"Winner, Leo Skyshard from Rodova!" The referee declared, raising Leo's hand, as the Rodova crowd roared in approval.
No-one saw this dominant win coming.
Infact, no-one watched most of what happened in this match up-till the final moment, however, it still pumped their blood.
This was arguably Leo's most impressive performance yet, as he dismantled a Grandmaster opponent not through battle-dominance, but rather strategic brilliance.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 207 207: RemontadaTimeless AssassinC207 207: Remontada
"It's 3–2 for Rodova! Leo Skyshard pulls one back for his team!" Derek shouted, nearly out of his seat.
"To be honest, I didn't see much of anything he did here," Lee added, shaking his head with a stunned expression. "Just like the majority of the crowd. But judging by how terrified Mikhail looked by the end of it... it must've been something damn impressive."
"Impressive is putting it lightly, Lee," Derek replied. "He dismantled a Grandmaster-level fighter without a scratch on him. That's almost unheard of for a finals match."
"Yeah, I don't think anyone expected this sort of dominance from the youngsters…. But it looks like Rodova's first years are better than their seniors, so even if Rodova doesn't win the cup this year, I'm sure they will be happy to know that they have absolute superstars at their hands for the next year" Lee muttered, as the Rodova section roared at the top of their lungs, cheering Leo on.
But before their adrenaline could settle, the next fighter stepped out from Geneva's bench.
And the cheers turned into murmurs of confusion.
"Wait a second…" Derek said. "That's—"
"Damien. Damien the Tank," Lee confirmed, frowning. "He already fought in the second match and suffered a slight bruised ankle, but Geneva's sending him back out?"
"Interesting choice," Derek murmured. "They've still got a fresh Grandmasters left in Darnell, but instead, they're sending Damien out once again."
"It's smart, actually," Lee said after a pause. "Leo just breezed past his first opponent easily, if you throw Darnell at him now and he wins again, Geneva would be under real pressure.
However, by sending in Damien—Captain Ramos ensures that he will be forced to burn more energy, and drain his stamina…"
"And then even if Damien loses," Derek finished, "Leo won't walk away from that fight unscathed and will be a sitting duck for the next fighter.
Geneva's not trying to win it all in the next fight—they're ensuring that they do in the next two."
"Exactly," Lee nodded. "They're playing the long game. Let Damien soften him up. Let him drag Leo through the sand. And then, when he's bleeding, tired, and exposed... drop Geneva's finisher on him."
"It's a solid strategy….With no-one to rely on the bench, Leo is facing an uphill battle from here on out for sure."
—-----------
Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Damien rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and let out a deep exhale as he stomped toward the center again—his massive shield in hand, his gait slower, as he limped because of the ankle injury he received while facing Minerva.
Across from him, Leo stood with both daggers drawn, body loose and eyes locked, as he observed every movement Damien made.
'His weight's still shifting to the right. The limp isn't feigned. Mobility's compromised… but his upper body looks solid. If he plants his feet, he turns into a fortress.' Leo assessed coldly.
Normally, he would've treated a limp like that as bait—a lure to draw him in. But in this case, he'd seen Minerva's arrow sink into Damien's shin with his own eyes.
So for now, he trusted it was real.
And he planned to exploit it.
"Both fighters ready?"
"Begin!"
The referee's voice cracked across the arena—and Leo moved.
Not explosively. But rather with a relaxed jog, as he closed down the distance between himself and Damien at once.
"Jogging to your own death boy? How interesting—" Damien taunted, as Leo suddenly picked up speed and surged forward, before leaping slightly towards the left, as Damien reacted instantly to the danger.
He raised his shield and squared his stance, bringing his body to the ready, expecting a full-speed charge.
'So he wants to trade early,' Damien thought, tightening his core, already preparing to counter with a backhand bash the moment Leo entered his radius.
But Leo didn't enter.
Instead, he stopped mid-run and angled his lunge toward Damien's rear leg—the injured one, as he completely changed his direction at the last second, before exploding forward with such insane speed that Damien's shield couldn't follow him there, not fast enough.
