Timeless AssassinC341: Two Truths And A Lie
Chapter 341: Two Truths And A Lie
(Time-Stilled World, The Mountain of Illusions, The Spectral Plateau)
Once Leo realized that he couldn't get past this particular ghost without indulging it, he surrendered to his fate and asked, "Alright, tell me, how do I prove I'm worthy enough to pass?"
The three-headed specter did not move. For a moment, only the wind stirred, brushing gently across the flatland like the breath of a forgotten god.
Then the left-most head finally spoke, its voice calm and velvet-smooth. "You may pass by proving that your mind sees more than what is shown."
The right head picked up immediately, tone raspier, like the scrape of stone on metal.
"That you can pierce deception not with sword or skill, but with stillness and perception."
And at last, the central head leaned forward, blood-red eyes glowing slightly brighter.
"We shall each speak in turns.
One of us lies.
Two of us speak the truth.
Uncover the fraud three times in a row, and the path ahead shall open.
Fail, and you will be forced to turn back... with the mountain's dead trailing behind you.... This time with the intent to kill"
Leo frowned when he heard the last line.
'The mountains dead trying to chase and kill him?'
That did not sound like a good outcome at all, however, he did not have much other choice but to accept the Ghosts' conditions.
The thick mist that he ran into moments ago was now surrounding him on all sides, and something about this old ghost's gaze told him that regardless of where he ran, he would always end up before it, until he gave it what it wanted.
'Great. So the three headed ghost wants me to play a game of two truths and a lie, but with my own life on the line?' Leo mused, as he looked around, trying to confirm one last time as to whether or not he could run away from this situation without facing it?
Before sighing and nodding his head, when he realized that he could not simply run away from it.
"Fine. Let's get this over with." He said, agreeing to the terms and conditions of the ghost, as the air around him immediately turned denser and the three heads before him began to laugh in synchronisation.
—-------------
(Round One)
For the first round of the game, the left head went first, speaking with the cadence of an old storyteller.
"In a city that's now buried beneath ice, there once lived a race of architects who built towers upside-down after this world broke, believing that heaven was below and hell was above.
When outsiders eventually arrived at their town, they called the architects heretics and devil worshippers, however, when they chased them inside the upside down towers to punish them, those that went in never came out.
It's said that the towers are a direct gateway to the afterlife, and that no soul who enters it can leave it alive—"
The middle head followed, his tone softer, melancholic.
"After this world broke, a great king ordered every book in his kingdom to be rewritten so that his name would appear in every victory, every miracle, every sacred text that had ever occurred in the history of this world.
He became audacious and leveraged the silence of the Old Gods to proclaim himself the new God!
However, because of his ambition, the soul of the dead god Zhanrok, punished him.... And when he died, his soul was forcibly scattered across the rewritten stories.
Now, any child who reads the forbidden texts aloud speaks in his voice and forgets their own for three days, as they are forced to anchor his anguished soul as a reminder to not learn wrong history."
Then, finally, the right head spoke.
"There was once a man who carried a mirror across the broken world, showing people who had lost themselves to the tainted mana their truest selves.
Most begged to look, some broke down in tears, others attacked him in rage.
However, it wasn't until he saw his own reflection in the mirror that it finally cracked.
When asked what he saw, he said, 'Nothing. I was never real to begin with.'"
—-------
Leo stared at them.
Then blinked.
Then stared some more.
All three stories echoed with the same eerie quality..... they all sounded mythical, poetic, and unnerving.
Each one had just enough logic to feel feasible in a twisted world like this, and just enough nonsense to make him question everything.
He ran the stories through his head again, trying to dissect them.
Blind architects. Haunted books. A mirror that shattered on self-viewing.
Leo scratched the side of his head and let out a small frustrated breath.
"How the hell am I supposed to figure this out? They all sound equally garbage to me..."
He turned away, then turned back, then circled slightly around the ghost, trying to see if one of the heads was sweating or twitching or doing anything remotely suspicious.
But he found no tell-tale signs of lying on any of them.
All three looked as smug and unreadable as ever, as they maintained eye contact with him regardless of where he moved.
*Thud*
Eventually, Leo sat down cross legged before the ghost, as he rubbed his temples in perplexity.
"This isn't a riddle. It sounds more like a fever dream.... Something that's randomly made up in sleep" Leo muttered, as he tried to probe the heads into revealing more information about the stories they just narrated, however, the heads maintained their silence.
No matter how long Leo stared at one of them, or how he tried to engage them in conversation, the heads said nothing, as they waited in silence until Leo made his final choice.
'Fuck this is hard....' Leo thought, as while on one hand, he wanted to trust his gut and just blurt out the answer that seemed most suspicious to him..... His gut was unfortunately yelling three different things at once today.
Maybe the mirror guy's story is real? In a place like this, where tainted mana distorts the soul, a mirror that reflects your true self could be powerful enough to shatter psyches. And the part where he saw nothing? That doesn't make it fake. It could mean he really was hollow... a construct or a ghost, never truly alive in the first place. That feels haunting, but possible.
The king's story sounds insane, but then again.....so is this world. After the old gods went silent, maybe someone did try to erase and rewrite history to crown himself a divine figure. The punishment—having his soul forcibly scattered through the texts he defiled—doesn't sound made up either. It's poetic justice. And if those cursed books still exist, maybe reading them does let him speak again, even if just for a few days. That's not impossible... just terrifying.
Even the upside-down towers could be true. If an isolated civilization went mad after the world broke, their logic might've flipped too. Building downward, toward what they believed was salvation..... it's deranged, sure, but not beyond belief. And if the towers do lead to some kind of metaphysical realm, then maybe that's why nobody ever returned. Not because the story is false... but because it's working exactly as intended.
He frowned, biting the inside of his cheek, genuinely unsure.
All his training, all his instincts, all his cold-blooded calculation, appeared to become useless in this situation, as in the end he felt like he was going to be forced to make a simple guess and nothing more.
He couldn't even tell if he was being toyed with.
If any of the stories that he heard here today were even genuine?
Or if all three of them were a lie and regardless of what he said he was going to lose....
As that, more than anything, made him feel like he was genuinely stuck in a tough spot, as this wisdom test turned out to be much more complicated than he had initially expected it to be.
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Timeless AssassinC342: An unlikely breakthrough
Chapter 342: An unlikely breakthrough
(Time-Stilled World, The Spectral Plateau, Round One Of Questioning)
Leo remained seated, legs crossed and brow furrowed, the silence between him and the specter growing heavier with each passing second, as though even the air around them had paused to await his decision.
He had run through each story in his mind again and again, searching for a crack, a misstep, a hidden clue buried beneath their myth-like cadence.
The tale of the architects seemed almost plausible in a world this fractured, where madness often became logic and belief could warp reality itself.
He could genuinely believe that there did exist a broken tribe somewhere in this world that would have tried to dig downward toward what they believed was salvation, when the sun disappeared.
However, perhaps it was because the story was too believable that he wondered if it was a trap?
In contrast, the king's story was drenched in arrogance, ambition, and poetic punishment, and yet something about it also made no sense.
According to the ancient records he read, there was no mention of any ancient king that did something like this.
Nor did it seem like Zharnok was in a state where he could dish out such petty punishments after losing his physical body.
The story itself sounded like a folk lore straight out of a children's book.... And somehow Leo couldn't make his mind on whether it was true or not?
And finally there was the mirror man's tale.... hollow and haunting, speaking of self-reflection and erasure, yet somehow lacking the same weight as the others, as though it was a fabricated lie while the other two were anchored in reality.
