Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 291 291: CracksTimeless AssassinC291 291: Cracks
(Time-Stilled World, 143 Kilometers from Forest Entry, Day 12)
Over the next five days, the group had to battle their way through the forest with barely any time to breathe, as there were no quiet stretches anymore, no peaceful walks between fights, and certainly no mercy from the creatures that stalked them nonstop.
Every few hours, some new horror would leap from a treetop or claw its way out from beneath the ground, forcing the team to raise their weapons and brace for yet another bloody encounter.
The attacks kept coming. Each fight blurred into the next, and although most of the enemies weren't impossibly strong, their endless frequency began to wear the team thin.
The more complex the fight, the harder it became to rely on mana stones. Holding one in your hand while dodging fangs and claws wasn't always possible, and in those moments, the only choice was to cycle the tainted mana of this world, a choice that came with a cost.
Each draw from this corrupted realm chipped away at the edges of their minds, as slowly but surely, the signs of madness began to show.
"Damn it! I've done it again! I've absorbed more of this cursed mana!" Raiden cursed, punching a tree so hard that blood cracked from his knuckles.
He kept going, even after the bark broke. Even after it hurt. As if the pain grounded him. As if punishing himself could undo the damage.
Nearby, Cipher crouched in silence, pulling at his eyelashes one by one, his eyes fixed on the dirt with a blank, unfocused stare.
It had started two days ago, when he suddenly picked up the habit of pulling at his lashes out of nowhere.
However, now, in just a span of two days, most of his lashes were gone, and his fingers still twitched at the space around his eyelids as though the motion had become involuntary.
No one spoke about it.
But everyone noticed.
Sleep had become shallow and filled with twitchy jerks. Meals were taken in silence and chewed without joy. Words became fewer. Glances became colder. And slowly, the cracks began to show.
Karl laughed too loudly at things that weren't funny. Cipher's hands hovered a little too close to his weapons even when there was no threat. Raiden's orders grew sharp, clipped, and far less patient than before, as though he too was slipping under the weight of constant pressure.
Even Bob, who had been the quiet rock of the group, began sleeping further from the others and speaking in shorter phrases than what he usually did, his answers growing more curt with each passing day.
And Leo, who watched all of this from behind a mask of calm, understood what none of the others wanted to admit.
The team was beginning to unravel.
They were barely a day or two away from exiting the forest, but the mood within the group had never felt more brittle.
Something was rotting.
And Leo could feel it in the way Cipher's eyes twitched when someone moved too fast, in the way Karl lingered a second too long while handing over food, that things were reaching a boiling point.
'If only I could figure out who in this group is attracting the monsters, I can silently take them out and continue on this journey with the rest.
Usually, I would just ditch the group as a whole and be gone on my own. However, even I am not foolish enough to be alone in this world.
There's a strength in numbers and having a group is definitely useful as long as the members are sane—' Leo thought to himself as he tried to decode the mystery behind who exactly was attracting the monsters amongst them?
He knew it couldn't be him or Bob as while the two of them travelled alone, travelling was quite easy, which meant that it had to be one of Raiden, Karl or Cipher.
Karl was undeniably weak, and if he had committed a crime as blatant as Patricia's— like lighting a fire and drawing the forest's wrath— then the pattern would have repeated, with every monster targeting him and him alone.
But that wasn't happening.
Which was precisely why Leo ruled him out.
In his head, he felt confident that it had to be either Raiden or Cipher who were the problem, however, it was proving to be near impossible to find out who?
The monsters who showed up attacked all of them with indifference, which was why Leo began considering the idea of eliminating them both once they got out of the forest.
—---------
That night, as they sat in silence under a thick canopy, each person hunched low to their meal, the tension that had been brewing beneath the surface for days finally began to leak.
No one said anything for the first few minutes, each person too tired, too bitter, or too far gone in their own thoughts to spark conversation, but then, in the middle of a dull bite of boiled root and hardened grain, Cipher looked up.
"Hey Karl," he muttered, his voice flat but laced with irritation. "Do you mind chewing a little less loudly? Your fucking munching is drilling a hole through my skull."
Karl blinked twice, caught off guard by the sudden accusation, as he looked around, confused.
"But… I'm not even eating," he said softly, holding nothing in his hands.
The moment those words left his lips, Cipher stood up without hesitation, his boots crunching over the dry forest floor as he walked straight toward him, locking eyes with a look that made the air suddenly feel heavy.
"What was that?" Cipher asked, his head tilting ever so slightly, his tone quiet but dangerous. "You calling me a liar now? You think I'm deaf? You think I don't know what I hear?"
Karl didn't respond.
He just stared back with a tight-lipped expression, eyes flicking with discomfort, as though trying to decide whether to argue or just stay silent.
But the look was enough.
Cipher didn't wait.
His hand lashed out with a sharp slap that sent Karl's head jerking sideways, a red imprint already blooming across his cheek.
"You glare at me again," Cipher hissed, grabbing him by the jaw and forcing him to make eye contact, "and I swear on every god in this cursed realm—I'll poke those eyes out of your skull, bend you over and fuck you till you bleed from your arse. Don't test me, you worm."
His words cut through the camp like blades, sharp and vulgar, and for a second, no one moved.
Not even Karl.
Until Raiden stepped forward, his face twisted with disbelief, as he grabbed Cipher's arm and yanked him back.
"That's enough, Cipher!" he barked. "You need to chill. Because while Karl's chewing didn't hurt my ears, your senseless shouting sure as hell does."
But Cipher didn't appreciate the interruption.
He turned, shoved Raiden back with a two-handed push to the chest, and locked eyes with him like a beast sizing up another predator.
For a heartbeat, the two stood inches apart, both breathing hard, as the forest around them seemed to fall dead silent again—watching, waiting.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, Cipher backed off with a scoff, turning away as if nothing had happened, while Karl sat frozen, his face still burning, his eyes filled with a quiet, simmering rage.
Leo said nothing.
Bob didn't flinch.
But in that moment, even without words, it became clear to all of them—
The insanity had started to creep into their behaviour. And it had started to creep in much faster than the books warned them it would.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 292 292: WaitingTimeless AssassinChapter 292 292: WaitingAfter Cipher's outbreak, Leo wondered what could be the reason behind the group's growing mental instability?
After all, the books he'd read had warned of madness creeping in slowly—over weeks, not days—yet the team was already snapping at each other like rabid dogs.
However, after thinking about it for just a few minutes, he understood exactly why.
It wasn't the forest alone.
Even back on any normal planet, if a person was forced to stay awake for days on end, constantly running, constantly fighting, constantly under threat, while being starved of proper sleep, food, light, and comfort, cracks in their demeanor were sure to show.
Not because they wanted to be irritable.
But because they simply didn't have the patience left to be kind anymore.
The constant threat and lack of proper rest left a temporary impact on one's brain, and in this cursed world, that weariness was worsened tenfold— corrupted by every cycle of tainted mana they were forced to draw, every improperly cooked meal they ate due to time constraints, and every single second they spent walking in a loop that never seemed to end.
The forest didn't just pressure the body.
It whispered threats in one's mind.
And it whispered constantly, until the silence began to feel louder than words, louder than thoughts, louder than sanity itself.
No wonder Cipher looked like he was on the cusp of losing it.
His eyes twitched randomly now. His hands trembled even when he wasn't using mana. His lips moved sometimes even when he wasn't speaking, and Leo had begun noticing the way his fingers hovered around his blades even during meals.
The signs were there.
'Maybe I should just kill him first after we're out of the forest,' Leo thought, narrowing his eyes at Cipher from across the campfire. 'Maybe I don't need to kill Raiden just yet.'