'Shit—he's targeting the limp!' Damien realized, as he twisted his hips to adjust while also swinging the edge of the shield back to intercept—but Leo was already out of his range by then.
*Shing—*
A dagger slashed across the back of Damien's exposed calf, as although the cut wasn't deep, it was clean and re-opened a painful wound that had barely stopped bleeding just moments ago.
"Gah–"
Damien grunted and stomped down hard, trying to pivot into a counterstrike, but his weight transfer lagged—the injured ankle buckling under pressure.
'He's baiting movement I can't physically match. That bastard's not just fast—he's calculated—' Damien realized at this moment, as he saw Leo already backing away in a diagonal retreat to avoid the shield's range, circling again without ever turning his back.
"You think this is how you win, Skyshard?" he growled.
"By poking and dancing like a coward?" he asked in agitation, as Leo refused to respond.
Instead, he simply moved again.
This time he feinted left—causing Damien to shift his weight and pivot his shield in anticipation—before vanishing behind that momentum and darting right.
Mid-movement, Leo drew his elbow back and raked his dagger across Damien's right tricep, dragging the blade just enough to draw blood before pushing off and springing away again.
*CLANG—!*
Damien slammed his shield into the space Leo had just vacated—a quarter second too slow.
As the crowd started to catch on now.
"I don't think Skyshard is even trying to land a big cut here!" Lee said. " I think he knows it's too dangerous to do that, so he's just harassing Damien instead with these surgical jabs, before retreating out of range—"
"He's matadoring him, Lee," Derek replied.
"Death by a thousand cuts. He knows he can't overpower Damien's defense—so he's breaking the body around it." Derek added, as that's exactly what Leo did for the next 30 minutes, as he slowly but methodically accumulated slashes on Damien's body, one after another, with none being too big, however, after getting hit by a hundred of them, the cumulative damage was significant.
"Stop dancing like a monkey and fight me properly—" Damien shouted in agitation as Leo pulled away from him after delivering yet another shallow cut to his arm, which while stung slightly, did not hurt him in any meaningful fashion at all.
However, Leo paid no heed to Damien's rant.
He knew that what he was doing was the best way to slowly whittle down a tank.
And while it wasn't the most glamorous way to fight, nor the most crowd-pleasing—it was still extremely effective.
By fighting this way, he was straining his own stamina reserves big-time—yes—but in return, he was rendering Damien's entire offence-kit useless.
The tank-class came with its trade-offs: and while it had high defence and stability, their offensive abilities weren't designed for speedy duels— as they were built to punish opponents who got caught in their bulky charges.
However, it was impossible for Leo to fall for such a trick.
He was simply too nimble and sharp to be hit by a skill like [Shield Advance] or [Bulwark Crash] and Captain Ramos knew this as well.
Damien was in a way the worst match-up for Geneva to send against Leo, however, they were never counting on him to win, and always only counting on him to tire Leo out, which he was doing wonderfully, by surviving as long as he did without moving, while his opponent was constantly on the hunt at his top speed.
'Hold on Damien…. Tire him out more so that I can come and finish him next round and take all the glory—' Ramos prayed from the stands, as although he maintained a straight expression on his face, internally he prayed for Damien's downfall as much as any Rodova fan.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 208 208: DesperationTimeless AssassinC208 208: Desperation
Damien knew that the situation he was currently in was far from ideal, as every second that passed only served to reinforce the harsh reality that he had no control over the pace of this battle, nor any clear path to victory.
He was, by nature and training, a hyper-defensive fighter—built like a wall and armed with a style that relied on enduring punishment until the perfect moment to unleash a counter strike presented itself.
However, Leo fought in a way that completely dismantled the foundation of that style, as he moved with such relentless speed, surgical precision, and untraceable timing that there was simply no opportunity to land even a single retaliatory blow.
Damien knew he didn't need much—he just needed one, just one clean hit to shift the momentum in his favor, as his class was designed around that singular moment of impact.
But Leo gave him nothing.
