Timeless Assassin

"What a bunch of SPINELESS COWARDS!" Veyr exploded the moment he and Leo were alone, his fists clenched into trembling balls as his whole body tensed with fury, ready to throw punches at something…. anything.

"Can you believe them, Cuz? Those idiots…. They know that innocent lives can be potentially put at risk, because of the railguns, but their solution to it is…. 'If you think they'll take out 50 ships, just take 100'.... MOTHERFUCKERS!"

He roared in frustration and threw his weight behind a wild punch aimed at the nearest wall, the sound of his knuckles smashing through reinforced stone echoing through the room.

*BAM*

*Step*

*Step*

Valterri came rushing in, alarm etched on his face as he anticipated some form of attack.

But the moment he caught sight of Veyr's fist lodged in the wall and the raw rage in his eyes, he wisely paused, said nothing, and backed away with a quiet nod, retreating without so much as a breath.

Leo, unfazed by the outburst, remained still, his voice composed and unhurried as he finally spoke. "You need to calm down, Veyr. I'm actually more surprised that you did not understand this fundamental truth about the Elders Council already."

His tone wasn't mocking, but the calmness in it stood in stark contrast to Veyr's burning anger, like cold water trying to cool boiling oil.

"These bastards only care about the Cult as long as it's to keep the organization safe as a whole, or to expand their grip on power, but they don't actually care about the people.

They want to keep the Cult safe as a whole, because without the Cult, they have no power.

And they try to govern as best as they can, only because they're afraid that they won't be re-elected if they don't.

But beyond those two key points, there is NOTHING that those old foggies actually care about."

Leo's words were clear and clinical, but they only served to tighten the knot in Veyr's chest.

"The Elders Council is a cancer within this Cult.

I don't understand why Soron tolerates them. A God should know better, no?" Veyr's voice cracked slightly, his disbelief now turning into something more painful than angry.

He turned toward Leo as if seeking some explanation, some hidden wisdom that might make it all make sense.

But Leo only gave him a small shrug, a gesture that was part resignation and part quiet frustration.

"I mean…. Sure, Soron does care about the Cult, but surely, there's a limit to how much stuff he can micromanage.

The Cult's structure of leadership has been the same since its inception.

The executive, military and judiciary are all separate from one another.

And if you as a God need to dedicate your entire life to micromanage every aspect of those three divisions, solving every small problem that arises, do you really even want to live such a life?"

Veyr's lips parted, but no words came out. The question forced him to stop and truly think.

"Think about it, Veyr….. Soron must have spent a majority of his life training himself as a warrior to reach Godhood.

And then the other part defending this crumbling Empire from the righteous faction.

Can we really expect more from him?

Can we really expect him to be responsible for all the smallest aspects of our lives, just because he has the power to influence it?"

Leo wasn't asking rhetorically. His voice carried the weight of someone who had mulled over these questions before, who had come to these realizations the hard way.

"I think the man already does what he can…. Theoretically he, with his immense powers, can treat any old man of disease, or cure any illness within a commoner's body with a snap of his fingers.

But does that mean he should live his life inside the hospital, spending every second he's alive saving lives?

Or carry out this reconnaissance mission that we just did on his own, just because it would be easier for him to complete it instead of us?"

Leo shook his head, the answer clear in his eyes.

"No….

Because, he's not the only one responsible for this Cult.

We all are.

It's the people who selected these fools to lead them.

It's the people who democratically gave the Elders Council this power.

And hence, when those same leaders choose to send them to die.

Can they really blame anyone but themselves?"

The words hit like a hammer, and for a moment, Veyr could only stand there, shoulders slowly lowering, breath uneven, as the anger drained from his body…. not because he was any less furious, but because Leo had reframed the entire tragedy in a way he hadn't considered.

And now that it had been said, he couldn't argue with it.

Sure, it was convenient to pin the blame on Soron, to expect one man to carry the weight of a crumbling world.

But when he imagined walking in that man's footsteps, when he imagined being born with the strength to rewrite fate only to spend that strength fixing the pettiness of broken systems, the picture became impossible to ignore.

Soron was a God.

He could have lived any life he desired. He could have turned his back on all of them, carved out a paradise for himself, and no one would have been able to stop him.

But he didn't.

He chose to remain.

He chose to suffer.

He chose to stay imprisoned inside the stone castle of Ixtal, watching over a Cult that grew more corrupt each year, doing what he could from the shadows to ensure that it stayed safe.

And no one, absolutely no one, had the right to expect more from him than that.

"Yeah, I guess you're not wrong here, cousin, but it's still so frustrating…." Veyr argued, as Leo nodded in agreement.

"Sure it is. But just put up with it for now Cuz, because soon, I'll come up with a plan to unseat them.

That much I promise." Leo assured, as Veyr finally let out a frustrated sigh that he had been holding.