The Temporal Chronometer felt impossibly cold in Andrew's hand, its dark metal humming faintly, a stark contrast to the oppressive, unmoving silence of the temporal stasis field. Its hands were locked at 11:59, a perpetual minute before the hour, yet it seemed to thrum with a potential energy that promised defiance against the Labyrinth's frozen grip.
"This is not merely a collectible," Marrow's voice, surprisingly resonant in the stillness, broke Andrew's contemplation. "It is a key. A localized temporal manipulation device. The Chrono-Labyrinth designs its challenges with specific solutions in mind."
Andrew nodded, still feeling the constant, subtle drain on his vitality. Moving through this frozen world was like walking through a pool of invisible molasses, every muscle protesting, every mental exertion a noticeable effort. The thought of encountering more static threats was daunting, but the Chronometer offered a glimmer of hope.
