Timeless Assassin - Chapter 231

Chapter 231: The Great Deciever
“Is there no other way, Antonio? Must I beg before the devil himself for the sake of my son?” Dupravel muttered with a defeated sigh, his voice barely more than a breath as he slumped deeper into his chair, one hand clutching his temple, the other trembling around the edge of his chair.

Antonio, standing just a few paces away with his arms folded, looked equally grim.

“Only gods can take on gods, Dupravel. You and I both know this.” His tone was low, even, resolute.

“The Evil God Soron is not someone we can outsmart, assassinate, or ambush. We can’t invade Ixtal on our own…. Many forces that were much stronger than us have tried and failed over the years, as unless a God is willing to help us invade, we can do nothing about it on our own—”

“Also, not any God will do…. Soron has survived through the Great Betrayal. He sees through deception like we see through glass, and to take him on we need only the strongest to support us.”

Dupravel did not immediately respond to Antonio’s words.

He just sat there, jaw clenched, rage and power crackling in his bones with no outlet to release it.

Antonio continued, his voice now harder. “The only ones in existence who can match Soron are either his brother, Kaelith the Eternal Sovereign, or the Devil himself—Mauriss the contractor.

But Kaelith won’t lift a finger against his brother. There’s nothing you can offer him that he doesn’t already possess, no price you can pay he hasn’t already seen offered.”

“And so… Mauriss remains our only option.”

The name lingered in the air like a curse, making even Dupravel’s skin crawl.

Mauriss.

The Eternal Deceiver. The Contract Devil. The one even the other gods feared to call upon.

The very idea of asking him for help—of going to him with bowed head and outstretched hand sickened Dupravel to his core.

He’d spent his entire life carving his name into history with blade and poison, with blood and ash. He had never begged. Not once. Not even when surrounded by enemies or staring death in the face.

But now?

Now he was no longer fighting for reputation or power or politics.

He was fighting for his child.

And that changed everything.

Dupravel stared at his own reflection in the polished floor tiles, his eyes hollow and far away.

‘To save Darnell… I must now sell my soul to the devil.’

“I need time to think,” he murmured at first, more to himself than to anyone else.

But that time lasted all of six seconds.

“Forget it,” he growled, rising to his feet with a violent rush of motion. “Fire up the teleportation gate. Set coordinates to Planet Granoda.”

Antonio’s eyebrows twitched.

“You’re serious?”

Dupravel didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He simply turned away and began walking toward the guild’s central teleportation chamber, his back heavy with the weight of what he was about to do.

“Inform the others,” he added coldly, “that if I’m not back in twelve hours… the Black Serpent Guild is to consider me dead.”

Antonio nodded once, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Because they both knew.

One did not visit Mauriss expecting mercy.

One visited him because they were out of other options.

—————

(Dupravel’s POV – Planet Granoda, The Peak of Solitude)

The skies screamed.

That was Dupravel’s first thought as he emerged from the teleportation portal, the wind nearly tearing his cloak from his shoulders the moment he stepped onto the edge of the storm-ravaged planet.

Granoda was nothing but ocean. A planet swallowed whole by furious, churning tides and endless storms that never slept, where lightning danced between clouds like restless spirits and rain fell not in droplets, but in blades.

There was no civilization here. No cities. No homes.

Just one solitary mountain peak that pierced through the planet-wide sea like a god’s forgotten spear— its rocky summit barely large enough to be called land.

And that… was where the Devil chose to live.

‘What kind of man… chooses to live here willingly?’ Dupravel wondered as he flew towards the peak.

“What kind of god makes his home atop chaos itself?” He asked the skies, however received no answers, as he only heard thunder in response.

*THUNDER*

Landing at the foot of the peak, Dupravel did not fly to the summit, even though he could have, as he knew better than to make that mistake.

For all the Devil’s madness, Mauriss was bound by ancient etiquette— rules older than most empires. And according to his rules, if one sought his favor, they had to climb.

Step by step.

Stone by stone.

One foot in front of the other.

With the climb itself not being too long, however, the conditions surrounding it, not being normal either.

The closer Dupravel drew to the top, the heavier the air became, like some unseen will was weighing him down for every sin he’d ever committed.

The mountain that the devil lived on, automatically rejected anyone who climbed it with pride in their hearts.

It was a divine artefact in of itself, which only allowed those with nothing but desperation in their hearts to pass the threshold.

And Dupravel… just happened to have plenty of that.

By the time he reached the summit, his legs burned, his back ached, and his breath came in ragged intervals, but he still stood tall.

As before him lay a surreal scene—

The great God Mauriss lounged atop a colossal nine-tailed fox whose fur shimmered like liquid gold, tails lazily swaying in rhythmic pulses.

Two celestial beauties—barefoot, barely clothed, skin glowing like moonlight—gently massaged the devil’s tattooed frame, rubbing divine oil across his chest and shoulders as he basked in their touch with his eyes closed.

Mauriss’s body was covered in runes and inked seals that moved on their own accord.

His long obsidian hair flowed upward unnaturally, dancing with the wind, defying gravity itself as though even nature bowed to him.

And his smile—

That wicked, knowing smile—

Split his face before he even opened his eyes.

“Well… well… well…”

His voice was velvet soaked in wine, godly and indulgent, like it belonged to a being too powerful to rush anything.

“If it isn’t the ever-proud Monarch Dupravel…” Mauriss said, eyes still closed. “How kind of you… to visit me in my little retreat.”

Then his eyes opened.

And the world bent.

Dupravel fell.

Not from weakness, nor from shame.

But because no mortal—not even a Monarch—could bear the gaze of the Devil falling on their frame.

*THUD*

He crashed to the ground, his knees cracking the stone beneath him as gravity multiplied thousandfold, his entire body trembling under the sheer weight of Mauriss’s divine attention.

“I greet you… O Eternal Deceiver,” Dupravel gasped out, his forehead pressed to the rock, blood leaking from his palms where his fists clenched the mountain surface.

Mauriss’s eyes flickered in amusement.

“Ahhh. You remember the old titles. How charming.”

He said as with a casual flick of his wrist, the pressure vanished.

“You may rise, my little snake”

“You’ve come far to find me. Now speak.” He said with an evil grin as Dupravel stood back up slowly, his shoulders shaking from the shame of what he was about to say next.

“I come to beg for the life of my son,” Dupravel began, his voice low and steady.

“He is held on Ixtal by the cult. I cannot reach him. I cannot save him. So I come to you—”

He bowed again, deeper this time.

“—and offer you my soul in servitude. Pledge it to you fully and without condition. Just help me… save him.”

Silence.

Then—

Laughter.

Not mocking. Not loud.

But amused. Like someone had just been offered a paper sword during a war.

“Your soul?” Mauriss said, the words dripping in mirth. “Dupravel… you wound me. Do you think your little Monarch-tier soul holds any value to me?”

Dupravel’s jaw clenched, his face still low, humiliation eating at him like acid.

“I have no use for weaklings in my fold,” Mauriss continued, waving the girls away as he stood, his bare feet stepping lightly onto the stone. “You think a little blood, a little killing, and some shadow games make you worthy of the Devil’s favor?”

He grinned wider.

“No, no, no… If you want my help—Monarch Dupravel Nuna, you will have to offer me something more….

Something rarer…..

Something… delicious.”

He stepped forward, his aura now dimming the very sky above, as even the storms held their breath.

“Tell me,” Mauriss said softly. “How far are you truly willing to go to save your son?”