Raiden, for all his faults, still seemed a lot more in control of himself compared to Cipher.
He too was slipping, yes— but he still managed to hold his composure, meaning that he could still be managed.
Cipher, on the other hand, was wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous.
A liability.
'One wrong trigger and he's going to stab someone while they're asleep. Best to silence that risk before it grows fangs.'
Leo didn't even realize he was staring until Bob nudged his arm and nodded at the food pouch. Leo blinked, nodded back, and returned to chewing, but in the back of his head, a decision was slowly beginning to take root.
The journey to the edge of the forest was the last that Cipher was making, as sooner rather than later, Leo planned to take him out.
—----------
Across the circle, Karl sat quietly, his eyes lowered, his breathing slow, but his insides burned with rage.
The slap Cipher gave him a few minutes ago still echoed in his skull.
That single act of humiliation replayed like a broken record, and no matter how much Karl tried to smother it beneath thoughts of mission focus or patience or tactics, the sting remained and his ego throbbed.
'You slapped me,' Karl thought, his hand twitching just slightly as he stirred his own food. 'You insulted me. Threatened me. Grabbed my chin like I was some child. And you think you're going to walk away from that?'
His lips didn't move.
But his pupils narrowed.
'You're nothing, Cipher. A bug. A fucking insect who doesn't realize he barked at a Transcendent in disguise.'
In his mind, he'd already played out a dozen variations of how Cipher would die.
Some slow. Some fast. Some while everyone watched. Some in silence.
But the one common thread between them all?
Pain.
'No one will suspect me. I will orchestrate your death perfectly.
Perhaps, I shall use a gush of wind to push you in the path of a monster's attack while you're trying to evade it.
Perhaps I shall treat your next wound with poison instead of medicine.
Maybe I'll just isolate you from the group and murder you with my own two hands.
As with no witnesses around…. who's going to question it?'
His fingers clenched around the wooden spoon just a bit tighter.
'You don't even know it yet. But your fate's already been sealed. You slapped a man you should not have offended, and now it's over for you—'
He didn't glare.
Didn't scowl.
He smiled—just a touch too wide, and held it a moment too long, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach the eyes.
And all the while, the others sat around him, chewing through another half-cooked meal thrown together in a rush between fights, too focused on survival to notice the weight of murderous intent drifting through the circle like smoke.
The shift had begun.
The group had finally started to turn on one another.
—----------
Barely ten minutes after they finished their meal, the group was attacked yet again by a monster, this time a near invisible chameleon, who sprayed poison and lashed out with a highly corrosive tongue.
It came without warning.
The group did not see it, nor smell it or hear it before it struck.
As it wasn't until a sharp hiss rang in the air, almost like steam escaping from a kettle, that they noticed the threat.
*Fssssssk—!!*
The attack struck, burning Raiden's head cloak and barely missing his head, as he ducked at the last second.
"Ambush!" Bob roared, blades already drawn, as everyone spun to face the source of the attack.
But there was nothing.
The chameleon remained cloaked, its body pressed tight against the massive trunk behind them, scales bending light, limbs blending with the woodgrain like it was part of the forest itself.
And then it moved.
A pulse rippled through the forest darkness, and Leo's eyes narrowed as he caught the faintest shimmer against the wind. Something tall. Coiled. Watching them.
"Mid canopy, five o'clock!" he shouted, already flanking right as Cipher dropped low and pulled his daggers free.
*Crack*
Another lashing tongue split the air, this time aimed directly at Bob's chest, only to miss as he dove and rolled, kicking up a cloud of dead leaves.
Karl stood near the rear of the formation, unmoving.
Not out of fear.
But anticipation.
He didn't draw his blade. He didn't reach for a spell.
He simply stared, eyes wide and lips parted, as the chaos bloomed around him.
And then— he smiled.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Because he could sense that his moment was coming.
The monster was strong, clearly intelligent, and had a lethal attack that could one shot a Grandmaster if it connected and hence Karl saw his opportunity to take Cipher down.
He began observing Cipher in great detail.
Every twitch. Every breath. Every detail of his movement, from the way his boots skidded on wet moss, to the way his left wrist flinched slightly when he tried to parry, as Karl's fingers twitched behind his back in anticipation.
He could use a light [Wind Gust] to push him off balance and no one would even notice.
However, he couldn't do it now.
He needed to wait for the right opportunity to present itself.
'I just need the perfect moment…' he thought, pupils dilating slightly as another burst of movement tore through the air, this time, the monster leaping from the tree.
*BOOM*
It landed.
Hard.
A massive chameleon with gnarled limbs and skin like rippling moss crashed into the clearing, its camo flickering like static as it dropped all pretense of stealth and revealed its hideous frame.
Seven feet tall. Lithe. Built like a predator.
Its tongue recoiled back into its jaw, now dripping with glowing venom that hissed with every drop hitting the soil.
*Fsshh* *fsshh*
It hissed again, twitching as if analyzing each of them.
Raiden and Bob moved instantly—one to the left, one to the right—trying to split its focus.
Cipher braced near the center, arms trembling slightly as he raised his daggers.
And Karl stayed still.
Watching.
Waiting.
And smiling, ever so faintly, as he waited to see if he could end Cipher right here and now.
Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 293 293: SabotageTimeless AssassinC293 293: Sabotage
After landing on the ground, the chameleon turned even more aggressive as it let out a sharp, distorted screech— its body twitching with feral energy as its camouflage flickered on and off like a dying lightbulb.
*Fssshh!*
The corrosive tongue lashed out again, burning a shallow crater into the ground where Bob had been standing a split second earlier.
"Don't clump!" Raiden barked, dodging right. "Force it to divide its focus!"
The team spread out, moving with trained discipline despite their exhaustion, as they rapidly changed their positions.
Bob darted behind a trunk, drawing the creature's gaze with feinting jabs, while Raiden took the lead from the front, engaging it head-on with low, measured slashes.
Leo, silent as ever, slid to the side, keeping to the shadows, as he blended and [Vanished] in them, waiting silently for an opening to appear.
Meanwhile, Cipher flanked left, spinning his daggers and circling low, his eyes wide and frantic, but his hands still sharp enough to react.
Soon, the chameleon snapped its jaws and lunged again, only to meet Raiden's blade mid-thrust.
*Clash*
Sparks flew.
Acid hissed.
And this time it was the monster that staggered, as Raiden used the attack [Rapid Slash] to injure its tongue.
'Now!' Leo thought, as he stepped in after spotting an opportunity, his body blurring as he activated [Thousand Phantom Strikes].
Immediately, his body turned into a flurry of afterimages, as each step he took left behind a translucent echo of himself, an echo that was always followed through with a slash.
*SHINK—*
*SHINK—*
*SHINK—!!*
He tore through the creature's flanks, disrupting its momentum and forcing it back, as green blood sprayed in arcs and its camouflage broke entirely, revealing the mossy, fungal flesh beneath.
And this was when Cipher spotted his chance to attack.
"NOW!" he roared, surging forward for the finishing blow, when suddenly he took a wrong step.
A gust. A shift. A misstep.
A mistake that could happen to anyone, but should not happen at this level, as his eyes widened in disbelief and his body propelled forward in a way that was not entirely in his control.
*CRACK—!!*
He stumbled forward a fraction too far, his torso exposed just long enough for the monster to retaliate, as its tongue shot out and slammed into his ribs with brutal precision.
*Thud!*
The impact sent him spinning through the air, his body crashing against a tree before dropping to the dirt, where he began shrieking in pain.
"Cipher!" Raiden shouted.
Leo's eyes narrowed, but his blades didn't stop.
He advanced relentlessly, slicing with precision, as Bob came from the rear to assist.
