Timeless Assassin

Mauriss had already predicted that Entrail and Streak would never be able to break through Charles's defence, as the Cult Monarch's mastery over aura allowed him to easily sense the trajectory of strikes before they were ever unleashed, which in turn granted him those crucial extra heartbeats to adjust his stance, raise his guard, and carve out precise counters that made attacking him feel like striking at the future itself.

For Entrail or Streak to beat Charles, they either needed to become masters of Aura themselves, which was impossible in a short amount of time, or they needed to neutralize his advantage, and somehow level the playing field.

And hence, to strip him of that singular advantage, Mauriss had armed the two Commanders with a failsafe, as each carried with them one vial of [Intent Concealment Potion], a divine concoction brewed for the sole purpose of smothering intent so completely that even Aura Masters like Charles who had sharpened their senses to perfection would find nothing to predict, no thread to follow, no shape to intercept.

*Plop*

*Glurg*

Without hesitation, Streak tore the cork away and downed the potion in a single swallow, the liquid searing down his throat as his killing intent, once sharp enough to cut the air itself, dulled into silence, vanishing like a flame snuffed out beneath the sea.

Entrail, meanwhile, pressed forward in an endless storm of attacks, his blade rising and falling in furious arcs as he went all out to buy Streak the precious seconds needed for the potion to take effect, his strikes clashing against Charles's guard with relentless rhythm that shook the very air around them.

*CLANG*

*CLASH*

*BLOCK*

He chained countless skills together in rapid succession, each swing designed not to break through but to occupy, to distract, to bind Charles's senses in the chaos of steel and aura, until the moment Streak rejoined the fray with a sudden lunge that slipped through the Monarch's defences.

*SLASH*

*TRICKLE*

For the first time in the battle, a thin crimson line appeared on Charles's wrist, the skin parting only for an instant before knitting back together in a flash of regenerative aura, yet the sting remained, faint but undeniable, a reminder that he had been struck.

'Why could I not see the trajectory of that move?' Charles thought, his gaze narrowing as his mind struggled to reconcile the sudden blindness, his instincts clawing at him as he tried to adjust to an opponent whose aura gave away nothing, whose intent lay hidden in absolute silence.

"That's it, Streak! He's on the backfoot now! Keep him engaged while I consume my potion—" Entrail shouted, his voice brimming with satisfaction as he reached for his own vial, while Streak pressed forward with savage precision, his every strike flowing faster and sharper, each one designed to push Charles back another step, as the Monarch's calm mask began to waver beneath the weight of an unfamiliar disadvantage.

—-------------

(Meanwhile Dumpy)

"Ribbit… left foot, right foot, sword swing, ribbit again."

Dumpy muttered to himself as he waddled through the wreckage of the base, his plump body bouncing with every step, as his eyes darted around as he looked for Charles.

But though his steps seemed lazy, everywhere he passed turned into a massacre.

*SLASH*

*SPLAT*

One moment he was small, slipping between the legs of armored soldiers like a frog hopping through reeds, twin swords flashing in blurts of silver light that severed tendons and throats alike.

The next, he grew to the size of a towering tree, his shadow swallowing entire squads before he came crashing down with a single stomp that left the enemy flattened into unrecognizable smears.

*BOOM*

*CRUNCH*

Cult soldiers shouted with disbelief when he joined their lines, for the sight of a frog swelling into a mountain and then shrinking back to the size of a child's toy was as bizarre as it was glorious.

Yet wherever Dumpy appeared, enemy formations broke apart like scattered ants, their cries muffled by his ribbiting war chants.

"Ribbit! Death from the swamp heavens!"

*HISSSSSHHHH*

He puffed out his throat and spat an acidic rain that sizzled as it fell, melting through armor, boiling flesh, and leaving behind steaming craters filled with twisted corpses, the stench so vile even Cult soldiers gagged.

"Don't worry, comrades, Lord Dumpy has saved your mongrel asses!" he croaked proudly, as the acid rain burned hundreds of enemies alive, his grin wide as if he had just handed out candy to children.

At other times he leapt onto the shoulders of unsuspecting battalions, riding their charge while slicing down dozens of enemies at once with his excellent swordplay, a massive grin constantly present on his face as he thoroughly enjoyed the bloodbath.

*CRASH*

*SCREEEAM*

Everywhere he went, the enemy died in heaps, and the Cult soldiers began to chant his name, though half in awe and half in disbelief, for they could scarcely process that a frog — even one armed with twin swords — had become their new one-man wrecking crew.

"RIBBIT! Dumpy conquers again! Forward, my minions, forward!"

And so he hopped, he slashed, he spat, he trampled, until at last, after trails of carnage and piles of broken bodies, he reached the heart of the base, where a far greater clash shook the air.

*BOOOOM*

*CLANG*

*CRASH*

Dumpy froze, his round eyes widening as he watched the Smoking Man locked in combat against two terrifying figures.

For the first time in his life, he saw Charles being pushed back, blood streaking across his arms, fresh cuts glinting on his skin, as his stance wobbled.

"… no, this can't be right."

Dumpy whispered, his throat puffing nervously, as his tiny hands trembled around his blades.

To him, Charles was an immovable mountain, the eternal smoker who could swat any enemy he faced aside like flies, yet here he was, staggering back, battered and breathing heavily.

"It must be an act… yes, it must be… Smoking Man is holding back his real power. He always does this. He… he has to be."

But even as he said it, Dumpy felt his gut twist, for the other angle to this story was too frightening to accept.