It was the only tale where the main subject of the story was kept vague, as if the spectre was trying to cover a wide base without being specific, so that its lie could pass as the truth.
And while being vague was a tell-tale sign of lying, Leo knew that it could also be a trap, which was why in the end he did not feel confident in locking the third choice either.
*Sigh*
He exhaled slowly, then whispered under his breath, "It's either the second or the third...I have a strong feeling it can't be the first" but even as he said it, the words felt unsatisfying.
Because his gut refused to pick one over the other, and despite all his instincts, calculations, and learned caution, Leo couldn't bring himself to stake his life on a blind guess.
"I can't gamble here," he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly, "not like this... not when failure means being hunted down by the dead."
And then, like a glint of sunlight breaking through the clouds, a memory stirred within him.
A memory of his recent conversation with the old dragon, where the old beast had once mentioned that if Leo could master the Codex, he would be able to tell truth from illusion, to distinguish the real from the fabricated, not just in objects or people, but perhaps in the very fabric of stories themselves.
Leo blinked, the realization snapping into place with unexpected clarity.
'Right...' he whispered internally, a quiet intensity settling into his thoughts, 'the Codex.'
If he could perceive the aura of a liar from the spectre as it narrated the stories, perhaps he could find a way to move forward without having to gamble his life on it!
'Yes... that's the best shot I have–' Leo concluded, as he stood up slowly and faced the ghost once more, this time not with uncertainty, but with quiet resolve.
"Can you please repeat the stories for me? I need to hear them again to confirm what I already know!" he said, his tone firm but not confrontational, more a request than a demand.
The three-headed specter tilted its skulls in eerie synchrony, as if amused by the audacity of his ask, yet it made no protest, and once again began its strange recitation.
But Leo no longer listened with his ears alone.
He had already been watching the spectre with mana pooled behind his eyes, when it narrated the story the first time, but this time he tried the hardest to blur his vision and only focus on the faint outline surrounding the ghost, which he presumed to be its aura.
At first he saw nothing much, just the same skin color aura blurring just beyond its illusion of a flesh, as he focused on nothing but the faint boundary between where the spectre's outline ended and where its aura should be.
The first head began to speak again—about the buried city, the upside-down towers, the gateways to the afterlife—and as Leo listened, he noticed a subtle ripple of tension in the specter's aura, not hostile or deceitful, but warped with pride, as though the speaker reveled in the strangeness of its tale.
The aura surrounding its body remained unnoticeable till the end, however, just at the end, he perceived a slight splash of black that disappeared as soon as it appeared.
The second head followed, recounting the king who rewrote history and was punished by a forgotten god, and here the aura shifted once more, duller this time, laced with a bitter sorrow that hinted at regret or remembrance, as though the story bore the weight of real consequence.
The second head's aura also did not change throughout his speech, however, just towards the end, it also flickered with a faint splash of black.
Finally the third head began its tale last, as it talked about the man and his mirror, and Leo narrowed his gaze once again and followed the story till the end, right until the final moment where the story concluded and the third head's aura flickered black as well just like the other two before it.
'The hell?' Leo cursed, a frown developing on his face, as he did not expect this outcome at all.
All the three ghosts gave off the same aura at the end of their stories, which did not help him narrow down his suspects at all.
However, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Looking towards his own body, Leo focused on the fringes of his finger and mentally began to speak truths and lies alternatively.
'I don't miss my family at all–'
'I wonder if Dumpy is alive and okay?'
'I have never thought about shoving an umbrella into professor David's rear end,'
'I am scared of death'
His reasoning behind this experiment was to check as to whether or not his own aura flared black when he lied versus when he did not, and although he did not notice any results for the first ten or so lies he spoke, when he finally spoke the eleventh, he noticed the faintest flicker of black emerge around his fingers.
'Huh? Was that it? Did I finally succeed?' Leo wondered in joy.... As he felt encouraged and continued on with the method for a while longer.
Until he could continuously perceive a faint flicker of black emerge at his fingertips every time he lied.
'This might be it.... But I need to look into the codex to confirm!' Leo concluded, as he reached into his storage ring and retrieved the [Sevenfold Revelation Codex] at once.
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Timeless AssassinC343: Discerning The Truth
Chapter 343: Discerning The Truth
(Time-Stilled World, The Spectral Plateau, Leo's POV)
Leo opened the [Sevenfold Revelation Codex] with a breathless urgency, his fingers grazing the familiar parchment as he silently hoped for guidance, some sign or revelation inked onto the page.
To his relief, golden ink began to bleed into view the moment the cover fell open, swirling like liquid flame as the Codex stirred to life and prepared to impart its newest lesson.
—-------
> "You have observed the shade 'Black' which is the echo of dishonesty."
> "It is not the mark of sin, nor of wickedness— but is rather the signature of dissonance."
> "When the soul speaks a truth, the aura holds steady."
> "When it utters a lie it recognizes as false, the soul recoils."
> "This recoil, though imperceptible to flesh, stains the aura at its thinnest edge."
> "It cannot be hidden by confidence or smothered by repetition."
> "It appears only when the speaker knows they lie."
> "The unaware are spared."
> "The deceivers are not."
> "To see black is to witness fracture—the instant a soul shudders against its own voice."
> "One must always beware of lies and liars, as those who lie too often, usually have the darkest souls."
—-------------
As the final line unfurled in brilliant script, the glow slowly dimmed and the golden ink faded, retreating like a tide returning to its depths, as the codex returned to silence once again.
Leo did not move for several seconds after reading the text.
His eyes remained fixated on the now-empty page, as his breathing slowed and his mind raced.
He understood now that the black aura did not mark wrongness in the world, but wrongness in the speaker—when what they said was at odds with what they knew to be true.
And yet... that only made things harder.
He had seen the same faint black flicker at the end of all three stories.
But if the Codex was right—and it always was—then none of the specter's heads had told the full truth.
Which meant...
"They're all lying?" Leo murmured aloud, frowning. "But they all sounded too grounded to be completely false..."
He fell silent again, fingers absently tapping the cover of the Codex.
And then it struck him—not as a flash of brilliance, but the slow, creeping realization of something subtle he had missed.
Each story had felt grounded. Logical. Believable.
But what if that was the trap?
What if the first parts of each tale were true—details woven from real history, real events—but the final lines were where the falsehood lived?
He closed his eyes and ran through them again.
> The architects... lived in a city buried beneath ice.
They built upside-down towers, believing heaven was below.
But then the line that—"the towers are gateways to the afterlife, from where no soul returns."
That was when the speaker's aura flickered black, meaning that it was the lie!
Same for the king's story—
> He rewrote all the books.
He declared himself God.
But then—"his soul was scattered and children spoke in his voice."
That was the line where the speaker's aura broke, indicating that it was a lie!
And finally the mirror man.....
> He carried a mirror to show people their true selves.
He made the broken weep or rage.
But then—"he saw nothing, because he was never real."
That final line was again a lie!
Meaning that all three statements made by the heads consisted of exactly two truths and one lie!
Leo opened his eyes.
"That's it..." he whispered, voice low. "They're not full lies. Just partial ones. Each of them ends with a twist that breaks from the truth."
And when the truth breaks, the soul recoils.
And when the soul recoils—
The aura turns black.
He looked back at the ghost, this time not with confusion, but with a grim certainty building behind his eyes.
Because now he understood the truth!
"I am ready to answer," he said, eyes locking onto the central skull of the specter.
The three heads turned in perfect, eerie synchrony, their gazes piercing through the mist between them like blades.
"Then speak, mortal," the left head rasped.
"Which tale was false?" asked the middle.