Together, the two overwhelmed the beast
And soon, with one final strike, Leo embedded his blade deep into the creature's skull, and activated [Kill Strike] to blow its brains out.
*THUNK*
The chameleon collapsed.
Dead.
And once again, the forest fell into silence, save for the writhing, guttural screams of Cipher, who clutched his torso with both hands as thick steam curled from the venom hissing through his shredded clothes, burning straight into the flesh beneath.
"Shit… he's bleeding a lot," Karl muttered as he rushed over at last, dropping to one knee beside Cipher and beginning a quick assessment. "This is bad."
His hands moved quickly, tearing away fabric, inspecting the full extent of the damage. The venom had carved straight through skin and muscle, leaving a deep, raw trench down the left side of Cipher's abdomen.
"If I can't plug this wound immediately…" Karl said, his voice grim, deliberately loud enough for the others to hear. "He might go into a coma. Or worse."
"What? What—what?" Cipher gasped, voice high and cracked as panic set in. His breathing grew faster, more ragged, as he tried to push himself up.
"You… you can fix this, right?! Right?!" He asked, as Karl gave him the most cruel of smiles from close up.
"Of course I'll try my best…." He said before turning towards the others, as he urged them to move away.
"Go back! Give the patient some room to breathe! He's hyperventilating!" Karl ordered, as he used his superior strength to hold Cipher in place, as he forcefully stopped his thrashing.
As ordered, the rest of the team stepped back reluctantly, a wide semicircle forming around the two as Cipher whimpered, now visibly trying to fight against Karl's grip as sweat poured in buckets from his brow.
Karl leaned in.
His fingers, steady and controlled, reached into his pouch— not for a healing salve, but for a nearly invisible packet of anticoagulant.
He mixed it swiftly into a red-tinged ointment, spread it over a thin gauze, and began wrapping the wound in tight, confident layers.
From the outside, it looked like precision and care. But beneath the gauze, the anticoagulant already began its slow sabotage.
With a wound this size, if the blood loss did not stop immediately, Cipher was bound to die.
And while Karl could have saved him if he tried hard, he deliberately sabotaged his healing instead, as he pushed him closer to death vengefully.
Next, he forced Cipher to swallow a pain numbing potion to dull the immediate pain. Enough to delay suspicion.
Before pulling out a mid-grade healing potion and forcing a few drops into Cipher's mouth to make his efforts to save the patient look authentic.
Finally, by the time he rose, his expression was the very image of grave concern, as he played the part of a caring healer to perfection.
"I've done what I can," Karl said, wiping sweat from his brow and standing slowly. "I gave him the best healing potion we have, but it's not looking good. The creature's venom… it's preventing the blood from clotting, so unless we cut away the affected tissue entirely, there's no way to seal the wound."
"Then cut it off," Bob said bluntly, stepping forward. "You're saying he'll die anyway if we don't. Might as well try it."
"I could… but I'm not sure if he will survive it.
The wound is big enough as is, if I cut off more, I would essentially be pushing him closer to death with my own two hands—" Karl argued back, as Raiden shook his head in depression.
"No. Then don't do it. He's still conscious. Still fighting. We'll give it ten minutes. If the bleeding stops due to some miracle, we will protect him till he recovers enough to move with us.
But if he slips into a coma…"
"We leave him," Leo finished, voice neutral. "Agreed."
Cipher's breathing grew erratic again.
"Wha—What?! You can't leave me here! I'm gonna be fine unless Karl doesn't treat me properly. Karl! You bastard! I don't trust you! You slimy bastard! You treated me properly right?"
Cipher's eyes darted wildly from face to face, but no one moved. No one offered reassurance. Even Raiden said nothing, his jaw locked tight, his arms folded.
And then—slowly—Cipher's voice began to weaken.
His protests slurred.
His arms sagged.
And blood kept pooling.
His fingers twitched, then stilled, and a blankness rolled over his gaze as his body tipped backward into the dirt with a soft thud.
Until he stopped moving all together.
Raiden bent over him, pressing two fingers to his neck. A long pause passed.
"He's alive," he said at last. "But he's slipping into shock due to excessive blood loss. Coma's close."
No one spoke.
And no one disagreed.
"We move in five," Raiden announced coldly, as the team collectively let out a sigh of regret.
Karl stared at the unmoving body in front of him.
'Shouldn't have slapped me, you dumb wannabe scholar,' he thought, hiding the flicker of satisfaction behind a mask of guilt.
Soon, five minutes passed and it was time for the team to move on once again, as Raiden paid Cipher his final respects.
"I will miss you….. old friend—" Raiden said while standing over Cipher's unconscious body, as he placed one of his daggers on his chest, before moving on.
It sucked that they had to abandon him before he was completely dead.
But saving him was clearly impossible.
Which was why, Raiden and everyone else made the practical choice to move on.
As the initial group of six…. was now whittled down to just four.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 294 294: The First Elder's RemorseTimeless AssassinC294 294: The First Elder's Remorse
(Real World, Planet Tithia, Evil Cult Headquarters, The First Elder's Office)
"Haha—"
The First Elder let out a dry, humorless chuckle as his eyes skimmed over the fresh report laid out before him.
He almost didn't want to believe it at first.
Because believing it would mean accepting that everything he had built, everything he had bled for, had amounted to nothing in the end.
It would mean admitting that seventy-five years of service, sixty years of planning, and an entire generation of effort had unraveled faster than he could contain it.
But denial wasn't going to change the ink etched into the page.
Just like how closing his eyes wasn't going to make the truth fade away.
Seventy-five years.
That was how long he had served the cult, sixty of which had been spent wearing the robe of an elder, a title not gifted by seniority or birthright but earned through blood, through patience and through a meticulous devotion to building something greater than himself.
As through those sixty years, he had endured betrayals from within and sieges from outside, but had never wavered in his mission regardless.
He had survived wars against the righteous faction and elder politics within the council.
He had crushed rebellion with one hand while offering olive branches with the other, navigating the shifting tides of war and diplomacy with equal precision, even going so far as to broker peace with representatives from the righteous faction whenever the cult needed him to play the role of mediator, as he willingly traded away minor concessions and peripheral assets just to buy the cult a few more precious years of uninterrupted growth and preparation.
And yet, despite all that, the crisis before him now felt like the most dangerous trial of his entire existence, not because it was sudden or overwhelming, but because it was built on the very architecture of everything he had constructed with his own two hands.
For the past six decades, he had been nurturing undercover assets, embedding them like rot beneath the skin of the Righteous Alliance, and nobody within the universal government was any wiser.
He had been corrupting hundreds of offices and bloodlines with bribes, secrets, and silent conversions, turning one loyal official after another into tools of the cult, but it was all crumbling now.
Slowly, but surely, he had made an Empire of cult sympathizers embedded within the universal system, however, after the attack on the Sky God Arena, he was unfortunately being forced to watch it all unravel before his own eyes.
Decades of patient sabotage was unwinding in a matter of weeks, as one by one, the agents he had spent years training, bribing, and blackmailing were being exposed and paraded through the streets as proof of a purge long overdue.
It was like watching a spiderweb, one he had spun strand by strand across a lifetime, torn apart in a sudden storm, as the threads snapped in rapid succession, while all he could do was sit back and listen to the wind howl.
[Thirty-two sleeper agents exposed in the last forty-eight hours… six operations compromised… four supply lines cut… and seventeen neutral allies disavowed us publicly]
The report read, as the first elder couldn't help but chuckle at the mirthless humor.
'I knew this would happen,' he thought, his voice dry even in his own mind.
He had warned them. All of them.
Warned the Council that revealing their cards in such a public, catastrophic manner and striking the Sky-God Arena, would not lead to domination, but retaliation.
