In my previous review, I mentioned that a new watch was on its way to me. Now that it has arrived, it's time for a full introduction. The watch in question is the Leviathan 02, made by the Slovakian brand Biatec.
Biatec first caught my attention a few years ago. Although several of their models interested me, I never pulled the trigger due to their relatively high prices. Eventually, I lost track of the brand. But a few months ago, I received an email with an offer for a special edition watch commemorating the 30th anniversary of the peaceful split of Czechoslovakia into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Since this model (or rather, a pair of models—one with a white dial, one with a black) had special symbolic meaning for clients from those two countries, and I am not from either, I decided to pass. Still, that email reminded me to check what Biatec is currently offering.
Because Biatec is well known mainly in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and a few nearby countries, let me first briefly introduce the company.
As mentioned, Biatec is a Slovakian watch brand established in 2016. Its founder and owner, Mr. Peter Kožar, began in the business by running a watch e-shop. At some point, he wanted to launch limited edition watches for his store and offered his designs to some of the brands he was selling—but none of them showed interest. After several failed attempts to get his ideas produced under existing names, Mr. Kožar decided to launch his own brand and bring his designs to life himself.
Mr. Kožar was kind enough to send me one of his early sketches—a design originally intended to become a Steinhart Corsair. Since Steinhart rejected the idea, this design ultimately became the foundation for one of Biatec’s most important model lines: the Biatec Corsair.
The word “Biatec” (sometimes spelled “Biatex”) most likely originates from the name of a king whose name appeared on ancient Celtic coins minted in the area of present-day Bratislava during the 1st century B.C. Over time, the name has also come to refer to the coin itself.
For the Biatec logo, a combination of the Slovak coat of arms and a Celtic cross was used. To help illustrate this, here are images of all three elements.
Today, Biatec creates designs inspired by Slovak national heritage, important national symbols, as well as significant technological achievements from around the world. The brand focuses on small-scale production and various limited editions. From the very beginning, the company has exclusively used Swiss movements. Initially, it made a rather unusual choice by using Eterna movements (specifically the Eterna 3901) in most of its watches. This contributed to relatively high prices for a new and unknown brand from Eastern Europe—or at least, that was my impression at the time.
Nevertheless, the company grew steadily. All released models sold out rather quickly, and it seems that the region welcomed a new brand offering high-quality timepieces.
Today, all Biatec models are powered by Sellita movements—mostly the standard SW200, with some models featuring the elaboré version of the same caliber. As a result, current models are slightly more affordable than those powered by Eterna movements. However, the entire collection still falls within a price range of €1,400–€1,600, which may seem quite high for a microbrand from Slovakia, especially to buyers who have no emotional or cultural connection to the region.
Almost all Biatec watches have a case diameter of 40 mm. As far as I’ve found, the upcoming Heritage model—which is yet to be released—will be 38 mm in size. None of the current models exceed 40 mm.
What I find particularly interesting is the fact that all Biatec watches are assembled by local watchmakers in the Banská Bystrica region, where the company itself is also based.
So, while browsing through Biatec’s current collection, I was quite certain I wouldn’t find anything that truly interested me. Even though I liked what I saw, everything seemed too expensive—and too small.
And then, bang—I opened the Leviathan section. There they were: three striking dive watches, one with a black dial, one blue, and one with a brownish hue. And all of them came on a magnificent bracelet!
If you’ve read any of my previous reviews, you’ll know I’m generally not a fan of bracelets—I usually prefer other types of straps. But the Leviathan’s bracelet was something else entirely. I simply couldn’t stop admiring it.
Since blue-dial watches are my weakness, the blue version was an instant winner for me. I had to check the details. And one detail stood out: the lug-to-lug (L2L) size was almost 51 mm! That’s huge for a watch with a 40 mm case. I already own a watch with similar proportions - Fortis Stratoliner - which has a 41 mm case and 50 mm L2L. Granted, the Fortis is a chronograph, but still, I felt quite confident the Leviathan would fit my wrist well. So I decided to go for it.
I searched the web far and wide, but the watch was mostly available only in online shops based in the Czech Republic or Slovakia. And even though it was that time of year when everything was on sale, none of the shops offered a discount on the Leviathan. Even worse, no one had the blue version in stock.