Frustratingly, every time he slammed his shield into the ground or spun into a wide counter, he found only empty space in front of him, as Leo would have already danced five steps away—composed, unreadable, and entirely in control.
And after 30 minutes of this helpless dance, his patience began to crack.
He tried to stand tall and keep his breathing steady, but his legs were beginning to ache from bracing in place for too long, while the sweat dripping from his temples soaked the inside of his collar, making the metal feel heavier than usual.
His eyes twitched, scanning for a pattern—anything to break this rhythm—but the only thing he found was Leo's silhouette circling him like a ghost that refused to engage directly.
And for Damien, that was the worst part.
He wasn't just losing the fight—he was being denied the fight altogether.
"I just need one hit," he whispered under his breath, not for Leo, but for himself, as if saying it out loud would somehow will the opening into existence.
But five more minutes passed by and the opening never came.
And so, cornered by frustration, fatigue, and a rising sense of humiliation, Damien made a decision that every fiber of his training screamed against.
"FUCK IT!" he roared, snapping completely as he lunged forward—not with a composed charge or structured formation, but with brute force and blind instinct—throwing the full weight of his shielded frame toward Leo in a wild, unbalanced rush.
The crowd gasped in unison, as Derek's voice rang out in shock, "He's going for it! A full-body shield charge—but that's not [Shield Advance], it's completely unstructured!"
Lee leaned forward, his expression tense. "It's desperation, Derek. He's abandoned form entirely. That shield's not attacking—it's flailing."
And Leo, watching from the edge of Damien's momentum, saw the breakdown for exactly what it was.
He gave up patience… and with it, his only advantage.
For the first time in the fight, Leo didn't dodge backward.
Instead, he stepped forward, eyes locked, body still, as he activated [Celestial Veil]—allowing Damien's crashing charge to bounce off him, as he stopped his momentum at once.
And in that single second, the entire match unraveled.
Once Damien stopped, Leo reappeared on his blind side—low and coiled—driving his dagger horizontally across the back of both knees, slicing clean through the muscle and sending Damien's massive frame lurching forward uncontrollably.
Before the tank could even fully drop, Leo pivoted and delivered a ruthless follow-up—not a lethal blow, but a sharp strike to the base of the neck with the blunt hilt of his dagger, which sent Damien sprawling face-first into the sand with a dull, armor-muffled thud.
The silence was immediate—before it broke into a roar.
"Winner: Leo Skyshard of Rodova!" the referee announced, raising his hand as the Rodova section erupted with disbelief and joy.
"He did it again!" Derek gasped, barely able to contain the emotion in his voice. "Leo Skyshard just dismantled one of the most powerful tanks in the tournament without taking a single clean hit!"
"And not through power," Lee added, shaking his head. "Through brilliance. Through patience. Through utter control. He let Damien bleed with a thousand cuts and let him collapse in his own frustration… before delivering the perfect counter."
Leo said nothing as he walked back to his side of the field, his posture composed, his expression unreadable, and his daggers still drawn—just in case.
And as the camera cut to Geneva's bench, the crowd caught a glimpse of Captain Ramos—his hands folded, his eyes narrowed—not surprised, but amused, as if the outcome of this fight did not displease him at all.
'The kid is trying to look tough, he's actively trying to suppress breathing hard, to not show weakness, but I can see the erratic breathing pattern.
After every couple breaths that he takes short, he takes a long one to meet his body's oxygen demands, showing that he's actually very tired—' Ramos thought, as he got up from the bench and stretched slightly.
"Is it? Could it be that Captain Ramos is coming himself?" Derek wondered, as Ramos left the bench and began making his way down the tunnel, amongst a ruckus from Geneva supporters.
"Oh my god! It is! Captain Ramos steps up next…. They're still not sending Darnell–" Lee commented in awe, as the camera cut to a shot of Darnell sitting on the bench, his face still curled in his usual innocent smile.
—---------
*ROAR—*
As Ramos made his way toward the starting spot, the Geneva supporters exploded with energy, cheering loud enough to shake the stands, as their excitement seemed to be reignited by the appearance of their captain.