However, they didn't listen to his advice.
The younger elders who had grown hungry for blood encouraged the violence, and now he was forced to clean-up after them, as he tried to minimize the consequences of that one big attack.
—-------
> Dismantle Cell-13. Burn all the communication devices used in that operation and destroy any evidence that can link that operation to the cult.
> Reinforce security on planets Juxta, Merdith and Rayon, sending the best security machinery and arms to those planets at the earliest.
> Activate Project Hollow Seed, start floating rumors about the next Dragon Candidate being identified and currently being evaluated by the council.
> Recall or eliminate exposed assets before they can be interrogated by the righteous faction and pull out any remaining Transcendent warriors that are working undercover universally.
> Inform all elders to be mandatorily present for an emergency meeting in two days time, here on Tithia.
—--------
The elder wrote, as one by one he rolled up the scrolls and handed them over to his assistants who he knew would hand them over to the relevant parties.
Just exposing and parading some Evil Cult Agents hiding within the system was never going to be enough for the Righteous Alliance, and the first elder understood this better than anyone.
Over his nearly century long experience in dealing with them, any humiliation they faced was always returned by a large scale military retaliation, which meant that sooner or later, a huge border skirmish was likely to breakout in Juxta, Merdith or Rayon, which were they frontier planets sharing a boundary with the Righteous Alliance.
"The question isn't if but when… when are they going to attack us, and how hard will the blow be?" the First Elder muttered, his voice low and frayed, as he folded the report and leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the flickering lantern above.
Usually, such answers would come from his network— from the agents he had seeded inside the government, whose whispers and fragments always painted the larger picture before the blow ever landed.
But now, that web was broken.
He could no longer rely on the steady stream of warnings he once trusted, because those assets were either dead, compromised, or had simply gone silent, as the Fourth's aggression had upended every measure of control he had so painstakingly maintained for decades.
"The Fourth's recklessness has made everything worse," he sighed, his fingers tightening slightly as he stared at the empty corner of the room. "If it weren't for him… and the Second's bloodthirsty eagerness for war, none of this would have happened so soon, and the cult wouldn't be standing on the edge of collapse."
His voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if afraid the walls themselves would betray him.
"I need to visit Lord Soron…"
He hesitated— because he knew he wasn't supposed to.
Soron had given clear orders to not be disturbed unless it was a matter of absolute, undeniable emergency. But if this wasn't considered an emergency… then what was?
"I must consult him… whether he chooses to see me or not… I must make the journey to Ixtal, and seek him out" the first elder murmured, as he rose from his seat with a heaviness that spoke of age, burden, and resignation all rolled into one.
Because although morale within the cult still held strong, buoyed by the dramatic success of the Sky God Arena strike, that morale was a fragile thing— a blaze that could easily be snuffed out.
If even a single planet was lost.
Or if the Righteous Alliance gained rapid ground through decisive victories.
Then the momentum they had built would vanish overnight, and the cult, for all its glory and divine backing, would begin to fracture from within.
And he could not allow that. Not while he was still the first elder at least, as he just prayed that the God Soron would have a path for him to follow when his own wits were at an end.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 295: Meeting SoronTimeless AssassinC295: Meeting Soron
Chapter 295: Meeting Soron
(Planet Ixtal, The Lost Forest, Outer Gate of Soron's Residence)
Mavern walked barefoot through the lost forest, out of respect for the Great God Soron.
No expensive robes adored his frame, no escorts followed behind, and no guards flanked his sides, as he made his way across the beautiful terrain of the Lost Forest in a calm trance.
His steps were slow, as he often paused to admire the beautiful scenery of this unique forest, before eventually moving on, as he knew he couldn't linger around forever.
He hadn't come here in decades, not alone, and never without invitation.
But this time, he did not wait for approval or protocol, as he moved like a man who already knew that the weight of his burden was enough to justify the breach in protocol, as he walked patiently until he reached the clearing that he remembered all too well.
There it was.... The god castle!
Soron's residence.
Plain and unadorned, with no guards stationed outside, no torches burning beside its walls, and no spiritual pressure leaking from within, as it looked like nothing more than a noble's forgotten lodge buried beneath vines and time, and yet, Mavern knew better than anyone that no place in the universe was more sacred than the one that stood before him now.
He didn't knock.
He didn't announce his name.
He didn't even look up.
He simply stepped to the entrance, lowered his knees, and pressed his head against the stone slab outside the door, as he kowtowed in absolute silence and remained still, knowing full well that if Soron wished to see him, the door would open long before he ever reached out to disturb it.
And sure enough—
It did.
The door opened slowly, without sound, as the air shifted slightly and a familiar scent of copper and incense drifted outward, while from within the darkness emerged a figure that Mavern had not laid eyes on in years, but had never once forgotten.
The great god Soron.
Tall but gaunt, draped in impossibly large robes that looked several sizes too big for his withered frame, with pale skin, sunken cheeks, and long strands of black hair that fell over his shoulders like dying silk, as although he looked nothing like the god of war that he once was, the pressure in the air shifted just the same.
"You may enter," Soron said softly, as he turned and walked back inside, his voice low and without force, but still clear enough to reach Mavern's soul, as the First Elder finally lifted his head and rose to his feet.
No more words were spoken.
As he followed his lord inside.
—-----------
Soron walked ahead with the grace of a veteran warrior, his steps light and casual, his body swaying rhythmically, as despite his advanced age and countless health issues, the old god showed no signs of struggling with mobility, as though his body had long since made peace with its constant state of pain and decay.
The First Elder Mavern followed a few steps behind, barefoot and bowed ever so slightly, not out of compulsion or fear, but out of instinct, as just being in Soron's presence made even the proudest of elders feel like students again, while the weight of reverence pressed down heavier than command ever could.
The air inside the castle was warm but dry.
Faint aroma of crystallized herbs and copper seemed to linger everywhere, as if it were fused with every stone inside the walls.
And although there was no grandeur in the halls, no gold, no murals, no vaulted ceilings, there was still an overwhelming sense of power contained within, as if the walls themselves radiated divine pressure after housing Soron for over a millennium.
Slowly, they made their way to a low, circular table at the center of a guest chamber, where a single clay kettle rested atop glowing embers, the water inside already hot but not yet boiling, as though it had been waiting for them.
Soron did not speak.
He did not summon the teacups with a flick of mana or raise the fire with divine heat.
Instead, he crouched slowly, with the careful grace of an old man used to pain, and with his own two hands, he lifted the kettle and poured the tea, in an unhurried and mortal way.
*Trrrr—Fshhh!*
The steam rose in thin curls that danced in the air, catching faint beams of light from a window nearby, as the moment the cup was full, Soron slid it across the table toward Mavern without looking at him.
"Drink," he said softly, his voice calm and steady, but laced with that subtle weight that never needed to raise volume to command obedience.
Mavern obeyed, taking the cup into his hands with care, as he let the warmth seep into his fingers before raising it to his lips.
The taste was faintly sweet, almost medicinal, but it was the aftereffect of drinking the tea that struck him hardest!
Almost immediately after taking the first sip, Mavern felt as though a knot within his chest had untied, as his breath grew lighter, his shoulders eased, and the fog that clung to his thoughts seemed to lift.
His eyes glowed slowly, meeting Soron's for just a moment, as for that brief instant, the entire weight of the cult, of leadership, of suffering and secrets, felt smaller.
"You brewed this yourself, my lord?" Mavern asked, his voice quieter than he intended as the question slipped from his tongue without deliberation.
Soron smiled faintly, still not looking directly at him as he poured himself a cup.
"Of course. I have a tea garden in my backyard, and I enjoy processing and brewing it with my own hands," he said, taking a sip. "It's one of my hobbies that keeps reminding me what it means to be human."