Eventually, I contacted Biatec directly, and Mr. Kožar responded immediately. He offered me three options:
– wait for the blue version, which was scheduled to be assembled at the beginning of the new year,
– take one of the standard color options that were available, or
– a very tempting third option: choose one of two experimental watches developed as one-off prototypes.
Below are photos of both experimental pieces. The first is the basic black version, but with an orange minute hand instead of the standard one. The second is a model with a light blue dial—again paired with an orange hand.
These two watches are not completely unique—meaning they aren’t one-of-a-kind pieces—but the specific combinations were never officially released. So, it’s no surprise that I was tempted.
I immediately ruled out the black version, as it reminded me too much of other watches I already own or have seen. The decision regarding the light blue dial was more difficult. There were just too many contrasting elements: a dark blue bezel, light blue dial, orange minute hand, and an orange tip on the seconds hand. Compared to the clean and balanced white/blue color scheme of the original blue version, it felt a bit too much. In the end, I decided to wait for the official blue version.
However, if you happen to like either of these unofficial variants and would like to own a fairly rare watch, I suggest you contact Mr. Kožar directly. These models are not listed in the official webshop, but they are available for purchase.
One more thing worth pointing out: since the photo of the light blue version shows the watch on a rubber strap, you can clearly see how much a strap can change the watch’s presence on the wrist. While the bracelet makes the lugs and end links appear as an extension of the case—making the watch look visually larger—the rubber strap breaks that line and makes the case appear much shorter.
So, I ordered the standard blue version. Mr. Kožar kept his promise—on the very first working day after the New Year’s holiday, he contacted me to say the blue model was available. I completed the payment, and just two days later, a very heavy package from Slovakia arrived.
Unpacking quickly revealed the reason for the weight: the watch comes in a high-quality, solid presentation box. The certificate of authenticity included is an “old-school” style printed document, and inside the box, you’ll find Biatec’s slogan: “Inspired by the past, driven by the future.” Altogether, it gives the impression that something truly valuable is in front of you.
Naturally, I wanted to put the watch on my wrist as soon as possible.
The bracelet is enormous! With my 19 cm wrist, I had to remove four links—and there was still quite a bit of slack. (See the next two photos.) Fortunately, removing the links is very easy. All you need is a standard screwdriver.
However, there’s one issue: the links are quite large—each measuring 12 mm. The bracelet uses a butterfly clasp and has no micro-adjustment, so you can only size it in 12 mm steps using the standard links.
In my case, removing a fifth link made the bracelet too tight, while removing only four left it too loose—the watch was sliding and "dancing" on my wrist. Thankfully, I had read a few reviews beforehand and noticed that shorter links were available.
I contacted Mr. Kožar again to ask whether these shorter links could be ordered. Once more, he responded immediately. He apologized and explained that his colleague had forgotten to include the ¾-sized links, which normally come as part of the standard package. The very next day, I received two additional shorter links—each measuring 8.8 mm.
I then removed two more standard links and replaced them with the shorter ones, shortening the bracelet by 6 mm in total. Perfect fit! (See the last picture.)
Although having two shorter links offers significantly more flexibility, having three would be even better. That way, the bracelet could be adjusted in 3 mm increments—allowing sizes like 0, 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18, 21 mm, etc. With just two shorter links, some of those steps are still missing (0, 6, 9, 12, 18, 21…).
That said, the bracelet itself is very well-made and visually appealing. The combination of polished and brushed surfaces, the size and shape of the links, and the way they’re positioned—everything comes together beautifully.
Now, let’s take a closer look at the watch itself.
The most unique feature of this watch is undoubtedly its lugs—long, massive, and striking. The bracelet (or strap) is attached via screws, with a screw-to-screw distance of 46 mm. As mentioned earlier, the total lug-to-lug (L2L) length is 51 mm. This 5 mm difference plays an important role in how the watch sits on the wrist and in the overall visual impression.
Since the end links curve tightly against the case on one side and align perfectly with the tips of the lugs on the other, the lugs and end links together visually extend the dial. Or, depending on how you look at it, it can also appear as if the lugs are part of the bracelet and the bracelet is simply fused to the case. Altogether, the design gives the impression that the watch and bracelet form one single, integrated unit.