"Choose wrong, and you shall be punished," whispered the right.
But Leo didn't flinch, nor did he hesitate.... not anymore.
"All three stories are lies," he said calmly, his tone not loud but sharp enough to cut the stillness. "But not completely."
The specter tilted slightly, the sockets of its many eyes narrowing.
"Go on..." the middle head coaxed, curious now, its voice laced with both intrigue and warning.
Leo took a breath.
"They each contain two truths. But at the end of each story, there is a lie."
He pointed toward the ghost.
"You said this game was two truths and a lie, but you never explained what it actually meant..... and I believe, the true game is to discern the two truths and the one lie inside every story that you narrated"
The fog thickened for a beat, curling around Leo's boots as though waiting for him to slip, but he held his ground.
"The architects did build their city beneath the ice. They did believe in heaven below. But the towers weren't gateways to the afterlife... that was a lie."
"The king did rewrite history. He did crown himself god. But his soul wasn't scattered, and children don't speak in his voice. That was the lie."
"And the mirror man... yes, he showed others who they were. Yes, they broke because of it. But he did exist. He wasn't a ghost story. That was the lie."
The moment he finished speaking, the wind stilled. The fog stopped moving. The plateau itself seemed to freeze, caught in a breath that the world had forgotten to exhale.
And then, the specter moved.
Its three heads turned inward, facing each other, whispering in overlapping tones that sent shivers crawling across Leo's skin. There was no anger in their muttering. Only surprise. And something dangerously close to amusement.
When they turned back to him, the center head leaned forward ever so slightly.
"...Correct," it said, voice deeper than before, carrying a strange note of approval. "We did not expect you to solve this riddle, mortal, but you are smarter than we expected! You live to face question two."
A wave of silent relief coursed through Leo's chest as the verdict was spoken, but he dared not let it show.
He'd gambled everything on the Codex's teachings, and on his own ability to see aura beyond the limits of normal eyes.
And it had worked!
Yet, the sense of victory was fleeting.
Because as soon as the spectre recognised his first triumph, the fog around it began to move again.
The three heads rose higher, their silhouettes now barely distinguishable from the thick gray clouds that churned behind them, until only the red embers of their sunken eyes remained visible, like coals drifting in ash.
"Your mind is sharp," the left head said, voice trailing like smoke.
"But solving one riddle does not make you worthy of passage," said the right.
"You must answer the second riddle now, or be forced to turn back and chased!" said the one in the centre, as the three heads began narrating the next riddle.
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Timeless AssassinC344: A True Test Of Wits
Chapter 344: A True Test Of Wits
"Listen carefully to the rules of the second round, mortal, for this time we shall not repeat ourselves..." the middle head intoned, its voice curling through the mist like a whisper at the edge of thought.
"The second question is a test of logic, not insight. There is only one riddle, and only one correct answer."
The fog coiled tighter around the specter until its form vanished entirely, replaced by nothing but gray swirling smoke, as even its eyes were gone.
Leo could no longer see even the faintest outline of the ghost, and could hence no longer rely on the codex to help him answer this one.
It seemed like the ghost had figured out his cheat, and had slammed the door shut against him being able to use it again by completely covering its body with thick fog.
"A sellsword is placed in a chamber with three chairs.
In the first sits a king who offers him gold for protection against his enemies.
In the second, a merchant who offers twice that for silence and discretion.
And finally, in the third, a farmer who offers nothing, but weeps in fear and prays to the gods for survival."
"The door to the chamber only opens after the sellsword kills one of the three. However, if he chooses to kill none, then all four of them starve and die"
"He cannot leave without choosing. He cannot kill more than one."
"But whichever he kills, the remaining two will walk free and live long lives."
"So who does he kill, if he is both rational and kind-hearted?"
The ghost asked, as an eerie silence followed his words.
Leo narrowed his eyes.
This time, the answer would not come from observation, and he had to rely on nothing but his own wits to get to the solution, as there was no room to cheat anymore.
—------------
The words of the riddle echoed through his mind, over and over, as he let the image form fully in his head.
A king.
A merchant.
A farmer.
One offered gold for protection.
One offered more for silence.
While the last offered nothing and just trembled in fear.
Only one could die. The other two would live. And the sellsword—if rational and kind hearted—had to decide which one to kill.
"Rational and kind hearted..." Leo repeated internally, as he considered each option.
The king was a powerful man, who offered gold to be protected, likely out of fear that his enemies would assassinate him.
His survival maintained order in the world, and could serve as a greater good, for when a king died an untimely death, bloodshed usually followed.
The merchant was a greedy man, who offered more gold than the king not for protection, but for silence and discretion, an act that reeked of guilt more than fear.
However, clients like the merchant were what the sell-sword profession was made for. And it wasn't up to the sell-sword to judge what the client did after paying them.
Finally, the farmer was a poor man, who offered nothing, not out of arrogance, but because he had nothing to give. He wept not with strategy, but with raw fear as he turned to the gods and begged for mercy.
Leo's brow furrowed as the layers began peeling back in his mind.
"If the sellsword is only rational, he might take the highest bidder. That's the merchant. Twice the gold. Easy."
"If he is only kind hearted, he might refuse to kill altogether... but the riddle forbids that. He has to choose. Doing nothing is not an option."
"So what choice protects the innocent and punishes the corrupt... with the least cost to the world?"
Leo wondered, as he thought long and hard about the question, before simply deciding on the answer based on what he would personally do, if placed in this situation.
He himself was an assassin, and while he did not consider himself to be 'kind-hearted', he was not cruel or irrational.
Hence he just thought about what he would personally do if placed in this situation, and finally locked on an answer after just twenty short minutes of thinking.
"I've made my choice," he declared.
"Then speak," the specter replied, its voice thick with smoke and shadow.
Leo didn't flinch.
"The sellsword kills the farmer," he said, his voice firm.
"Because the farmer has nothing to offer—no leverage, no power, not even a deal.
I know how a sellsword thinks. Gold talks. Fear doesn't. The king pays for protection, the merchant pays more for silence, but the farmer... he only weeps. And weeping doesn't feed steel.
The answer of the question is in the name of the profession itself..... 'SELL SWORD'.
We do what we do for money, and us being kind-hearted or cruel has no bearing on it." he declared confidently, as a stillness followed.
"...Correct," the middle head finally said, its tone unreadable, as the fog around its face finally receded, and the three heads came back into view once more.
"You live to face question three." the left head said, as without wasting any time, they immediately jumped onto the third and last question, as the spectre's form disappeared completely from in front of Leo, and its voice began to ring out from multiple angles in Leo's vicinity, as if hundreds were surrounding him from beyond the fog.
"Listen well, mortal. For this is not a riddle born of trickery, but one born of ache."
"There were once three brothers," the voice began, not in unison, but in overlap—three voices sharing the same breath, layering on top of each other like chords from a mournful hymn. "Three souls bound in one body... conjoined from the neck downward, trapped in flesh they did not choose."
"They had three minds. Three heads. Three dreams. But only one life. One pair of lungs. One fate."
"They learned to live together, to eat together, to fight together, but never to love together."
"For there was a woman."
"A kind woman. Gentle, strong, and radiant in a way that made all three believe she saw them..... truly saw them."
"And she did love one of us."
"But which one?"
The voice fractured, splitting fully into three separate tones now, each echoing from a different direction in the mist, as if the brothers were pacing through Leo's surroundings, invisible yet omnipresent.
---
"I was the first to notice her smile," the left voice claimed, calm and wistful. "She laughed at my jokes, lingered on my words, and her hand would brush mine when she thought the others weren't looking. She asked for my stories, listened to my dreams. She saw me. And when her mother fell ill, it was me she came to for comfort, not the others."