Mavern nodded slowly, unsure how to respond, the tea still warming his chest like a memory of a time before responsibilities.
"You should sit down, drink tea and relax more often ," Soron said after a pause, finally looking at him with a gaze that was both steady and ageless.
"Your health is deteriorating faster than mine, child.... And I'm not sure the cult can afford losing another first elder for a while."
Mavern lowered his eyes slightly.
Ashamed that he was indeed aging like crazy.
"I'll keep that in mind, my Lord" He replied, as Soron nodded.
"So.... What brings you here today? You look very concerned.... Little one" Soron asked in a calm tone, as Mavern let out a dry laugh.
On his way here he had a whole speech ready on how he was going to explain his problem to the great god.
However, after coming here and sitting for a cup of tea, he couldn't bring himself to talk so conservatively anymore, as he simply broke down like a child before a parent.
"My Lord.... The cult is on a war-path again.
Although no attacks have happened, they are but an inevitability, and I'm afraid we don't have the strength to hold the righteous faction off.
Morale within the cult is at an all time high and the young ones are roaring for a fight, but I'm not sure if we are strong enough to win it.
Without you to lead us from the front.... I really don't have faith in us surviving this war at all—" Mavern began, as Soron broke into a soft smile.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 296: The True DragonTimeless AssassinC296: The True Dragon
Chapter 296: The True Dragon
Mavern looked deeply troubled, the weight of recent events etched plainly across his features, but Soron merely smiled at the sight of his concern— not mockingly, nor with indifference, but with the patient calm of a man who had lived through far worse storms than this.
"The cult has always been at war, my child," Soron said softly, his voice carrying no strain.
"It's been at war since before you or I ever drew our first breath, and it will continue to be at war long after our bones have turned to dust."
He paused for a moment, allowing the silence to sink in, before continuing.
"The land we control may swell like a tide or recede like a breath, but land is not the soul of the cult. It's the ideology that must never die. And it won't. Not even if I perish. Not even if the last fortress is razed and we are hunted to the edge of existence. Even then... the cult will survive. So do not worry about our survival."
And with that, he took a slow sip from his tea, the movement graceful, deliberate, almost serene.
"My lord... that's not what I'm afraid of," Mavern said quietly, his voice tightening. "It's the assets. The web I spent six decades weaving is being burned thread by thread. The enemy has begun a deep purge! They're exposing our people, parading them like criminals through the streets, executing them worse than strays."
He clenched his fists slightly as he leaned forward, his voice fraying around the edges.
"If things continue to unfold this way... I fear we'll lose something far more important than territory. We'll lose the trust of the shadows. No one will dare become a double agent for the cult again, not out of loyalty to the alliance, but out of fear that we can no longer protect them. In the war of soft power, we are losing already—"
Mavern explained, as this time Soron nodded in agreement, his expression turning more serious than before.
"Yes," the old god said after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though the realization had settled into him fully.
"You are right to be concerned. If the shadows begin to falter... for if the informants and spies who once acted without hesitation begin questioning whether the cult can protect them, then we are not facing a tactical loss."
He looked up, his eyes sharp despite the wrinkles carved deep into his face.
"We are facing a psychological one."
Mavern didn't respond immediately, his throat going dry, as the air around them turned heavier than before.
Soron leaned back slightly, the motion slow, his aged spine protesting as he adjusted his seat, before he let out a long, tired breath that sounded far older than the man himself.
"The righteous alliance has always relied on fear to make us bleed," Soron continued, "but we... We relied on belief. Not just in me. Not just in the elders. But in the idea that we would rise again. That we were part of something unshakable. That even if they died, the cult would live on stronger."
His voice didn't rise, but the room still seemed to fall silent around it, as if every word pressed deeper into the stone.
"But now, I fear that belief is fading."
Mavern stared at the steam rising from his cup, his lips parting slightly before closing again, as though unsure if he should interrupt—until finally, he forced himself to speak.
"Then what do we do, my lord?" he asked. "How do we give them belief again... when your presence alone is no longer enough to inspire them?"
Soron didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached for the kettle and poured more tea into both cups, the motion slow and steady, while the rising steam coiled between them like a ghost from the past, as though the silence itself needed to be allowed its time to breathe.
Only once both cups were full did he speak again.
"We give them someone new to believe in."
Mavern looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. "Someone new?"
Soron met his gaze.
"No," he corrected softly. "Someone old... made new again."
A pause passed between them, long and loaded, before Soron finally leaned forward, the light catching the edge of his gaunt cheekbone, as his voice dropped lower.
"We find the bearer of the prophecy."
Mavern's eyes widened, not in shock, but in understanding, as he realized exactly which prophecy Soron meant, even before the old god continued.
"We find the next dragon."
Mavern said nothing, but his silence spoke louder than any protest.
Because they had tried.
Again and again.
For the last thirty years, the cult had poured time, resources, and lives into training the next dragon— grooming orphans from forgotten corners of the universe, invoking ancient rituals, and injecting candidates with the most potent awakening serums they could craft.
And every time... they had failed.
Sometimes the candidates were too weak.
Sometimes their personality was too volatile.
And on the rare occasion they did find one who showed promise, someone with the right instincts, the right blood, the right spark, they never lived long enough to see their potential realized.
They were hunted.
Intercepted.
Assassinated.
Always just as they began to rise.
Mavern clenched his fists beneath the table, the bitter memory of their last failed candidate still fresh in his mind.
Noah Ashburn— the best Dragon they had seen in the last 200 years.
A boy from the Shikar ruins. Quiet. Disciplined. Brilliant.
Dead due to Dupravel Nuna, hunted... betrayed and killed.
"My lord..." Mavern said slowly, his voice catching on the words. "We've been trying. For decades. We've pushed everyone with even a drop of the Timeless Assassin's blood to the edge, awakened rites no one remembered how to control, and spilled oceans of resources into candidates who barely made it past the Grandmaster stage—"
He looked up, eyes tired. "And even when we did find someone... they never survived long enough to become the symbol we needed."
Soron's expression didn't change, but the lines around his eyes seemed to deepen.
"I know," he said. "I remember each of them."
He paused, gaze distant.
"But we cannot stop."
"If they failed.... They were never the true dragon to begin with."
"When the true Dragon rises... the cult will rise with him. That, I am sure of!"
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Chapter 297: A tattoo'd man
"When the true Dragon rises... the cult will rise with him. That, I am sure of!" Soron said confidently, and it was that unwavering certainty that finally put Mavern at ease.
It wasn't that Mavern did not believe in the ancient prophecy.
Like every true follower of the cult, he too believed in the eventual rise of the Dragon. But centuries of failure had slowly begun to wear down that faith.
"There's a boy," Mavern said carefully. "He was born on a mana-less planet, but after a series of life-altering events, he's now a prime candidate to become the next Dragon.
The Twelfth Elder is nurturing him currently, though he refuses to bring him into the cult's fold until the boy is truly ready."
"A mana-less planet, you say? Haha... yes, I remember," Soron chuckled, his tone lightening.
"My father— being the shameless womanizer that he was— used to frequent those planets outside the Rainbow Stream, always convinced that true beauty could only be found where mana did not reach."
He paused, then added, "I've never met the Twelfth Elder personally, but if I recall correctly, he was the sworn brother of the previous Dragon, wasn't he?"
When Mavern nodded, Soron smiled faintly.
"If he's the one nurturing the next Dragon... then I have high hopes for the boy."
Mavern shook his head.
"The boy is nothing like Noah... he's cold, ruthless, calculating. The kind of warrior who'd sell out the cult to save his own skin— and sleep just fine afterward.