This visual unity is not present when the watch is worn on a strap. In that case, the strap exits directly from the screw pins—just before the lugs end—breaking the seamless transition and making the case appear more isolated.
The case itself looks bold and dominant. It's fully polished with a mirror-like finish—there are no brushed surfaces at all. This means every fingerprint or speck of dust is instantly visible, making the case quite delicate in terms of appearance. The total height of the watch is just under 14 mm, and the shape of the case reminds me of a saucepan—with steep, straight walls.
The bezel is only about 1 mm wider than the case, so it doesn’t protrude much. It’s a unidirectional bezel with 120 clicks—fairly standard. However, for my fingers, the bezel teeth feel a bit too small. Combined with the fact that the bezel sits almost flush with the case, this results in a less-than-optimal grip.
Fortunately, the bezel isn’t too tight, and when turning it with your fingers placed at the 2 o’clock and 8 o’clock positions, rotation feels smooth. That’s not the case at 12 or 6 o’clock, where the end links interfere and prevent a stable grip.
The bezel insert is made of sapphire crystal. As you’ll see, the white part of the bezel is lumed.
The bezel looks attractive at all times—during the day thanks to its glossy, glass-like appearance, and at night due to its luminous section, which creates a very interesting light effect.
The crown is screw-down, as expected, and features the engraved Biatec logo. Its placement at the 4 o’clock position helps visually reduce the perceived case size. However, due to the long and thick lugs, operating the crown isn’t ideal—especially during hand-winding, where the lugs tend to get in the way.
The caseback reveals the origin of the watch’s name—Leviathan. The Leviathan is a legendary sea monster mentioned in the Old Testament. Here, it’s beautifully depicted on the caseback, squeezing the company’s logo in its grip across the main surface of the plate.
The outer edge of the caseback is reserved for the usual specifications: 300 m water resistance, sapphire glass, Swiss movement, “Made in Slovakia,” the Biatec name, and their slogan once again.
Before moving on to the dial, I must highlight an important technical detail: all stainless steel parts of the watch—including the case and the bracelet—are made from 316L stainless steel with a NanTec coating. This coating reportedly gives the metal a Vickers hardness of 600, which theoretically makes it three times more scratch-resistant than standard 316L steel commonly used in most steel-cased watches.
I even conducted a small (and slightly risky) experiment to test this claim. Since I had several spare links, I decided to take one and try to scratch it. Just to be safe, I also tested the inner side of the case. I rubbed both surfaces quite forcefully with a knife and a screwdriver—and to my surprise, there wasn’t a single visible scratch.
In addition, I’ve been wearing the watch daily for more than ten days now, and there are still no signs of desk diving wear or any other micro-scratches. So, based on my experience so far, I can confidently say that the NanTec coating does seem to make a difference!
Now, let’s take a closer look at the dial. The base color is a deep black with a subtle sunburst effect. The applied silver hour markers are relatively short and shield-shaped. Not exactly my cup of tea—I’m generally not a fan of thick, almost bullet-like markers—but in this case, they make sense. In combination with the 12 o’clock marker, which cleverly doubles as the company’s logo, these markers work better than simple straight-line indices would. The silver edges are extremely well-finished. Even under a magnifying glass, I couldn’t find any imperfections in the cuts or polishing. Integrating the logo into the 12 o’clock index also helps declutter the upper part of the dial—had they added a standard marker plus a full logo below it, it would have looked too busy.
The inner chapter ring is raised all the way up to the sapphire bezel insert, which gives the dial a very attractive 3D effect.
However, one design element feels somewhat redundant: each minute, including those already marked by the hour indices, has its own tiny bullet marker—despite already being indicated on the chapter ring. What’s more, each minute on the chapter ring is further subdivided into five smaller ticks. These are nearly unreadable without a magnifying glass and serve no real functional purpose.
Sometimes, less is more—and here, I feel the dial layout is slightly overdone.
The area of the dial above 6 o’clock is typically reserved for model names and key specifications. In this case, it reads “Automatic, 300M / 990ft”, followed by the date window, and below that: “Made in Slovakia.”