---
"I was the one she sought when her heart was heavy," said the middle voice, deeper and steadier. "She would rest her head near my shoulder, speak softly when the others had fallen asleep. She once pressed a note into our hand, but I was the one who read it first—and it was signed with my name. Not a mistake. A confession."
---
"I was the one who touched her soul," the third voice whispered, trembling. "I painted for her. She cried when I gave her a portrait of the sea—because I remembered she had never seen it. She kissed our cheek once, under the lilac tree, and I felt it burn my skin. She never looked at the others that way again."
---
"And yet," the three voices rejoined, low and heavy now, "when her end came... when the fever took her and she lay dying... she pulled us close. She whispered her heart's truth."
"But we do not remember."
"Grief swallowed the moment. And we have fought ever since, believing it was each of us."
"But it was only one."
"And now, you must tell us—"
A sudden hush swept the air, sharp and complete.
Then, softly, the question came:
"To which brother... did she confess her love on her deathbed?"
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Timeless AssassinC345: The fifth emotion
Chapter 345: The fifth emotion
(Time-Stilled World, The Spectral Plateau, Leo's POV)
Leo felt the pain hidden behind the voices of the spectre as they presented the third riddle.
This was definitely by far the most complex riddle he had heard, not because it was particularly witty.
But because it was deeply human.
It wasn't a question of logic, or deduction, or perception. It was a question of understanding hearts. Of choosing which love was real— when all three brothers had believed with equal desperation that they were the one she adored.
Leo closed his eyes, allowing the silence to settle, not rushing to an answer as he tried to empathize with each story.
The first brother had claimed her love because she laughed with him the most and because she came to him when her mother was sick.
The second insisted she loved him because she always looked for him in a crowd, confided her deepest secrets to him and enjoyed his warmth and comfort.
The third believed it was him, because she had kissed him and no other, and because she looked at him with eyes that were different from the other two.
They all had valid reasons. But love—true love—was rarely about reason.
Leo's thoughts drifted to something Elena once said to him when he was but a teenage child.
"If you ever wish to know who someone loves... watch who they protect in their weakest hour."
It was a comment she made in passing, however, it was a comment that stayed with him for life.
'What mom said back then is definitely the truest test of love... If there was a room full of people I loved the most, and an explosion suddenly occurred that blew everyone backwards... who would I glance at first after I look up? That's definitely the person I love the most...' Leo thought, as inadvertently, his thoughts shifted to Amanda—the love of his life.
And this time... he didn't fight it.
He didn't shut the door on the pain, or bury the memories beneath layers of cold pragmatism. He let them wash over him fully—raw, wild, unfiltered—as images of her smile, her voice, and every stolen moment they shared bloomed behind his eyes.
She wasn't perfect. She wasn't always the most elegant or practical. But she was herself, and to Leo, that had always been enough.
He remembered the way she'd grip his hand when he ate his food too fast, glaring at him to finish the food in his mouth first, before scooping another spoonful.
He remembered the way she'd sit with him in silence after a rough day, no questions asked. The way she lit up whenever she spoke about her dreams, even if she knew they may never come true.
He loved her.
Not because she completed him, or made him feel whole.
But because... her happiness mattered more to him than his own.
Because if protecting her meant becoming a monster for the whole universe, he wouldn't hesitate in being one.
Because he knew, deep in his soul, that if everyone else was falling, she'd be the one he'd look for first.
He would do anything for her.
Even if she never looked at him the same way.
Even if she forgot him entirely.
Even if loving her tore him apart.
And as those thoughts crystallized into something undeniable, something true, Leo failed to notice the soft ripple of color blooming around him.
A gentle pink aura—warm, quiet, and impossibly pure—began to rise from his skin like a breath in winter air, glowing brighter with every heartbeat.
It wasn't rage. It wasn't grief. It was love, in its most vulnerable form. Love that asked for nothing. Love that simply was.
But Leo remained oblivious to it, eyes closed, heart open, as he began to truly feel the weight of the riddle again.
Three brothers. Three hearts. One woman.
The first had spoken of laughter and loyalty in times of need.
The second had spoken of comfort and emotional intimacy.
The third... had spoken of gifts and physical intimacy.
But none had spoken of what they lost.
True Love was not a competition.
True Love was being happy even if the person they loved was with someone else.
As wanting someone to be happy only when they were with yourself wasn't true love, but rather obsessive self love.
"All of you...."
"She loved all of you, but none of you truly loved her—" Leo responded at last as he opened his eyes and gazed straight into the fog ahead of him, at the spot where the spectre had initially vanished from.
"She treated all three of you kindly, and showed a different side of her to you based on what would feel endearing to you.
But I don't believe any of you loved her, because if you did, you wouldn't be fighting amongst yourself trying to prove that she loved just one.
But would rather be happy that she had a heart big enough to love all three—" Leo said in a sombre voice, as a small tear formed in his own eyes.
This was not an answer he gave from his mind, but rather one that he gave from his heart, based on his own understanding of true love, and his feelings for Amanda.
It was not an answer that he felt particularly confident in.
Especially in a test of wisdom.
However, it was an answer that he believed in, because it was in-line with his own understanding of true love.
For a long moment, there was no reply.
Just silence. Heavy, trembling silence that clung to the Spectral Plateau like dew over a field of graves.
Then, without warning, the fog ahead stirred—tugged apart as though drawn back by unseen hands—as the spectre reappeared, emerging slowly into view.
But this time... something was different.
The spectre's form no longer stood tall and accusatory, as it's very posture had changed.
Its eyes—three sets glowing dimly across three conjoined heads—were no longer searing with an angry glowing red.
Instead, each head turned toward the other, not in challenge, but in shame.
Their once-bright red gaze dimming to a dull brown, as for the first time since Leo arrived, none of them could meet his gaze.
Each pair of eyes slowly dropped to the ground, heavy with guilt, as their faces began to change.
The withered beards and deep lines began to fade. The warped skin, clouded eyes, and ghostly age peeled away like dried paint revealing a canvas underneath—until, for a fleeting moment, Leo saw the spectre as it once was.
Three handsome young men. Identical in body, unique in expression.
One with an impish grin. One with a calm and thoughtful gaze. One with a shy, boyish smile.
And in that moment of clarity, unmarred by time, by madness, or by cursed mana, Leo finally saw not monsters, not riddlers, not spectres...
But men.
Broken, And Regretful Men.
The leftmost head spoke first, voice cracking as though remembering how to be honest.
"You're right..." he whispered. "We didn't truly love her. Not the way she deserved."
The middle head closed his eyes, as if in pain.
"This world's mana... it twisted us. Our thoughts. Our hearts. It fed our jealousy, made our minds unravel over the centuries... until we could no longer hear her voice. Only each other's accusations."
And the rightmost head finished the truth.
"We murdered her." His words fell like stone.
"Because we couldn't bear the idea that she loved one of us more."
"It's the one act we regret beyond all others."
"We haven't left from this place in over three thousand years. We've stood guard beside her grave... trying to remember her face. Trying to atone for what we did. Trying to believe she might forgive us from beyond the grave someday."
As his voice faded into the wind, the plateau itself began to tremble—softly at first, like a heartbeat finally returning to a dying body.
Then the stone beneath their feet shimmered, its dull gray hue beginning to shift and reshape, cracks etching through the fog-laced ground as glowing inscriptions of an ancient tombstone emerged.
[ IN MEMORY OF RUTH ]
Delicate. Honest. Eternal.
"You're a better man than we are.... Mortal. You have earned our respect, and the right to pass.