Ramos, though visibly injured and still bleeding from his earlier clash with Yu Shen, walked with his usual swagger—his smile wide, his confidence untouched, as if none of the damage mattered.
"You've fought well so far… Skyshard," Ramos said casually, brushing a smear of blood off his cheek. "I acknowledge you as a brilliant fighter."
He paused, just long enough to make sure the cameras caught the grin on his face before continuing.
"It's just a shame you chose to join a second rate academy like Rodova instead of Geneva. A talent like yours—hell, even Yu Shen and Su Yang—they'd always be welcome at Geneva."
Leo narrowed his eyes.
'What a cliché speech,' he thought with a flicker of disgust, as he raised his hand without hesitation and made a simple gesture toward the referee.
"Substitution."
The crowd fell into momentary confusion as the referee turned to confirm—and nodded.
"Rodova requests a substitution. Leo Skyshard will walk out and Enzo from Rodova will step in."
—---------
As the crowd murmured and the commentators scrambled to explain the timing of the move, Leo slowly turned and made his way off the arena floor.
Every step felt heavier than the last, though he did well to keep his gait sharp and composed.
'I can't let them see it. Not Ramos. Not the crowd. Not even my own shadow—' Leo thought, as he kept up the act of looking tough and unharmed, but inside—
He was exhausted.
Two stamina-draining battles back-to-back with no time to rest and no proper cooldown had left him feeling tired.
He was moving at his top speed for both battles and it wasn't just simple movement like running in circles, but complex movements where he had to break his momentum, change directions, roll, jump and do a dozen other things, for several minutes at once.
And as a result, after the two bouts, his muscles ached in places he rarely felt. The joints in his knees felt like they'd been slowly filed down by the sand beneath his feet.
And while his expression remained unreadable and his steps stayed straight—inside, he was very aware of how little he had left in the tank.
'Damn…I need a breather—' Leo thought, as he knew that he needed a few minutes at best, as his passive skill [Faster Recovery] would help him regain his energy quickly.
Just a few minutes. Even a single bout to let his heart rate drop, let the sharp edge of fatigue dull before he stepped back in.
As he knew Ramos wasn't bluffing.
The man looked half-broken—but Leo could tell. There was enough gas in that engine to be a serious threat.
So as he sat on the bench, eyes on Enzo stepping up for what would likely be a quick skirmish, Leo allowed his fingers to unclench—his shoulders to drop just a hair—as he focused entirely on breathing and recovery.
"I need five minutes Enzo…. Just five. Give me five and I'll send Ramos packing…. That much I promise—" Leo said, as Enzo gave him a shaky nod, before making his way down the tunnel.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 209 209: The Clown Of RodovaTimeless AssassinC209 209: The Clown Of Rodova
(Enzo's POV)
Enzo walked out to the ring, looking extremely nervous, as he fumbled with the edge of his robes and walked in short, uncertain steps—his boots dragging awkwardly across the sand and creating an uneven rhythm that made the Geneva supporters burst into laughter.
Some pointed and hollered. Others whistled mockingly. A few even mimicked his walk with exaggerated limp-steps of their own.
It didn't help that Enzo looked like he was walking to his own execution—which, in a way, he was.
"Look at him, Derek—" Lee said with a tone halfway between pity and amusement. "That's not a man coming out to win a fight. That's a man who drew the shortest straw in the Rodova locker room."
"He's been sent out for one reason and one reason only," Derek replied, eyes narrowing as the camera cut to Leo sitting on the bench with a towel over his shoulders. "To buy time for Skyshard. The question is—how much time can he really give?"
"I'd say… thirty seconds at best," Lee said without hesitation. "That's being generous. Even the strongest Master-level fighter stands no chance against a Grandmaster. And Ramos isn't just any Grandmaster—he's Geneva's captain. This matchup is suicide."
Back on the field, Ramos stood with his arms crossed, shoulders relaxed, wearing a smirk that screamed boredom.
