(7 days after the fall of Juxta, The Pit, Helmuth and Mauriss's POV)

If there was one location in the universe that could rightfully earn the title of the most barbaric spot in existence, it had to be 'The Pit', the homeworld of Helmuth the Berserker.

A dwarf planet of molten veins and endless craters, The Pit was a world that never slept.

The air here stank of iron and sweat, and the red dunes that stretched across its surface were not sand but ground-up ash and bone, mixed with the fine dust of dried blood that had soaked into the soil over eons.

From orbit, it looked like a wounded sphere that was scarred, cratered and still bleeding faint light from the dormant volcanoes scattered across its skin. But up close, it was pure chaos.

Every pit on the planet was an arena, and inside every arena, thousands of warriors from across the universe clashed in an endless orgy of violence. Axes cracked bone, fists broke ribs, curved sabers sliced through heads, and every death was met not with silence, but with cheers.

On this planet, violence was not a sport, but rather religion.

And presiding over this madness, seated upon a throne carved from the fused remains of fallen champions, sat Helmuth the Berserker— bare-chested, hair matted and wild, his muscles rippling beneath skin that glistened with blood and sweat.

Beside him sat Mauriss the Deceiver, his white skin glowing faintly against the red light of the pits, his expression one of disgusted amusement as he gazed down at the carnage below.

"BAHAHAHA–"

Helmuth roared with laughter as two hulking brutes tore each other apart, one of them headbutting the other so hard that half his skull collapsed inward.

While Mauriss merely crossed his legs and sighed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, as he kept his peace until the match ended and the loser's corpse was hauled away to be fed to the beasts below.

As only then, did he finally speak.

"Helmuth…" he began, wrinkling his nose dramatically. "Perhaps we should have held this meeting on my planet, because at least that way, you would have received your first bath in over five centuries. By the stars, you stink more than a planet whose atmosphere is full of methane."

He pinched his nose with two elegant fingers, his expression one of exaggerated disgust, as it earned him a hearty laugh from the brute beside him.

"This," Helmuth declared proudly, slapping his chest hard enough to make the throne beneath him vibrate, "is the stench of a man! Having hair on your body, that's the symbol of a man. Roaming bare-chested means nothing. If this were a prison, smooth skins like yourself would be bent over and fucked like bitches!"

He pointed out, as Mauriss wagged his finger teasingly in response, a sly smirk curving across his lips.

"You know me, darling, I wouldn't bend over for anyone but you…..

For you, my stinky pig friend, are the only slave I truly desire."

Mauriss said, as Helmuth roared with laughter again, the sound echoing across the entire pit like a thunderclap.

But as the laughter died down, Helmuth's expression shifted—still smiling, but with a colder, sharper edge now.

"You shouldn't have let the Raymond boy walk free," he said, his tone dipping into something more serious. "Kaelith broke our ancient pact. His son is a Demi-God now, and if that boy ever reaches Godhood, the balance of power between the three of us will shatter."

He pointed out, as Mauriss's amusement faded as well, his expression turning slightly serious, as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Oh but I will never let him reach God-hood…. Do you really take me for a fool, Berserker?"

Mauriss said, as Helmuth raised an eyebrow, keen to hear what the Deceiver had to say.

"When Soron returns and learns that the boy was the one who killed Charles, he'll seek vengeance. And even if he doesn't kill him, I have other contingencies.

I'll find a way to erase that boy from existence, and Kaelith will be powerless to stop it, that much I promise."

Mauriss assured, and Helmuth grunted before rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Despite the universe's view of him as little more than a mindless brute because of his manner and appetite for blood, he was in truth a cunning tactician, no less intelligent than Mauriss, who wasn't one to swallow another man's tale without testing it against hard facts.

"So…. When do you think Soron will return?" he asked, as Mauriss tilted his head, and pretended to weigh the answer for a beat before replying.

"Six to twelve months at most. Enough time for us to prepare the stage for his grand welcome."

He said, as his response made Helmuth grunt in surprise.

"And exactly how do you plan on preparing for an angry god's return?"

Helmuth asked, as Mauriss smiled, slow and serpentine, his face contorting into that evil gleeful look which he only showed while revealing his most devious plans.

"By taking what he loves most and capturing what remains of his legacy….."

"We imprison the Cult's new Dragon, the hope of their people, or their current leader, the Shadow Dragon, and dangle them before Soron like bait, forcing him to come charging in to save them."

Mauriss revealed, as he spread his arms, his voice silk over steel, as he sounded delighted by the cruelty of his own scheme.

"And when he does, he will walk straight into our trap….. A trap that he will not walk out of alive…."

Mauriss concluded as Helmuth rubbed his chin again, his expression unreadable.

"But wait…. That's not all,"

Mauriss unexpectedly continued, his face turning even more gleeful than before.

"After we kill Soron, we finish what we started 2200 years ago.

We kill Kaelith and his kin, and erase every last drop of that cursed bloodline.

We destroy the Timeless Assassins' legacy in full, until there is no one left to threaten our rule over this universe!"

He suggested, as Helmuth heartily laughed listening to his plan.

"BAHAHAHA, You're way over your head Deceiver, if you think I'd ever trust you. But cute try though," he said with a smirk. "I expected nothing less from women with no chest hair such as yourself."

Helmuth replied, as he shunned Mauriss and his suggestion of betraying Kaelith before the Deceiver even conceived the slightest of hopes that it were possible.

"You wound me, darling. But fine, have it your way. The universe is big enough for the three of us…. for now."

He said, as he began chuckling as well, the two ancient gods laughing one over another as their voice boomed across the bloody pits.

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