No spectre shall trouble you on your journey from this point onwards—" The central head said, as the fog receded completely, unveiling the straight path ahead, and the broken outline of a far-away castle.
Contact - ToS
Timeless AssassinC346 346: A father's delusion
(Time-Stilled World, Beyond the Spectral Plateau, Leo's POV)
It wasn't until Leo crossed the Spectral Plateau that he opened the Codex yet again, to confirm his uncovering of the fifth aura color.
He had not been expecting to uncover two aura colors in such rapid succession, however, the test of wisdom had really turned out to be a surprise boon for him.
*Glow*
Golden ink glowed on the empty white pages of the codex as soon as he opened it, as the manual did indeed acknowledge his observation of the fifth aura color.
—-----------
> You have spotted 'Pink', the color of Love.
> Love is a force without shape, but not without weight, and its aura doesn't stain, but it lingers.
> Love grants the strength to carry burdens no man should carry, and endure storms no soul should endure.
> It sharpens resolve. It softens rage. It gives birth to sacrifice.
> To love truly is to give without measure, to protect without pride, to remain, when all reason demands you leave.
> But blind love is not sacred.
> Blind love is rot.
> It leads men to betray their morals, abandon their purpose, and lose themselves in the shadows of another's light.
> Discernment is the balance.
> To walk forward with love in your heart, without losing sight of your path, is the true test of life.
> For Love is as pure as it is dangerous.
—---------
The ink dried as quickly as it had appeared.
The page stilled.
And Leo, now staring at the soft golden glow of the completed script, let out a long, happy breath.
"That makes it five….. I have finally spotted five of the seven colors needed to complete the first level of the Codex!" Leo rejoiced, as he finally grasped yet another aspect of this manual.
Progress with this technique was slow and laborious when he had no breakthroughs, however, when enlightenment struck, he had managed to understand 2 colors within the span of 2 hours.
"No wonder the manual warned that Kaelith is the only one to ever master this technique….
If one is unlucky, they can be stuck at a stage for years.
However, if they have high comprehension and luck, they can complete a stage within a month…." Leo muttered, as he shook his head from side to side and set his sights on the broken castle, now visible about two mountain lengths away.
If there were truly no more obstacles in his path, just as the spectre had implied, then he could likely reach the entrance in a day, or at most, a day and a half.
However, knowing this was the most dangerous part of his mission… and that the soul of an ancient God awaited him within… Leo decided it would be wiser to approach only after he was fully rested and alert.
As there was no telling what kind of horrors might await him once he arrived.
*************
(Meanwhile, Back On Planet Twin-Fang, The Guildmasters office)
Dupravel's office was dead silent, save for the constant munching sound of someone chewing on wood, as Dupravel after losing bits of his sanity, snacked on the wooden pencils placed on his desk as if they were snacks.
Antonio stood by the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back, watching his old friend eat wood with pity and compassion in his eyes, as he spoke with a softness reserved for children and madmen.
"The Universal Government has begun their assault on Planet Juxta," he said gently, watching Dupravel with cautious eyes. "One of their key military objectives… is to retrieve Darnell. They've listed it in their War Agenda."
Dupravel didn't move.
He sat hunched forward in the reinforced chair Antonio had custom-ordered after his mind began to unravel, designed specifically to endure the pressure of his elongated nails and the deep scratch marks he left behind.
He looked like a caveman, with wild hair, a thick, unkempt beard, and shoulders draped in the ragged cloak of a creature that had long abandoned any trace of gentlemanly posture.
As only the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest signaled that he was still alive—and still listening.
*Inhale*
Antonio drew a careful breath and continued, mindful not to raise his voice.
"The Cult's latest gold-grade mission... it's spreading. Nearly all our Grandmaster-tier operatives have entered the Time-Stilled World chasing it." Antonio said with hesitation, as he adjusted his robes.
"The promise of a mega reward, 6.5 billion MP... it's made even the most disciplined among them reckless."
Dupravel's fingers twitched once.
Antonio pressed on.
"But because of this diversion, our white and green-grade missions have been suffering. Our completion rate is down nearly fifty percent this past week. Civilian clients are growing frustrated. Planetary contracts are lapsing. The forums are flooded with complaints."
He paused, letting the weight of the next words settle carefully.
"The galaxy is starting to call us a house in chaos, Guildmaster. I understand how important Darnell is—truly, I do—but there must be a better way. Sending wave after wave into that cursed realm which is unlikely to yield any positive result… it's turning into a wild goose chase and could damage the foundations of our guild in the medium to long term"
For a moment, the silence returned. Unbroken. Endless.
Then… Dupravel exhaled.
A long, guttural breath.
His head lifted slowly—eyes half-lidded and clouded with shadows.
The lines on his face were not just wrinkles. They were scars. Trophies from a world that had torn pieces of his mind and refused to return them.
He stared at Antonio like he was looking through smoke.
And then, in a voice cracked with rust, layered with something barely human, he growled—
"Do... not pull... mission."
His words dragged across the room like claws on metal.
"Darnell… my blood. My son. My son not stay... in them evil bastard hands."
Antonio clenched his jaw, unmoving.
"Even if guild burn," Dupravel muttered, his shoulders jerking with the strain of staying upright. "Even if universe spit. We get him back."
He slammed a hand down—not in rage, but as if anchoring himself to reality.
"No cancel. No pause. Send more. If need."
He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper that still shook the walls.
"Reputation... is name. Darnell... is blood."
And with that, his head sagged again—like the effort of speech had drained what little coherence remained.
Antonio said nothing.
He simply bowed his head, turned, and walked away.
There was no use arguing with a man who had survived four thousand days in the Time-Stilled World.
Because the truth was... not all of him had returned.
*Thud*
As the office door closed shut behind him, Antonio finally grit his teeth and stomped his foot in anger, as he couldn't believe that Dupravel, even in the pitiful state that he was currently in…. Refused to stop chasing after his son!
"Goodness Gracious Darnell….. that boy was a curse for this guild from the moment he was born.
And he will for sure be the undoing that dooms us all—" Antonio cursed as he walked down the hallway with his cloak swaying behind him like a dying banner, footsteps echoing in a house that no longer felt like it stood for anything but loss.
He didn't look back.
Because deep down, he already knew—
The Black Serpents wouldn't survive this crisis.
Not with a madman at the helm…
And a prisoner for a prince.
Contact - ToS
Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 347 347: CompetitionTimeless AssassinChapter 347 347: Competition(Meanwhile On Planet Tithia, Fourth Elder's Private Training Courtyard)
Just a few months ago, the fourth elders private training courtyard, was a serene place covered with beautiful trees and small bushes that kept one's mind calm while training, however, just a couple months after Aegon Veyr started to train here, there was not but a single blade of grass left alive.
He stood shirtless at the center of the arena, arms loose by his side, his breathing steady but deep, as though his body had calmed but his blood was still boiling beneath the skin.
He had just unleashed one of his most powerful attacks, and the air around him was still hot from the residual heat, as faint embers still curled upward from the ground around him, dancing and dying before they could reach his ankles.
"My Lord…. My Lord…."
A lone attendant approached slowly, each step reluctant, as if unsure whether delivering his message would be worth the risk of getting torn apart for it or not.
He held a scroll tightly in both hands, his robes clinging to him from the sweat that had formed not from heat, but from fear.
"Lord Veyr," the attendant said, trying his best to sound composed though his voice cracked just slightly, "the Fourth Elder has issued new orders."
Veyr didn't look at him, not right away, as he turned his head lazily toward the far edge of the courtyard where one of the older training pillars had crumbled into two and still hadn't been cleaned up.
