Timeless Assassin

(Planet Ixtal, Outside Soron's Castle, Leo's POV)

The trek through the Lost Forest toward Soron's castle weighed heavier on Leo's body than any battlefield march he had ever endured, for this was no warfront or arena, but the threshold of the God who reigned above mortals and monarchs alike.

"Do not speak of what you see inside…"

"I mean it, boy. Don't talk about it to another soul, not even your mother."

Charles warned, as Leo nodded slowly, the seriousness in the Commander's tone sinking deep into his chest.

He understood what Charles wanted to convey... Secrets of the divine were never meant for careless tongues.

*Shift*

*Shift*

For all his bravado in the face of Council Elders and Monarchs, Leo found himself feeling unusually restless at the prospect of meeting Soron, as he could hardly stand still.

Shifting from foot to foot, he seemed more like a restless toddler than a calm warrior, yet Charles said nothing about his impatience.

Charles understood that the prospect of meeting a God at his private residence was bound to make even the most patient warriors feel anxious, and hence, he did not think any less of Leo because of it.

*Creek*

The gates stirred and opened slowly, the sound of their grinding echoing across the courtyard until a narrow gap revealed a figure within.

Leo straightened instinctively, his body ready to bow or salute, yet the sight before him brought only confusion.

A frail man appeared in the doorway, his robes hanging loose across his thin frame, shoulders hunched as though carrying invisible weights, his skin pale and almost translucent in the dim light.

His hands trembled faintly as he leaned against the door, and his breathing came shallow, each rise and fall of his chest looking as though it might be his last.

Leo blinked, the image clashing violently against the memory carved in his mind.

The Soron he remembered was no withered shell, but the most majestic warrior he had ever seen, broad-shouldered and commanding, eyes bright with a power that seemed to bend the air around him.

This man, by contrast, looked more like a servant, the kind of nameless attendant one would expect to sweep floors and prepare tea.

Yet before Leo could open his mouth to ask, Charles lowered his head and bowed deeply, his back bent in genuine reverence.

The air caught in Leo's throat as realization struck. Charles would never bow to a servant.

This frail, fragile figure standing in the doorway was none other than Soron himself, the protector of the Cult of Ascension, the God who had stood at the pinnacle of Cult power for two millennia now.

Leo's eyes widened as he tried to reconcile the image before him with the legend in his memory, his pulse hammering as one truth became clear.

Soron was sick...

And no-one else in the Cult possibly knew.

His first instinct was disbelief, yet when Charles continued to bow, Leo followed suit without hesitation, lowering his head deeply in respect.

Soron's pale lips curved into the faintest of nods, his voice soft but steady.

"Come in… please."

The doors parted wider, and the two followed him into the castle.

A thick scent of alchemical herbs and copper clung to the air, heavy and strange, as though every wall of the abode had absorbed years of experiments and suffering.

Soron's steps were slow, his oversized robes dragging faintly against the stone floor, yet he carried himself with a dignity that not even frailty could strip away.

He led them into a modest meeting chamber where a small table had already been set, as with a faint gesture, he invited Leo and Charles to sit.

*Sit* *Sit*

The two of them sat slowly, and almost as soon as they did, with trembling hands, Soron reached for a steaming kettle and carefully poured tea into two porcelain cups, his grip unsteady but precise, as if forcing his body to obey sheer will.

*Tip* *Tip*

He set the cups gently before them, before then pouring one for himself, as he adjusted the folds of his robe and lowered himself onto the seat across from them.

"Aghhh—"

He groaned, like an old man sitting down on a bench before showing a genuine smile….. One that was warmer than Leo ever expected from a man of his stature, as he alternated his gaze across the two guests.

"Please… it is a special sweet batch I brewed myself. I hope you like it."

He encouraged, as Charles took a sip first, with Leo following suit next.

*Sip*

The tea was unlike anything Leo had ever tasted before, sweet and mellow on the tongue yet carrying a subtle sharpness that spread warmly down his throat, seeping into his chest and outwards through every limb as though life itself had been steeped into the brew.

It was delicious, not in the ordinary way of fine leaves or rare spices, but in a manner that felt almost sacred, as if the liquid carried with it some fragment of Soron's own essence. The warmth of it pulsed through Leo's body, clearing the fatigue of the long trek, dissolving the weight of tension from his muscles, and sharpening his senses with a clarity that bordered on unnatural.

For the first time since stepping into this castle, he felt his nerves settle, his thoughts aligning like blades sliding into place. Whatever conversation awaited them ahead, he realized he was prepared to meet it with a mind as sharp and steady as if he had been meditating for days.

Even his aura flickered faintly in response, threads of color weaving brighter, steadier, more controlled, as he lowered the cup and exhaled a slow, satisfied breath.

"It's… remarkable," Leo admitted softly, his voice carrying no pretense, only truth, as Soron's smile deepened and his weary eyes glimmered with something between pride and melancholy.

"My father discovered the herbs to brew this tea while he was on an expedition to a non-mana planet.

My brother and I drank it often while growing up.

It's…. A special tea for me." Soron said, as Leo looked at him, before looking towards Charles who seemed eager to break the ice.

"It's good tea," Charles said at last, setting his cup down with care, though his tone shifted, carrying the weight of command. "But that's not what we are here for now… is it?"

His gaze locked firmly on Soron, and for the first time since entering the castle, Leo felt the mood shift, the easy warmth thinning into something heavier.

"When you're ready, please show it to him, Lord Soron. Your injuries. Show him just how bad they are, so that he understands the willpower it takes you just to stay alive every single day."

Leo's brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face as he glanced between them.

Soron chuckled softly, the sound dry but not without humor.

"Don't worry, boy… I don't look as bad as your brother did in a coma."

He said, as he began to loosen the folds of his robe, the heavy fabric slipping down from his shoulders as his frail fingers tugged it open to reveal the truth beneath.