I'm not sure I want someone like that carrying the title of Dragon. But even so, he still feels like a better candidate than what the Fourth Elder is raising."
Soron smiled faintly at the words.
"You and all the First Elders before you have been fixated on raising a Dragon with the right ethical standards. But it might be time to reconsider. Perhaps it's wiser to place your faith in someone who values survival over ideals. A pragmatic Dragon who looks after himself might outlast a noble one who throws his life away for others. In the end, a colder Dragon could be exactly what the cult needs right now."
With that, Soron slowly rose to his feet, prompting Mavern to do the same.
"I understand... thank you for your time, my lord," Mavern said, bowing deeply before making his way toward the exit, with Soron silently accompanying him.
"Don't worry about the cult being wiped out just yet, child," Soron said, stopping by the doorway. "I may be growing old, but I'm still strong enough to protect us for at least another century. Even if the righteous faction attacks, they won't get far. That much, I assure you."
With that, he shut the door behind Mavern, sending him off with a rare peace of mind.
Mavern had come seeking guidance on how to stabilize the cult. And though he received no clear instructions, he left with the resolve he needed to face the storm ahead.
'Trust and nurture the next Dragon.'
That was Soron's advice, and so that was exactly what he intended to do.
But the question remained: who would that Dragon be?
'Can Leo Skyshard really become the next Dragon?' Mavern wondered, as he made his way back from the Lost Forest.
Leo might not have been his first choice, but right now, he was the only candidate they had left as the Fourth Elder's pick was simply an abomination that wasn't even worth considering.
—-----------
(Meanwhile, at an undisclosed training ground, domain of the Fourth Elder)
A tall man covered in glowing runes and countless tattoos stood amidst a field of fresh corpses, his body drenched in blood while his expression remained devoid of emotion, as though slaughter was no different from breathing to him.
There was nothing human about the way he looked or moved, as his form resembled that of a half-demon more than any man alive, and if only a pair of horns jutted from his skull, he could have passed for one without question.
From head to toe, his skin was inked with shifting sigils that pulsed faintly with light, wrapping around his limbs like living circuitry, as the markings were not ornamental but alive, flickering with energy while feeding off something unseen..... something stolen.
He crouched beside the nearest body, placing one hand over the chest of the slain warrior, as for a brief second, the air around them shimmered— and then, like smoke pulled into a flame, a thin stream of silver mist began to rise from the corpse.
The man inhaled slowly as the essence from the corpse was drawn into his palm, the runes along his forearms flaring brighter with each passing second, while his muscles tightened, his eyes darkened, and his entire body drank in the spirit without leaving a trace behind.
[Spirit Drain]— that was the name of the method he had just used to steal the energy of a dead man's soul, as within the cult, it was considered one of the forbidden techniques, taught to no one but the true Dragon himself.
"Haha..."
Chuckling softly, the man rose to his feet, his breath calm and measured, while the ground around him still bore the chaos of the slaughter he had unleashed.
Seven kills. Seven spirits harvested. And still, his hunger remained.
"L-Lord Veyr..." a voice stammered from behind, timid and uncertain, as an assistant stepped into view, trying not to look at the broken bodies that still twitched in death. "The Fourth Elder has asked for a progress report... he wishes to know when you will break through to the Transcendent realm, so that you may be presented as the next Dragon."
Veyr did not turn to face him.
He raised his hand instead, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek while studying the crimson trail it left across his fingers, almost as though the texture fascinated him more than the question.
"Tell him I'll reach the Transcendent threshold in two months," he said plainly, while his voice remained unshaken and composed. "Tell him he can unveil me then."
The assistant nodded quickly, bowing without further question as he backed away, for everyone under the Fourth Elder's service knew the truth now.
Veyr wasn't just another Dragon Candidate.
He was a prodigy unlike any seen in centuries— one who had already received some of the cult's most sacred and coveted techniques to set him on the path to inheriting the Dragon's mantle.
From the Second Elder, he had received the ancient power ritual that etched most of the glowing tattoos across his body, while from the Fourth Elder, he had been granted [Spirit Drain]— a forbidden method designed to help the true Dragon ascend realms faster than any traditional warrior.
But Veyr cared little for the honor of such gifts.
To him, the prophecy and the mission of saving the cult meant nothing.
While the prestige of becoming the Dragon meant even less.
Being someone through whose veins the blood of the Timeless Assassin flowed richly, there was only one thing that mattered to him, which was his own strength.
And if pretending to be the next Dragon would help him obtain strength faster, then he was ready to play the part of the Dragon...until there were no benefits to extract from playing it anymore.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 298: Exiting The ForestTimeless AssassinC298: Exiting The Forest
Chapter 298: Exiting The Forest
(Time-stilled world, 170 kilometers from the forest entry, Day 14)
It took another fifty hours after leaving Cipher behind for the team to finally reach the edge of the Forest of Death, as they brought their long march through cursed terrain to an end.
The tree-line began to thin as they neared the edge of the forest, with the twisted roots and dense underbrush finally giving way to firmer, drier soil.
For the first time in days, the sky above broke through the thick canopy, and light, which had failed to penetrate the cursed forest for so long, fell upon their skin.
Slowly, the complexion of the entire world around them changed, as they removed their night vision goggles, and blinked against the sudden exposure, feeling happy to be able to see the world through their own eyes again.
But despite the relief of light, peace didn't follow.
For the last two days, even after ditching Cipher deep within the forest, the team had been relentlessly pursued by monsters, leaving them utterly exhausted by the time they reached the edge.
By now, Leo had become sure of it.
Raiden was the problem.
There was no other explanation. The attacks were too precise, too relentless.
Leo had been silent about his suspicions until now, but deep in his mind, he knew for sure now, that the monsters weren't drawn to them as a group, but were rather drawn to Raiden in particular, as he was behaving like a kind of beacon to attract them.
Because of him, traversing the Forest of Death had been ten times harder than it should have been— and Leo had grown increasingly bitter about it.
'If we don't stop being pursued relentlessly after exiting the forest, I'm going to kill Raiden in the next two days,' Leo decided, as he too felt too tired to keep up with this charade any longer.
In the past five days, the most he had slept at a stretch was 10 minutes, and his cumulative time spent taking a break was not more than two hours.
He was constantly on the move, and over half his day was spent fighting dangerous monsters, which eventually took a toll on his body.
This world was punishing enough on its own without the added burden of a teammate who attracted trouble like a beacon, and so Leo decided that if the situation didn't improve after they left the forest, he would get rid of him.
But thankfully, it seemed like the situation did improve after they left the forest, as once they left the periphery of the forest, entering a stretch of ash gray plains once more, the monster attacks seemed to pause once again.
—---------
"So what's our play after this? Are we supposed to make our way towards those giant floating platforms next?" Leo asked Raiden once they left the periphery of the forest, as stretching just a few kilometers ahead of them was an unbelievably long canyon, with massive floating platforms drifting gently across the air, rising and falling at varying speeds like pieces of a broken sky trying to fit back into place.
Raiden nodded while adjusting the straps of his gear, his eyes fixed on the ever-moving formations in front of them.
"Yes. That's our next challenge," he replied, as his voice remained calm despite the stakes. "Those floating islands are the only path forward. Some are small, barely large enough to stand on, while others are the size of football fields, but they all shift constantly, as the weird gravity currents above the canyon keep them constantly in flux."
Leo narrowed his eyes as he watched the drifting platforms carefully, noting how none of them remained in place for more than a few seconds, while the gaps between them fluctuated wildly from a single step to several hundred meters wide.
"There's no bridge?" Leo asked again, just to confirm.