The attendant took that as permission to continue.
"He has hired a mannerisms instructor to begin etiquette training with you, starting from tomorrow morning, first light," the man finished, bowing his head low and bracing for a blow that didn't come.
For a few seconds, silence reigned.
Then Veyr's lips parted, curling into a faint smile—not the kind that brought ease, but the kind that made your heart thump for the wrong reasons.
"A mannerisms instructor..." he repeated, slowly turning to face the attendant with that same half-lidded, unreadable stare. "To teach me how to sit and smile and sip soup properly?"
The attendant opened his mouth but said nothing, and Veyr took a step forward, then another, closing the distance as his voice dropped lower.
"Listen carefully," he said, tilting his head just slightly, his gaze sharp and his tone calm, almost pleasant. "If that instructor sets foot in this courtyard… if he even dares breathe the same air I'm standing in—"
His hand twitched slightly, as if reaching for the blade that wasn't there.
"—I will cut his legs off at the knees, teach him about posture, and mount his jawbone over the gate so that the next fool sent to 'polish' me remembers who I am before he knocks."
The scroll slipped from the attendant's hands, falling to the floor without a sound.
He dropped to his knees right after it, face pale, forehead pressed against the blackened stone as he began to mutter apologies without structure.
But just before Veyr could take another step forward, another voice entered the courtyard—firm, tired, and utterly humorless.
"You will do no such thing, Veyr," the Fourth Elder said, his shadow stretching across the courtyard as he walked in from the southern corridor, his robes trailing dust behind him with every slow step.
"You will do exactly as I ask you to," he continued, not pausing in his stride as he walked straight into Veyr's space and stopped only when they were standing face to face.
Veyr didn't flinch. He didn't look away.
"What for?" he asked, not defiantly, but genuinely confused. "My mannerisms are fine as they are…. I am a warrior, remember? Not a politician like you—"
He folded his arms, voice warming with disdain as his gaze turned colder.
"I'm not going to change who I am so that my demeanor pleases the appetite of old fools like your self, or the general populace who still mourn over the death of their previous dragon Noah"
The elder exhaled, not loudly, but with the weight of a man who had lost the energy to argue even before the conversation began.
He simply lifted his hand and pressed it to his forehead, rubbing slow circles above his brow as though trying to keep the headache from splitting his skull.
"I've just received news that the righteous faction has launched a coordinated assault on Juxta," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slowly as his fingers lingered on his temple. "Barely a few hours ago, they sent dozens of ships that were destroyed by our mana shield… and I've already had to take several meetings today before I even finished my evening tea."
He lowered his hand and fixed his gaze on Veyr again.
"I am not in the mood for arguments, not today."
There was a long pause, and for a moment, it almost seemed like the elder would walk away—but then his tone shifted and became far more serious.
"You are no longer the only candidate for the Dragon's title," he said flatly, as Veyr's head tilted to the side, not out of disbelief, but curiosity.
"...What?"
"You heard me," the elder replied, his voice quieter now, as though testing how deep the statement would cut. "You have competition. And not just any competition. A real one."
Veyr's jaw tightened, though the rest of his body remained still.
"Don't make me laugh," he said, scoffing. "I have no competition. I'm Aegon Veyr. I was born unrivaled."
"You do have competition," the elder insisted, unfazed. "His name is Leo Skyshard."
And with that, Veyr's posture shifted ever so slightly, not out of fear, but recognition.
"...Leo Skyshard?" he repeated, voice softer now. "The breakout star from this year's Circuits? The golden boy from the righteous side?"
The elder nodded once.
"Apparently, he's being raised by the Twelfth Elder. They say he's always been an asset of the Cult, and I am hearing his name being whispered in the same breath as Noah's by some Elder's….."
Veyr narrowed his eyes slightly, not in anger, but in consideration, as the Fourth Elder stepped in even closer, his expression hard.
"You are no longer the only choice we have, and those elders that used to tolerate your arrogance because they had no alternatives… won't be so forgiving now."
He turned away and began walking.
"We need to clean up your act, Veyr. Make you presentable, at least on the surface. The last Dragon, Noah, carried himself with poise and restraint, even when he was burning cities to the ground."
He stopped at the edge of the platform.
"The elders and the people want someone who reminds them of him. So you will take those classes. No questions. No refusals."
Veyr said nothing at first. The wind moved through the courtyard like a whisper, lifting the edges of his trousers, carrying with it the scent of ash and heat.
Finally, after a long pause, he ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a sharp exhale.
"...Fine."
He said the word like it tasted bitter.
"I'll let the instructor come. Let him try to teach me how to act like a puppet in a silk robe."
He picked up the blade he had discarded earlier, spinning it once between his fingers.
"But do send a message to the elders who doubt me…"
His voice was calm now. Cold.
"...I don't care how many tournaments Leo Skyshard has won. If you place him in a deathmatch against me…. He won't survive five moves."
Timeless AssassinC348 348: Reaching The Castle
(Time-Stilled World, Perimeter of Castle Bravo, Leo's POV)
Leo had never experienced the pressure that the soul of a god exerted on its surroundings—at least not until he began to approach the blackened walls of Castle Bravo, and felt, for the first time, the world itself beginning to reject his presence.
It started gradually, like a shifting weight pressing against his skin, but the deeper he moved into the tainted zone surrounding the castle, the more the air thickened, growing heavier with every breath, as though each lungful he inhaled was being filtered through liquid stone before reaching his bloodstream.
'It's truly suffocating,' Leo thought, as he slowed his pace, his eyes narrowing in quiet caution.
Because the closer he drew to Castle Bravo, the more he realized that breathing was no longer a reflex, but rather a burden that needed conscious effort from his mind to be sustained.
It appeared as though, even in death, even sealed in slumber, the soul of Zharnok cast a pressure so deep and absolute that it made his knees tremble from sheer biological revolt.
As once again, he was reminded of just how tiny and insignificant he was compared to the strongest beings in this universe, when he felt his body drenched in sweat from head to toe, just from the effort of walking under the Castle's suppressive aura.
At around the one-kilometer mark, something shifted.
The wind, which had been a constant companion this high into the mountain range, suddenly vanished, cut off as though the world beyond that point had no place for motion.
In its place came a silence that didn't feel natural, one that didn't settle, but hovered—pressing in against his ears, against his thoughts, against his sense of balance, as at that point, he suddenly stopped walking…..
He stopped, not because he saw anything move, nor because he sensed a trap.
But because every fiber of his being, the very instincts that had carried him through blood, poison, betrayal, and fights all his life, were all telling him the same thing now.
'Cross that wall to enter Castle Bravo… and you die'
Castle Bravo wasn't a ruin.
It was a warning carved into stone, and the fact that it still stood untouched, despite being surrounded by a corrupted landscape that had devoured everything else in sight, only proved the point further.
The wall that encircled the castle rose at least sixty feet high, built from a dark, vein-laced mineral that pulsed faintly under the world's colourless gray sky.
At its center stood a massive gate, tall enough to let a behemoth pass through without ducking, yet sealed shut with two massive chains, and a warning sign that translated to–
"Danger! Do Not Open".
Leo stood about thirty meters from the entrance, covered in sweat from head to toe, one hand resting near the hilt of his dagger out of habit, as he saw that danger sign and immediately decided to not make any rash decisions.
"No…" he muttered under his breath, letting the word drift between his teeth like a breath of caution, as instead of stepping forward, he stepped back, then back again, as he repeated the process until he pulled back about a hundred meters from the entrance.
There was no reason for him to charge into the Castle just yet.