His dual blades were sheathed at his hips, but the casual tilt of his head and the half-step he took forward made one thing very clear—he was going to enjoy this fight very much.
Then, as Enzo finally arrived at his starting spot, the referee raised a hand, before looking at both fighters as he said–
"Fighters—ready?"
Ramos unsheathed his blades with a smooth, slow motion, the steel hissing against leather as the sun caught the edge of their polish.
He twirled one once, then held both out to his sides with precise balance, as his eyes locked onto Enzo like a hawk watching a rat cross an empty field, before switching to the referee as he gave him a nod.
Meanwhile Enzo—who had been avoiding eye contact with Ramos until that very moment—finally looked up, only to see death personified staring right at him.
And he trembled.
Visibly.
Then, as he reached toward his own belt with shaky fingers, they brushed against nothing but air, as his expression shifted from fear to confusion… and then to panic.
"Ref!" Enzo shouted, raising his hand like a schoolboy asking to use the bathroom. "I think I forgot my blade in the locker room… I'm not ready… please let me go grab it—"
A full beat of silence followed.
Then—
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The referee exploded, veins bulging in his forehead as the entire stadium erupted in mixture of laughter and boo's at once. "How the hell do you forget your weapon before a finals match?!"
"I-it was a genuine mistake, I swear!" Enzo added with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head. "Please just give me like... two minutes—"
"This is outrageous!" Ramos barked, stepping forward. "He's stalling! You expect me to believe he just forgot his weapon?!"
"Oh this is embarrassing for sure," the referee growled, pointing at Enzo with barely-contained rage, "but I can't legally start the match if one fighter is unarmed. So hurry the hell up and GET IT!"
As the Rodova fans chuckled and the Geneva supporters booed with a mix of fury and mockery, Enzo gave a clumsy bow and jogged back toward the tunnel—tripping once on his way and drawing even louder jeers from the crowd.
Lee sighed into his mic. "This is pathetic. Ramos is right—this has to be deliberate."
"He's wasting time," Derek agreed, though his tone had an edge of curiosity beneath the criticism. "But if that's his plan… well, then maybe it's not so pathetic after all."
Because in reality—
Every wobbling step, every fumbled motion, every second Enzo had stood on that arena floor had been done with one purpose in mind:
Stalling.
Between the painfully slow walkout and the "forgotten" blade fiasco, he had already burned nearly two full minutes off the clock.
Two out of the five Leo had requested.
And while it may have made him look like a complete idiot to the entire universe—Enzo didn't care.
Because if playing the fool meant giving his team a chance to win, then he was ready to play the fool to perfection.
—----------
(Meanwhile Yu Shen)
Yu Shen watched the match unfold from a compact monitor inside the infirmary's recovery bay, his torso still wrapped in tight bandages and his breath shallow from the ribs Ramos had cracked in their earlier fight.
And yet—
Despite the pain that flared every time he shifted, he couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the edge of his lips as he watched Enzo trip over his own bootlaces for the second time on the walk back to the tunnel.
'There he goes again…' Yu Shen thought fondly, as the memory of a very different Enzo resurfaced with vivid clarity.
It was the fourth day of the hellish summer camp—what the instructors liked to call "Temper Week." A relentless gauntlet of physical drills, mental warfare, and 72-hour no-sleep rotations meant to break spirits and identify leaders.
They were on a night ambush simulation. Pitch-black forest terrain, minimal gear, thirty students split into six teams. The objective? Infiltrate a guarded supply base.
Yu Shen had been assigned team leader of a misfit squad with no standout talents. They were tired. Uncoordinated. And one of them—Enzo—had somehow gotten his foot stuck in a rabbit hole thirty seconds into the exercise and managed to alert two scouting instructors with a yelp that sounded like a dying squirrel.
The entire team was caught, tied to trees with their capture times noted in big red ink on the scoreboard.
They were humiliated.
The next morning, while everyone sulked and blamed each other, Enzo stood up—still bleary-eyed, still limping—and raised his hand.
