CHAPTER 55: TIME

Lena looked up at him in surprise. The raging, swirling vortex of chaos she saw around him suddenly became calmer.

It was still there, but it was no longer a wild, untamed storm. It was a controlled, spinning vortex contained within an invisible wall.

He was actively suppressing his power, just for her.

It was a small act of consideration, but for Lena, it was a huge gesture. It was the first time he had shown her that he was not just a monster of pure power. He was a person. The fear in her heart lessened.

It was replaced by a new feeling of respect.

They worked together after that. The awkwardness was gone. Lena would hand him the materials, and then she would watch, fascinated, as he worked.

A month had passed in a blur. Within the sand-swept, subterranean halls of the Wanderers, Rhys had achieved the impossible.

The complex, thousand-rune diagram of the "Chains of Temporal Stasis," a Spirit-Grade formation that would have taken an Artisan at least a year to draw, was created by him.

As the formation was completed, his profession upgraded from Apprentice to Artisan, far surprising him.

’This quickly...’

Don’t forget, despite him using it many times, his Ash Walker profession hadn’t upgraded yet.

He had crafted its 108 energy nodes from petrified lightning and its central anchor from the powdered bone of a long-dead beast, weaving the wild energy of the Tempest Djinn core into every sigil.

He hadn’t just learned Elder Solon’s theories; he had transcended them, innovating and refining the design until the formation hummed with a power even its original creator looked upon with awe.

The desert outside had fallen into an unnerving silence. The Tempest Djinn’s cycle was nearing its end, and the creatures of the sand had burrowed deep, waiting for the inevitable storm to pass.

His quick seclusion had forged new friendships. In these thirty days, Lena had grown closer to him. With him teaching her, her knowledge of formations improved a lot.

She wasn’t scared of him anymore; rather, her eyes shone with excitement every time he returned to the laboratory.

While he led a silent life, Yuki had found her place among the hunters. Her terrifying power, once a source of fear, was now a beacon of hope for the Wanderers.

She led their hunting parties with a ruthless efficiency, her black ice attacks felling the most dangerous desert predators.

She had become their de facto captain, a beautiful and deadly silver-haired general whose authority was absolute.

Bael and the other Wanderers respected her without question, their awe overcoming their fear.

Luckily, she showed no interest in consuming the life energy of the Wanderers, much to Rhys’s relief.

But her day always ended in the same way. She would return from the hunt, find Rhys in the workshop, and wordlessly cling to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder.

It was a silent, possessive ritual, a declaration of ownership that left Lena flustered and the Wanderers whispering in amazement.

Rhys had grown used to it, the strange warmth of the living corpse a familiar comfort in this world of dead people.

Finally, the day of the convergence arrived. The air was heavy, the pale sky seeming to press down on the endless dunes. It was time.

Rhys made his way to the deepest part of the settlement for one last conversation. Elder Solon sat on his simple stone throne, looking more like a part of the rock than a living being.

The month of intense teaching had taken a visible toll, draining the last vestiges of energy from his ancient frame.

He couldn’t leave the settlement’s protective formations; exposure to the raw energy of the outside world would cause his fragile soul to dissipate into nothingness.

Rhys knew the truth now: his Master’s body was long gone, sacrificed piece by piece to use his Trait.

All that remained was a soul, and the next time he used his power, it would be his last.

The Elder’s eyes, clouded with age, flickered open as Rhys approached.

He didn’t offer a greeting but instead posed a question, his voice a dry, rasping whisper that seemed to echo with the weight of millennia.

"You are an anomaly, child of the outside. You walk through this world of echoes, yet your own time seems... infinite. Tell me, what do you see in time?"

Rhys paused.

’What did the old man smoke today?’ he didn’t speak, but waited for the old man to continue.

"Do you see eternal youth, a blissful, unending spring? Or do you see impending death, a final winter that awaits us all?"

"Neither," Rhys replied after a long thought. He shook his head slowly. "What I see in time is fear."

The Elder’s skeletal brows rose in surprise. "Why so?"

Rhys shrugged.

"It’s simple. Those who have less time always fear death. Their every moment is a countdown to an ending they can’t escape.

But those who have a long time, or endless time... they always fear loneliness. To watch the world change, to see everyone you know fade away while you remain... that is a prison far lonelier than this desert."

The Elder was silent for a long moment, the profound truth of Rhys’s words settling in the ancient chamber.

He, who had lived for thousands of years in this very prison of loneliness, understood better than anyone.

"Okay..." he rasped, his voice tinged with a new respect. "Do you know any cure for this fear?"

"Obviously yes," Rhys replied without hesitation, his dark eyes meeting the Elder’s.

"It’s the void."

He saw the flicker of confusion in Elder Solon’s eyes and elaborated.

"The void is the absence of everything. It is a state without beginning or end, without presence or absence. It is the one place where time has no meaning, and therefore, where its fears cannot exist. It is the ultimate salvation from the cycle."

A slow, deep understanding dawned on Elder Solon’s face. He nodded, his face blank as he fell into contemplation.

Rhys bowed slightly before turning around to leave.

[Why do you think so? That the cure for fear is the void?]

’I just remembered my constitution and bluffed the first word that came into my mouth.’

[...]

’Never expected that to be so profound the Master would fall into an epiphany.’

Lena was waiting for him outside, biting her nails with an anxious expression. Upon seeing him her eyes brightened, but he could still feel the worry in her.

"Rhy... you will be fine, right?"

Rhys said nothing. He felt melancholy.

’What will happen to her if we succeed?’

So, wasn’t he the one who should be asking her the same question?

Yet here he was, all excited to finally kill a tyrant and escape this desert.

What would be the feelings of Lena, Zara, and the rest of the people here if they knew the end of the tyrant was theirs, too?

Rhys felt helpless.

’They are trapped here even after death because they all seek salvation. You are helping them to achieve it, Rhys; you don’t have to think so much.’

That was it. Rhys gave her a genuine smile as he patted her head.

"Yes... I will be fine. And so will you."

..He will end their damnation.