As after some rough calculations, and based on his brief conversation with the Captain… he knew that the next emergency evacuation flight wasn't going to come for about another 42 days.
Which meant that he had a lot of time to carefully plan and execute his robbery, without needing to rush headfirst into anything.
"Rodova Military Academy, Stealth-Assassination and Planning Class, rule for survival number one.
Never enter a dangerous mission area without proper scouting and information!" Leo muttered to himself, as he remembered the teachings of his Rodova professors, and began to look around for a vantage point from where he could scout the insides of Castle Bravo without risking an entry.
It wasn't easy…. However, after walking across the perimeter of the 'Dead Zone' surrounding the castle where no tree grew, he found one particularly tall, aged blackwood tree with branches wide and thick enough to support his weight.
He then climbed that tree with minimal effort, choosing a perch about seventy feet off the ground, from where he could see beyond the castle wall and into most of the courtyard within.
Once there, he began creating a make-shift platform, turning the perch into his scouting camp for the next few hours.
He did so, by securing a few ropes around the branches, to make a platform out of ropes, and then laid flat on it before pulling out binoculars out of his storage ring, as he began to scan every inch of the abandoned castle in front.
What he saw inside was pretty much what he expected out of an abandoned castle.
No movement.
No guards.
Just a quiet courtyard filled with broken tiles, fractured archways, and faded banners, that looked from a time long gone.
It looked empty and harmless, but Leo trusted his instincts more than his eyes, and since his instincts told him that there was more danger than what met the eye, he waited patiently and continued to observe the castle without moving.
Castle Bravo wasn't just a single structure.
It was an entire complex, divided into distinct sectors, with the central fortress dominating the heart of the space.
That building—taller than the rest, perhaps five stories high—was constructed from a darker mineral than the outer walls, almost obsidian-like, with countless runes etched across its surface in a script that pulsed faintly with tainted mana.
'That has to be where Zharnok's soul is sealed…' Leo thought, shifting slightly as the pressure of the building alone made it difficult to hold the binoculars steady whenever he tried to focus on its inscriptions.
It was like his mind rejected the idea of directly looking at it, as the moment his gaze lingered on that building for too long, his temples began to ache and his thoughts started to fray, as though an invisible force was quietly scraping against the edges of his awareness.
So instead, he looked away, lowering his view to the auxiliary structures that flanked the courtyard.
Of which, there were five.
The largest sat off to the eastern quadrant, its wide archways and crumbled towers suggesting it might have once served as the barracks or a training hall.
Time hadn't been kind to that building, as half the roof had collapsed inward, and thick vines of corrupted mana-veins coiled through its walls like veins through old flesh.
Nothing moved within, but Leo could tell… it wasn't safe.
As he could feel a powerful aura resting within.
To the north lay two narrow buildings, symmetrical and tall, almost like watchtowers, though no light or signal fire burned at their peaks.
They looked inert—dead husks waiting for a command that hadn't come in three thousand years.
But it was the smallest building, tucked in the far west behind a row of skeletal trees, that caught Leo's attention most.
A squat, square structure.
No towers.
No battlements.
Just thick, runic plating and a stone platform extending outwards like a ramp.
'That has to be it… that's the teleportation gate–' Leo thought, as he had seen that structure before in diagrams.
Four pillar slots for mana conduits.
A central dial, currently half-buried in dust.
And a collapsed crystalline arc jutting sideways like a shattered rib.
He zoomed in further, trying to make out the markings on the stone base.
Half the glyphs were unreadable from this distance, but the orientation was unmistakable—this was a teleportation portal.
*Sigh*
Leo leaned back slightly, pulling the binoculars away as he exhaled.
42 days.
That was the window.
Forty-two days to fix that gate, plan a robbery, and time it to perfection… before the next rescue plane made its scheduled visit.
Contact - ToS
Show menu Novel BinNovel Timeless Assassin Chapter 349 349: ScoutingTimeless AssassinChapter 349 349: Scouting(Time-Stilled World, Tree Perch Overlooking Castle Bravo, Leo's POV)
Over the next two days, Leo observed two bizarre phenomena occur within the castle walls, as he constantly monitored the ancient castle from his makeshift perch for any unusual activities.
On the first day, about a few hours after he began observing the castle, he saw movement within it for the first time.
It had to be dawn, based on how the sky had started to brighten up just slightly, when a spectre emerged from the heart of the central fortress, garbed in pristine white robes.
The hem of the spectre's dress trailed against the floor without resistance, as though gravity itself dared not pull at the being's attire, as it moved across the castle slowly, but not aimlessly.
In one hand, it held a long, silver incense stick, unlit, yet somehow leaving behind a trail of translucent blue smoke that curled through the courtyard like steam rising from hot coals.
Its presence was not overly hostile, but it did not feel harmless either.
As the spectre made a single circuit of the courtyard, its translucent feet floating inches above the fractured tiles, Leo noticed how the corrupted mana surrounding the walls recoiled slightly wherever it passed, as though afraid to taint the being's path.
Then, exactly fifteen minutes after its appearance, the spectre returned to the fortress and vanished behind its sealed doors, leaving the courtyard once again untouched by life or motion.
Leo didn't blink or speak, he simply stared at the smoke trail, which lingered for nearly an hour after the spectre's departure, before being slowly absorbed into the castle walls.
Twelve hours later, precisely at what Leo assumed was sunset in this time-stilled world, the spectre reappeared with the same unlit incense stick in hand, as it performed the same tranquil orbit of the courtyard, like clockwork.
"It's a priest…" Leo muttered under his breath, piecing together the ritualistic pattern, "Or a relic performing a priest's duty… still walking the Castle's grounds and praying to a dead God."
The fact that it moved without hesitation or variation suggested programming, or madness.
But the sheer aura it emitted said otherwise.
Because even from afar, Leo could feel the pressure shift every time the being passed near the part of the wall he was closest to.
As although it did not shift to look at him, Leo still felt his breath being stifled, when he saw the priest pass by.
'The priest is at least a monarch tier being…. The pressure it exudes is too strong to be just a transcendent grade spectre!' Leo concluded internally, as he realized just how dangerous it was to enter the central building, where the priest allegedly lived for the remaining 24 hours.
—-----------
Although the first day was shocking, it was the second one when the castle revealed something far more disturbing. Something that made Leo's heart lurch and his instincts scream louder than before.
It began when a group of four beasts emerged from the western edge of the corrupted forest.
From his perch, Leo recognized them as Grandmaster-tier Ash Wolves, their silver-black pelts rippling with unstable mana, as they looked like feral hounds chasing an instinct rather than a prey.
They moved cautiously, sniffing the boundary around the castle wall, before slowly circling it until they found a small hole about two feet wide and four feet tall, which they used to enter.
'Here we go—' Leo thought, as he nervously watched for any signs of alarm or any exaggerated reaction from within the castle walls, however, nothing of the sort happened.
The priest with the incense stick did not appear, nor did the threat he could sense residing inside the barracks, as although the wolves sniffed around the stone tiles of the courtyard and walked with reckless abandon, they were not harmed.
Then, after ten minutes of sniffing and pacing across the cracked courtyard with the kind of arrogant abandon that only beasts possess, the wolves growled low and departed the same way they came, leaving Leo uncertain, about whether his fear over the castle's hidden danger was exaggerated, or real?
But then… something else happened that made his heart jump out of his chest.
As roughly an hour later, another shape approached from the northern slope, this one an armored spectre, that seemed to charge towards the castle with vengeance in its eyes.
The armored spectre radiated the aura of a Transcendent-tier combatant and it seemed to be headed straight towards the central building, for it made a beeline towards it after entering the Castle's borders.