"If you're gonna blame someone, make it me. It was my screw-up. But if you're gonna laugh at someone, laugh properly," he said, and then—without warning—he slapped a leaf on his head, stuffed grass in his mouth, and began mimicking the instructor's patrol calls like a lunatic, flapping around like a forest pigeon.
He did that to ensure that the team laughed and moved on from the previous day's humiliation and focused properly on the coming days' tasks, and thanks to him, that's exactly what happened.
The squad burst out laughing seeing him flap around, and even the instructors had to turn away in embarrassment.
But it was in that moment— as Yu Shen watched a kid who had very few skills, no standout power, and no exceptional finesse, defuse the tension of an entire failed mission with nothing but shameless humor and a stubborn refusal to quit—that Yu Shen made up his mind that he needed him as a teammate.
"He's not strong or fast, if we go on talent alone, you can probably get much better individuals to join the team" Yu Shen had said later that week to the coaches, "but he's the one guy who'll never panic when it matters. And if you give him a role he understands, he'll play it to the end—no matter what it costs him."
Now, watching Enzo stall a Grandmaster in the world's biggest tournament final—not with strength, but with stupidity so committed it had become brilliance—Yu Shen chuckled softly and muttered:
"…And that's why you're here."
He leaned back against the cot, closed his eyes for just a moment, and whispered:
"Keep buying Leo time, Enzo. We're all counting on it."
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 210 210: SacrificeTimeless AssassinC210 210: Sacrifice
(Sky-God Arena – Finals Match 6, Ramos vs Enzo)
Eventually, Enzo did have to return to his starting spot, and the referee—after one final exasperated glare—raised his hand and called for the match to begin, as Ramos wasted no time whatsoever, exploding forward with the full authority of a Grandmaster who had no intention of dragging things out.
He came in low, fast, and tight—blades drawn in reverse grips, footsteps smooth despite his earlier injuries—closing the distance like a panther zeroing in on a limping deer.
But before Ramos could even swing—
Enzo turned.
And bolted.
Not with some deceptive movement. Not with a feint. Not with any sort of dramatic flourish.
Just raw, unashamed retreat.
He sprinted sideways at full speed, kicking up clouds of sand behind him as he moved in an awkward zig-zag that made it almost impossible to predict his trajectory, as though even Enzo himself hadn't fully committed to where he was headed.
"What the—" Ramos muttered under his breath, halting his initial strike as he turned to follow.
"Is he seriously running?" Derek asked, stunned, as the crowd burst into laughter.
"Not even trying to engage," Lee replied, voice halfway between amusement and pity. "This isn't a strategy, Derek—this is evasion. Pure evasion."
But Enzo had no shame left to sacrifice.
He was past that point.
Because he knew what his role was.
He wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to win. He was here to delay Ramos for as long as humanly possible.
And if that meant looking like a headless chicken sprinting in circles around the arena, then so be it.
Every second he stayed alive was one more second Leo had to breathe. One more second to recover. One more second closer to victory.
'Don't get greedy,' he told himself, weaving past the edge of the arena again as Ramos caught up and slashed out with a horizontal sweep, one that Enzo ducked beneath with a clumsy roll, before scrambling to his feet again with zero finesse.
'Don't try to land a hit. Don't try to counter. Just live.'
And somehow—he kept doing just that.
Ramos, for all his speed and technique, was still a Grandmaster loaded in gear and weaponry, carrying slight weight to slow him down ever so slightly.
And Enzo, for all his lack of power, was still a sponsorless, armorless, Master with nothing weighing him down except the rising burn in his lungs and the pounding of his heart.
"You're joking—" Ramos muttered, trying to corner him against the arena's edge, as he caught up to him once more.
Only for Enzo to suddenly turn and throw a handful of sand in his eyes, which he could never have predicted.
"The fuck?" Ramos muttered, flinching instinctively.
As although his mind knew that a handful of sand would do nothing to him, avoiding it was an instinct from childhood, and in the heat of the battle he flinched instinctively, allowing Enzo to dive and bolt once again, as he bought himself a few more seconds.