"No bridge," Raiden confirmed. "You time your jumps right, or you wait. That's the rule. And if you miss the right moment, it might take a week, or even two, before you get another chance at the same pattern again."
He paused as he pulled out a folded navigation scroll from his pouch and glanced at it once more.
"If everything lines up, we can reach the other side in five days. That's assuming perfect timing, minimal error, and no serious injuries mid-jump."
"And if it doesn't?" Leo asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud.
Raiden shrugged slightly while folding the scroll back with care.
"Then we're stuck here for up to two months... maybe more."
Leo clicked his tongue softly, as he looked ahead again.
The canyon was deep—impossibly deep—with no visible bottom in sight, while the floating islands above it drifted in and out of alignment like an unsolvable puzzle, as if daring them to try.
One wrong jump could mean death.
One delayed move could mean waiting for weeks.
And if any monsters waited on those islands... the difficulty would only multiply.
Still, Leo said nothing.
As he knew that forwards was the only way to go.
—---------
As the team slowly approached the periphery of the canyon, Leo couldn't help but recall the notes of a senior assassin he had read back in the Black Serpents Library, as that journal contained an entire section dedicated to the floating steps and the canyon ahead.
According to the journal, the assassin and his team had reached the canyon's edge like everyone else, but instead of attempting to time their jumps across the floating platforms as most did, they decided to get creative.
Believing it might be safer to traverse the bottom could they reach it, they sent one of their members down into the canyon using a long coil of rope, hoping to determine how deep the drop truly was, and whether traversing the bottom on foot before climbing up the other side could be a viable alternative.
Altogether, they had enough rope to lower him down to a maximum depth of five kilometers.
However, just after they had lowered him roughly one to one and a half kilometers, the weight on the other end of the rope suddenly vanished.
In a panic, the team began pulling the rope back, only to realize that their teammate was already gone.
Whether he slipped and fell, whether a flying beast took him, or whether the world itself swallowed him whole, no one could say for sure.
However, even after shouting and waiting for him for a full day, there was no response to be heard.
That day, although they did not find out as to how deep the canyon truly was, what they did understand very clearly was that descending into the canyon was not an option.
As in the end, they had no choice but to cross the canyon using the floating steps like everyone else.
'During night.... The canyon sings to you.... Allures you with thoughts of suicide and tempts you to take the plunge..... resist it!
Don't look down trying to gauge its depth.
Always keep your eyes towards the sky–' The old assassin had written, as Leo held those words close while approaching the boundary.
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Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 299: The Floating PlatformsTimeless AssassinC299: The Floating Platforms
Chapter 299: The Floating Platforms
(Time-stilled world, Edge of the Canyon, Day 14, Late Afternoon)
As the team finally reached the very edge of the canyon, they came to a halt without Raiden needing to give the order, as the sight before them felt like something carved at the end of the world.
The canyon stretched so far across that the opposite side was barely visible, and so deep that nothing but pure blackness stared back from below, swallowing everything in sight like a void that had never known light.
There were no birds, no trees, no rustling leaves in sight.
Only wind.
Constant, heavy wind that howled up from the abyss without rest, sweeping across the cliffside like a warning that refused to fade.
It wasn't strong enough to push them back, but it was loud enough to drown out words, as it carried with it the dry scent of old stone and the faint, metallic taste of something long decayed.
They stood there for a moment, eyes locked on the shifting formations ahead, while the wind screamed around them without pause.
Then, beneath the howl, something else began to rise.
A sound.
Faint at first, almost like a whisper trapped between the cliffs, but unmistakably real, growing clearer with every passing second.
It began as a low hum, but slowly unfolded into something more— a distant tune drifting up from the abyss, as though a thousand forgotten instruments were playing from far below, blending together in a melody that didn't follow any rhythm, yet refused to stop.
The music had no pattern, no beat, no clear source, yet it wasn't unpleasant either.
It simply lingered, floating through the air like it had always been there, playing for no one in particular, as if the canyon itself was remembering something.
None of them spoke.
They remained at the ledge in silence, eyes scanning the sky ahead, where floating platforms drifted slowly through the open air.
Each platform moved at its own pace, rising and falling, rotating slightly, or sliding forward with no visible cause.
At that moment, seven platforms hovered within reach, each one different in size and altitude.
The first was small and close, but barely large enough to land on. The second was wider, but moved erratically with sudden shifts.
The third looked solid— broad, even, and smooth in its motion, while the fourth was cracked along the edges and tilted dangerously to one side.
The fifth was angled too far to land safely, while the sixth and seventh moved in overlapping circles that made timing uncertain.
The team studied all seven in silence.
They evaluated not just which one to leap onto first, but also which one offered the best path forward, for if the second jump looked impossible, there was no point in choosing the first step.
And hence, after a short deliberation, they all came to the same conclusion.
The third platform from the left was the best starting point.
It was wide and stable, and moved slower than the others, with its position also offering a clean connection to three more islands beyond it, each spaced evenly, with minimal vertical shift.
"That one," Leo finally said, pointing toward it, as Raiden nodded without a word, while the others adjusted their stance and tightened their grips.
They began calculating the rhythm.
How long the platform hovered.
How far it dipped and how fast it climbed.
How wide the jump would be.
How long they would need to wait if they missed.
One by one, they gathered the courage to move.
And as the wind surged again, the team prepared to leap, knowing full well that the moment they left solid ground behind, they would be forced to enter a constant cycle of dangerous jumps to eventually reach the other side.
*Jump*
Raiden led the way without hesitation.
He stepped forward and launched off the edge, his body cutting clean through the wind before his boots struck the third platform with a solid thud.
—tilt—
The platform dipped beneath him, not much, but enough to tilt forward and rock gently to the side, as though it were swaying like a pendulum.
Raiden lowered his stance instinctively and stayed near the center, adjusting his weight as the platform swayed beneath him for a few seconds before gradually evening out.
The others took note.
Bob narrowed his eyes, adjusted his run-up, and aimed straight for the center, mindful of how Raiden's landing had shifted the stone.
*Thud*
His boots landed slightly off, but close enough to avoid triggering too much sway, as although the platform still shifted beneath him, it was not as much as before.
Karl was next. He did not rush.
He waited for the platform to rise again into its fifteen-second hover, then leapt with precision, angling for the middle.
*Step*
His landing was cleaner than Bob's, and this time, the platform barely tilted. Just a slight dip, then stillness.
While Leo went last.
He watched all of it, the arc, the angle, the reactions, and jumped only once the hover peak was fully reset.
*Land*
He landed firm and balanced, barely making a sound, as he crouched low with his hands ready in case of sudden movement.
However, the platform only gave a gentle sway beneath him before stabilizing, as it seemed to be able to hold their weights without any trouble.
The wind still screamed around them, pulling at their clothes and biting at their exposed skin, while the strange music below continued to hum in the background.
No one spoke.
They remained on the platform for five minutes, just enough time to get into the optimal window for the next jump, as when it was time, they leapt once again without needing Raiden's command.
*Land*
Once again, they all landed without too much hassle, however, this time around, the platform they landed on, suddenly changed its speed of ascent and descent, as after they landed, it suddenly hastened it's descent and slowed down it's ascent, as a new variable was introduced.
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Chapter 300: Plot Twist
The next platform the team landed on changed its descent and ascent speed dramatically after they touched down, as unlike the one before it, this one didn't wobble at all, yet its pacing was entirely different.
The drop was sharp, almost sudden, while the rise that followed was painfully slow and uneven, as though the platform no longer cared to obey any rhythm at all.
There was no predictable pattern to its motion anymore, which made predicting the timing of the next jump very hard, as the team now had to wing it on vibes alone.