'Here we go!' Leo thought again, his grip unconsciously tightening around his dagger, as he expected this to be the real test of the dangers lurking inside the castle!
And it proved to be exactly that, as the moment it made its way across the common courtyard and towards the central building, the spirit inside the barracks stirred.
A ghost in silver armor, tall and regal, wielding a peculiar blade that looked almost like a broken tuning fork appeared before the transcendent tier challenger, and then, in a single instant, neutralized the threat.
*BOOM*
The air twisted. The stone cracked. The very light inside the courtyard warped, as though pulled into a black hole centered around that silver knight.
And just like that— the Transcendent tier spectre that had come to attack the castle was defeated and erased from existence forever.
"The fuck was that attack?" Leo whispered in shock, his breath being caught in his throat, as every single thing inside the courtyard—including an unlucky tainted crow perched on the wall—were sliced in half.
The attack wasn't just a simple strike.
It was a domain.
A killing field wrapped in precision, cast by a being that didn't even seem fully awake.
Leo's mouth went dry, as the implications began to weigh heavier than the binoculars in his hand.
"This isn't just a castle… it's a fortress with automated monarch level security," he whispered, as he leaned his back against the tree trunk, pulling the binoculars away slowly, his mind reeling from shock.
"Just how the fuck am I supposed to breach that place, let alone steal from it?" He mused, as let alone the dangers that lurked inside the central building, simply the ones that were visible outside made this seem like an impossible mission to even attempt.
Timeless AssassinC350 350: Hope
(Time-Stilled World, Outside Castle Bravo Walls, Leo's POV)
Over the next 24 hours, Leo seriously contemplated whether attempting this mission was even worth risking his life over or not?
For although he wasn't the type of man to cower in the face of danger… This mission was still something else.
There came a point, he believed, where every warrior had to ask themselves whether the reward truly justified the risk, and whether there was any chance of success at all? Or whether they were being delusional and chasing rainbows that did not exist.
As for the first time in a very long while, Leo did not feel confident in the answer.
He'd watched, waited, and noted everything down in agonizing detail from his perch, and while there were moments where the castle seemed silent and passive, it was impossible for him to forget, how one Transcendent tier spectre that was much stronger than him, was completely erased from existence with a single attack from the silver armored guard.
Being a firm believer in the philosophy that no mission was worth dying for, Leo felt like this might be the one mission that was beyond his current scope of abilities.
But then… a sliver of possibility presented itself.
During his extended watch, Leo noticed something again and again, about how Grandmaster-tier beasts and spectres wandering through the walls were left unharmed by the silver armoured guard.
As even when the beasts went sniffing near the central building, walking up to its doors, or even when they howled or attacked each other in the courtyard, the silver-armored ghost inside the barracks never so much as stirred.
Not once.
As that gave him hope.
'So that's it…' Leo narrowed his eyes. 'The guard only moves against perceived threats. And anything below a certain threshold… isn't one.'
He concluded, as this turned out to be one of those situations where being too weak turned out to be an advantage.
Perhaps because he was weaker than a cockroach in front of the guard, it seemed like the guard would not be too keen to bother with him.
And if this really turned out to be the case, then perhaps, just perhaps, he still had a shot at completing this mission.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough to give him a slimmer of hope.
So, on the fourth day, just after the priest had gone back inside the central building after his morning round, Leo made his decision to enter Castle Bravo.
Not to rob it.
Not yet.
But to examine the only thing that could determine whether this entire mission was suicide or salvageable—the teleportation gate.
Because without it being functional, there was no escape plan.
And without a functional escape plan, there was no mission.
—-----------
Slipping down from the tree branch with silent grace, Leo made his way to the hole in the wall that the wolves had previously used.
His every movement was calculated, his breaths measured and shallow, his senses pulled so taut that even the imperceptible crunch of corrupted leaves beneath his boots sounded deafening.
As he stepped past the boundary—into the courtyard of Castle Bravo—he felt it immediately.
The pressure changed.
Not just in how suffocating it felt, but in nature, as though unseen eyes were now watching his every move.
The corrupted mana was denser here—heavier, slower, like it had been soaked in spiritual decay and left to rot for millennia.
Each step was a test of willpower.
'Yeah today might just be my last day alive,' Leo muttered inwardly, as he crouched low, one hand never leaving the hilt of his dagger while the other mentally traced the teleportation points of [Stormflash Traverse] to the nearest wall.
He etched it three times in his mind.
And again.
If anything even twitched, he would flash out of this place and not look back.
His nerves screamed, his heart pounded so loudly he worried it would echo through the courtyard, but somehow—nothing responded.
No priest.
No guard.
No flicker of awareness from the barracks or the central tower.
Step by agonizing step, Leo made his way across the cracked courtyard, ducking behind rubble, slipping between collapsed archways, staying low and close to walls until finally… finally, the ancient teleportation gate came into view.
It stood like a forgotten relic—half-buried in stone and soot, overgrown with sickly moss that pulsed faintly with mana, its circular frame cracked in several places but otherwise intact.
He crouched beside it, running his fingers along the etched symbols lining the outer rim, brushing off debris with careful, almost reverent motions.
'Let's see what we're working with…'
The runes were ancient and filled with olden time glyphs, some of which had fused into the stone itself due to mana corrosion.
But the gate's core matrix—the one that dictated coordinates and transit structure—was still recognizable.
Leo pulled out his notebook and scribbled quickly.
He traced the central glyph cluster.
Cross-referenced it against the teleportation theories he'd learned at the Conclave.
And after several long minutes, he exhaled sharply.
"It's not broken…" he whispered. "Just dormant….. with a new power core and me inputting the correct geological co-ordinates, this rusty thing can probably still take me out"
The mana intake crystal embedded near the base had long since cracked and dried up, no doubt the result of millenia of neglect, but the leyline veins still ran beneath the courtyard. They were faint, but present.
If he could replace the intake crystal…
If he could smoothen out the old mana veins and activate the old circuitry, fixing the old mana conductor.
And if he wasn't killed before doing it all…
'Then maybe… just maybe… I can activate it from inside the courtyard. Set the destination and use it to get back out at the perfect moment.'
He thought, as he scanned the courtyard again for signs of trouble.
His heart still beat loudly in his chest, as he did not feel at ease within the castle walls at all.
He felt like one wrong breath might be all it took for the castle to swallow him whole, however, once again, no threat approached.
'There might be some hope…. I need to think about this more carefully—' Leo concluded, as he escaped the castle in a blur and returned to his vantage point atop the tree to gather his thoughts.
The plan was undoubtedly extremely dangerous, and needed him to regularly leave his vantage point and repair the teleportation array over the coming days, however, it was possible….
He could theoretically fix it in time before the next plane came, and use it to escape if everything else aligned as well.
"What do I do? Do I go for this mission? Or do I leave with my life intact now?" Leo whispered, dragging a hand through his wet hair, as he felt a bead of sweat roll down his spine.
He knew that the dangers of attempting this mission were too high.
However, with the potential rewards being linked to him finally being able to reunite with his family, the thought of turning back after coming so far left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Fuck—" He cursed, clenching his jaw, as he looked at the castle and then towards the sky, as faces of his family members appeared between the gray clouds.
His body trembled, not just from fear, but from longing.
From the ache of being lost too long, as against his better judgement, he leaned towards making an emotional call.
"I didn't come this far to walk away," he muttered, the whisper barely louder than a rustle.
"I made a name off completing the impossible as 'TheBoss'… now let's see if I was ever worthy of it."
Contact - ToS