"You want to waste my time?" Ramos called after him, his voice rising with irritation. "You think I won't catch up to you?"
But Enzo didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because if he tried to open his mouth right now, he'd probably throw up from exhaustion.
And still—he kept running.
For one minute–
Then two.
At the two and a half minute mark, Ramos clipped him—just barely—with the flat of his blade across the shoulder, sending Enzo tumbling to the ground in a sprawl of limbs and robes.
But before Ramos could finish him, Enzo scrambled back to his feet with every ounce of will he had left in him—stumbling now—but still moving.
Still buying time.
"He's insane," Lee whispered. "He's actually doing it. He's made it past two and a half minutes into this bout and he hasn't even drawn his blade once."
"This isn't a fight," Derek muttered, almost reverently. "It's a sacrifice."
By now, even the crowd had gone quiet.
They had mocked him. Booed him. Laughed at him.
But now—
They were watching.
Because what they were seeing was no longer funny.
It was brave.
It was foolish.
And somehow—it was working.
Ramos, however, had had enough.
"Fine," he hissed. "You want to run? Run in hell—" he growled, activating [Blade Crescent] and hurling a mana-charged arc of slashing energy toward Enzo's path.
And this time the fight ended clean.
*Slash—!*
Enzo couldn't outrun the attack, and was left deeply injured by it, as he screamed and stumbled to the ground, his very life hanging by a thin thread.
"MATCH OVER…. WINNER GU RAMOS OF GENEVA—" the referee announced at that moment, as he signalled for the medics to rush in.
As Ramos looked almost too pissed even in victory.
In the end, he had to use a mana based move to take down a master level fighter, and that too after wasting almost three full minutes.
It was by no means an ideal performance for him, and although he did not struggle at all in this fight, even victory tasted bitter when it came at the cost of chasing a Master across sand for three full minutes
—---------
On the bench, Leo stood up with a blank expression, the towel sliding off his shoulders as he rolled his neck once and cracked his knuckles, before heading toward the tunnel again.
"Thank you," he muttered under his breath as he looked at the clock.
'5 minutes and 2 seconds….' Leo saw, as a big grin spread on his face.
As somehow, in the end, Enzo had managed to buy him the time he asked for and a couple seconds more as a bonus.
'Alright…. Since you kept your promise, I'll keep mine now—' Leo thought, walking out to the arena, as having had a few minutes to rest, he no longer felt as fatigued as before and was ready to face Gu Ramos with a second wind.
—----------
"And the score is 4–3 for Geneva. This finals keeps getting better and better—" Derek said, watching the medics carry Enzo off the field, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe. "He didn't land a single hit. He didn't even try. But he gave Leo exactly what he needed."
"Yeah…" Lee replied slowly, the weight of the moment finally settling into his tone. "For all the mockery he got walking out, Enzo just gave Rodova their last shot at this tournament. It's all on Leo now."
"Exactly. Ramos is injured—there's no denying that," Derek continued, nodding slowly. "He took some serious damage in the first round against Yu Shen. Meanwhile Leo? He's fresh off five minutes of rest AND he doesn't have a scratch on his body—"
"He's got no injuries, he's got his full kit of skills still at his disposal and he's probably the only one left in this tournament with enough stamina to fight two full matches if needed," Lee admitted, folding his arms. "If anyone from Rodova can pull this off—it's him."
"But that's a big if though," Derek added grimly. "Because we've already seen Ramos take Yu Shen apart in the opening match—and if Yu Shen couldn't finish him, I don't see how Leo does. No matter how flashy or calculated his last two wins were."
"Let's just say, hypothetically, he does manage to beat Ramos—" Lee began, glancing at the Geneva bench where Darnell sat, still smiling.
"Even if he pulls that off," Derek cut in, shaking his head, "he still has to go through Darnell Nuna. Geneva's finisher and the inheritor of the Black Serpent way of fighting.
So, he definitely has a mountain to climb.
Two miracle wins already, but he needs two more to put Rodova over the line."
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