I particularly like the font used for the Leviathan name, and I appreciate that all the text is printed in a small, non-intrusive size. It doesn’t overpower the design or draw too much attention. In fact, I would personally prefer if “Made in Slovakia” were written in a slightly larger font, as this is arguably a more interesting and distinctive detail than the fairly standard “Automatic / 300m” spec.
Unfortunately, the row of minute markers just below the date window takes up valuable space—space that could have been used to give more prominence to the “Made in Slovakia” text.
As with the hour markers, the edges of the date window are very crisp and clean. The date itself is displayed in a simple, legible font, and its size feels well-balanced within the dial layout.
It seems that special attention was paid to the design and finishing of the hands.
The hour and minute hands share a similar style. The hour hand maintains almost the same width from base to tip, while the minute hand tapers slightly toward the base. Both hands end in a curved, shield-like shape—mirroring the design of the hour markers. This creates a visually satisfying effect: when the hour hand aligns with a marker, the marker appears like a reflection of the hand itself.
What’s particularly impressive is that the minute hand reaches precisely to the outer edge of the hour markers—never covering the minute bullets beyond them. The second hand stretches exactly to the start of the chapter ring, and the small circle near its tip aligns perfectly beneath the hour markers. Clearly, someone paid a lot of attention to these subtle yet meaningful design elements.
Covering the dial is a flat sapphire crystal with an anti-reflective (AR) coating. I must admit, the AR effect isn’t as noticeable as it is on some other watches, probably because of the deep blue tone of the dial itself. The glass sits completely flush with the bezel—resulting in a fully flat top surface.
As mentioned in the introduction, the Leviathan uses the Sellita SW200-1 movement. During the first week of constant wear, the watch ran very consistently at +8 seconds per day. That’s decent, though nothing particularly spectacular.
The following photos aim to show how the watch looks and wears on my wrist.
Even though my wrist size is 19 cm, the 40 mm case—just as expected—sits very naturally. In fact, I’d say the watch might look even better on a slightly larger wrist. I definitely wouldn’t recommend it for much smaller wrists. In my opinion, 18.5 cm is about the minimum wrist size for wearing this watch on a bracelet comfortably. For smaller wrists, I’d suggest opting for a strap instead of the bracelet, which would help reduce the visual bulk and improve the fit.
Even though this is a diver’s watch, I had no problem wearing it with a business suit.
The watch features excellent Super-LumiNova. A particularly nice touch is the lumed bezel, and the luminous logo adds something special—something you don’t often see. All luminescent elements are easy to read for extended periods; I had no trouble telling the time even after eight hours in complete darkness. A great experience.
So, what can I say in conclusion?
There are many aspects of this watch that truly impress me—and just a few that I think could have been done differently. But even those aren’t flaws in quality—just reflections of my personal preferences.
What I really appreciate is that this isn’t just another copy or homage to a well-known brand. Instead, it brings genuinely fresh ideas to the watch market. The materials used are excellent, the finishing is top-notch, and the design feels original. The movement is good, though I do believe it could (or should) be better fine-tuned—even if +8 seconds per day isn’t exactly bad.
It’s made in Europe, not in China—a factor that will matter to many collectors.
But then come the bigger questions:
Is all this enough to justify the relatively high price—especially since it's entering the territory of some well-established Swiss brands?
Can a watch at this price point truly compete with cheaper microbrands, or even with more affordable Swiss-made options?
Is pricing the key reason why Biatec is still mostly recognized only in its home region?
Should Biatec aim to grow—expand production, push harder into international markets, build a wider sales network?
And does Mr. Kožar even want that? Is he prepared to invest in broader promotion and distribution?
Because one thing seems clear to me:
If prices were about 30% lower, and the quality remained at this level—especially with a model like the Leviathan—Biatec could become a serious player globally.
At least for me, I can say with high confidence that this won’t be my last Biatec watch. In fact, I already have my next candidate on the wish list—even though it also comes in a “just” 40 mm case. But if Mr. Kožar ever decides to create a 42+ mm model, I’ll be a serious contender for becoming a proud owner of that watch.
Finally, I’d like to sincerely thank Mr. Kožar for his excellent communication and all the valuable information he was kind enough to share with me throughout the process.
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