Timeless Assassin - Chapter 982 A New Purpose
Chapter 982 A New Purpose
(Across the Universe, A Pre-Recorded Broadcast, Leo’s Declaration)
The recording began without ceremony.
The camera rolled from behind, capturing a solitary figure standing atop a low mound of black stone, his back straight despite the faint stiffness still lingering in his movements, bandages hidden beneath dark robes, as the image of Soron’s old stone castle loomed in the distance like a monument carved into the land.
For several seconds, Leo did not move, as the wind carried symbolic ash across the frame.
Then he turned.
His gray eyes met the camera directly, steady and unflinching, as if he were not addressing machines, planets, or billions of eyes scattered across the galaxy, but rather history itself.
“The Cult Master is dead,” Leo declared calmly, his voice carrying without strain.
“He died alone while taking on eight enemy Gods, without retreat, surrender, or fear.”
The words spread instantly, transmitted across Ixtal, the Time Stilled World and neutral planets, while also being duplicated and
rebroadcast across the GalaxyNet through burner relays that uploaded content faster than what the censors could react to.
“He was vanquished in battle,” Leo continued, unhurried, unapologetic.
“But do not mistake his defeat for weakness.
For in his final stand, Soron proved beyond doubt that the warriors of the Cult are superior to the Righteous Faction in every measurable way.”
His eyes did not waver.
“I led the Cult Army myself on The Pit. The universe saw it. You all saw it. Ring after ring of Righteous Elites falling as our soldiers advanced, not through numbers, not through divine favor, but through skill, discipline, and absolute resolve.”
The image shifted briefly, recent war footage bleeding into the broadcast, as flashes of Cult Army tearing through the enemy were played on screen, showing how Cult warriors tore through Righteous Formations, and how Leo single handedly defeated thousands of their Monarchs.
“We did not hide,” Leo said. “We did not beg. We carved our path forward until we freed the Cult’s Dragon from enemy captivity and brought him home.”
His tone hardened slightly.
“Some of you may believe that trading the life of the Cult Master for our Dragon was an exchange that weakened us. Some of you may whisper that we came out of this war diminished.”
Leo leaned forward just enough for the movement to be felt.
“You are wrong.”
The broadcast paused for a fraction of a second, the silence deliberate.
“We did not emerge weaker,” he said. “We emerged with proof. Proof that a Cult warrior stands above the enemy even when outnumbered. Proof that Gods bleed when challenged. Proof that the era of suppression has failed.”
Behind him, the ruined castle stood unmoving.
“The Cult of Ascension has not died,” Leo said. “It has endured.”
His voice deepened.
“And now, it rises.”
Across the universe, reaction feeds spiked. Governments scrambled. Minor Clans froze transmissions too late, while analysts began calculations that would never reach their conclusions.
“Let me be clear,” Leo said. “This war has shown me what is possible.
It has shown me just how weak and vulnerable the Righteous Faction really is.
And according to my vision, within the next one hundred years, the Cult will reclaim every fragment of glory that was stolen from us.”
He lifted his chin slightly.
“So if you choose to follow me,” he said. “If you dare to believe not in myths, not in prophecy, but in results, then I promise you this.”
The air seemed to tighten.
“Within the next fifty years, the Cult will control no fewer than fifty
planets across the universe.”
A ripple of disbelief spread.
“And by the end of the next one hundred years,” Leo continued evenly, “the Cult will control more than half of the known universe.”
There was no roar. No raised fist.
Only certainty.
“To the Great Clans,” he said. “To the Universal Government, and to
every power that has grown comfortable pretending we no longer
exist.”
His gaze sharpened.
“I put you all on notice today.”
The broadcast echoed across all Righteous worlds.
“Stop us if you can,” Leo challenged.
“Stop us if you dare.”
The wind swept ash past his feet.
“For Leo Skyshard and the Cult under him are coming for every throne, every planet, and every false claim of authority you hold.”
His voice did not rise. It did not need to.
“For too long, we have suffered. For too long, we have hidden. For too long, we have survived instead of ruled.”
He turned slightly, gesturing toward the ruined castle behind him.
“Soron died so that the rest of us could live beyond fear,” Leo said. “And it is time we stop mourning fallen leaders and start avenging
them.”
The word avenging carried weight.
“To the Cult,” he continued. “To the billions of cultists watching this now, wherever you are hiding, wherever you are waiting.”
Leo stepped closer to the camera.
“I will not promise peace,” he said. “I will not promise mercy. And I will
not promise a future free of blood.”
His eyes burned.
“But I promise you this.”
The broadcast stabilized, as if the universe itself were listening.
“Trust in me….
Stand with me…..
And the glory days you were told were lost forever will return within
your lifetime.”
He straightened.
“This is not a rebellion,” he said. “This is not a resurgence.”
A final pause.
“This is a declaration of a new era…..
An era greater than the one created by the Timeless Assassin.”
The recording ended.
And almost instantly, across the Time Stilled World, billions of Cultists
began screaming at once.
“We are with you!”
“We stand with you, Cult Master!”
“We are with you!”
Fists slammed against armor. Weapons were raised skyward. Citizens
who had stood motionless moments before now shouted themselves hoarse, tears streaming freely down faces hardened by centuries of suppression.
There was no doubt. No hesitation.
The grief of Soron’s death transformed into resolve, into fury, into
belief.
As for the first time in generations, the Cult did not feel hunted,
broken, or uncertain.
They felt united.
And as the chants echoed endlessly through the Time Stilled World,
one truth became undeniable.
The Cult had not only chosen its newest master, but also the path it would take for the next century to come.