"Well, this changes the dynamic completely," Karl said as he steadied his footing near the center. "If we can't reliably predict how each island reacts after we land on it, then mapping a clean path forward is going to be near impossible."
Everyone nodded quietly, eyes already on the next platform, as they realized that from this point onward, every jump was sure to be a gamble.
They waited roughly twenty minutes to make the third jump.
Then, as the next island finally drifted within range and its surface aligned for just a brief moment, they leapt—
*Thud*
All four of them cleared the four-meter gap with ease, landing one after another with soft, controlled impacts.
This new platform was larger than any of the ones before.
Not only was it broad and stable, but it was also perfectly flat and slow-moving, as this was the first platform they'd stepped onto that didn't alter its trajectory after being landed on.
"I think we'll be here for a while," Raiden said, watching the platform ahead drift in long, lazy arcs, far out of reach for the foreseeable future.
"Yeah... half an hour, maybe an hour and a half," Leo added after timing the rotations, before dropping down onto his back and lying flat against the cool stone.
With no disagreements, the others followed suit and took the chance to rest, while Karl silently unfastened his gear and pulled out a compact burner plate, setting it up near the center of the platform where the wind was weakest.
He got to work preparing a proper meal.
The scent that followed was surprisingly pleasant—warm and earthy, with a faint herbal edge—and after days of chewing through dense nutrient bricks and choking down flavorless energy vials, it felt like a luxury.
They settled into place, not in a circle, but scattered across the platform—each man facing a different direction, their eyes occasionally scanning the drifting islands above, as even in rest, none of them let their guard fully down.
Leo sat near the edge, his arms resting loosely over his knees as the endless twilight painted his features in shades of ash and gray. He didn't speak. Just stared out at the sky in silence, his thoughts finally still.
The canyon's music drifted upward in soft waves, quieter now—no longer something to be heard, but something simply there, like a second layer of air wrapping around the wind.
When Karl handed him a warm tin bowl, Leo nodded once in thanks and accepted it. His fingers curled around the metal without resistance, and he began eating slowly, chewing methodically, not just for energy, but for the illusion of peace.
For a moment, it almost felt like he was back in the normal world.
Back where dinner wasn't followed by a dozen near-death encounters.
Time passed slowly.
Nothing moved.
For the first time in days, there were no enemies on their trail. No cursed terrain beneath their feet. No looming sense of collapse pressing down on their every breath.
Just stone. Wind. Sky. And silence.
Eventually, Leo allowed himself to stretch out fully, his legs flat, his hands folded beneath his head, his gaze unfocused as the light above dulled just slightly.
He didn't mean to sleep.
He told himself he'd just rest his eyes. Just until his shoulders stopped aching. Just until the weight behind his skull faded.
But exhaustion had already made the choice for him.
His breathing slowed.
His hands loosened.
And beneath the soft, eternal hum rising from the canyon floor...
Leo drifted off.
—-------
(45 minutes later)
"Skyshard, wake up," Raiden's voice rang in his ears, sharp and steady, as Leo's eyes snapped open and his body responded without hesitation.
He was up and alert in an instant, years of conditioning washing away the fog of rest, as he rose to his feet and moved toward the ledge without a word.
"It's time to make the next jump," Raiden said, already watching the platform ahead, as Leo joined him and began studying the movement patterns— counting the rise, tracking the dip, and measuring the distance, before finally nodding in affirmation once the timing lined up.
"I'll go first—" Leo declared, before launching himself off the edge the moment the arcs aligned, as he made the jump with ease.
Raiden followed immediately after, his leap slightly shorter but still controlled, as he landed near Leo and rolled his shoulders out of habit.
Bob and Karl came next, each clearing the jump without issue, as the fourth platform barely shifted beneath their combined weight.
"Woohoo, another easy jump!" Karl celebrated after making it. However, it was only then that the team realized that the platform they were on had completely stopped moving.
It was imperceptible at first, as the slow moving platform slowed down even more until it grinded to a halt.
However, once it stopped completely, the team could observe how their position was stationary compared to their environment, and that was when they realized that they were in a peril.
From here, the platform ahead was visibly higher, with it being at least 30 meters high even at its lowest point.
And while the jump itself was not far in terms of distance, the elevation made it nearly impossible to reach with a regular leap, no matter how well-timed.
"Well fuck.... I did not expect that—" Karl said, as his excitement turned to depression real fast.
Leo stared at the gap, then at the ledge beneath his boots, as he calculated the best path forward.
"I think we can make it with a boost. If one of us stays behind and gives a physical boost, we can make it to the other side.
And once three of us have crossed, two of us can dangle Karl from over the ledge by his feet, use him as a human hook, while the last one makes the jump—" Leo proposed, as after thinking about it for a while, both Bob and Raiden nodded.
"Alright, but who stays behind? I'm heavy so I say I go first—" Bob said, as Leo nodded and volunteered to come last.
"I'll go last... come on, I'm ready to boost you," Leo said, clutching his palms together and bending slightly at the knees, as Bob gave him a firm nod and stepped back to prepare for the run-up.
With a short charge and a well-timed jump, Bob planted his boot into Leo's hands as Leo launched him upward with perfect form, sending him clean across the gap, where he landed with a slight skid before finding his balance.
Raiden came next.
No words were exchanged between them. He just gave Leo a nod and ran forward, hitting the boost point with smooth precision, as Leo thrust upward once more, sending Raiden into a clean arc that ended in a solid landing beside Bob.
Karl was last.
He dusted off his palms, gave Leo a quick grin, and backed up a few paces, before running forward and launching off the boost with practiced ease.
His landing was graceful, almost theatrical, as he came to a soft stop near the others and turned around without missing a beat.
Leo exhaled once, relaxing his hands and stepping back to prepare for his own jump.
This was nothing new.
Just a final leap.
He took a few slow steps back, gauged the distance, and waited for the platform's dip to settle into its next rise.
Meanwhile Raiden and Bob gripped Karl by the ankles, lowering him slowly until his arms dangled toward the ledge, fingers outstretched to catch Leo's hand.
Then as everything was ready, he sprinted forward.
The canyon wind rushed past his ears once again as he hurled himself into the air, every muscle locked on a single target— Karl's outstretched hand waiting just beyond the edge.
*Woosh*
He made the jump precisely, jumping a monstrous 25 meters with sheer power, as he stretched his body to its limits, arms reaching out to the maximum as his momentum carried him across the gap.
He saw Karl's eyes.
He saw the calm in his face as he waited to catch the outstretched palm.
However, just after he jumped, he saw that calm demeanor change real quick, as his face contorted into an evil smile.
'Huh?' Leo wondered, as right when he was supposed to catch Karl's palm, he shrunk it back, pulling it just out of reach, as his fingers brushed the edge.
It wasn't a flinch.
It wasn't a slip.
It was deliberate.
Karl's fingers retracted with perfect timing, as the smile widened faintly and his lips moved in silence.
"The cult sends its regards."
The words weren't spoken, but were rather mouthed with intent—just enough that Raiden and Bob would never hear them, but Leo would see them being lipped, and would think about them in his final moments.
'The fuck?'
Leo wondered, his eyes widening in disbelief as he twisted mid-air, his fingers scraping empty air while his weight began to drop.
There was no time to react.
No ledge to grab.
No hand reaching back.
Only the feeling of his stomach collapsing inward as gravity took full hold and he fell.
'Am I going to die here?' Leo wondered, as no scream left his mouth and the world around him slowed down.
The wind roared past him, louder than before, and the pale twilight above began to fade from view, shrinking further with every second, as the black abyss below opened wide to swallow him whole.
And in that endless moment—
As betrayal wrapped itself tighter than the wind ever could—
Leo finally realized who the problem in his group really was.
Contact - ToS